Hey everybody, check out my new Berkshire Runners Message Board. You can go here to see what's happening and write about what happened. Any member can start threads (conversations), reply, comment, poke fun, create calendar events, etc. so check it out and enjoy.
Of course it's free and works the same as every other message board out there.
Don't forget to bookmark it so you can find your way back. Hell, make it your homepage.
Man that sun feels good...
-Judge Sunshiney Ass
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Message Board
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
You Gotta Put in the Work
I was perusing the old comments and came upon the following "Anonymous" comment, requesting more stories about Bad Jim...Anonymous said...
Bad Jim seems like the only one with a sense of direction. He also seems to take a lot of unwarranted abuse; then again, born leaders often do. Sounds like a great guy to me. Let's hear some more Bad Jim stories.
Without dipping into the endless reserves, there are no stories to tell of Bad Jim; he has simply fallen off the map. You don't get stories written about your running when you sit on your duff eating Cheetos, you have to put in the work.
In other news, Tweety and I were thinking that this weekend's run (Sunday) should be in full RRF uniform. If you were in attendance at Lea's house a few weeks back you should have been provided with your uniform. Bad Jim, judging by your dress for the Honorable Judge's Birthday Run, you'll probably already be just fine. And folks, let's keep those uniforms crisp and unstained.
That sun feels good on my ass,
JSA
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Bob Searches for the Northwest Passage
It was a brisk morning, frost on the lawns, and a band of local yahoos out running the dirt roads of Richmond, MA. It started and ended at the cold-and-flu funded estate of local sawbones and running legend Bob Lee. For those of you who don't know Bob, here's a picture of him ogling the power glutes of local running hero and beloved adjudicator Judge Sunshiney Ass.If You Announce It, They Will Come
As the runners approached Sawbone Bob's house, they were directed by the Sheriff's deputy to park in the Lee Estate's Main parking area. There were so many runners the Sheriff himself had to come out to direct traffic.
As Nogle came barreling up the driveway, showing no concern for the safety of her fellow runners, she managed to sqeak in within the limits of the 10 minute rule. Climbing out of her car, she greeted everyone with the comment "Oh sure, Bob leads a run and 20 people show up. I lead one and only one person shows up."
Well, with that attitude it's no wonder.Dean's Hill Road
Living in Berkshire County has made the RRFs no strangers to rolling hills, but Dean's Hill Road more than lived up to its name. Paul, AKA "The New Mr. Wonderful" explained to your humble narrator that it's called Dean's Hill for a reason. From that I assumed that the people of Richmond, MA hated some guy named Dean and named the most ruthless hill after him. That way every runner and driver would be cursing that sumbitch Dean every time they were forced to travel the grueling road.Henry Hudson Searches for the Northwest Passage
After warming up our legs on a mile long hill, we welcomed a bit of a downhill. Just then, Bob "Henry Hudson" Lee steps in to correct our errant path. "LEFT" they yelled, and we humped it back up the hill to the correct road. A little way down the correct road, it narrowed and turned into a rutted mess.
Only after we had run down an ATV trail/riverbed did the back group decide to start thinking about considering their options on how they might begin the process of choosing who would indicate to the front runners that they were going the wrong way.
Straws were drawn, Theresa made some phone calls, a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament was played and finally they decided to just yell "HEY, wrong way!" Again, we turned around and ran back up the hill only to go right back to the first "wrong" turn.
It turns out that we were probably mere meters from where we wanted to be, but Bob didn't want to risk any of his crew in the uncharted lands beside that muddy mess. Such a noble leader.The RRFs in Full Uniform
Yup, the RRFs made a valiant showing at this morning's run but looked kind of silly with such meager numbers. While most RRFs had valid excuses (too early, too cold, not enough sun on ass, etc) there was no Bad Jim. Of course, if Bob lived closer to Mount Greylock things might have been different. Sorry Jim, maybe he'll consider moving closer to your house.
Standing around the parking area afterwards, we were rewarded for our efforts by the warming rays of the sun on our Lycra clad asses. Whew, that sun feels good on my ass.
For those RRFs who don't plan to run the Stockadeathon, there were talks of a trail run next Sunday. I'm sure details will be announed as they unfold, and as long as Nogle doesn't announce it I'm sure attendance will be strong. I vote for breakfast afterward.
