Friday night, I drove down to San Diego to pace my friend Bud in the San Diego 100, a 100 mile race run in the mountains east of San Diego. You may recall that Bud and I ran the final 8 or so miles of my first 50k race last january and runs 100s all the time...at 58 years of age.

He was kind enough to invite me to run the last 25 miles, overnight, with him - this is common practice in the 100 mile race world, as this final marathon distance is usually run overnight, after 75 miles and zero sleep, and can feel like another 100 miles.

We were to meet at an aid station called "Todd's Cabin" around midnight-2am, so I procured a hotel room after watching the race's 6 AM start and helping set up an aid station tent and hunkered down for some intense naptime around 11am.

I snagged around 3 hours, watched a bunch of cable, and at 10:00pm, headed out to Todd's Cabin, about 1 hour away. According to the pacer instructions, the cabin was about 1/4 mile from the area where we were to park, so I set off into the darkness of the trail, me, my flashlight, and my water pack, beneath a black, star-filled sky. In fact, the sky was SO big and filled with stars, during my awe of it, I ran past the trail's turnoff point to get to the cabin and ran an extra 2 miles out before coming across runners heading towards it, informing me to turn around. So, I got in an extra 4-5 miles of running (but DID get to see a meteor burn out across the sky: It was white as it shot, then turned a crimson orange as it faded).

I managed to get to the cabin at 11:30, and it was soooo cozy: Old fire stove, lots of sofas and chairs...DEATH for any runner who would drag their tired ass inside after 75, grueling miles. I assisted in getting food to runners as I waited, and actually ran into a guy I'd run part of the Calico 50k with. He looked fresh and great. Another guy, Robert, didn't, and he wound up dropping, even after my shoving food, Tylenol, and fluids his direction.

The hours ticked by, and by 3am, I had the guys radio the previous aid stations to see if Bud (lucky #13) had come though. He had, but he was slow, so I grew a little concerned regarding his condition. Lo and behold, not 30 minutes later, in rolled Bud, all smiles and jokes with the aid station workers. We hugged and he introduced me to his friend Darren, who was looking, well, shitty. He explained that he was getting over a cold, PLUS, he hadn't really trained for this race (he isn't inexperienced at all: He's run Badwater 3x, and H.U.R.T. several times), so they'd been crawling along, about 1 1/2 hours behind Bud's desired pace.

At 4:00, flashlights in hand and headlamps beaming, we struck out into the night, Darren, power walking behind our shuffling up ahead. It. Was. Beautiful. There's nothing like being alone on mountain trails at night. We talked, didn't talk, joked, relieved ourselves many-a-time (I was glad to see they were both hydrated), and then, after a small aid station stop, Bud told us to go ahead, as he was taking a "deuce break".

I was concerned for Darren and didn't want to push him too hard, but also, at mile 81, thought he should keep moving. And he did. He dug deep, and before too long, we were running at a decent pace across the rooty, rocky, dark trails, him telling me about Badwater, how shitty he was feeling, his kids, and I kept him talking/running for a good 30 mns, knowing in full that Bud would catch up, but I had to keep his legs going.

As the sunrise came, Bud caught us, laughing at our increased pace. We were around mile 88 at this point, and Darren looked like ass, but when we stopped, Bud sat him down and said, "Even if we don't make the cutoff, we're crossing that finish line together. All 3 of us." I nearly cried but held back, since the last thing Darren needed was a pacer weeping over a loyal friendship.

The miles crept by, but onward we shoved, as the sun hit us in an exposed, rocky area, but only 10k to go! A loooong final climb came about 3 miles before the finish (don't they always in trail races), and Darren needed to take rest breaks in the shade, but the barn door was ever-so-close, and as we slapped our feet across the finish in 29:50 (a good 1 + hours before the cutoff time), I was blown away by the determination of both Darren and Bud.

It's looking as though the San Diego 100 will be my first 100 next year. Maybe I'll break the new course record set this weekend of 15 hrs, 48 mns?

Probably not so much.

Yesterday, I hopped on the Los Angeles Metro Rail and headed to downtown. No one does this in LA, methinks because it involves walking, but there I was, 1:00pm, smack dab in the center of this city's most awe-inspiring architecture, surrounded by fellow Angelians and their rushrushrush, downtowny vibe.

I popped in to the LA Library and was blown on my ass by the sheer mass and size; I strolled through the lobby of The Standard Hotel to witness poseurs shooting pool and foosball. Up and down the streets I walked, an overcast sky above.

Shit, those are TWO things that never happen here.

I jumped back on the train and slid off at Hollywood and Vine, grabbing something to eat and a beer at The Pig n' Whistle on Hollywood Blvd. There I met Greer and Ellen, visiting from Scotland. We chatted up a fucking storm, and those old nutters matched me drink for drink, insisting that I invest in a home in their small town and renting it out. It sure got me thinking...

Afterward, I head to The Powerhouse bar, a little hole in the wall that gets infested by Hollywood dickheads on weekend nights. Usually. Last night was different, boy: 90% of the crowd consisted of people heading up Cahuenga to the Hollywood Bowl to witness the epic, musical experience, Journey . Needless to say, when "Don't Stop Believin'" came on the juke, the place went apeshit, myself included.

A poem, about one of my downtown sights:

OUTSIDE THE LOS ANGELES PUBLIC LIBRARY

The fat, bald black man
asks me for 4o cents.

As I drop my last quarter
into his opened, calloused paw
I see a wrapped condom resting in it

and think

things sure are looking
up for you

pal.

I've had 2 interviews in the past few days for writing jobs, thank God. There comes a moment as a freelancer where you wonder if anyone at all remembers working with you, remembers getting your resume, remembers...that you are a carbon-based lifeform still strolling planet Earth, so having 2 in one day was a little affirming of my own existence, if anything.

My first stop was on Hollywood Blvd, which is always a treat, as trotting up the walk of fame to interview for a writing gig (ha! "Gig". I'm such an ass) is something not too many people get to experience. I was told the company name was "Eye Boogie", which gave me a chuckle, and the interview was for a position writing for a daily webcast a la "Counterpoint", except the subject matter, instead of hot political topics, would be - drumroll - pop culture snippets.

I took the rocking elevator to the 2nd floor in an old, art deco, decaying building, and exiting the lift, I realized that this building had seen it's heyday about, mmmm, 10 years ago. No signs directed me anywhere, and as I finally pressed through the glass doors of Eye Boogie, I was treated to the sight pictured above.

That's a GIANT eyeball, with a pupil that bounces around erratically inside of it. I assume there used to be a receptionist's desk before it, but now, a lowly, single boxed up fax machine rests there. In fact, no one was there to greet me. A meeting was going on in a glassed-in conference room next to me, so I sat back in the weathered and tattered "hip" sofa and thumbed through a couple of rag-mags. The meeting continued, as I sat, right on time for my appointment, thumb in my ass. Finally, 10 minutes later, I called my contact who said, "Oh, are you downstairs?". When I told her that I was enjoying their comfy sofa, she said she'd be right out. 5 more minutes passed before a man - Woody - popped out (HA!HA! WOODY POPPED OUT OMFG LOL!!!!11) and told me it'd be just one minute. Nice guy, and it turns out, one of the producers on Pop Up Video, a show which I was addicted to back in ye olde daye.

the interview went well, and it sounds as though the job would be pretty fun and always different, so fingers crossed.

Fingers crossed, too, for if I get the job, I won't have that massive eyeball staring me in the face.