Team Limoncello Scales Tallest Building in Western Hemisphere

103 floors, 36 minutes and change.Climbing the Seventh Tallest Free-Standing Structure in the World, I realized three (3) things:

1) This is a spectacularly boring undertaking. There are no windows until the top and no view beyond the bottom of the person in front of you. It’s basically vertical NASCAR – 10 steps up, turn right, 10 steps up, turn right – two flights per floor. … Lather, rinse, repeat. … Lather, rinse, repeat. Until the 67th floor when you have to step out onto a landing, turn left and ascend a single, thigh-shredding 16-step flight. (YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME? 16 STAIRS? SERIOUSLY?) You would curse too if you were two-thirds of the way done, had settled into a plodding, steady, dependable rhythm and had just learned that your quadriceps were going to be run through a 16-step cheese-grater. Yes, the six extra steps made a difference, along with the fact that they decided to add a left turn to our repertoire. Ten steps up, turn left, 10 steps up, turn left – they were only about 16 floors too late to balance us out, but I figured it’d even out… until I arrived at Floor 90, when they decided to run four flights per floor: Six steps, left, six steps, left, six steps, left, six steps, left… I’m getting dizzy here. What floor are we on again?

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Social Climber

Stairwell in one of the tallest buildings in Arizona

103 floors. 2,109 steps.

On Sunday, November 6, 2011 at 8:30 AM, I will be visiting the Sky Deck of the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower in Chicago in honor of my 40th birthday.

And I’m taking the stairs.

At that time, I’ll be 39 years, 10 months, 27 days old, and certifiably nuts. Since I’ve started training for SkyRise Chicago, I’ve learned more than non-engineers should ever know about high-rise building design. I’ve taken to trespassing on private property. I’ve confirmed my dislike of hiking Piestewa Peak, and I’ve decided there are probably more self-destructive and simultaneously less painful ways to celebrate one’s 40th birthday… like drinking heavily.

Instead, I will play out my mid-life insecurities on a grand stage – the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere and fifth-tallest building in the world – with my partner-in-crime and Team Limoncello co-founder Kellee, who has already survived passage across the threshold that is two-score, though she didn’t feel the need to achieve any great feats of super-human stupidity in doing so. But she was game to join me on this journey because it plays to her strong suit: Climbing.

And it’s for a good causeThe Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago is the charitable beneficiary of SkyRise Chicago. True to RIC’s mission, you can power-up the Tower either on foot in the stairwells (like us) or simulated via hand-cycle in the lobby, so people of varying physical abilities can attempt the climb. I’m not terribly familiar with the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago, beyond the fact that they help a lot of people and they do good research, and on November 6, 2011 at about 9:05 AM, I will be needing their services.

In order to complete the physical challenge, I have to complete their fundraising challenge – raising $150 for the cause. So I’m holding my own personal pledge drive for the stair climb: Give early, give often, give till it hurts. Or at the very least, give $21.09 – which is a penny per step; or $40 which is one dollar per year of my life; or $103 which is one dollar per floor, earning you a hand-written acknowledgement on my T-shirt as an awesome corporate sponsor of Team Limoncello.

Thanks in advance for your support.

Runs

Let this be a lesson for you: Long-distance running and high-fiber diets don’t mix.

Especially after you’ve spent a week-and-a-half ingesting 15 pounds of sausage and schnitzel – that’s 6.8 kilograms for those of you measuring in Germany.

And don’t say I didn’t warn you: Long-distance running and high-fiber diets certainly don’t mix when that 6.8 kilos of pork product have been washed down with 2.5 liters of German beer (which is the metric equivalent of two-thirds of a milk jug). And now, in your old age (39-and-10-months), you really don’t drink much beer anymore because your digestive system doesn’t really tolerate it to0 well.

It gives me gas. Bad gas. Gas of the mouth and ass variety. You have been warned. You can still turn back – and you can still respect me in the morning…

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The Rapturian Candidate

It’s Saturday, May 21 at 8:53 PM Pacific Time. If you’re reading this from the comforts of home, welcome to the Apocalypse! Thanks for coming out!

Yes, the Apocalypse looks a lot like the Prepocalypse, except our friends at the nonprofit Family Radio Network aren’t here with us – at least I hope not.  According to them, today was the day the Lord was gonna call the Chosen home, if you believe 89-year-old civil engineer Harold Camping, who treated the Bible like his own personal version of The DaVinci Code.

Now, I don’t blame the Rapturian Candidate for trying. Surveying the landscape of End Time Signs, I could be easily persuaded:

  1. The New Orleans Saints won the 2010 Super Bowl.
  2. Oprah Winfrey taped her last show on Tuesday, May 17, for broadcast on May 25: Did she know something we didn’t?
  3. Our so-called liberal-softy president just took out Osama bin Laden – and for the record, our president is black and is a US citizen.
  4. Sarah Palin just closed on a house in my Scottsdale ZIP code.

Taken together, I can only come to one conclusion: WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!

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Potty Humor

Two-ply goodness
I get all butt-hurt just thinking about Sarah Palin

My Sarah Palin toilet paper arrived in the mail yesterday.

As with the heavy feeling of relief you seek after downing the whole burrito (along with two baskets of chips, a side of refried frijoles and three margaritas on the rocks with salt), anticipation does not approach the sense of eager yearning I had to test-drive this two-ply.

Raring to release her on my rear-end, I prepared my turd-pushing training table: Bananas, grapefruit, dried plums, with a side of pistachios. Taco Bell gorditas. Tasty McRib sandwiches. Expiration-dated milk (smells a little off, but still tastes fine!) I decided to forgo the obligatory sprinkling of cheese on every entree, lest any small action prevent me from achieving my goal. A can of pinto beans doused in Tabasco-habanero sauce? Check. A hearty bowl of Kashi with a tall glass of TempE.coli Town Lake water? Of course! Steamed broccoli with a side of shoe-peg corn? You betcha!

And I had seconds on the corn, thanks! Don’t retreat – reload!

Tonight would end with three capsules of Metamucil’s finest fiber supplements, washed down by a cold, hoppy beer (opened with my new iPhone bottle opener / protective phone case). Tomorrow would begin with two cups of black coffee and a morning run before my eagerly awaited morning runs.

Now, excuse me while I go punish the guest-room toilet.

“Turn on the vent!”

“Yes, Pat. I’m turning on the vent.”

“Don’t be upper-decking, either! I don’t want to deal with this on chore-day. Clean up after yourself!”

“That’s what Sarah Palin’s for!”

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