Check-in/check-out

I find the hotel check-in experience to be a little awkward, particularly later at night. It could be that I'm prim and proper and think that a gentleman should know his sleeping arrangements prior to the eight o'clock hour. It could also be that night desk clerks are not chosen for their customer service potential. Recently, I think it was the latter. Yes, I may have received a suspicious eye when I flashed a certain discount card that most strangers don't expect me to have, but the real awkwardness came a moment later when I gave him my address.

"DC? That's not far from here."

We were three or more hours away from home.

"I can't really get there to sleep tonight," I responded since I had just traveled three or more hours from there on my way to my final destination.

"Still. It's not far. I get up there two or three times a year to visit friends."

Did every guest who slept at the Days Inn have to travel a certain distance? Had I failed to meet that quota?

"Every trip can't be glamorous," I told him matter-of-factly.

Notes on Facebook from a desperate blogger

If memory serves (and it often doesn't) I "liked it" for the first time in my personal Facebook history. I never really understood why someone would click the "like it" button instead of just commenting or letting the whole thing go. I had no trouble doing either for quite some time. There's so much going on that it's pretty easy to let items just slide right off the feed without comment. There are a few things that resonate, certain updates from certain people do seem to prompt comment, but they usually stir something inside of me like a memory or compel a direct response. This was a fine way to live my life. Then along came Bob Dylan's Must be Santa and although I think it's a bit early for Christmas songs and I very easily could burn out on this one, I liked it. I don't know that I ever would have found this ditty on my own. It doesn't really stir anything inside me except for a smile and maybe the desire to dance around the room. I suppose I could have said all that, but "like it" and that little thumb up seemed so much more efficient.

This song and my reaction to it reinforces some value in Facebook for me. I've been losing interest a bit of late. Even with the recent surge brought on by my sister's sudden entrance, I recognize that I'm approaching friend capacity. It seems like I only know about six more people that I'm not connected to on Facebook. Does most of the thrill come from finding past lives or can the constant intersection of the now with the then keep Facebook's heart beating? I also wonder how much Twitter detracts from Facebook. It seems like the stuff I read has quieted on both topics a bit of late, well except for the word of the year being "unfriend" instead of "defriend". That must be regional. Yet, if my friends and acquaintances, at least those I've kept, can show me a great new Christmas song, then maybe I don't need the thrill of finding old friends or the media to keep the fire going. Maybe the exchange and the faux-community are compelling enough.

Oh, Facebook. Where do you see yourself in five years? Will you be a shadow of your former self like blogs or myspace or Orkut? Or will you manage to stay relevant? I'll give you two more years and then I'm afraid something new and shiny is going to replace you. That something new? It's going to be like those brainstorming clusters only all the input is going to come from iPhone/blackberry style devices and somehow navigation between clusters is going to be possible. I don't have it all worked out yet, but if I work it out, I'm sure it will be worth about 1.52 million dollars. Give or take .52. Or more.

Sunday

I'm trying to keep up with my NaNoBloPo quota. I fell behind this weekend, but I think since I'm making up the rules and I'm a day behind anyway, I can play a little catch-up. After pounding out two posts in one sitting I'm struggling a bit with inspiration. I think I'm going to take a short break and be more inspired when I return.

We'll try dinner for inspiration. I don't have a lot of goals, but one goal I do have is to go to Gladys Knight Chicken & Waffles in Atlanta, Georgia. I've been to Atlanta on a few occasions, but thus far have failed to combine the simple pleasure of a well-cooked chicken with the breaded breakfast goodness of a waffle. Tonight at dinner, I did not travel many hours to Atlanta, nor did I cook a chicken, but Gladys was my inspiration. I popped an Eggo in the toaster and reheated my whole-wheat pasta and sauce. When the toaster popped and the Microwave dinged, I had pasta & waffles. It was actually quite good and added a whole new texture to my pasta dish. The unfortunate side effect was that I had a leftover waffle because the pasta & waffle dish turned out to be singular, but I had toasted my waffles in plural. My roommate suggested that for dessert I try ice cream & waffle. This was a brilliant idea and his suggestion of using some maple syrup was even better. The waffle and ice cream were exquisite together as those who enjoy a cone probably realize, but the maple syrup didn't provide the proper punch for my taste. The best maple syrup moment was actually when I was scooping up the liquid syrup and melted ice cream combination, otherwise the syrup was just too subtle. I have about six more Eggos so I figure there are a lot of other blank & waffle meals still to come.