And that's all I have to say about that.
~Judge Sunshiney Ass
Sunday, October 01, 2006
The Judge's Birthday Run
First of all, I would like to wish Judge Sunshiney Ass a Happy Birthday. Since I am the Judge himself, this is somewhat of a biased well-wishing, but somebody has to do it. Below you'll find a recount of the First Annual Judge Sunshiney Ass Run.Who Forgot Jim's Personal Invite?
As Laurie and I pulled into the winding driveway leading up to the Shultz estate, we made note of the fact that nobody else was there. I expected the pony handlers would at least be around, what kind of birthday party lets invitees ride ponies willy nilly? Being the good, conscientious, caring friends we are, we grabbed Jim's newspaper from the bottom of his lengthy driveway and placed it with care in the rain in front of his porch. Eventually Nogle showed up, whereupon Jim showed his shining face at the door (this will be discussed in detail below). A quick phone call to Theresa confirmed that she was in fact coming, but a little late.
Apparently Jim didn't know about the run because he didn't receive a personal handwritten letter of invitation. Below is a copy of the e-mail that was sent, so there's no excuse for not knowing all of the details; it's short and sweet.Sunday, Oct. 1st. 7:30 a.m. Meet at 60 Williamstown Rd, Lanesboro. Group run Mt. Prospect, Williamstown. Celebrate the birthday of the Honorable Todd W. Howell, aka "The Judge". Breakfast afterward at Bob's Country Kitchen. Ssshhhh, don't tell Todd. It's a surprise!
Somehow Jim Network Administrator for the Pittsfield School System Shultz was unsure how to read this e-mail and didn't know about it.Must be Laundry Day
When Jim finally looked out his door to see what the commotion was all about, he stood there in his droopy tighty-whities and calf-height "athletic" socks, his belly sagging over the tired waistband of his BVDs. "Hey, what are you guys doing here?" he asked as he "rearranged the furniture". "Uh, we're here for the run. Theresa's going to be here in a minute, please for the love of God go change." Looking baffled, he did as instructed and suited up for the run.Just Add Soapbox
Shortly into the run, we had to make a quarter-mile pitstop for a certain someone to use the little girls' room. Since we were in the woods, any spot would have been the same, but Bad Jim apparently had an agenda so we ran the extra distance to "the bathroom".
We were stopped at a scenic overlook offering a nice view of some ritzy homes, which was nice, and Bad Jim started in on how we were going to play a game where we each had to pick which house would be ours without knowing what the rest of the houses looked like. Already familiar with the houses, this one couldn't possibly be baised towards Jim. Or could it?
"Did you say president?", Bad Jim asked me. "Huh? Wha? I wasn't even talking." I replied. "Oh, I thought you said something about the president." Jim continued. "Well, speaking of the president..." he babbled on talking about something he heard on the news. Apparently the whole point for stopping at that scenic lookout was so that he'd have a picturesque background for his unpatriotic story.Eastern White Sea Donkey
Our next rest area brought us to a large tree in the middle of a clearing, sort of a natural roundabout for the trails in the woods. Jim Trebek asked if any of us knew the name of the tree. "This tree's initials are EWC." He was looking for the name of that type of tree, not it's given name so my response of Steve was wrong. Tweety guessed the first part of its name, Eastern White but was at a loss for the last word. Mr. Trebek repeatedly mouthed the words "SEA DONKEY" in an effort to get us to guess the last word. As it turned out, the word he was really mouthing was cedar, but by overemphasizing it, it just looked like sea donkey. I'd like to point out that Bad Jim doesn't normally quiz us on our knowledge of all things floral, I think he knew about this one particular tree and wanted to flex his arborial muscles.Running in the Nude
While descending a hill, Nancy, Bad Jim and I were all running in locked step. I made military marching sounds (tchss tchss tchss) and commented on how soothing it was to run in unison. After a 45 minute rant about running alone in wool pants, then stripping nude, Bad Jim reached the end of his story.
