I am by no means an avid runner, but I do often pull myself off the couch to do a couple of miles here and there (it also helps to keep the doctor happy and my numbers in check). In addition, over the past couple of years, Jill and I have participated in the occasional charity 5k (3.2 miles) with a group of friends or donate to a good cause. This is by no means an attempt on either of our parts train for marathons, or even half-marathons for that matter, but just a healthy activity that we can look forward to periodically. One of the races we have decided to run annually is the Branford Road Race, which is held in conjunction with the Branford festival and usually coincides with Father’s Day. For one, it’s an odd distance, usually organized races are 5k or 10k, but it is also doable without much formal training. Right up my ally.
Growing up in Connecticut, we never really had a true professional sports team to route for (RIP Hartford Whalers 1979 - 1997) and were always considered a split state between the New York and Boston teams. And, while we may not have had many teams in the big leagues to call our own, what we do have in CT, however, is college basketball. Our UCONN Huskies (both men’s and women’s) have made this small state proud for decades and (the women especially) have established themselves as premier programs in the NCAA. Both programs were made famous under legendary coaches Jim Calhoun and Geno Auriemma, as they battled through the Big East and established dominance on a national stage. Geno has led the Women’s team to a record breaking 10 National Championships, matched only by legendary UCLA men’s coach John Wooden in the 1970s. This got me thinking… with another year logged in the books, I noticed more than ever how the disintegration of the Big East has changed the face of UCONN basketball as we know it.
There are few things I enjoy as much as a good meal, but the majority of the time that doesn’t mean Michelin starred restaurants and reserve wine lists. Most often I’m talking about the food that no matter how often you eat it, you can’t get enough. The stuff that you crave. It puts you in a happy place and can make even the worst of days just a little bit better. It tastes good even when you’ve eaten too much of it, and you still contemplate having that one last bite. You can have it at the beginning of a good night out, but it also has the magical ability to cure a hangover. In my house, that food is pizza. Call me arrogant, but I feel that growing up in New Haven County gives me the right to be somewhat of a pizza snob. It’s no secret that New Haven is a pizza mecca, and I’m blessed to have it right in my back yard. For the avid Food Channel or Travel Channel watchers, New Haven is always highlighted in any show that talks about pizza and is ranked in numerous different publications as the go-to spot for a good pie.
There are few activities as humbling as sports, and so far 2015 has seen some epic failures in the world of professional athletics. During the Super Bowl, Russell Wilson threw a last minute interception at the goal line (possibly as the result of questionable play calling), turning the ball over to the Patriots and essentially losing the game for the Seattle Seahawks. In the NBA, the NY Knicks are in the midst of having their worst year in franchise history. In professional golf, we saw Tiger Wood’s ranking slip out of the top 100 for the first time in nearly two decades. However, the most surprising of which may have been the upset in the NCAA Final Four when Wisconsin beat the previously undefeated Kentucky in pursuit of a National Championship.
I’ve always hated having my picture taken. As far as I can remember, it’s never been a pleasurable experience. Luckily, with the exception of school photos and the occasional professional headshot, I’ve largely been able to avoid being in front of the camera for a long duration of time. Growing up, it always seemed that I had gym class on the same day as the school pictures were scheduled. I can’t speak from experience on this, but I think it is safe to assume that no parent ever wants their kid to take pictures after running around a gym for an hour. On picture day, my mom would attempt to make me look presentable as I ran out the door in the morning, but by the time I was scheduled to take my pictures my classic childhood ‘bowl cut’ hair was a mess, the 90’s era sweater or turtleneck was either wrinkled or stained, and chances are I had forgotten the form to hand in to the photographer. Needless to say, I did not have a bright future in modeling.