If you're looking for something that shows you're a Boston fan, but you don't want a traditional MLB shirt, or something that just says "Yankees suck!" check out The Red Seat. The Red Seat makes Red Sox shirts that are different, reasonably priced, and cool. Why?

In retrospect, we think the seeds of "The Red Seat" were sown as early as Game 3 (Zimmer had it coming). Trying to convert a Yankee fan and wanting a souvenir to commemorate the great day of theater, we searched and searched, but to no avail. There was literally nothing around the park that wasn't a lame retread, obscenely priced or just plain obscene.

My favorite? God hates us. Of course, not *this* year. Oh no. This year is different. I hope.

One of the best parts of being back in Massachusetts is that everyone — well nearly everyone — who I hang out with is a Sox fan. Our chef even put a TV in the kitchen so we can follow the playoffs, and tomorrow we're opening early at 4 PM so people can come in and watch the game. On the menu? Hot dogs, popcorn, and Cracker Jacks, of course! Should be lots of fun. Let's hope Cornrroyo (my Anaheim friend's attempt to insult tomorrow's starting pitcher is to call Bronson Arroyo, who has cornrows, "Cornrroyo" but I think it's kind of funny so I'm using it in a positive manner) has his stuff and we can wrap this one up at home! Go Boston!

If you find yourself on Nantucket, wandering about trying to find a good spot to watch the Patriots game, you would do well to wander yourself to the Gaslight Theater on North Union Street in Town. (Note: it may have a different name now, but I can't remember if it does, or what its new name would be. Update: it's now called the Starlight.) It was there last night that my friend Sarah and I partook of the Patriots glorious victory over the Colts in their season opener, watching the game on the movie screen! With a waitress delivering beers to those unwilling or unable to move from their movie seats, and a raucous crowd of New England fans, it was a great start to the season.

An interesting article in the New York Times yesterday examines Why Joggers Labor and Olympians Fly. Apparently elite atheletes (like we know from cyclist Lance Armstrong) possess physiological traits that "normal" people don't have, such as larger hearts.

Exercise physiologists say there are three components to great running: A high VO2 max, the volume of oxygen an athlete can consume at maximum exertion; great running efficiency, a measurement of the energy used to run at a particular pace; and an ability to keep going at a high level of exertion for a long time, expressed as the percentage of VO2 max that can be sustained during a run.

Some day I'd like to get my VO2 max measured. Meanwhile, my marathon training has been progressing quite well, or it was until yesterday when I was running in the woods, took my mind off the trail, and started thinking about the interval training I was going to do after I warmed up. Then I tripped on a root and went non-Olympian flying through the air, bonking my knee as I skidded along the pine needled floor of the forest. No interval training after that, just a slow jog back home and a day of icing the knee. I guess I'm still in the "Joggers Labor" phase of my running career.

Today in Slate, an open letter to former Red Sox pitcher (and tonight's starter for the National League in the All-Star Game) Roger Clemens, Roger and Me: Why I hate the greatest pitcher of all time.

But here's the real problem with your behavior: Fans like to think that players are giving it their all. All the time. I like to think that, anyway. But then I'm just a simple, good-hearted man, a man who wants to believe in heroes. How can I believe in heroes, Mr. Clemens, when the world is home to people like you? It's clear that you just try hard when you feel like it.

Sadly that seems to be the general state in sports these days, and why I tend to be a big fan of the hustlers still making names for themselves. I can relate to the author's anger. Also he calls The Rocket, "wicked fat." Ha ha ha. What is it with ballplayers? They're like the fattest professional athletes, with so many guts and bellies. I mean, if you're a nose guard, sure you've got a gut. But you're not supposed to dive and make a catch and run between bases. Wicked fat. Ha.

The Olde Towne Teame ise breakinge mye olde towne hearte. NY Yankees 5, Boston 4, 13 innings.

From Runner's World, common sense 10 Principles of Marathon Training:

A marathon training program can survive any challenge — as long as your determination remains strong. Here are 10 principles to carry you through your training.

From my four and seven-year-old cousins when I told them I was going to run the NYC Marathon:

Cousins: How far is a marathon?
Meg: How far do you think it is?
C: Ten miles?
M: Guess again.
C: 20 miles?
M: More than that, keep guessing.
C: 300 miles?!
M: Oh no, not 300. Only 26 miles. But still, that's like four hours of running non-stop!
C (McKenna): Oh, that's not so bad. That's only sixty minutes. Plus sixty minutes. Plus sixty minutes. Plus sixty minutes.

And she's right. I know I can run sixty minutes. Now I'll just do it four times in a row.

I know where I'll be November 7, 2004: in New York City running the ING New York City Marathon! The lottery results have been posted and for once I've gotten lucky with a lottery and I'm in. Woo hoo! Now this means my running and training must get much more serious. But that's OK because I've always wanted to run a marathon, and the NYC marathon looks to be really fun. As fun as 26 miles can be, that is.

Five bridges, five boroughs, and more than two million spectators make the ING New York City Marathon a race like no other.

Maybe I'll even "marablog" — blog as I run. 😉

On Saturday morning, Alaina and I met in Central Park to run the Circle of Friends NY Mini 10K. Don't let the word "mini" in the title fool you, this was a full 10K (6.2 miles). To my surprise, Alaina greeted me with the news that she hoped to break her time set last year and that she was looking to run 9:05 miles.

I've been running for close to four weeks now, after taking time off for illness. But I haven't been training that hard. I told her I'd see what I could do. We stayed together through 5K, crossing the half-way mark in something close to 27 minutes. But at the top of the hill past The Ravine, I bade her farewell, told her to run fast, and fell behind into the pack of slower runners. I was hot and tired, and couldn't believe I had half a race left to run. Never had 3.1 miles seemed so long.

But slow and steady it was, with stops at 4 and 5 miles for water. And about a minute and a half after Alaina, I crossed the finish line. My time was 1:00:11, with a pace of 9:42 — quite a bit off 9:05. But I did it, and I've never been so happy to get a silly medal in my life. From here on out, I'm doing more speed work so I can get faster. I think I've said that before, but this time I mean it.

It was Lock who first pointed me towards Soxaholix, a daily comic strip about the Red Sox, complete with links. And I am very grateful, for this site makes me laugh even in the depths of my sorrow. Yesterday's frame following Boston's 10-6 loss to Cleveland begins with, "This team named after the indigenous peoples of the Americas is starting me on a trail of tears." If you love the Olde Towne Team, this is the site for you.