I’m looking forward to the argument we’re going to have over beers, you and I, about whether Logan is the best comic book movie since The Dark Knight or the best Western since No Country for Old Men.
Here’s my NPR review, where I ran out of space to cite all the things I loved about this movie (Eriq La Salle! Autotrucks!), or to warn you that if you know you will recoil from the sight of an 11-year-old girl defending her life with lethal force, you should skip it. And it would probably be more correct to call it the Rocky Balboa of Rocky movies than the Creed of Rocky movies, but sometimes clarity is more important than pinpoint accuracy.
Posted in athletics, movies, Uncategorized
Tagged Boyd Holbrook, Dafne Keen, film reviews, Hugh Jackman, James Mangold, Marvel Comics, NPR, Patrick Stewart, Richard E. Grant, Wolverine, X-Men
Some poor guy died. Hey, check out my awesome photos from the race!
I’ve waited a few days to write about my experience running the Tough Mudder last Saturday, both because I’ve had a busy week and because I didn’t — don’t — know how to address the fact that someone, a guy substantially younger than me named Avishek Sengupta, drowned during the event. Obviously, that’s a tragedy. I hope his family and friends will find some respite from their grief.
My teammates and I were all Mudder first-timers who regarded the race with intimidation and did our best to prepare for it. We joked with one another about signing the mandatory participant waiver, cheekily referred to as the DEATH WAIVER on the Tough Mudder website. But you don’t think much of it. Walk into any gym and they’ll probably make you sign something before they let you near a treadmill. And anyway you’re more likely to buy it in a car accident on your way to the race than you are while participating in it. Aren’t you?
The arduousness of the race is the Tough Mudder’s main selling point. It’s the Fight Club scenario. There are a lot white-collar shlubs like me, people of some means and privilege (I paid $161 to register) who sit staring at computers all day but would like to think of ourselves as physically hardy. Crossing a Tough Mudder finish line earns you bragging rights, plus a sporty orange headband and a free beer. (“You look like the bad guy in an 80s movie set at a ski resort,” my friend Liz told me when I showed up for a drinking session the day after the race in my hard-won headband. I regret nothing.) Continue reading
Tougher on your hands, too. The photo above is from Hudson Beach, New York City, last weekend. The one below is from Santa Monica, Sept. 2003. Getting older, just so you know, does not make this any easier.
Still, I wish there were more of these things around. There are only two in the country, apparently. The ones I used to play on in Santa Monica are known locally as the “traveling rings,” while they’re “swing-a-rings” in NYC.
Just back from Richmond for my second Muddy Buddy and my first since 2004. When my partner, the lovely Ms. Tracy Webb, had to drop out earlier this week, you didn’t need to have seen more than one Meg Ryan movie to know that Miss Crooks’s partner would bail, too, leaving the two of us to do the race together. We finished — well, we weren’t the last finishers in Heat 6 (coed, combined age 56-65). She’s an actor and director, dammit; not an athlete. And I’m proud of her.
Pretty lame swag at the race this year compared to when I did it in San Dimas, CA in ’04. Trail socks? Gee, thanks. But the race shirts were Under Armour’s moisture-wicking mofos (TM) this time. It’s nice to have a race shirt you can actually run in; when you sweat like I do, cotton doesn’t cut it. You gotta get something for that hefty race registration fee, especially when the official race photo costs — wait for it — $49.99 for a freaking download.
I bought the 8″x10″ print for “only” $23.98. I’ll replace the low-res proof in this post with a scan when it arrives.
THE NEXT DAY . . .
Another photo arrives. I had been puzzled by the fact that the three different claim codes we were given all linked to the same shot.
The mud-coat makes us look kind of like the cast of the nude MacBeth.
AND THE DAY AFTER THAT . . .
Miss Crooks finds this one in the Muddy Buddy Gallery.