Somehow remembering the last thing mentioned before the conversation returned to The Unabridged Jim Shultz Audio Biography, I asked what that had to do with running in unison. "What, I thought you said nude?" Once again, I was not talking about running in the nude. And why would I have made marching noises if I was? And what was there about running through the woods with four other people that would have reminded me of running nude? And when the hell would I have run anywhere in the nude?
It's all about Jim.Lawnmower Man
During one of his longwinded stories about losing his lawn mowing virginity, Jim mentioned that it was one of his fondest childhood memories. His father even took him to McDonald's afterwards for a chocolate shake. Jumping all over this sentimental moment of weakness, we obviously hit a nerve. As we were stretching our legs at the van, Bad Jim lept in and sped off, leaving us standing there in the oncoming storm.
We knew it would be some time before he finished crying and his eyes lost their puffiness, so we started running back down route 7. Miles later, the grey minivan returned and only Nancy was allowed back in. A few rounds of "let them catch up then pull away" later and the rest of us were allowed to re-enter the van. Theresa figured we would all have to answer questions about the details Jim's life to be allowed back into the van (akin to the riddles asked when crossing a troll's bridge), but Pouty McPout Face just slowed to a crawl and let us in.The Bill is in the Mail
After the run, Jim "I have an alterior motive" Shultz gracefully shared his home with us so that we could change into dry clothes. This was really just a scheme to not have to go out to breakfast, as he'd rather sit at home and quietly watch his wife study. This wasn't any regular breakfast either, it was Birthday Breakfast. There were ponies, clowns, balloon animals and the coffee flowed like wine. Don't worry Jim, your share of the bill was covered by the lovely ladies (thanks for breakfast, ladies) and you owe them each $5.13.
If anyone has detected an underlying theme to this Run Report, that it's been all about Jim. The reason for this is not that life in general is all about Jim, but rather that the man barely pauses to inhale let alone allow anyone else to talk. I think Theresa finally gave up trying to tell her harrowing story about the bus ride to the XC meet yesterday. It sounded horrible, but every time she started to tell it again, she was quickly shut down. Laurie got in all of ten words about her budding assistant coaching career before Captain Blabs cut her off, calling her a wuss. Did you want to hear JSA's birthday story? Too bad, Jim's got something to say about God only knows what.
And that's the end of that.
-Judge Sunshiney Ass
Sunday, September 10, 2006
The Blind Leading the Blind
Folks, I hardly know where to begin with this one. I think the ultimate lesson to take away from today's run is that Judge Sunshiney Ass should never, under any circumstances, take any active role in any run, ever. My role has always been passive, I show up when I can and I follow someone else's lead.
Today, I took the initiative to set up a run since Theresa was too busy with some "wedding". Wedding is in quotes because she's posted no wedding report, so either the whole thing was a scam to get out of running this weekend or they got lost en route to the church and were afraid to call Bad Jim for directions. Or, Boozey Mc. Boozehound Apple is still partying. Now, back to how I set it up. I had my people contact Bad Jim's people and they agreed that BJ's life would be easiest if we ran from his house to a trail of his choosing. He could spare 90 minutes of leadership time so that we could still run. Very generous of him. My efforts in arranging the run were minimal, but still.JSA's packing newbies, BJ bags on us
I showed up with two newbies in the car to an empty driveway. Somehow - despite having a full understanding of how The Crazy Group runs go - they agreed to join us this fine morning. So there I was with Justyna and Justin (no relation) when BJ sauntered out of the house. He promptly prefaced introductions with "I've only got 30 minutes, so I'll take you 15 minutes away and then you're on your own." At this point he went into a description of a run that should cover roughly 6-8 miles. There were a lot of words I recognized but for all I knew they weren't even all on Greylock. "We'll start off at Condom Alley, then over to something something, turn left onto something something and you'll be right back at the car". As if he were speaking a foreign language - with which I had only a rudimentary understanding - I only heard "Condom Alley, Tapeworm, Dogs that Chase Us, Rte 7, and Fox Den". Just then, Nancy pulled in the driveway, sparing me the responsibility of having to try and lead two unsuspecting newbs through the woods.
After a quick round of intros, Bad Jim retold the entire route to Nancy, sprinkling in "Well, Todd knows where he's going" every now and then. And halfway through the description he stopped and said "... and at this point you'll know where you are". Yup, we were screwed.
