Archive for Fitness

Training Around Injury

I screwed up my left arm in a judo match about two months ago. Nothing went “pop,” nor was there any obvious sign of injury. About an hour after class a muscle in my forearm started to burn. It lasted a few days, but I didn’t let it bother me much. Because I’m a stubborn asshole, I went back to judo class a week later and had another match.

I could feel the same muscle aching during that second match. Once again, an hour later, it hurt like hell. Any pinching motion with my fingers felt like a hot poker to the forearm. It settled a little, going from burning to aching over the course of a few weeks, right up to and through my black belt test.

With the test coming, I couldn’t stop training altogether. Not a chance. So I trained around the injury. I had no trouble with kata. I had to be careful grabbing and pulling, and I put a pad on my forearm for partner work, but I could do just about anything else in class and practice.

The sophisticated medical device I was given to rehab my arm

Sophisticated medical equipment: a giant, snapped rubber band

Flash forward a few more weeks to today and I saw the athletic trainer at my day job. He diagnosed what I already suspected: tennis elbow. He told me keep doing the stretches I found, then suggested adding ice, massage, and some exercises with a giant chunk of rubber band. I asked him if I could keep training, and he told me to keep working around the injury until it heals up (which, unfortunately, could still be a while).

The key is finding out what you can do. Too many people have a small, nagging injury and declare it couch time. This doesn’t do any good. Can’t run? Do some upper body exercises. Hurt your arm? Run. Hangnail? Suck it up, buttercup.

A back injury may be an exception, but there’s generally a way to work around injury. One of our black belts screwed up her knee, so she did kata from a chair, just working the upper body movements. After her surgery, she did kata while staying in one stance to rehab the knee. It paid off: her doctor was shocked at how quickly she healed.

Succumbing to a small injury is just finding an excuse to skip workouts. Cultivate the opposite and find an excuse to work out, and you’ll be able to accomplish more than you think.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

We Should Encourage Health in One Another

I’m going to have a direct conversation about fat acceptance.

Across several social networks, I often see some skinny or muscular person make a crack about fat people needing to get in shape. Then someone—generally someone larger or who has difficulty cutting weight—takes them to task for their attitude. This is then followed by a swarm of posts offering support and encouragement to the larger person, telling them, “we love you for who you are.”

I can’t blame them. I hate seeing those arguments, too. The problem is the defense does not encourage a change in health.

Let me be clear: this does not mean said large person deserves scorn or derision. Fat people do not deserve to be belittled any more than anyone deserves to be teased for their race, sexuality, culture, or religion.

One of the saddest photo projects I’ve ever seen is Haley Morris-Cafiero’s Wait Watchers set. After a chance photo catching someone making fun of her weight behind her back, she set up situations to catch this happening over and over. Some of it is tough to look at because most of us have been guilty of this at one point or another.

Hell, I’m guilty. I’m down fifty pounds from my heaviest and I’m still a big guy. I shudder to think how large I could have gotten without a course correction. My friends tease me about my size or my eating, yet I’ll still make a fat crack now and again. Is it a defense mechanism? Is it just plain funny? Or am I just an asshole? (Probably the latter.)

This brings people down. We all know this. It makes fat people feel worthless, and if they’re already working on a fitness program, it makes them feel like they’ve failed. This is where the angels swoop in to tell them, “It’s okay, we love you for who you are.”

This is true. We do love you for who you are. We accept you. But we don’t have to accept your health situation. Overcompensating for the assholes pushes the problem of inaction to the opposite extreme. Instead of feeling like they’ve failed, the fat person feels like they don’t need to change their situation after all.

I think back to the number of people we’ve lost in the writing community. I think about dead friends and family members. About dead co-workers, both current and former. It’s not just fat people we’re talking about now, it’s a general lack of health. Heart disease. Diabetes. Cancer. Sometimes it’s drugs, alcohol, or depression, but for the most part, we’re talking preventable problems.

And I think about how those losses tear us up.

Would you ever tell someone, “I love you, and I can’t wait to see you in an early grave?” Hell no you wouldn’t. But that’s the behavior we encourage. I can’t count how many people I’ve seen show up on Fitocracy, bitch about how tough working out is, get an outpouring of empty support, and then disappear altogether.

