Ah. Soda Popinski.
Originaly Vodka Drunkenski in the arcades (Nintendo changed the name to be more kid-friendly on the NES), Soda Pop has always represented the harbinger of death in my mind. Perhaps it's my Reagan-era anti-Russki upbringing, fear of global thermonuclear war, Rocky IV...
Nowadays, it could be because of his resemblance to my running-mate. Check it out, from his appearance this past summer in the Wall Street Boxing event:
Originaly Vodka Drunkenski in the arcades (Nintendo changed the name to be more kid-friendly on the NES), Soda Pop has always represented the harbinger of death in my mind. Perhaps it's my Reagan-era anti-Russki upbringing, fear of global thermonuclear war, Rocky IV...
Nowadays, it could be because of his resemblance to my running-mate. Check it out, from his appearance this past summer in the Wall Street Boxing event:
Uncanny, no? Gives me flashbacks to the Wrecka in Tribeca.
Most likely, though, the reason I dislike Popinski so much is that at this stage, Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! stopped being fun and began to be a source of frustration. In some ways, it's appropriate that we've come upon Soda Popinski here in Week 11, because here we're going to find out if my body's going to stand up to the punishment I intend it to endure. I've never beaten Soda Popinski. Never. Always hitting the canvas, never pulling out a victory, the deeply evil laugh echoing from the crappy TV set as Soda stands above the mangled corpse of Little Mac, taunting me from a universe very, very close. I still remember the code to start direct to the World Circuit - 267-853-7538 - so I could skip the patsies, thrash Piston Honda II, and get straight to the Popster. It's less memorable than Up-Up-Down-Down-Left-Right-Left-Right-B-A-B-A-Start, but it's there, amongst the rest of the detritus in my head. A reminder of the feeling of repetitive failure.
Give up? Retire?
Eventually, yes. There's only so many beatings a guy can take until he must come to the realization that he's just not quick enough, fast enough, skilled enough... Good enough. To continue to play would cross the line from competitiveness to madness. As my bud Al 'Stein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." And of course, it is with that quote where the similarities between by current quest and my 0-for-the-century against Soda Popinski end. For, after all, while there is no mathematical difference between 0/296 and 0/0, there is a statistical one. One indicates repetitive failure; the other indicates lack of data.
I've never run 18 miles in a row before, and yet here I find myself entered in a Marathon tune-up race with Timmy "This Will Be Easy" Petrov this coming Sunday. I expect the environment of this race will give me a more accurate measure of where I stand training (and injury) -wise for the Marathon than my solo runs have, if only because I'll be afforded regular opportunities to rehydrate and refuel with liquid other than that which I've been carrying. This week, victory will not be measured by miles versus drinks, but instead by an actual measure of fitness for the upcoming race.
Race starts at 7:00am. I want to be finished by 10am. Wish me luck.
Give up? Retire?
Eventually, yes. There's only so many beatings a guy can take until he must come to the realization that he's just not quick enough, fast enough, skilled enough... Good enough. To continue to play would cross the line from competitiveness to madness. As my bud Al 'Stein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." And of course, it is with that quote where the similarities between by current quest and my 0-for-the-century against Soda Popinski end. For, after all, while there is no mathematical difference between 0/296 and 0/0, there is a statistical one. One indicates repetitive failure; the other indicates lack of data.
I've never run 18 miles in a row before, and yet here I find myself entered in a Marathon tune-up race with Timmy "This Will Be Easy" Petrov this coming Sunday. I expect the environment of this race will give me a more accurate measure of where I stand training (and injury) -wise for the Marathon than my solo runs have, if only because I'll be afforded regular opportunities to rehydrate and refuel with liquid other than that which I've been carrying. This week, victory will not be measured by miles versus drinks, but instead by an actual measure of fitness for the upcoming race.
Race starts at 7:00am. I want to be finished by 10am. Wish me luck.
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