After the glory of the SciBlog conference on Saturday (sorry, felt the need to include that reference), my weekend took an athletic turn on Sunday, when I made the pilgrimage with a couple of friends to football’s hallowed Wembley Stadium for the Nike Human Race.

So here’s the idea: there were 25 10k races around the world on Sunday, pitting cities against each other to see which one could produce the fastest average time. But apparently pagentry was also one of the goals, given the two-hour pre-race concert during which runners were herded onto the field and forced to stand as Moby (hello year 2000) played us some inspirational tunes. About a half hour in, it was clear most runners a) needed to find a toilet, and b) wanted to run rather than listen to music. Add in the complicating factors that the sun had already set and it was pouring rain, and the experience went from bad to worse.

It’s true – Paula Radcliffe was there!

Yet somehow, I had a great time. A couple of kilometers in, I decided I wanted to race. It was a very conscious decision for me, the choice between running and racing. One is a form of exercise, the other is a challenge. Setting the goal of a sub-50 minute race, I slipped and splashed my way through the course, huffing and puffing as my lack of training became all too clear. When it was all over, I glanced at my watch to see that I had made it. (This result was confirmed instants later via a text message from those oh-so-tech-savvy people at Nike).

Now, I have no illusions of being a future Olympian, and 50 is a completely arbitrary number, but it was nice to set a challenge, reject the easy way out, and succeed. Sports are pretty unusual in the sense that there are clear metrics of success or failure, and because of this, we use them as self-examinations of both body and mind. After all, what’s the academic equivalent of a 50 minute 10k?

Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that London came in 2nd to those Spanish speedsters in Madrid. And what’s an athletic competition without a scandal…Taipei originally posted a time of 46 minutes (which, as an average time, is downright Ethiopian) before revising it to an hour and 11 minutes.

In slightly less exciting news, I just learned that I have committed a pretty significant faux-pas today. I’m sporting my Michael Owen English soccer jersey (which I generally wear to flaunt my chameleon-like ability to assimilate into English culture), only to be informed that Mr. Owen is no longer on the team. I’ve pretty much been wearing a “kick me” sign on my back all day.

Sadly, no longer deemed worthy of the shirt.

And finally, to increase the science content of today’s post, I’ll point you towards this great blog on space politics. It’s got all the latest news on space funding, private space enterprises, and the presidential candidates’ views. Do check it out.