There will always be assholes, and there will always be bleeding hearts. We need to do our best to find the balance between them. Here’s how:

1) Understand that the people who say shit like “fat people are fat because they’re lazy” aren’t being real or telling it like it is, they’re being tactless assholes.

2) Understand that general fitness is more important than size or weight. Seek good health, not a number on a scale. The latter tends to follow the former, but not always.

3) Understand fat jokes are funny. Yes, they hurt sometimes, but don’t read into them too far. Change the channel, browse to a different web page, ignore the trolls, and move on. If your friends are being intentionally hurtful, it’s time to find new friends.

4) Understand your friends and family absolutely do love you and accept you. Instead of seeking validation, ask them for help. A workout partner is by far better for you than an emotional crutch.

5) Understand that change is going to be difficult. There will be pain, sweat, and hunger. The payoff is worth it. Trust me.

6) Understand that you’re neither Jared Fogle nor a Biggest Loser contestant with monetary support and a trainer. You may not have a miracle transformation. Your change will take more time and effort than a thirty-second commercial or a one-hour special would have you believe. What works for them may not work for you.

7) Understand that your friends’ compliments and looks of surprise after your changes will be much more encouraging and affirming than false “it’s okay that you’re fat” sentiments.

In the end, we should all be encouraging good health in one another. We don’t need to beat one another over the head with it, but it should be made clear that we’re here for one another.

If you disagree with me, that’s fine. Please refer to #1 above. Otherwise let me know how I can help.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

Why the Hell Would You Eat That? McD’s Fries

It doesn’t take a genius to understand McDonald’s food isn’t great for you, and after seeing Supersize Me, I tend to avoid the golden arches as best I can. There are times, however, I’m in a hurry or I want to let the Rugrats abuse the McD’s indoor playplace, so I cave and order something.

This time we’d just finished a veterinary visit for our cat and needed to grab something quick on the way home. McD’s was handy and convenient. As I ate my fries, I recalled a claim that, “McDonald’s fries haven’t been within two miles of a real potato.” I was never sure that was accurate, but the fries certainly don’t look or taste like fresh-cut fries I get at some restaurants, or like fried potatoes made at home.

I know someone who worked for McDonald’s briefly in the ’60s, and she said potatoes used to be delivered directly to the restaurants. Today, a manager I know says the fries are delivered pre-cut and ready for the frier. So what’s really in them?

To the Internet! Here’s a video of how McDonald’s fries are made, courtesy McD’s Canada:

At first, it seems all is well. Lots of potatoes, peeled and sliced and sent off to the restaurants where they’re fried in canola oil. Okay, fair enough. But let’s listen a little closer, shall we?

At the 2:10 mark, Mario says:

Once the potatoes are cut, we push the strips through a blancher to remove the natural sugars from the strips. This will prevent some variation in our color once we re-cook the product.

So McD’s fries are blanched to remove natural flavoring? WTF?

So following the blanching process, we add a dextrose solution to add that nice even coat we see at the restaurants.

They “remove the natural sugars” but then turn around and add dextrose, a sugar. And then it gets a little scarier:

We also add an ingredient to our strips to make sure we prevent the graying of our product throughout the process.

Note he doesn’t tell us what this ingredient is. I’d have to guess it’s some kind of preservative, or something like a bleaching agent. I’m no organic nut, but it seems to me we just don’t need that crap. McD’s, if you’re going to go through the trouble to tell us how you’re doctoring up our food, at least have the balls to fess up on the mystery ingredient.

Keep watching and we learn after the fries are sprayed with the mystery ingredient, they’re dried, fried, and frozen. In other words, they’re cooked twice before they leave the factory, then they’re re-fried (read: re-heated) at the restaurant.

I don’t get it.

Their point to this video seems to be, “Hey, look, we use real potatoes!” My takeaway is more like, “We care more about how the food looks than what’s in it.” Most of the flavor in these things is the salt. Hold the salt and a McD’s french fry doesn’t necessarily taste bad, but it sure doesn’t taste like a regular potato. Most of their flavor is marketing.

There’s a bar not far from here that slices their potatoes in-house. Order them loaded and you get real shredded cheese and chopped bacon, not cheese sludge and bacon bits. They cost a little more, but I’ll take their fries over McD’s any time.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

2013 Reboot

It’s been a long year already. Most of my plans have been derailed, but now it’s time for a fresh start.

