In an effort to find you a new you.
And maybe even managed to raise your conscience level."
Tower of Power, What is Hip
I lived in the East Bay from 1980-1983 and managed to barely set foot in Oakland. BART trips from Berkeley to see the A's and smoke dope in the bleachers and wait for Rickey Henderson to do something amazing (he never disappointed) don't count; you don't even need to touch the ground to get to the Coliseum. There were the dozen or so Dead concerts at the Henry J. Kaiser convention center after they closed Winterland, but those barely count; I didn't live there then and last time I was there was for the bar exam.
The closest I came to any serious Oakland street time was at the end of 15 mile runs starting in North Berkeley, up Euclid to Marin, gut busting two block hump, eventually up to Skyline and a long sinuous ridge route to Claremont and down to College, up and across campus and back to Virginia. That was where the white people lived in the East Bay in the early eighties. There I flirted with the northern edge, but that is essentially Berkeley. Doesn't really count either.
No, to get a taste of Oakland ya' gotta come out of the City Center BART station and catch the high school aged punks smoking dope on the side walk at 9:30 in the morning while their teenage girlfriends scream at their babies in beat-up strollers. Ya' gotta see the angry Oakland cops on the corners with their dogs just waiting for some shit to go down. You have to see the young men splayed on the sidewalk, boot in the back, being told to shut the fuck up, while being cuffed with all their buddies heckling the cops. You have to see the bleary eyed old ladies asking for change in front of De Laurers so they can get the daily meal, a cheap sandwich from Subway. It's grim and this pathetic white boy from the suburbs doesn't like it.
'Cept on Wednesdays at noon. On Wednesdays at noon bands play at City Center. People dance. Its not like downtown SF where you have a bunch of stressed out Marina chicks barely tapping their toes in front of 101 California while they eat their fro yo. It is an eclectic group that likes to move and they are not shy about it.
That I get. I stand on the perimeter with old Chinese couples, well-dressed women and earnest Cal students and watch the kids from the federally funded summer programs get down. I remember an old lady in the Coliseum bleachers reminiscing about the A's World Series runs of the early seventies: "We were out here and they were winning. There was a full moon; everyone was happy. That was a beautiful feeling." Indeed.
Saturday
Head in for MH class, Equinox has cut it to 75 minutes which pisses me off. But MH is MH and though it goes fast it is good. Afternoon, take Ian, Brigid and Rose for marsh walk along the north levee. It was just mowed, so figured it'd be good, but no. No path and bumpy, crappy water to the left, Kids are complaining so I suggest we bushwhack it under 37 go up the railroad grade, come back and take south levee back. Clawing through mud and pickle weed, they look at me like I am nuts. Who is to say they are wrong.
Sunday
Go out at 7:00, to DO WORK.
Burpees to pushups to suitcase deads, eight reps, two pushups each, 20kgs.
10 24kg Goblet squats
10+10 28kg rows
5+5 sls to ten inch bench
x3
add another 32 pushups to get to 80.
20 24kg swings, 1+1 24kg tgu, x10.
Monday, five miles.
Tuesday, tired, think I'm gonna do kbells in the evening, instead 3 miles in morning and then MH pm stiff guy class. Hour of hammy work, it is awesome.
Today
warm up, then
10+10 24kg alternating floor press, flip to ten pushups
20 body weight box squats, clean two 16kg and 10 squat to press
Press ladder, 1+1-5+5, 24kg, clean each press
60 second plank
x3
That was a shitload of press work, light, but still . . .
10 32 kg swings, 20/15x10
PM yoga. MH class is packed, drop mat in front row next to model buddy, gal comes to squeeze in next. Bitch. I sweat and don't want to be in model buddies' lap. I move up to the very front to give them room, four inches from mirror. No 50 year old man should be that close to a mirror for any reason save possibly hair removal. I feel like Gimili the fucking dwarf on stage, too broad and squat. Practice was actually pretty good, considering.
Hard Style Ventura coming up, and the boards are abuzz. Looks awesome. Then I read Rif's account of RKC II where they make everyone do doubles. Double 24's are no joke, he writes. No shit. Unless you been doing it all your life, this is a young folk's game. Who am I kidding. Just stay on the side, and watch them dance old man.
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