Old friends

Three times this week I got to spend some quality time with friends that I don't see as often as I'd like. All three times, I left thinking about specific points in my life where I was seeing those friends more regularly. Every conversation brought back pleasant memories, from road trips to Cleveland, to ice-covered pond Ultimate, to Thursday nights watching TV. It also made me think about the curious way that time seems to compress and expand in my mind. In my mind, change is the distinct divider. So, even though I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in September (or August?) of 2002 with one friend and was hanging out watching Friendswith another by December 2002, those three months seem impossibly far apart, while December 2002 and December 2004 where Friends was a common occurrence seem to be wrapped up in a bundle with several more years since. The difference is that in September of 2002 I was in Ohio, but by December I was in Maryland. Where the timing failed, geography stood strong.

I need markers to keep my memory going and my timelines even slightly intact. The move to this area was a major marker. I would think the move to my new house will be another major marker, and if my evening in the Spring was any indication it will be. I've only been in the house a few months, but already the Spring seems far away. I was nostalgic for the good- dinner and cinema down the street and surprisingly reminded of how pleased I am with the pleasures that have become normal- a washer and dryer down the hall. I don't know what the next marker will be or how many months or years will get bundled here, but it does seem that I've entered a new divider.

As a footnote, this notion of dividers seems woefully incomplete; there's also a complicated cross-referencing system going on, but Grey's Anatomy hasn't given me enough neuroscience to get into that.

The cows, they are-a-mooin'

My weekend was full of Ultimate. This no longer qualifies as news. I think when my weekend is not full of Ultimate, that's when it's news. My A league team had our best tournament in recent memory and we still ended up fifth out of six teams. We won two games and lost one, but even though we held our own against the perennial champs and we knocked off a team that we haven't beaten in ages, the second team beat the champs and we lost out by point differential. The standings don't reflect our success, but I still want to focus on that. I think we saw improvement from previous years for a couple of reasons. The first was a little practice together. It doesn't seem like at this stage in our Ultimate careers after not practicing together for so long, practice would mean much, but judging by yesterday it still matters. It didn't change our game greatly, but the things we worked on in practice magically appeared as opportunities in the game. We'd spent time on them in practice, so it was more than just words saying "move the disc", it was a non-game Saturday afternoon reinforcing it. Our stack was still a bit messy, but there were some opportunities that came directly from a drill we did in that practice. Personally, this tells me that I need to continue to take practice agendas seriously for my other gig. The second factor was a big one, he was 6 foot 5 and a quite a player. His defense and presence were very helpful, but it was offense where he made the most difference. He liked to throw it deep and he took some pressure off our handlers. It's neat to see someone's immediate impact like that.

I felt like my impact just wasn't what it used to be. I'm still competitive, but I'm really struggling to get there on defense and make something happen. I need to play a smarter game and so far I'm not there. My highlights were hustle and awareness plays and I'm not sure what that says about me. The first was just an out and out sprint down the field on a pull. I swerved toward the path of the first throw and the thrower threw it away. That's the easy way to get a D. The other highlight was out of the stack. My defender was ready to poach the lane, so I just turned to the break side and cut deep. He had to follow. He was running around the stack and about the time he was in position, I cut back in for a big 20 yard gain on the throw. The other was from practice. Using my will power I begged and pleaded with my eyes to get a break side throw to me in the front of the stack. As soon as I had it, I turned and put a backhand deep. My cutter almost didn't go, but then he was on it and tracking it down. Just like we'd drawn it up.

Today was rec league and my legs (both calves cramped up on Saturday) and my heart weren't quite in it. We were a mess, like the ground and the round, and we couldn't get going. We traded points and struggled and eventually lost. I was really fighting to keep my cool. I finally started to wake up at the end and enjoyed getting my defender to panting, but it was too little too late.