We piled into the Oglemobile and BJ attempted to get us to Condom Alley, but seemed a little sketchy on the details after "Turn right onto Rte 7". Alas, we made it with only a few near misses. We set out and everything was hunkey dorey.Bad Jim Practically Kicks Us out of a Moving Vehicle
Precisely 15 minutes into the run, BJ stopped dead on the trail and bid us adieu. He recapped the directions to Nancy: "Left foot, right foot, repeat... Todd knows the details... you'll know it when you see it" and high-tailed it out of there.Editor's Note
The rest of this run report will contain summaries so BJ doesn't have to waste his time on the finer points. You should all be able to follow my story, but I'll give you cues along the way.Jim's Executive Summary #1
We followed Jim's description to the trail as he described it, hung a north at the corn field, an east at the end of the corn field, a south at some point, and had no problems. Jim, you may now skip ahead until the next executive summary.Prison Break
Armed with only a cursory understanding of where in hell we were headed, we passed a field (per directions) and hung a right along the tree line to the end of the field. Mere minutes into our unguided run, we hit a snag, literally. The tree line we would have to cut through was rigged with barbed wire. Being the smart guys were are, Justin and I let Nancy attempt to climb over the fence. Justyna was next in line when we decided maybe we should double back around the fence. It was about a 2 minute run, and we wouldn't risk anyone falling on a rusty old barbed wire fence. Knowing that it would really tire me out to have to carry someone, I took the initiative to lead us to a safer route.Children of the Corn
Back on track, we came upon the wooden bridge exactly as Jim had described it. We crossed the bridge and headed into the corn field, exactly how Jim said we wouldn't go. I knew deep down that the farmer would not appreciate 4 scantily clad, dead sexy runners trapsing through his corn field, and expected to find myself at the business end of a cocked shotgun. Feeling guilty, I hand-dried the dew from each corn stalk with my shirt while shuffling through the field. Plus I knew Nancy would never be able to handle being wet, so I made sure it was perfectly dry before she came through.Nancy vs. The Swamp Thing
At the end of the corn field we were met with a dilemma; either leap across a drainage ditch or head back. The water wasn't deep in the ditch, but was covered with something Nancy described as "a nasty green slime". Much to our surprise, someone or something had conveniently placed a log across the ditch onto an island of some sort. Once again, Nancy was all about climbing over it instead of doubling back. She was so close to making it when the flimsy weed she was using for balance pulled up, sending her into the shin-deep water. Ain't that a bitch!
No sooner had Nancy's feet touched the muddy bottom of the ditch than the mud gave way, sinking her chest deep into the nasty green slime. We almost had to leave her for fear that the Aquatic Zombies or their Beaver Zombie cohorts would attack. Nancy (AKA Zombie Bait) was pretty much a goner when I thought to myself "Self, what would Mr. Wonderful do?" I extended my hand and helped her out of the water.
Tempting fate, Justyna used a walking stick for support while she crossed the death log. Once on the other side, she quickly learned that there was nowhere else to go. In fact, she was standing atop an abandoned beaver dam (abandoned by living beavers, yet inhabited by undead zombie beavers). Her walking stick shattered during her crossing, she was forced to scoot across the log like a drunken gymnast on the pommel horse. It wasn't that she was drunk or ungraceful, it's just that a trained gymnast would not have log mud on her shorts. Ha ha, log mud.
Justin and I, once again, had successfully let the ladies test out the hairbrained schemes, then made the decision to run back through the corn to the bridge and onto the trail. Check!When in Doubt, Follow the Geese
Much akin to the tried and true following-the-sun-technique, Justin attempted to lead us back on track by pointing out that we needed to head south. Every time there was a question about which way we should go, Justin looked to the skies and pointed us southward. 15 miles later we made it back to the fateful Desertion Point, where Bad Jim had left us high and dry. Now sober and soaked, we simply had to retrace our path back to Condom Alley and the awaiting Oglemobile.All Roads Lead to Rome, but None to the Car
Leaving Desertion Point, we were very quickly made aware of the fact that not one of us was paying attention to the first leg of the run. We covered every trail on the mountain looking for the route home. This involved running and re-running miles and miles of Greylock's dewy, pricker-bush covered landscape. Ultimately, we were forced to put our pride aside and head to Rte. 7.