Here’s the deal:

Late last year, my karate instructors told me they wanted to put me up for black belt in March. Two other candidates and I put together our attack team and we started training on Sundays. This also meant attending more classes, practicing and studying more often at home, and following the New Year the three of us started additional weekly training separate from our team.

Writing karate papers today

My writing and studying through the first quarter of the year looked like this

Training soon trumped everything, including writing. If I were a full-time writer, it wouldn’t have been an issue. However, I still have obligations to a day gig and I have a family, so something had to give. For the time being, unfortunately, that meant the writing.

I didn’t want to mention it here because I didn’t want to jinx it. See, my dojo doesn’t play games when it comes to black belts. It’s earned, no question. I felt confident I would pass the test, but there’s always a very real possibility of failure. I had to write three essays, take a 120-question written test, attempt the various physical requirements several times, and the test itself took about eight hours and covered just about everything I’d learned from white belt up to that point. I certainly didn’t want to be the guy talking up my upcoming test in public, only to turn around and have to admit I failed it.

Fortunately, I passed.

Our Kamiza

Our brown belts left on the altar following the kamiza ceremony

All three of us passed, in fact, and I scored better than I expected to. Two of us attended a seminar for our style, Shuri-ryu, the weekend following the test, and then this past weekend we had our formal promotion ceremony to receive our black belts and make things official.

It’s a huge load of pressure off, and it’s nice to finally have real free time again. My karate training will continue, but now I’ll be able to dial things back down to a sane level again. I’ll have my Sundays freed up and I’ll have more time for writing in general. I’ll be able to fiddle around with the camera again, and I can revisit my writing plans for the year once more.

Back on Track

Back on track, in more ways than one

I’ve resumed my normal fitness routine, too. I got back on the weight bench last week, and this morning I went out for my first run of the season. It was short and not near what I hoped, but I’m glad I could get back out there. I’m hoping to run the Warrior Dash again this year if my schedule allows, and I can’t let this stubborn Winter slow me down any longer.

It’s also catch-up time. I owe a few people a few different things. It’s about time I handle that, too.

So here I am with a fresh start on 2013. And it’s Spring Break, so it’s a good week to kick it all off. Stay tuned here this week for more news and updates, and thank you all for sticking around while I’ve been quiet.

Your patience will pay off!

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

Beaten, Not Broken

Coming down to the wire on something for next month. The prep has been taking its toll.

My mornings look like this now:

Morning Remedy of Champions

Every pro knows you need to work with injuries

This event has been consuming my time since August. On the downside, it’s put me farther behind on some of my writing projects. On the upside, I feel ready for this. If I get through it, it will have been worth it.

I’ve got a problem with my left elbow and grip, and I have assorted other dings and bruises. One of my training partners has bad knees. One of the guys on my team has a leg injury, and another is about to be taken out by a surgical procedure.

We’re adapting. We train around or through the weak parts. Giving up and walking away isn’t an option. Treat and rehab the nagging injuries: that’s how a pro does it. Tape and ibuprofen and therapy and stretching.

“You’re getting old,” they say. “You don’t recover quick anymore.”

So I should sit and rot? No way. Pass me that brace and get out of my way.

Business note: I’m switching hosting providers. The site and my email may be inaccessible for a short period as a result. I don’t plan to lose anything, but one never knows with these things. I’ve had it with all the spam getting through my current provider’s filters and it’s time for a change. See you on the other side.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

Using the Time We Make

Last night, I sat down on the weight bench so exhausted I could hardly lift the plates to put them on the ends of the barbell. I thought about just skipping the workout. To hell with it. Crash out and get some much-needed sleep.

Tired as hell, but the weights will not beat me.

Not as heavy as the soul-crushing weight of defeat

Then I got pissed.

I don’t have time for this shit. When do I make up a workout? When I’m at work? When I’m writing? When I’m in karate class? During my next workout?

No, I made the time for this workout, and I needed to use it. I got under the bar and started pushing. I kept moving and watched the clock during my rest periods to make sure I didn’t waste any of that precious time. An hour later, my sets were done and I felt great.

The same attitude applies to creative tasks.

