Fun Fact

Dara Torres, 2008 Olympic team member, was the oldest American swimmer at the Olympics eight years ago.

P. Ahn

Sometime before the 2007 release of her EP, I chanced upon Priscilla Ahn's myspace page and sampled her music. After that, I eagerly awaited the EP release. I thought she was fresh and funky and sweet all at the same time and I loved her style! When the EP came out the music and the cover art (seen above) attested to my original response--she was fantastic! And with that, I began to count down until she would be officially signed and release her first album.

Now, I don't know when she was signed, but she released her first album under Blue Note Records about one month ago. I was so uber-stoked that I went out and bought the album on the day of its release! I got home, I stuck the CD in my computer (because that's how I and everyone else in America now listens to music) and prepared to rock out. I waited through the first song, which had been on the EP in a slightly better recording. I waited through the second song. And by the time I arrived at the third song (which had been one of my favorites off the EP) that had now been destroyed, I was disgusted!! I forced myself through the remaining eight songs and through the album again and again and again, hoping it would grow on me, pleading I would like it.

But such a thing would never happen. An artist who had so much potential, who has so much potential had been stomped on by a complete album. And the only hope I have left is that if she gets to release a second, it will be more like the self-released EP and not under the name of Blue Note Records.

The Nature of Victory

I am a jock. It shows in the way I dress, the shape of my body, the manner of my walk. I always have been and I may well always be an athlete. There is an innate competitive spirit that burns within me and a desire, even a conquest, to support other athletes who have been able to do what I could not—take it to the highest level. I am the girl who tears up at the end of all big tournaments out of absolute glee and utter jealousy for the winning team. I want to see an honest winner….and I find that the existence of such a thing gets harder and harder to believe in.

In the same week, the once indestructible Roger Federer lost his Wimbledon winning streak (capping out at five in a row) and Dara Torres, who had already retired, returned to the Olympic Trials to win both of her events at the age of 41 (to make her fifth Olympic swimming team). What amazing victories! That’s what I wanted to think. That’s what I wanted to believe. But, instead, I wondered…..Floyd Landis tested positive for performance enhancing drugs after an amazing and unexpected 2006 Tour de France; Marion Jones denied, denied, denied using anything until 2007, when she admitted to drug use for the previous seven years and was subsequently stripped of all earnings from that era; the “Mitchell Report” came out months later, calling into question 89 Major League Baseball players’ performances.

I had a picture of Marion Jones, torn from a magazine, among a number of other athletes in a collage that covered my door throughout college—as inspiration. “Dedicate yourself. Sacrifice for your desires. You can do it,” the collage proclaimed. And so I did. I read constantly, worked regularly, and volunteered always in order to stand out to the right grad school. But how great a sacrifice does that sacrifice become? Is there a point when the goal becomes greater than the merit of achieving the goal justly?

It’s Machiavelli all over again. “The end justifies the means. The end justifies the means.” We tell ourselves, again and again, creating a mantra by which to live. The blinders go on and the perspective goes out. Compete. Win. Want it more. It’s the battle for the athlete and the athlete’s supporter. As the athlete competes physically and defeats the odds to win, we, the spectators compete mentally for the belief in that victory. Although victory is a word we all wish to partake in, extreme victory is a phrase we glare down with doubt.

Mother of one, Dara Torres, couldn’t see the scoreboard to see if she had won the 100m freestyle but she could hear the crowd chanting her name. The audience was filled with the momentum and joy from the belief that stats like age don’t matter, even in the Olympics, if you only give it enough. Yet, we doubt and Dara must be conscious of that doubt. She has volunteered to be tested for drug enhancement more often than the other swimmers on her team. An amazing feat is met by an equally challenging swarm of public pressure and doubt: achieve then maintain perfection but we don’t believe anyone can be perfect. We support you.

How to be Stupid in the California Heat

This morning I went up to Pasadena to run an 8K race, Montrail's Run Like a Girl trail race. Now, I am no brilliant runner and no genius planner but some things I know.

I know that if it is 90 degrees out and the weather advisory for the area is "Extreme Heat" (check out the Weather Channel/ weather.com) you need to make sure your runners are hydrated. Run Like a Girl doesn't know as much.

On the 8K race course (5 miles), there was one water stop. One. It was at mile two. Then you loop around and you hit it again at mile three (when others are hitting it in the opposite direction). You go out, in heat, for 2 miles and come back in, in heat, for 2 miles without a sip of water. Extreme heat advisory. Somebody's asking for some illnesses.