Our shoes completely soaked and heavy, we had to run back to the truck on a freshly paved Williamstown Rd. At this point, we were approaching the 2.5 hour mark for the run and my legs were heavy. It could be from all of the blood lost during the countless runs through prickerbush-lined trails or it could be extra 8 lbs of water my shoes were holding. Being the trooper I am, I pressed on.
Once safely inside the truck, Nancy phoned the authorities to have them call off the search and we headed back to Chez Chultz (sic). Despite the fact that he left us to fend for ourselves, we held no grudges and brought the newspaper from the end of the driveway up to the porch. We quickly bid oneanother adieu and got out of there before Jim caught us. Nancy returned to her worried family while Justyna, Justin and I breakfasted at Bob's Country Kitchen.Jim's Executive Summary #2
After our uneventful run, we stopped for a round of Farmer's Omelets - in honor of Bad Jim who was unable to join us - at Bob's Country Kitchen. Three pigs were slaughtered to provide enough swine for all of the omelets, and the waitress kept the coffee flowing like wine. End result: Flawless run, flawless breakfast.
There were no farmer's omelets had by anyone. In fact, no meat was eaten at all but the coffee did flow like wine. Yum.
Sorry if you weren't there,
Judge Sunshiney Ass
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Science Experiment Gone Oh So Wrong
Since there haven't been any comments to this blog other than the one I left, I'm going to keep writing with things that are of interest only to me. I'm sure you've all heard of my Nalgene bottle saga, here's the last of it. If anyone has a bottleless lid, I'll take it off your hands.
The first picture illustrates the horrible scene I encountered when I learned the root cause of the burning plastic smell in my house. As much as I wanted to believe it was coming from outside I knew it was only a matter of time before I found the melted corpse of something plastic. Since I don't clean my kitchen very often, it was days before I came across this poor lid.
The part of the story this picture doesn't tell is where the lid fell through the bottom shelf of the dishwasher so it was impossible to get to the dishes on the bottom. I had to take the jaws of life (kitchen scissors) after it to access my ice cream bowls. It would be days before I had the gumption to break the rest free but at least I could have my evening bowl of Fudge Tracks.
The next picture is the disfigured remains of the lid. It's a damn shame. Can I get a moment of silence for my homie that went down in the struggle? Jim, please, just a moment of silence.
The moral of the story here is relatively self-explanatory, but I'll explain it to you in case you missed it. Do not, under any circumstances whatsoever, leave your ice cream bowls on the bottom shelf of the dishwasher if you're going to be washing your Nalgene bottles. I've also found that the pouring shield for a Kitchenaid mixer has a similar response to the heating element. I wonder if there's a connection.
May God have mercy on your souls,
Judge Sunshiney Ass
Monday, August 28, 2006
Jim Goes Down
Howdy Folks, I wasn't able to make it to this run personally, but I got the unbiased run report straight from the fingertips of Theresa. I've taken a few liberties with format, but have not changed the text one iota. I've included the e-mail responses as well so that you may feel the love. Enjoy!
Holy freakin news flash Batman!!
During this morning's run the unmentionable happened! Take a seat folks cuz this is big.
