Did you know that tomorrow’s my 32nd birthday?
I’m not asking because I’m trolling for gifts or silly songs or anything. I’m asking because — and this is the 100% honest truth — I didn’t realize it was tomorrow.
I’ve got a lot happening right now: the EB9 show in Vegas on Friday ( as well as the entire convention weekend) plus writing for the ACME show, plus dealing with a very big and scary family medical issue have all conspired to totally eat my brain, and make my birthday seem totally minor and irrelevant . . . it’s so weird that something I’ve always looked forward to has been so completely pushed off my radar.
Well, I guess it’s part of growing older, or something.
This morning, I had to renew my driver’s license, (something I didn’t realize until yesterday) so I went to the DMV . . . without an appointment *dramatic music*
It actually wasn’t bad at all. I was in and out in 1 hour and ten minutes, and every single person I dealt with was helpful, patient, and friendly. After I had my picture taken, the guy who took it told me happy birthday, and then a pretty girl who was in line behind me said, “Hey! My birthday is July 29th too!” So we both said “Happy birthday!” in unison. That was way cool.
I’m going to moblog and audioblog from Vega$, so check them out if you need your WWdN fix while I’m gone.
If you’re coming to Vega$ for the show, I’ll be performing from Geek and Barefoot at 1PM on Friday, and the EB9 show is at 6:40 (?) the same night. I’ll also be signing books and pictures all day Saturday.
. . . and I wasn’t going to say much about this . . . but, uhm . . . I would really appreciate it if you guys could keep me and Anne and our family in your thoughts for the next few days.
Thanks.

I’m cleaning the house today, but now it’s lunchtime, and I want to brain dump. But first, check out a couple of Geek things that I think are exciting and cool:

• Just A Geek is available from my favorite retailer of all things geeky, Think Geek dot Com. They’re offering geek. stickers as a free bonus with the book, so you can really get your geek on.
• I’ve heard from a dozen or so WWdN readers and about half as many non-WWdN readers who have finished Just A Geek, and I want to thank everyone who has sent me their thoughts on the book. I’d like to share a little bit from one of them, because it made me do a geeky dance: “I loved it and realized that many of us Gen-Xers are finding out that our lives are hitting crossroads and too many of us are too busy looking at the door closing behind us to see the brighter view ahead. I’m glad you showed us that we can turn around and run forward into that future many of us have. Thanks for the work.”
  Also, at Amazon, a reviewer wrote: “Wheaton’s a natural, unforced writer. He’s got guts and writers’ chops. I don’t care if you’re a Star Trek fan or not, you should read this book. You should read this book if you’ve ever had really tough times. You should read this book if you’ve ever struggled with your own place in the world, your own self-esteem. You should read this book if you’ve ever tried to separate who you are from what you do.”
  I’m still a little terrified that the misconception that it’s either a fluffy celebrity bio or (even worse) just a Star Trek book will turn readers off, but these readers got exactly what I hope people will get from my book: I may be the central character, but Just a Geek is really a story about the struggle to find your place in the Universe, and I’m really happy that they grokked that. For today at least, I can lower my internal terror level from Ernie to Bert.

Okay, before I go back to cleaning the house (it’s the best way to spend Sunday!), here’s the real braindump:
Last night, Anne was going out with her girlfriends, and the kids were both spending the night with friends, so I had big plans to go play poker at Commerce, but Burns left me standing at the altar . . . so I ended up playing iPoker 3, which is a great way to practice low-limit Hold’Em skills, and just all-around fun to play, too. (Todd has programmed in all these crazy “Dealer’s Choice” games that are just nuts. I had way too much fun playing this 2-card hi-low game called ‘Hurricaine,” and I actually made Broadway in Jacks-or-better!)
I was doing REALLY well, playing just the way I would have played in a live game. I bought in for 1000 and played 10-20 limit, and was doing about +300 / hour or something like that, until I got pocket Aces on the button . . . and got rivered by a flush draw, because UTG had 9-6 of spades. I had capped it pre-flop, too! The pot was 1050 or so, too. Stupid computers.
Hey, here’s a not-so-subtle note to the guys at all the online poker rooms: SUPPORT MAC AND LINUX USERS! I really want to play Poker Stars, and Party Poker (sign up with code IGGY!)
Anyway, because I was stuck at home, I watched the Dodgers, and I got to see Adrian Beltre hit a grand slam as the Dodgers made it 2-0 vs. the Padres in this series.
Speaking of the Dodgers, my dad took me and my boys to Chavez Ravine on Thursday for the first day game I’ve been to in YEARS . . . and we got to see Eric Gagne for the first time this season. (I’ve been to 5 games, and the Dodgers have been killed in 4 of them, so no Gagne for me until Thursday.)
I’m talking to the men now: if you get a chance to take your boys to a ballgame with your dad, DO IT. It’s awesome.
Okay, time to finish lunch and get back to cleaning. Exhale on XM 80 is the perfect soundtrack for today.

