Lightening Bolt

This guy is awesome. from Bloomberg:

Usain Bolt broke his own world record in the 200 meters, running 19.19 seconds at the track and field world championships in Berlin.

It’s the second world mark of the meet for Bolt, who topped his own 100-meter standard by running 9.58 seconds four days ago. He set the previous 200 mark of 19.30 seconds at the 2008 Olympics.

Amazing performance. What strikes me most is ran consecutive 100 meters without stopping at a pace 9.595 or only 15 thousands of a second slower than the world record 100 meter pace from two days ago. In other words he ran the 200 meters faster than anyone else in history has run a 100 meters.
The numbers seem small but he is lowering this record at a colossal pace. A Ralph Boston pace.

Is there a Dog?

This morning, as MY BEST AND ONLY DOG was walking me, I was adrift in philosophical musings...why am I here, what is my purpose, is there a god... when all of a sudden this thought occurred to me: Hey, is that speargrass? There, in that clump of weeds, is that SPEARGRASS? Then, bam, it is back to the 60's, to the house on University and the vacant lot catty-corner across the alley. The lot with the overgrown weeds, field of speargrass, army of chiggers and that lone, sorry-looking mulberry tree. It is the 60's, and today Oxey and I are at war with the Lanhams. They may have more bodies but we have more death-before-dishonor ATTITUDE. We gather our spears, careful to keep the pointy, sticky little ends in tact and sneak out of the lot to find Lanhams. And I am savoring the moment when I can let fly with a group of spears, their pointy, sticky little ends covered with spit. Oh, joy! There's a Lanham...he's running and I'm chasing...I'm getting closer (how can this be? I am no doubt the slowest white girl in the history of ever) and now...now... NOW! Off the little spears go, their pointy, sticky little ends hitting the Lanham in the right shoulder, hanging there as he flees, yelping from their sting. Oh bliss! But still, he isn't fast enough and I could get in another shot if only I had more spears. Where is Oxey? He could take the shot. Then he appears...a little kid, no shirt, no shoes, tanned skin, blond burr, running full blast... with a handful of ...RIPE JUICY MULBERRIES! And he's got the Lanham in his sights, and he is there and he lets loose with the ripest, juiciest of those berries and ...nothing less than PURE PERFECTION. A perfect, purple hit on the Lanham's pristine white t-shirt. We smile. Victory is sooooooo sweet. Meanwhile, the Lanham has lost again, and is left only with his perfect, impermeable stain of defeat.

You may ask yourself what this has to do with sports. The answer is that WE LIKE TO PLAY. We like to throw stuff and hit targets with balls ( or speargrass or mulberries or pecans). We find it exhilarating. And it is just fun. So we like sports.

P.S. I can't seem to stop myself. Someone else better post soon or we will have to rename this middleagedwhitewomansselfindulgentblog.