Richard Morgan spins Takeshi Kovacs into another world, this time a world at war, in Broken Angels. Where Altered Carbon felt more Philip K. Dick meets Raymond Chandler, Broken Angels feels more like the movie Alien meets a really violent Indiana Jones tale set thousands of years in the future. For Morgan, though, the menace…

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Fifty minutes on the stationary bicycle, going up and down hills while going nowhere at all. But at least I finished The Atlantic and The Week. Lazy, lazy Saturday otherwise.

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Another almost-rainy run, this time downhill to work, with alternating fast/slow blocks as I ran down Market Street. 23:00. This weekend, I’m going to take a closer look at We Endure as a training log.

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Tim Bray ends his essay “Music and DRM” with a doozy of a line, which I had to cite. The RIAA? If it had gunpowder for brains, it still wouldn’t be able to blow its nose. I don’t feel quite so strongly about DRM, since I’m not a music fiend, but I love that line…

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Gentle 25:00 run home from work, beating the real rain.

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I don’t know if the rest of the country celebrates the arrival of Super Bowl Sunday with a running race. But San Francisco does, with the half-marathon and 5K race in Golden Gate Park. Once again yesterday, I chose the shorter distance. Actually, I never even considered going 13.1 miles. Age brings wisdom? The 5K…

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When We Were Kings opened my eyes to why Muhammad Ali holds such a special place in the sports pantheon, and far beyond. While I’m too young to have first-hand knowledge of Ali’s flair and Homeric virtues, this documentary lets Ali entertain you. The fresh wit, the fierce fighting, the consciousness of his opportunities and…

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47 minutes at a leisurely pace in Golden Gate Park on a clear, crisp morning with Carla. Great way to loosen up for tomorrow morning’s 5K.

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John Dunning writes mysteries set in the world of books. The Bookwoman’s Last Fling is the most recent of his novels centering on bookman Cliff Janeway, a more dramatic version of the author himself, who does run a bookstore. I was drawn into these via my mother, whose fondness for Dick Francis she inculcated early…

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Twenty-four minutes on the run home.

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