Showing posts with label Brett Favre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brett Favre. Show all posts

Monday, November 26, 2012

How to put the ‘man’ back in ‘marathon’



Let’s face it: compared to testosterone-fueled contact sports like football, ice hockey and Jujitsu, long-distance running just isn’t that manly.

As a man, it’s one thing to idolize famous athletes who look like this:

Photo courtesy of blacksportsonline.com

But anyone with a pair of testicles is going to have a hard time explaining why their hero looks like an adolescent girl with a bad haircut:


Photo courtesy of Marcio Jose Sanchez/bigstory.ap.org

Look, a community 10K is never going to be as effortlessly macho as a backyard game of pigskin on a crisp fall day. That’s why Brett Favre—not Galen Rupp—is the poster boy for Wrangler jeans. And that’s why Brett Favre—not Galen Rupp—had the audacity to text photos of his junk to a woman who looks like this:


Photo courtesy of news.lalate.com

But you don’t have to be a retired NFL star in grass-stained Five Star Premium Denim to exude masculinity and win the approval of your fellow XYs. You just have to follow a few simple rules to avoid coming off as a bird-legged sissy in short-shorts.

1. Have facial hair. Nothing says, “I own a power drill” like a little bit of mug-scruff. But beware—too much of a good thing will leave you looking more hobo (i.e. Tom Hanks in Castaway) than hunky (i.e. Brad Pitt in Moneyball).

2. Either wear sleeves, or don’t. Manly men do not slip removable spandex tubes over their forearms in case it’s a bit chilly (or a bit balmy) on the course. Sensitivity to temperature fluctuations is a known side effect of estrogen, which is why arm sleeves—like half-tights and battery-powered mini fans—should be reserved for female use only.

3. Listen to classic rock. Before you head to the starting line, make sure your iPod is loaded up with AC/DC, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. When the dude to your right asks what you’re jamming to, your answer should not be, “One Direction.”

4. Wear black. Johnny Cash was just kidding when he said he’d love to wear a rainbow everyday. At least half of your outfit should be black or gray. If you want to rock a lime green shirt, go for it. You just couldn’t resist those bright blue shorts on the clearance rack at Sports Authority? Fine. But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not wear them together. Because when you look like this:



Photo courtesy of perfectionjourney.org



Other guys see this:



Photo courtesy of rumorfix.com

5. Win. A man does not engage in a competitive activity—be it a sport, a video game or a checkers match with Granny—simply to participate. He does it to destroy his opponent and thus prove his superiority to the rest of the male race. If that means vomiting blood for 20 minutes after out-kicking a slightly overweight teenager in a homestretch sprint for 41st place in the local Turkey Trot, so be it. Bloody oatmeal barf is a small price to pay for the preservation of your masculinity.   

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Mmm...dark beer and marshmallows

Attention everyone: I have an important announcement to make. I’m about to pull a Brett Favre.

No, not the kind that involves inappropriate text messages and an embarrassing national scandal. The kind that involves coming out of retirement mere months after hanging up your uniform.

The truth is, as much as I have enjoyed eating real food for lunch and being free from the obligation of daily practice, I have missed the thrill of competing. With outdoor track season rapidly approaching, the itch to race is stronger than ever. Online Scrabble tournaments just aren’t enough to satisfy my competitive urges.

Luckily, I have found the perfect event to kick off my post-collegiate racing career: an Irish-themed 5K in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. The only problem is that the race is this weekend, and I suspect that my fitness level has dropped significantly since the last time I crossed a finish line (at the Division I Mountain Regional Cross Country Championships last November).

To finish this race, I will probably have to rely heavily on muscle memory and the underlying threat of public humiliation. But since this is a St. Patty’s Day race, I will have one important advantage: my Irish family heritage.

You might find it hard to believe that I descended from the land of potatoes and leprechauns, considering my golden-brown complexion, long-legged physique and apostrophe-deficient last name. I anticipated your skepticism, which is why I took the liberty of conducting a meticulous scientific study to prove that my ancestors indeed hailed from the Emerald Isle. As you can see from the results, I was successful in my endeavor. I also inadvertently uncovered the reason behind my uncanny Chewbacca impersonation.


First, a pie graph representing my ethnic makeup:





Second, a photo of my shower. Yes lads and lasses, I even smell Irish:





So with the luck o’ the Irish on my side, I think my semi-pro debut has great potential. For an extra boost, I plan to eat a hearty pre-race breakfast of Lucky Charms and Guinness. I will also wear as much green as possible—perhaps an old Favre jersey?