After two days of non-stop excitement, we decided to slow things down a bit for day 3. We slept in, or rather, attempted to sleep in but by 7 am the tent was bathed in the Tennessee sun and quickly transformed into a human roasting machine. So we got up and lounged around in the shade.

One of the cool things about the Jellystone campsite, of which there are many cool things, was that the whole campsite had free wi-fi. So we spent some time in the morning researching what to do with our day. The final conclusion? A trip to the Grand Ole Opry! Can you say, “yee haw” and “hell yeah”?

After booking tickets online and checking some email/facebook we discovered that Marisa gets mean and intolerable without coffee. This meant an immediate change of course from relaxing to finding a Starbucks. After my Magellan like navigational skills got us lost 2 or 3 times, we finally stumbled upon a Nashville Starbucks. This was a slightly different experience from living in Seattle where the trick is to stumble anywhere without running into a Starbucks.

After some coffee and air conditioning time, we headed back to the camp site for a little more fun in the pool. This time we were inspired by a toy we had seen at Walmart the day before. One of us stood in the pool, leaned our mouth in the water, and made a high pitched “pinging” sound while the other one, with eyes closed, swam under water and tried to hone in on the pinging. I’ve decided to name this game, “Hunt for the Red Dork” and if you’re ever in a Jellystone park pool, I recommend you play. It’s especially fun when there’s a bunch of random southerners gathered around the pool wondering what the hell they teach those damn Yankees up north.

To continue our relaxation for the day, we climbed out of the pool and headed back to the campsite. We found a nice shade tree, threw down our Thermarests, and took a nap in a refreshing Tennessee breeze. It was very Rip Van Winklish thing to do and it’s another thing I recommend doing the next time you get the chance.

Finally 6:30 rolled around and it was time to head to the Grand Ole Opry. I’m very happy we did it, but I definitely don’t feel the need to go back again. It was a different format than what I expected. Basically, it was a two hour long variety show where each act got 15 minutes in which to perform 2 or 3 songs and tell a few stories and/or jokes.

Here are the highlights:

1. Aaron Tippin singing, “Kiss This.”
2. The closing act of the night, “Cherry Holmes.” They were a family bluegrass band that really jammed. I’m definitely going to try to catch them doing a full show some time.
3. “Little” Jimmie Dickens! This guy was about 90 years old and 5 feet tall. While his voice is not what it once probably was, he was an amazing entertainer. He told a number of jokes between songs. Here’s one of my favorites: “My wife is weird. For example, I asked her the other day if she’d ever cheat on me and she said, ‘Well who else would I cheat on?’.” Or another one: “I’ve got a stiff neck. I think it’s because I took one of those tiny blue pills for men my age and it got stuck in my throat.”

After the show was over we headed back to our campsite. We tried to pick up some firewood but apparently campfires aren’t a big deal in the 80 degree heat of a Tennessee night so we couldn’t find any wood. That meant no traditional camp fire. But my Mac, the free Jellystone wi-fi, and Marisa’s never ending ingenuity came to the rescue again. She pulled out my laptop and found a website that was nothing but a camp fire playing on the screen. My marshmallows didn’t get roasted quite as well as they would have over a real fire, but it was still a great end to another wonderful day.

Given the incredible start to our southern journey, it’s hard to imagine that we could have any aspirations of surpassing our day one adventures. However, Marisa and I were up to the challenge.

After about 6 cups of coffee and a couple hours of conversation with cousin Pete and his lovely wife, Marisa and I headed out. We made a quick pit stop at Teresa’s favorite Lexington breakfast joint, The Coffee Pub, for some chicken tamales, which they were out of, and then we headed even further south to Nashville, TN!

We decided to save a few bucks on lodging in Nashville and got ourselves a primitive campsite at Jellystone Park - complete with showers, free wi-fi, mini-golf, and a pool. More on the pool later.

For now, a slight digression: I’m writing this while driving from Memphis to New Orleans and the radio, called “The Pig,” is blasting: “She’s not my mama, she’s my monster-in-law.” Gotta love country music in the south!

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog post…

After setting up our tent we realized we needed some provisions. Being in Tennessee, the natural stop for any shopping trip is your local neighborhood Walmart. For those that don’t know, I love Walmart and despite her protests, so does Marisa. After about an hour of shopping for groceries and a cooler, Marisa pleaded for a few more minutes to check out the sexy fashions on the discount clothes rack. I conceded. Then, after we checked out and were just about back to the car, Marisa pointed out that we had forgotten grilling supplies for supper. So we had to go back in for round two. What a great time!