Bad Jim must've been a tad fatigued from yesterday's run, when he exerted a huge amount of energy talking the ear off of the New-Guy-Whom-We-Will-Never-See-Again. In typical BJ fashion, Jim started up with the poor soul seconds after we started; "What's your name? (feigning interest). I'm Jim, they call me Bad Jim, but they're all wrong. I'm really quite nearly perfect and I take these guys on the most interesting runs they've ever been on........." You get the idea. The Jim autobiography channel was in full swing. Generally he starts with the present and works backward chronologically, covering every Jim-significant event in his life, with barely a breath between paragraphs. It should be noted that I've know Jim for over 6 years and I've only made it back to the 3rd grade with his retrospective. Ogle murmured to me that we'd never see this guy again before we'd even gone back 2 weeks! "Oh, then there was this b-i-i-i-g controversy about who would pay for the towels first. The loser would have to wrap them all................" he droned on, mile after mile. New Guy started to look dazed. Nancy Ogle stumbled and fell, then several minutes later rolled her ankle and went down again. She said she didn't know what happened, she was just telling New Guy (NG) about the history of the Boulders and down she went. NG quietly said to Jim, "I somehow feel responsible." This sent the group into spasms of laughter and inquiries as to if he was a Mr. Wonderful in Training. "Well..." he started to reply, when BJ jump-started his motor mouth and was off on another story...."That's ok, let me tell you how they treat nice guys. One night I was running with these 2 ladies, and it was dark, and they had headlights and I didn't, and they set an ambush for me. Oh it was terrible!! They jumped out from behind this tree here, and YELLED at me! After all I've done for them! A travesty I tell you, a travesty!" Poor NG tried several tactics to distance himself from the rambling runner. He slowed down, Jim slowed down, he sped up, Jim slowed up. Finally he resigned himself to his fate. You could see it in his posture, he just sagged. Nogle observed that at this point all he could probably hear was the 'wah,wah,wah,wa wah' of Charlie Brown's teacher.
But I digress.
This morning we started off, Nancy, Bruce myself and Motor Mouth. It was your typical Sunday run. Bruce was tired and had a false start right at the beginning. The terrain was not fit for a recent sprained ankle and at one point we found ourselves trotting through 6 foot high cornstalks like something out of a movie scene. Bruce said he felt like he was in a carwash. Nancy was wildly flailing her arms in front of her, trying to beat her way through the seaweed-like, choking stalks. Jim was babbling away, as usual, completely oblivious to the group's distress, once in a while yelling, "TRAIL!!", as if we'd fall for that remark. Theresa took to yelling, "field!" just to remind him that a trail is not defined as the space between 2 rows of corn. After we'd been underway for about 40 min. Jim thought he'd be a smart aleck and take us on a winding single track that eventually popped out about 75 yards from the point we'd gone into the track. 10 minutes into it, it happened. He tripped over a tree root, that had been spray painted a bright neon orange to alert bikers/runners!! Down he went, like a rock! Folks, he was SPEECHLESS!!!! So were we for that matter. We could hear the birds chirping, the wind in the tree tops, and the pitter patter of rain on the canopy above us, he was so quiet! He sat there for far less than the allotted 3 minutes, set his jaw (after informing us all that he'd heard something snap), got up and strode off. We followed. After a few minutes he started jogging again, but was still unnaturally quiet. Nancy broke the silence finally by saying that she'd figured it out. She was getting an unnecessary amount of attention due to her baseball sized ankle, and Jim was feeling threatened. Hence the spill. You could tell that broke the ice because Jim started off again, slowly to be sure, but he did build up speed. "That's right, it isn't all about you Nancy, it's about me and my needs, and I need to get you people out of these woods. Now I've just snapped the bone in my lower leg, but I know that if I don't suck it up and lead you out, that you'll all be stranded here for days. When I was a sophomore in high school I took a trip to Acapulco, Mexico. I had to resuce the whole group of us from a gay pick-pocket that was on the bus we took after we got off the plain in Madrid......."
Sandwiched there, somewhere in between the running saga of Jim's Amazing Life is the news of the century. Jim went down.
Editor's Note: This story was used with permission from Granny Apple Run Reports Syndicate&trade.Jim Strikes Back
Don't worry, I'm recovering well in the ICU. After weeks of therapy I will once
again be fearlessly leading you on adventures of a lifetime. Until then flowers,
gifts and hot meals can be delivered to 60 Williamstown Road in care of "Bad Jim". I love you all.
~Bad Jim
Editor's Note: Right. I'll leave something hot and steamy on your doorstep.Jim's Mouth Puts Him in the ICU
Only Jim would imagine himself in the ICU after a mere broken leg. I'm thinking he's in the ICU because he was talking the ears off of the ER staff and they took preventitive measures ( mallet to the side of his head to shut him up) and the results bought him a bed in ICU. David, can you get the scoop when you go to work tomorrow?
~Theresa
I hope you found this story enlightening and enjoyable. I know I did, the snot on my monitor and coffee on my keyboard will attest to that. Sorry I missed the run.
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