When I’m writing, I don’t have time to screw around. The fingers need to be flying on the keyboard if I’m going to get anywhere. If I’m tired and the words come out in long streams of crap, I can clean them up later.

It’s about time I remembered that.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

On Idle Time

Sometimes we need a break. Even writers will spend some idle time to unwind, relax, and attempt to let plot problems solve themselves.

There is, however, a right way and a wrong way to do this.

I find tuning out is the wrong way. This is the couch potato method: sit down and flip channels or surf Netflix until the wee hours of the night. Sure, it’s relaxing, but the brain isn’t in motion, it’s in pure sponge mode. Even if the writer’s internal editor is analyzing the plot of the flick or anticipating a climactic twist, all the effort is going into what’s on the screen rather than what’s in the writer’s notebook or on his hard drive.

Disengagement is much better. The subtle difference is disengagement is the result of doing something physical, something that is so automatic that the brain isn’t required to take command of things. Showers and walks around the blocks are popular examples from many writers. I’ve recently found going out for a run or hitting the weights is just as effective, and there have been several times I used my phone to email brief notes to myself during walking intervals on the track.

The body and the hands are on autopilot, so the brain is free to wander. Plots move in new directions. Characters rise and fall, or bring new dialog. Short stories and novels unfold.

In short, writers, choose your idle activity wisely. Don’t let the one-two punch of the desk and couch take its toll on your body. Get out and get some exercise and use that time to brainstorm. It will be good for you and for your work.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

Don’t Let Him Fall On You!

Ever see a 600-pound man in a fight? Dig:

The smaller man’s strategy of wearing the guy out starts to work quick. When people get that big, it’s a struggle just to exist, much less engage in physical combat. When he finally toppled, and the smaller man escaped, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.

It reminds me a bit of a local amateur fight featuring a guy that had to weigh 400 pounds. No kidding, the man was built like Grimace.


Come at me, bro!

He, too, had a tough time getting around the ring and took huge swipes at his opponent without really connecting. He took several hits to the gut, and at one point started to fall. He waved his arms, calling off the fight all the way down to the canvas.

I’m pretty sure he was tapping out to gravity.

The real trick for the little guy in these fights is making sure the behemoth doesn’t fall on him. If you thought the headline was a joke, check out this other fight featuring the same 600-pound man. Jump to the 2:00 mark, where the ref is resetting the combatants because the little guy was working on an escape but was falling out of the ring.

But hey, at least they had the guts to step into the ring…

*Ba-dump bump tsshh!*

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

I Ate a Frickin’ Shark!

Okay, so it was just an iridescent shark.


Still sounds a lot more impressive than “swai,” anyway

This thing is basically an Asian catfish. I picked up a bag of filets cheap, and today I broiled one up with some salt and black & red pepper. You know what? It tasted pretty good. It didn’t have that dirt flavor that often comes with American catfish or tilapia. Tomorrow, I think I’ll try pan-frying one.

Point is I’m massaging the diet a bit again. I’m still stoked about completing the Warrior Dash, and my weight lifting and karate have both been progressing well, but the results haven’t shown on the scale. Even running a couple of times a week isn’t quite cutting it, though it’s worked in the past. Some of it may be added muscle (judging by some of what I see in the mirror), but to make the doc happy and to see real results, I’d still like to shed a few pounds.

I see the consequences on the scale after a night of even one beer and a greasy burger and loaded fries at the bar with friends. Pizza or Chinese food with the family? Even worse. It’s a temporary spike, usually gone in a day or two, but the effect is definitely there. So it’s back to basics with making sure I get a solid breakfast and not overdoing things at lunch or dinner. We already cook most of our dinner meals, but at lunch I want to shoot for more fresh fish or chicken rather than the prepared things like processed fish sticks or chicken nuggets and mac & cheese the kids favor during the summer.


Now if only I could afford to do this all the time…

I don’t drive myself insane counting calories, and I’m not about to start weighing my food and watching my macros like a bodybuilder. I’m going to exercise a little restraint and see how things go. Eat as clean as I can as a guy who’s not fond of most vegetables and is picky with fruits.

And I’m going to eat some more frickin’ shark.