After visiting the shopping Mecca, we headed back to the campground where it was about 147 degrees in the shade. This prompted a trip to the pool where we did underwater races, one-armed swimming races, breath holding contests, and Marisa kept doing hand stands in the pool. In short, we had a blast acting like we were 7 years old again. Well, I was acting like a 7 year old and Marisa more like a 5 year old, and it was still a blast.

Then it was time to find some BBQ and listen to some music. The first was accomplished at Jack’s BBQ (which was tasty) and the second was begun at The Stage next door. The Stage was a “traditional” honky tonk (aka: well decorated tourist trap) that had a fantastic country cover band playing. We drank a couple of Miller Lites and then headed to a much more local establishment called the Station Inn.

The Station Inn was a small, dingy building that was absolutely packed with people there to see a 12 piece band called Time Jumpers. Now I’m occasionally prone to exaggeration, but in this case, it’s true, there really were 12 people on stage and they covered the full spectrum of music known to man from bluegrass to country to western. This was a truly fun experience.

And that was the end to day two. I’m really not sure how day 3 stands any hope of surpassing that but I have no doubts that Marisa and I will give it the old UW-Madison college try!

One day into our trip and it’s already everything we could have hoped for. It was a day full of southern style experiences starting with a trip to Churchill Downs in Louisville, KY for some horse racing. Marisa was robbed out of at least an $8 payout when the number 3 horse snuck into second place to ruin her $2 5-6 boxed exacta bet. Alas, Qdoba burritos will remain firmly outside of our daily eating budget. Good think I like Taco Bell.

After the disastrous finish to the third race of the day, we piled back into the Subaru Forester and made our way to Lexington, KY so we could have dinner with my cousin Pete and his family. However, there was major business to attend to first: 18 holes of Bible themed mini-golf! The most difficult part about the entire course was selecting which of the 3 championship mini-courses we wanted to play: Old Testament, New Testament, or Miracles. It was a difficult decision but we finally settled upon Miracles, and golly jeepers are we glad we did. My only dissapointment, besides the 10 strokes I took on the “Samson Destroys the Temple” miracle, was that the course ownership got cheap and went with the two for one sale on the “Nile River Turned to Blood” and “Jesus Turns Water into Wine” miracles. Both courses had the same exact “fairway” which consisted of half red and half blue carpet. Fortunately, all of the other miracles were so life like that I did the Christian thing and forgave them for this one transgression.

After some good wholesome fun we decided to change things up and head to my cousin Pete’s house. For those that don’t know, Pete and I are the same age and we grew up together (we live 4 miles apart and attended the same small school system from 1st grade on). The only people I’ve probably spent more time with are my parents and my brother Ben. It had been about 4 or 5 years though since I’ve last seen Pete and it was a blast…literally.

It turns out that Pete has made a connection with a guy that sells fireworks that are illegal in 49 of 50 states. Actually, I’m not even sure they’re legal in Kentucky but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Within minutes of being there, Pete and his son had taken a diet Coke can and placed what looked like a rather small and harmless triangular “firecracker” on top of it. I use the word “firecracker” very lightly because the appropriate word in this case would be “small bomb”.

So here’s what happened: We’re all standing a few feet away and Pete says, “Ya’ll might want to back up.” As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve known Pete my whole life so I knew something serious was about to happen. I backed up and then hid most of my body behind their sport utility vehicle. Then Pete, with his son standing by jumping and giggling with excitement, lit the firecracker and sprinted out of the way. I stood still and watched as the wick burned. Then…

BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!

In the spot where there had once been an empty tin can and a small brown “firecracker” there was nothing. I mean, the entire thing wasn’t just blown to pieces, it had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fury. In short, it was completely, totally, awesome!

This act was of course followed up with a series of more and more creative destruction. This included blowing up another can with water in it, blowing up a two liter bottle with the carbonated soda still in it, and placing two cardboard boxes, one on top of the other, with a firecracker in between them. One of these ideas was Pete’s, one was mine, and the two box trick has to be chalked up to the creative genius of Pete’s son Joey. What a kid!

Lastly, I have to mention what a great host Terresa was (and please forgive me if I mispelled that). She bought and cooked us some amazing NY Strip and Filet Mignon steaks as well as a whole bunch of grilled vegetables. On top of it all, her, Pete, and the two boys provided Marisa and me with great conversation, endless entertainment, and an amazing and incredible end to the first day of our trip! Thanks to ya’ll!

