In trying to get motivated to train for the upcoming running season, I’ve resorted to watching people on the big screen who could outrun myself even if George W. Bush and his trigger-happy sidekick Dick Cheney were chasing me with a hunting rifle.

For example, this month I’ve plopped down into my favorite easy chair with a bowl of grapes to watch Running Brave (1983) and Endurance (1999). Both movies — despite depicting Olympic champions — are little-known and rather unheralded, so finding them entailed clicking away on the Internet instead of running down to the local Blockbuster.

Running Brave is a story about a Native American runner named Billy Mills who was the last person from the Western Hemisphere to win a gold medal in the 10,000 meter Olympic event. He also was the only American ever to win the Olympic 10k. That was in Tokyo, 43 years ago (1964).

The movie initially focuses more on the prejudice Native Americans faced at the time and is quite enlightening. The story turns from lackluster to absolutely thrilling when it climaxes to one of the greatest upsets in Olympic history.

More ho-hum is Endurance, which is about the 1996 (and 2000) 10,000 meter Olympic champion with a more unpronounceable and unspellable name. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Pumping Iron, Haile Gabrselassie stars as himself, but comes across as a bit less charismatic, partly because he does not proudly equate working out with sex as the Governator does. While it does provide some background information on what helped Gabrselassie become one of the greatest distance runners of all time — including running six miles to school everyday — it is devoid of passion and fails to explain what drives Gabrselassie to run like a greyhound on Jolt.

Neither movie is nearly as exciting as my all-time favorite, Prefontaine (1997). From childhood to world star, Steve Prefontaine is presented in a way that you really see what makes him tick, and you can’t help but root for the guy despite his cockiness, brashness, and self-absorption. The movie is also packed with American running lore, including the famed Hayward Field in Eugene, OR and Bill Bowerman creating the soles of the first Nike shoes on his wife’s waffle iron.

Without Limits — directed by Tom Cruise and released a year later (1998) is another good movie, also being about “Pre” with a nearly identical story line. I preferred Prefontaine more because I thought the story flowed better and had a superior soundtrack, although Without Limits seemed to garner more accolades from the critics.

Rounding out the running movies I have seen are Forrest Gump and The Graduate. While both are entirely fictional, the former is an all-inspiring account about a retard who nevertheless can achieve anything, and the latter is subtly humorous screenplay about a college graduate lusting after what some guys may refer to as the original “MILF” (and her daughter). Running is hardly the main theme of The Graduate, but you have to cheer for the “track star” when he tries to stop Elaine Robinson’s impending wedding.

If anyone has more movie recommendations, please comment below. Gotta run!

The unprecedented bouts of snowfall have provided some rather bone-chilling experiences for motorists in Northern Colorado the last few weeks.

Blinding, white-out conditions. Squirrelly rear tires. Cars careening into ditches. Even an avalanche burying a couple of cars near Berthoud Pass.

Yet, in spite of it all, I still feel that my beloved city of Fort Collins is a sanctity from peril, a place where 98% of the time, I feel pretty darn safe.

I was reminded of that the other day when, in talking with my parents, I learned of some disturbing news.

My folks still reside in Stockton, California, a sleepy, foggy-in-the-winter and oven-hot-in-the-summer town located in the harrow of the Central Valley. "Recreation" for many youngsters has a slightly different definition over there, including hot-wiring cars, waving spray cans of green and purple paint in front of wooden fences, and eluding cops. Other popular extra-curricular activities include automotive sideshows and ghost-riding the whip.

Now, mind you, I mean no malice towards my childhood hometown, just relating the facts. I grew up in a home with window bars behind a wrought-iron fence, and my parents still do. However, these security provisions only offer protection when one is actually at home, as my mom and dad recently found out.

Last week, on a frigid day at 6:00pm, my dad stepped out of his car in a parking lot in one of the less-shady areas of town, only to be immediately accosted by someone who put something to his chest. A gun.

Fortunately, my dad -- who can sometimes have an attitude with police officers during a routine traffic stop -- decided to be "cooperative."

"Ok, whatever you want," he said, then taking out his wallet. "Look, here's my money."

"What did you just put underneath the seat of your car?" inquired the dude with the gun. "Did you stash more money under there? I saw you put something under there!"

"No," my dad implored, "I was just taking out my key!"

"Keep your voice down," replied the thief. He then took off after grabbing the cash, much to the relief of my father.

Later that evening, my dad told my mom, "Today, I am lucky that I am not dead..." Understandably he was still shaken up, as anyone would be when his life flashed in front of his eyes.

Granted, acts of violence can occur virtually anywhere, just more often in some places than others. In Stockton, these acts are common day occurrences, whereas in places like Fort Collins (which recorded zero homicides in 2000, 2001, 2002, and 2004 while Stockton has over 30 each year), they occur once in a blue moon. Otherwise, the biggest concerns of late at the Fort have to do with blizzards.

And I'd rather face a lot of snow instead of a single thug any day.