Meanwhile, if anyone wants to team up for workout motivation, check out Fitocracy. Some of my friends and readers are already aboard, and the more the merrier. Hit me up for an invite if you like. If nothing else, it’s a great way to track workouts and progress. I’m also on RunKeeper, but try not to laugh at my pathetic little entries there. If enough people do the Fitocracy thing, maybe I’ll start a The Pack group.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

Warrior Unleashed

I survived the Warrior Dash!

Mike Medal

Mud has never tasted so good

I’ve never been a runner, but I have been running more in an effort to burn off a little of the extra padding I’m carrying around and to complement my weight lifting and karate training. I’ve never run in a race before, so many thought it odd I’d choose one with obstacles.

May as well make it interesting, right?

43268 Reporting for Battle

The before photo, aka “Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

Some friends of mine had run the Warrior Dash before, and they all had a blast, so I turned around and talked a few coworkers into running the Dash as well. We couldn’t all hit the same start times, but I did run with two of my coworkers.

We set out with an easy pace. Steve and Beth had run half marathons before, but they were content to hang back with me for the Dash. Our only goal going in: finish the thing. We had heard mixed stories about the obstacles, and we saw no point in burning out before we got to the last of them.

My Biscuits Are Burning!

“My biscuits are burnin’!”

The obstacles presented a mix of climbing, crawling, jumping, and lots of mud. We had to crawl under barbed wire and across cargo nets. We had to go up mud-slicked climbing walls and down fire poles and slides. We had to crawl, trudge, or swim through creeks and mud pits.

And yes, we jumped over fire.

The obstacles were not as difficult as I expected, and I’m happy to say I went through all of them, no cheats or bypasses. I never stopped, either, with the exception of bottlenecks entering an obstacle or lining up to grab a quick drink of water (they had three water stations to keep competitors hydrated during the hot day). We never stopped to catch our breath or to take a break.

Leisurely Swim

Just a leisurely afternoon swim

My only regret, in fact, is not pushing the running stretches a little harder. There were several hills on the course, not counting the obstacles, and again, I didn’t want to wear myself out and be unable to tackle one of the obstacles. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have been an issue, with the possible exception of one known as the Giant Cliffhanger.

The photos on the website didn’t do this one justice. There’s no bypass around this one, no easy way up. Competitors have to climb a muddy slope, already torn to bits by the several thousand people who climbed it before, using a rope which is wet and caked with mud. Wooden planks lined the top, offering a small foothold every four feet or so, but then the rope ends and we really had to claw our way over the top edge. I managed to leap from foothold to foothold without tumbling back down and taking out the dozen or so people behind me.

Victory Beer

Miller never tasted so good.

They clocked my final time at 1:05:20.40. Less than stellar, but my normal mile pace is on the slow side, so throw in obstacles and less running and it’s not surprising. It’s also far from the end of the pack, so I’m content with that time, if not happy with it. I’m just thrilled to say I finished it.

We had a great time on the Dash. I did tweak my ankle in one of the creaks, but no break or sprain so I’m good. My weight lifting training helped get me over the obstacles, and my only sore spots have been the stabilizer muscles around my ankles. Next year leading up to the Dash, I think I’ll do some more field and trail running to get used to the slopes and uneven surfaces.

And yes, there will be a next year. I was sold before the end of the Dash. If they were taking signups for next year, I’d have registered on the spot.

Now I have a time to beat, too.

They Were Blue

Time to retire these Nikes. They were blue and silver/gray before the race.

St Jude Children’s Research Hospital reported they had a great weekend. 18,911 competitors ran the course, raising $272,073. And that was just the Illinois event! Another Warrior Dash went down simultaneously in Pennsylvania.

Thanks again to those of you who sponsored my run. I’m glad I could bring in even a little bit, and having access to the St Jude tent turned out to be a great benefit.

I donated my shoes to GreenSneakers at the end of the race, too. I retired this pair from the running track a year or so ago and only use them when lifting, so I was happy to throw them onto the pile. If GreenSneakers can clean them up and send them overseas, then more power to them.

All in all we had a great day. My wife hung out with Steve’s family, and though they couldn’t see us running until the very end of the Dash, they enjoyed watching people in costume and listening to the live bands. Just a fun course, a great atmosphere, and a good excuse to get outside and stay active.

If it sounds at all like your kind of thing, then I highly recommend you keep an eye on the Warrior Dash website to see when they’ll be nearby. You won’t regret it!

