Matthew Woodring Stover's Blog, page 11

Exactly what it says.

Suck it, Frosty.

Took the VFF out for a trial run . . . literally. Just a mile and a half, and a lot of grinning like an idiot because it was so ridiculously fun.

A testament to the Fad Appeal of the Vibram Five Fingers shoe: yesterday, at Clearwater Outdoors, a nifty sporting goods boutique in Lake Geneva WI, I managed to find what is, I kid you not, the last pair of men's VFF Sprints within 50 miles of here. So I bought 'em.

They are notably funny-lookin'. There's no getting around that. But funny-lookin' or not . . .

They are the coolest footwear I have ever owned.

The experience of walking through crusted snow and ice alone is worth the price of the s...

While I have done very well with retraining myself to run without further damage to my knees, I apparently have failed to do so for shoveling snow. Dammit.

Just curious . . .

I follow the Superman Lite show Smallville, largely because it always seems like it's about to get good . . . and, y'know, Erica Durance, but that's another story.

So the other day they aired a Two Hour Movie Event, in which our Superevisionists took on the JSA. While the show failed on many levels, I gotta tell you there were w few points where I was laughing out loud in pure pre-adolescent delight. Sylvester Pemberton, yeah yeah, Star-Spangled Kid, whatever — but when the s...

So.

On my run Saturday, a combination of ice and buckled sidewalk sent me headlong into the street. My s00pa nijna skilz enabled me to roll out of it without significant injury, but the bad knee was complaining and starting to swell, so I had to cut the run off at 2 miles.

Today it's snowing, which is not ordinarily a problem, except for this lovely phenomenon known as black ice, which is what you get when ice and snow melts but the meltwater doesn't drain off before freezing again, rendering ...

Me: "Shut up, punk-ass, or my hand to God I will run a 10K. Right now."

After a week off, due to complications of life and weather, my legs apparently thought they had retired. It seems they've been propping themselves up on the coffee table and drinking beer while watching reruns of Dr Who. When I set out on my 3-mile this morning, there was much sneering and contemptuous toe-pointing, until I showed them the Fat Guy clause in their contract, which states: "Parties of the Lower Part shall in ...

So, yeah, finally saw the Movie of the Century. I had heard it was terrible, but impressive to look at. I did not find it terrible; I found it obvious, largely humorless, slow, and the most spectacular fucking thing I've ever seen on a movie screen.

I mean, holy CRAP.

My only quarrel with the technology is that it forces you to look at what the director wants you to look at, as everything else tends to be in softer focus or just plain blurred. A minor issue.

I even believe that I understand why ...

Well, no. Pretty good, though.

The comic mostly preceded (and later post-dated) my comics-collecting days, but I always thought it was a nifty concept. Now we have a TV show of the same name, tweaked just a bit so that Mark Valley doesn't have to spend half of every episode in full Martin Landau prosthetics. (That's a 60s-era Mission Impossible reference, for those of you who are still too young and/or too cool to be aware of such things.)

It has a cheerfully dark tone, plenty of...

Did another 3-miler this morning, this time accompanied by the Fabulous Robyn (who was taking a sag day — minimum workout for her). Still no knee trouble. I'm figuring to buy a pair of Vibram KSOs next week.

If this keeps up, I'll have to change the above title to Chalk Up Another for the Guy.