Living It Up

Last Saturday night, as Zach and I drove home from an early dinner at The Happy Sumo (soooo mediocre, by the way . . . tasted like sushi straight from the grocery store) to an exciting evening of three episodes of the HBO John Adams documentary , I saw a sign in the window of a coffee shop advertising a concert for a band I sort of like. So while watching the John Adams documentary, I looked up the local concert schedule, and discovered that a band I really liked was playing. I immediately bought two tickets to The Mountain Goats, opening band Kaki King.

So last night we donned the hippest clothes we could find and went to In the Venue for the show. It was awesome. I hadn't heard anything from Kaki King prior to the concert, but she was an incredible guitarist. The Mountain Goats have funny and thought-provoking lyrics. They also have something like five hundred million songs, so I didn't know most of the songs from the first half of the concert. They played Going to Georgia and International Small Arms Traffic Blues, which were both great, and then a few songs with Kaki King. Then they ended with a bunch of songs that I like. They slowed down Dance Music, and I didn't think it was nearly as good slow--certainly less fun for dancing. I think my favorite that they played this perverse breakup song called No Children. Listen to it; you'll laugh. I was sad not to hear Sax Rohmer and This Year, but thrilled to hear You or Your Memory. They ended with The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton. Anyway, John Darnielle and his band put on a great show; he was very funny and appeared to be having a blast, and it was a great night out.

Two observations. First, there are an inordinately large number of very short, very small hipster girls. I am about the most average sized person on the planet, and I felt like a giantess next to most of the girls at this concert. Kaki King included. When she walked into the crowd to sign autographs, for a second I thought she was a kid. And I'm still not sure if the very small girl that kept flashing her SLR in my eye was short or an actual little person. Second, going to concerts hurts my legs. Maybe it was the added fun of the compressed disc, but I thought I was going to die by the time we left. I keep worrying that I'm too old for this kind of fun.

Diagnosis Herniated

Growing up my dad's favorite saying was "Any excuse for nonperformance no matter how valid the excuse only weakens the character." So when I finished the marathon twenty minutes later than expected, I figured there probably wasn't any worthwhile excuse for it. I had some painful miles, but assumed it was my lack of preparation that caused the pain, exacerbated by the pounding, incessant, freezing rain. My back hurt. I couldn't lift my left leg. Pain ran through the back of my knee. My foot burned. I self-diagnosed a hamstring tendon injury, but it didn't quite fit. Then, a week ago, as the soreness subsided, I realized that my left leg was still dragging. More leg symptoms ensued. On Friday I ran five miles (because any excuse . . .) and limp-ran the last mile. After some quick consultation with Dr. Google, I discovered that every description of my symptoms ended with "stop running immediately and see a doctor." That didn't stop me from running three miles on Saturday and six miles today. But I did go to the spine doctor after I ran today. He thinks I have a slipped/herniated disc. At first when I learned something was actually wrong I was a little excited because, yay, not a hypochondriac. Then I learned that I have to get an MRI on Thursday and take medicine, luckily for only twelve days, which has side effects that include weight gain and crazy (seriously). On the bright side, I can run as much as I can tolerate, which is about three miles. Right now my primary reaction is "ugh."