And so I was. I did it. I threw up twice after the race, a race I ran at about 11-minute-miles when I am usually about an 8 minute-miler (obviously I was not pushin' it; I physically couldn't--although, when I rehydrated on the trail it did give me a short push). My time was wretched so that couldn't have been a factor. Now, keep in mind that I'm not a regurgitator. The last time I threw up was....once in Denver where I felt sick 75-80% of the time for a year....and before that I think I was about 10.

Well then, you might think I did a poor pre-race job of hydrating myself. But you'd be wrong. I drank water all night (just ask my sister with whom I share a bathroom). Hit the bathroom twice before heading to the race and another 3 times at the race location before the whistle blew to kick it off.

Twice. I, who am in decent shape though I've definitely been in better, felt horribly throughout the whole thing (with the time to prove it) and it's not even my fault. Well done, Montrail. You allowed the perfect conditions for heatstroke to reign over your race.

I did enjoy one aspect. My favorite part of the race was the band. Pretty decent band with some kickin' covers. And there they were, for all to hear, 150 yards past the finish line in a nearly empty parking lot.

If you ever plan to run Montrail's Pasadena Run Like a Girl 8K race, don't. If you neglect this stellar advice, walk it---but only so you can witness the stupidity that is its directors' planning a pace where you'll be sure not to miss a thing.

REMATCH!!!

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Two years ago France and Italy met in the World Cup final. And after quite a fight (head-butting and red cards of the world's best player included), Italy stepped away with the victory, the trophy, and all the bragging rights for the next four years......or so they thought until they landed in the Group of Death in Euro Cup 2008. And now, they've got to fight again. Against France, again. And this time it's for everything and potentially nothing.

The way the Group of Death has developed, with France, Italy, Netherlands, and Romania, the final games could mean quite a bit. The Netherlands won their first two matches (decidedly) and have already won the group with one more day of games to go. They are therefore likely to rest many of their starters and save them for the upcoming quarterfinals. Romania stands in second with 2 points off of two ties. Tomorrow, they will play that Netherlands side--that not-quite-starters starting line-up. If the Romanians win, they'll advance along with the Netherlands.

That leaves the two last place teams, the two World Cup finalists. Undoubtedly the match will be one to watch--passionate and competitive if only due to their last big match-up. And what makes it better? France must win to have any chance to go on to the quarterfinals. Italy stands in precisely the same place. Each team holds only one point going into the match. It's kill or be killed for both teams.

But....regardless of who wins this rematch or if they tie, it's all about Romania. If Romania wins, that's the end of France and Italy.

Could it be that after tomorrow the most recent World Cup finalists will both be knocked out of the Euro Cup in the first round????

Another Orange Juice, Please

What makes the pool play stages of an international soccer tournament infinitely more exciting? Seeing the World Champions crushed in their first match, shut out, by three of course.

Perhaps at some point in the distant past you may have thought that I was a fan of Italian soccer because I have a tie to Italy through blood, but you were wrong because I am an American. And being an American means nothing if it does not mean we pick the cultures we choose to allign with and bastardize the ones we disagree with....and that these lines of allegiance may change on any given day. However, when it comes to soccer, there are two teams (and one player) I despise and the Italians are one of the lucky few. I loved the Zidane head-butt in the World Cup finals but was disappointed when Le Bleu came away without the big trophy.

I will always cheer for the team opposite the Italians but today was even better than that because the Italians were out and out SLAUGHTERED by my team, the Dutch. The Dutch play the most entertaining style of soccer and what I absolutely loved about them today was that, being up 2-0 in the second half was not reason enough for them to slow down or time waste. No, no, they attacked, attacked, attacked, getting a number of chances including one shot off the crossbar and another that went in to make the final tally 3-0. Orange crush. 3-0. Ha!

I was rather upset when I found out my Dutch boys were in the Group of Death for these Euro games along with France, Italy, and Romania. That's killer! By rank and past performance, Italy and France would be expected to make it out. But Holland leads the pack right now. Two more games in this round to go, of course. I'll be pulling for the boys in orange and for whoever is opposite the boys in blue.

Photo courtesy of Getty Images

Swing Low, Sweet Sharapova

Well, kids. It's over. Maria Sharapova, come the end of the Roland Garros French Open currently in progress, will no longer be number one.

What a run she had. From the day Justine Henin requested her name be removed from the WTA listings after her shocking retirement to the several weeks later when Sharapova lost to Safina in the Round of 16 in France---ironically, Henin's territory (the retired number one had won the last three years in a row).

Looks like the Serbs are coming in for their own reign at number one. Will it be longer than the Russian turned Californian's? I wouldn't count Sharapova out. Apparently, she read my last blog and prefers to earn her rank.