And now, a brief scene from my so-called domestic life:
We were having dinner straight out of 1958: barbecued burgers, baked beans, and a cut-up pineapple. The only way to make it better would have been TV trays . . . or dining in a fallout shelter, I suppose.
On my way to the patio, I passed Nolan, who was watching the Dodger game.
“Your Dodgers are losing,” he said.
“Yeah. They try their best to do that,” I said, “but they’re something like 11-1 in their last 12 games.”
“What? Are we talking about The Los Angeles Dodgers?” he said.
“I’m just as surprised as you are, I said. “Who are they playing?”
“Houston,” he said.
Nolan decided early this year that his two favorite teams are The Angels, and whomever is playing The Dodgers, so it didn’t surprise me when he shouted, “GO ASTROS!”
I gave him the test that I always give him when he’s cheering against the Dodgers: “You love those Astros, huh?”
“Oh yeah!” He said.
“Well, who’s your favorite player on the Astros?”
“Oh . . . you know . . . it’s . . . uhm . . . ” he looked at the TV, “Biggio!”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re in his fanclub.” I laughed.
I don’t think Nolan really cares one way or another about The Dodgers, (or any other particular team in baseball, for that matter) but I know that we both enjoy our friendly rivalry even more than we enjoy watching the games . . . and I love that.
We looked at each other, and I remembered when the Dodgers went to the World Series in 1988. As part of my teenage rebellion, I totally rejected baseball. You know . . . because it was important to my dad.
Yeah, that made a lot of sense.
As a result, I missed out on several opportunities to share some wonderful moments with him, and all I have to show for it is regret.
“Hey, are you going to come watch this with me?” Nolan said.
As a parent, I never miss an opportunity to be on the other side of something I missed out on as a child, so of course I agreed.
“Yeah. After dinner.”
Shortly after I lit the barbecue, one of Anne’s friends called long distance, so I became responsible for finishing the meal, and getting it on the table. Due to my lack of planning, (I am infamous for my lack of planning — I have a lot of 3-inch lengths of string around the house) the burgers were going to be ready before I could even start the baked beans. So I asked Nolan for help.
“Nolan? Would you help me out?”
“Sure!” He said, cheerfully, “what do you need?”
“Would you take a can of baked beans, and put it in a saucepan on the stove? And maybe crush up some pineapple with it?”
“Okay,” he said. “Oh! The inning’s over.”
“What happened?”
“Sean Shawn Green is up with two out.”
I tried to come up with a snappy comeback . . . but there are some truths that I can’t argue with, so I just said, “D’oh!”
There was a surge of cheering from the TV, and I heard Rick Monday say that Green had, indeed, grounded out to end the inning.
About two minutes later, Nolan called to me from the kitchen. “Wil? I’m having some trouble with the beans. Can you come help me?”
I flipped the burgers, and tossed some seasoning on them.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
I walked into the kitchen, and found Nolan scratching his head in front of the stove.
“I put the can of beans in the saucepan, just like you asked,” he said, with a furrowed brow, “but I can’t get them to cook.”
I looked at the stove. A saucepan sat on a front burner, and in it was the unopened can of beans. There was some crushed pineapple stuffed around the edges of the can.
Nolan looked at me, and did his best to keep a straight face.
“I just can’t figure out why it’s not cooking,” He said.
I put my hand on my chin.
“Yeah . . . yeah . . . that is weird.” I said.
He folded his arms across his chest, and studied the stove.
“You think we should get out a cookbook, or something?” He said.
I snapped my fingers. “Oh! I think you forgot to take the beans out of the can.”
“Hmm . . . you think that would do it?” He said.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“Okay. I’ll try that,” he said. “Thanks!”
He may not have my genes . . . but he’s certainly got my sense of humor, and that’s just fine with me.