For more photos, click on over to my Warrior Dash Flickr set.

Bonus video! This must have been shot on Saturday before the storms rolled through and mucked everything up.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

On Busted Thumbs and Heart Attacks

Most of you have met Lenore.

Brick Road

How're YOU doin', beautiful?

I took her to get her chain tightened—and, as it turned out, replaced—today, just as the Illinois weather decided to make up for the early warm weather it gave us by dropping back into the 40s and 50s. Ah, well. That’s what leather and sweatshirts are  for.

Then I learned it’s damn near impossible to manipulate turn signals with a busted thumb. Last night while sparring in karate class, I somehow managed to block my opponent’s knee using only my thumb. My thumb lost, and now the first knuckle doesn’t want to bend and it’s swollen like a sausage on a too-hot grill. My scream of agony every time I manipulated the switch probably did a better job of catching surrounding motorists’ attention than my turn signal did. I thought about switching to hand signals, but these days I’m pretty sure there’s only one hand signal that most drivers recognize, and that one won’t do me any good.

Then I stared death in the face.

I left Lenore in the tender care of the mechanics at Grayboy in the Heights and asked them where I could get breakfast. A big dude runs the service desk, and he pointed out the window to a shabby gray structure two doors down from their main building.

“Go there,” he said. “If you like meat, they’ll give you plenty. You won’t even be able to finish it.”

Challenge accepted.

Understand, I’m standing in a spot two blocks from downtown Peoria Heights with its high-end eateries like French Toast and Noir, and its array of trendy little boutique shops. The Silver Dollar, on the other hand, is a dark little bar in the other direction. On the plus side, chances were it would be more affordable.

I walked in and a friendly woman behind the bar handed me a type-written menu. A quick scan turned up Mikey’s Special: a toasted biscuit topped with a sausage patty, three eggs over easy, and cheese, all smothered in sausage gravy.

It looks like this:

The Mikey Special. Holy shit.

Holy shit.

If my doctor were sitting with me, he’d have punched me square in the face and tripled my cholesterol meds for the next six months. That plate is bigger than my iPad. I took out  a fork and cut into this thing, and it bled bright, golden egg yolk. I could already feel my heart cringing against my spine and begging me not to eat it. My brain reminded me I’m running the Warrior Dash in three weeks, and this wouldn’t help the cause.

My belly said “Pump it in!”

As evil as this thing looks, it tasted even better. The sausage patty was thick like a quality hamburger, and juicy without being greasy. Few places get gravy right, but the Silver Dollar nailed it: thick and peppery without being gummy. And yes, I finished the whole thing. When I returned for Lenore, the service guy was astonished. He advised me to not fall asleep while riding this afternoon.

Now my blood runs like sludge in my veins.

It’s a good thing I have at least two workouts coming today. I’m going to need them.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.

The Warrior Dash

The Warrior Dash is coming up in just over three weeks! Strangely enough, I’m more looking forward to it than I am nervous about it. I feel no pressure for time, I just want to finish the damned thing.

Training has been going well, though, and I’m confident I’ll make it. My lifting program has been going great, and I’m at the point on the track that I can put in a full 5K with more running than walking. I’ve not cut much weight, but my pants fit better so I must be doing something right.

Shureido Self Portrait

Bring it on.

I’m also trying to raise some funds for the St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital. The Warrior Dash is a big partner with St Jude, and I decided as long as I’ll be running in the Dash anyway, I may as well make it worthwhile for more than just myself.

St Jude offers a tremendous service to children with chronic illnesses, including the daughters of two of my co-workers. If anyone out there would like to help with a donation, I’d greatly appreciate it. Just click over to My St Jude Event page and it’ll help you through the rest. They recommend a $25.00 minimum donation, but donors can choose any amount. Every little bit counts!

I’m running at 1pm on Father’s Day, June 17th. I plan to have the Wife shoot some photos and maybe some video of me slogging through the mud or some of the obstacles. 12 obstacles in three miles? I can do this!

I just hope they don’t have to drag me across the finish line on a stretcher.

About Mike Oliveri

Mike Oliveri is a writer, martial artist, cigar aficionado, motorcyclist, and family man, but not necessarily in that order. He is currently hard at work on the werewolf noir series The Pack for Evileye Books.