Nevermind the cowbell. Or, the pain of recurrent IT band injuries, and the power of Rock.

First, allow me to apologize for my absence. Since Tuesday, I've run twice, walked several times, eaten a chicken quesadilla entree, washed my dishes and found out my rollover minutes are applied to my anytime minutes; it's been a pretty good week.

This morning I ran 10 miles with Jeremy in Olympia at about a 9-minute mile pace. My right knee began acting up towards the end of the run. It feels like my IT band again, and that sucks. That specific part of my leg hasn't hurt in at least two months. I'm icing it *right now*. I plan to lay off on the training this week.

In other news, I've rediscovered my love for rock. As in, *real* rock. Behold:

* I re-read a good portion of Klosterman's Fargo Rock City. Near the end of the book Chuck writes about his "Jack Factor" -- the amount of money he would have to be paid in order to never listen to a specific record ever again. His most expensive album? GNR's "Appetite for Destruction." He singles out "Night Train" and "Rocket Queen" -- my two personal favorites.

* I've been pumping Sleater-Kinney "All Hands on the Bad One" in the car for the past couple days, and have begun to remember when Olympia seemed like a mythical, indie rock wonderland, and SK was more jagged and more overtly political. I bought this record six years during the first week of May of my high school senior year(here's your opportunity to figure how old I am, for those of you who don't know), and saw and met the band a week later at First Ave.

*I watched part of "School of Rock" on TV last night and reveled in Jack Black's unabashed rock love. (Sample dialogue: "Alright, 8:15 to 10 -- rock history, and theory. 10 to 11 -- rock appreciation. The rest of the day we practice.") Also, Black showing the guitar-playing kid the power stance and how to nod his head slowly with creepy wide, vacant eyes.

*This morning I caught VH1's Ultimate Albums featuring AC/DC's "Back in Black." I watched the whole thing start to finish, a rarity considering my attention span. Anyway, these guys had a *SPECIAL* bell made that said "AC/DC Hell's Bell" to play at the beginning of the album (see above photo). If that's not enough, they'd rolled it onstage to kick off each show of their 60-date U.S. tour. It was awesome. The footage shows the lead singer, the drunken, be-hatted Brian Johnson, smacking the bell and an arena full of rockers losing. Their. Minds. It makes me a little misty-eyed.

*Today I bought GNR's "Use Your Illusion I" -- aka the blue one. Um, OK, where to start on this one... Axl calls out rock critics he hates on "Get in the Ring"; Slash's guitar in "Estranged" is transcendent; "You Could Be Mine" was famously featured in Terminator 2 as Ed Furlong (John Connor) cranked it on a tiny boombox as he sped away on his dirtbike in L.A. (I totally wanted to be him when I was 11 because he had a dirt bike.)

The lesson of all this? If every rock magazine can cavalierly proclaim that "rock is back" every two to three years, so can I.

It's spring in Tacoma, and rock is back.

Today: 10-mile run in Olympia
Tomorrow: icing my right leg