The elevator doors opened and the roar of a lobby full of people came rushing in our face. It reminded me of a Vegas casino but without the “ching ching ching” of the slot machines or the blast of cigarette smoke that’s shoved up your nose.
We checked in before heading to the shuttle bus. Three forty-five in the morning in San Diego sure is dark and cold.
I had a nervous stomach the minute my alarm went off. A few days before heading to San Diego, Wil hurt his foot and leg. Some kind of plantar something or other. Even though there were thousands of people doing the marathon (17,420 to be exact) I was so nervous that Wil wouldn’t be able to finish it with me and I would have to motivate myself. Knowing that Kris and her husband were going to be at the finish line was very encouraging, but there were 26.2 miles between us.
We sat on the grass and stretched while trying to keep warm with Hefty bags over us like some kind of poncho. Surprisingly, it helped. The sun started to come up and race time was getting near. I must have asked Wil twenty times if he was going to be o.k.
I stood in the huge line for the port-o-potties (scary) before entering our corral (#19. You get placed in a corral according to how fast you think you’ll finish the race. Speedsters in the front and so on.) The start gun went off promptly at 6:45 am. Everyone was so excited as we all scooted slowly to the start line. It took ten minutes to reach the actual start line because there were so many people there.
Wil and I cruised along with all the other walkers and got out of the way of the runners making their way through the crowd. It was so exciting to finally be there after all the training and the wonderful response with donations. I kept saying “I can’t believe we’re doing this!” I also kept saying “Is your foot alright?” to Wil. I still wasn’t sure if he’d finish with me.
So along with the nervous stomach came the nervous bladder. Only two miles into the marathon, I was ready to experience the lovely facilities that only Andy Gump could provide. Unfortunately, so did at least fifteen other people. So Wil impatiently waited next to me in line telling me the whole time that we were getting really behind. See, the other nervous stomach thing that was happening to me was that we had to get to mile 12.7 by a certain time or they would re-route us directly to mile 23. There were so many people there that if there wasn’t some kind of schedule, people could be out there all day. After all the training and donations, I wanted to finish a FULL marathon, not part of one.
After our 15 minute (yes, we waited 15 minutes. Can you believe that?! Next marathon, it’s all about the bushes) stop, we decided we should run a little to make up for lost time. Not only did we have that 15 minute stop, but we lost that ten minutes at the start line so we needed to move!
We ran about a mile which I was stunned we could do. We had only trained to walk and although I thought I was in pretty good shape, my lungs felt otherwise. I had to slow down and just walk fast so I could catch my breath, but still try to make up that lost time.
The marathon set-up was very entertaining. There were bands all along the route singing and cheering everyone on. There was one band of three or four kids that were only in 7th grade. They sounded awesome and I thought it was so great of them to be out there so early on a Sunday morning to support the marathon.
After several surges of running mixed in with walking fast, I heard someone say there was a woman wearing a “Pacer” shirt and she was well, the pacer. We needed to be either with her or ahead of her if we were to make that 12.7 mile cut-off in time. So we ended up running most of mile 8, 9, and 10. Wil said he was feeling great and his foot was hardly bothering him at all. My lungs however, felt like I had spent an entire hot, smoggy, summer day in the over-chlorinated pool. I know you remember how that felt. Like someone standing on your chest and you can’t quite get enough air. But somehow, we caught up to her.
When we finally rounded a corner and caught up to the “pacer”, we were so relieved that we needed to celebrate with our old friend Andy Gump again. At least there wasn’t a line this time.
When we jumped out of Andy’s place, the pacer was nowhere in sight. DAMN! More running. It had become somewhat of a joke just trying to catch up and stay ahead of her. It was like a dream where you’re running away from someone but they’re moving fast and you’re hardly moving at all.
We were really wiped out as we neared mile 12. But this mile was a slight upgrade and would require more energy than I could muster. That is, until the lady at the top yelled “three minutes to cut-off!” What?! All this running and lung burning and there isn’t any extra time? “How the hell did that happen?” I said. “Fuckin’ Andy Gump is what happened” Wil said. Damn, I hate when he’s right. But at least he’s still with me, so I wasn’t about to complain.
We raced up the hill and made the cut-off with less than two minutes to spare. Two minutes! That was way too close. I looked down the hill at the hundreds of people that didn’t make it. It was kind of a Titanic moment.
In all our training, we were able walk 13 miles and feel great. So I figured when we did the marathon, it might me a bit tiring, but such a thrill to be there that it wouldn’t matter. Boy, was I wrong. By the time we reached that oh-so-exciting 13.1 mile marker (that would be the half way point for those of you keeping score at home) I was completely exhausted. “Half way!” I said as we approached the sign. Of course, the people around us probably thought I was excited but the truth was, I was pissed that I felt so terrible and it was only have way done. Or halfway left. However you want to look at it.
Wil and I both went through waves of feeling great and feeling like we couldn’t go on over the next ten miles. Of course, when Wil was feeling great, I had to listen to him make up songs about keeping our head up and our shoulders back. Mmm. That was nice. But when I was feeling really wiped out and in pain, I just kept saying “this is nothing compared to seven days of radiation or a month of chemo.” Then I felt like such a chump for even complaining at all.
Kris called me on my cell phone “Hey! Where are you guys?” she said. “Mile 22” I said. Boy, I thought we’d be further by now.
Kris and her husband were making their way through the Marine Corp. Recruitment Center to the stands that were set up at the finish line. Security was really tight there. I told her it would be about an hour before we finished. Hopefully.
Wil was starting to have major foot and leg pain by mile 24. I ended up jogging all of mile 25 just to get the pressure of my hips and onto my thighs. “Come on Wil! It’s so much easier if you just jog!” I yelled back. Now I was being the annoying songster. “Hell no!” he said.” I can’t do that anymore. And where’s your friend Andy? I’ve been looking for him for the past two miles!”
Andy eagerly awaited our arrival at mile 26. Good ‘Ol Andy.
I called Kris and told her we were making our way into the Marine Center (where there were Marine guys with machine guns patrolling the fence along the street. That was comforting.)
She said she could see us from the stands and would meet us at the finish line.
We walked through the archway and down the path to the finish line. I kept saying “I can’t believe we did it! I can’t believe we did it!” to Wil. Even now as I’m typing this, over a month later (overdue is more like it) I have tears in my eyes. We did it and so did Kris. She was there at the finish line, jumping and waving and yelling for us. It was by far, the most incredible moment of our lives.