Since 1982 people have been gathering on the isthmus of Madison, WI to run the Crazy Legs 5 mile race from the capital building to Camp Randall Stadium.

Since 1973, Mike Becker, Joe Vale, and Myself have been getting wiser, funnier, and better looking. It also turns out that two of three of us have been getting faster.

Want to know which of us is slowing down? I’ll give you a hint: His last name is a homophone of a ski resort in Vail, CO.

For those of you unfamiliar with the Vale v. McCormick Crazy Legs rivalry, I will give you a short lesson. Basically, Joe and I ran our first CL in 1996 and it was such a celebrated event that we were featured on the front page of the Wisconsin State Journal with the race’s namesake, Elroy “Crazy Legs” Hersch. I have the newspaper clipping in a shoe box to prove it for all of you doubters.

Since, and including, that first year, Joe always ran a valiant race. Moving his pudgy body over the race course with the stealth and grace of an over fed and under exercised cat. Despite his efforts, though, Joe was only ever able to get within 20 seconds of my time. That was in 2002 - the year I decided to retire undefeated from the Crazy Legs.

However, like Brett Favre before me, I could no longer sit idly on the sidelines and watch others compete in an event that I had once so thoroughly dominated. So, this year, 2009, I decided to come out of retirement for one more race.

I won’t lie. I was nervous. After all, in 2004, a year I did not run, Vale completed his fastest time ever in the Crazy Legs: 30:40. A most impressive run at an average per mile time of 6:08. I know these numbers well because Vale kept bringing it up all weekend.

Anyway, it turns out I had nothing to be concerned about. Something about having a wife, a dog, and a five month old son had managed to slow Vale down to a beatable pace of 35:36. One second slower than his brother Jason and approximately 2 minutes and 8 seconds slower than my time of 33:28. However, he did manage to beat Becker who ran a personal best of 40:20 - a full 2 seconds faster than his previous record. Mike, if you’re reading this, congratulations on a race well run. Vale, if you’re reading this…well, you always have 2004.

Oh, and for the record, I’m pretty sure all of us would have beat Kris Dressler who chickened out for this year’s event. Something to do with being tripped and finishing in last place in his last attempt to let his crazy legs run free. That or some BS excuse about studying and Fourier Transforms.

This past weekend was one of my best yet since I’ve moved to Chicago. First, the weather has finally turned warm. Secondly, I’ve been meeting a lot of great new people. One of these great new people, Marisa (I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader to figure out which one she is in that photo), took me to see a show on Saturday night at the Vic Theater in Chicago. It was ridiculously cheesy. Here is a brief list to prove the point:

1. Travis was the headliner. Seriously cheesy British band.
2. Some weird dude in front of me was doing that weird thing where you sing along and then pantomime the words. You know, like where the lyrics say, “I saw you over there…” and the guy puts his hand above his eyes like he’s looking out over the room and then points “over there”.
3. Same weird dude accidentally head-butted me while performing some freaky, drunken, back-arching dance move.
4. Some uber dork convinced the band to let him propose to his girlfriend on stage. Like I appreciate some guy wasting Marisa’s hard earned money during the concert while he blathers on about how “you’ve meant so much and made my life so great…blah blah blah…”. Seriously, dude, get a life.

Yes, it was a night of cheeseballs but I have to say that I had an absolute blast! My thanks to Marisa for being awesome company!

Then Sunday morning I felt like an actual Chicago local when I walked into a breakfast place and all of a sudden I hear my name shouted out. I look up and there are Steve and Jeff, two guys I met on St. Patty’s Day, and my friend Kate. They’d been waiting for an hour to get a table. They asked the host if he could seat five people instead of three, they said yes, so we only had to wait about 2 minutes for a table. Ahhh…the advantages of being a local. (And by the way, the food at Big Jones was incredible - even if it was a little pricey.)

Then Sunday night, two more new friends came over, Jorge and Ceda, and made their famous Mole chicken for the Dresslers, Crash, and me. Not only was it an incredible meal, but they were kind enough to show me how to make it. I can’t wait to try it out. I’m sure I will slaughter it, but I always love a new cooking adventure.

So there you have it, my evolution as a Chicago resident is proceeding along nicely. Not quite as nicely as my stellar contribution to the evolution of the human species, but nicely none the less.