We checked in at the finish (we came in something like 15, 200 something. All of that worrying and there were still 2,000 people behind us!) got our magic “26.2” pin (it’s not really magic. Just go with me on this one) and headed straight for the first aid tent for Wil’s leg.
I sat in a chair and talked to Kris and her husband while Wil got an ice pack treatment which he enjoyed while laying on a cot. The lady being treated next to him was having the blister the size of an egg on the ball of her foot examined. After all my whining, I made it with only a little soreness in my legs.( Well, sore legs and a huge ugly bruise on my big toenail from my shoe rubbing on it the last 6 miles. It still looks hideous. Gotta love nail polish!) Our time was 7 hours and 14 minutes. I can’t believe we would have finished in under 7 hours if it wasn’t for those stops. Not bad for a first marathon!
We headed back to the hotel for a nap and hobbled in to meet Kris and her husband at the “celebration” dinner two hours later. We hobbled everywhere for the next three days.
We ate fast (starving. 26.2 miles and all) and said goodnight before heading to bed early. We slept 10 hours that night. Actually, we napped during the day and slept 10 hours a night for the next three days. On our train ride home we kept getting up to stretch. Again, something we had to do for three days after the marathon.
I was surprised when we got home that we still got several donation checks. So the final count was $28,135. I still can’t believe it. Thanks to all of your help and the help of Kris’ family and friends, we more than reached our goal. We were all part of something great. Something that will make a difference. Thank you. The whole marathon raised 85 million dollars total.
A week after we got home, Kris went in to have the two surgically implanted catheters removed. They were removed because they aren’t needed anymore because her bone marrow test came back completely cancer-free. She’s officially in remission. She tells me every time I see her that our support of her and doing the marathon in her honor made all the difference. I know it did and I’m so glad we were able to do it. She also shows me new things that keep happening to her. Like all her eyelashes growing in and little sprouts of hair on her head.
Wil has donated platelets at City of Hope since being back. Unfortunately, my veins still don’t want to do that, so I’ll just be the driver. He wants to do that as often as he can to help others. Yep, that’s my husband. He’s pretty great like that.
We have also started jogging at least three times a week. Because next year, we’re RUNNING that marathon baby!!

Our 2004 Rock-n-Roll Marathon pictures are online.
The album is here.