From that loss, I made my way to catch the college team in the finals of C league. I wasn't worried about any coaching at that point. They were beyond needing me after already going 6-0 on the weekend . There were taking on a team that had obliterated them early in the season with a zone defense, but with most of the veteran corps there, they were rolling. The three speedsters were working it and it would be hard to find three guys that fast on any C league team. Everyone else was holding their own and playing solid as they could get involved. They ran away with the championship to the tune of something like 15-6. Continuation cuts are still an issue, as are throwaways, but we're seeing fewer drops, pretty good disc movement and a lot more intensity.

I'm happy to have a week or so off from Ultimate, but I'd be lying if I said I knew whether I was going to play this winter.

Inspiration from the sky

In a rush this afternoon I agreed to meet a friend and her mother for dinner in Baltimore. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't think to take the train, but I was in a hurry, so I got a Zipcar. The rain had been sprinkling all day and I thought nothing of it. I'm such a novice when it comes to DC driving. I should know by now that if a guy riding a bike sweats and that perspiration hits the ground, traffic comes to a halt. When the clouds perspire, it's much worse. I fought my way to B'more and arrived about 15 minutes beyond the predicted arrival time window. It took me an hour and a half to get there and I was giving myself an hour to get home. I should have listened to the voice in my head that asked for more time on the zipcar, but I ignored it with a zippedy-do-da sense of optimism. That optimism shriveled up like a prune in a Phoenix when the rain beat my windshield and traffic came to a halt.

Desperate, I knew I needed to extend my reservation, but I was stuck in the middle of the road. We moved slightly or I might have knocked on someone's window and asked for a phone. I had to find a pay phone. Yes, those still exist. The thirty minute window to find a pay phone shrank to fifteen before I saw a sign for an Exxon at the next exit. Traffic crawled along as the minutes of the digital clock re-pixelated ever closer to the end of my reservation. With time slipping away, I pulled into the Exxon and scanned the station. I found the phone, pulled into a parking space, leapt from the car and grabbed the phone hoping for a dial tone. The Zipcar phone number has a "Z" and the phone did not. I ran back to the car where I'd seen the actual digits I needed to call and dragged them over to the phone. I dialed again. It was 10:59. My reservation ended at 11:00. I was punching buttons almost frantically trying to extend the reservation when the sky lit up and a great clap of thunder gave me a start. I nearly dropped the phone. The rain came down harder. I extended the reservation, hung up in my growing wetness and headed out. Hi-Ho Zipcar, away.

Seven years of blogging

On this date seven years ago I made my way on to the Internet of public consumption. It was a timid beginning full of vague aphorisms and run-on sentences. In a time before Facebook, I was writing status updates calling out to the world with digital smoke signals. As time went on, I've come to require more from my writing, not a whole lot more, but a bit more. I've chronicled ups and downs, runs, dives, sweet catches, whimsical tales, vanity, tales from the city, tales from vacation and a other things that cross my path. Until this month, my posts had grown more sporadic, but more complete, or at the very least longer. The range of topics has become more narrowly focused and my delight in turning a phrase harder to come by. I've been ready to call it quits many times, but so far something always brings me back. It's nice to be heard and since my memory seems to be failing, it's nice to have a record of some of the major achievements and goings on of the last seven years. There are milestones missing that were too private or too complicated, but much of my life appears in this very space.

I never thought this would be a project that lasted seven years when I started, nor that this would be my seventh year with my employer or my seventh year with the Ultimate team. If I were a slot machine, this would be a winner. There is the sound of change that slowly clinks out in triumph. It's not the rush of a jackpot, but it is change and triumph nonetheless.

In seven years, I've gone from jobless to temp to employed to snug as a bug in an office (sometimes maybe a little too snug). I've run a marathon, written 50,000 words in a month, traveled to Paris, Iceland, Norway, Idaho, read a bunch of books, watched even more movies, run 5k after 5k after 5k with a few miles and lots of Ultimate mixed in. I've become a coach, an uncle, a brother-in-law, a boyfriend. I've been tested and challenged. I've given up my car. I've turned to the darkness and purchased a cell phone and then lost the darkness and am trying to find my way back to a landline. I've struggled with my place in the world and the rules I should follow. I've moved. I've biked. I've changed. I don't know what it will be like to read this in seven more years or if it will even be here, but I know that at this moment I'm pleased to take a moment to celebrate life, the Internet, and a pursuit I'm not sure I even understand.

Maybe I'll figure it out tomorrow.

He googled what?

Slate recently had a contest of sorts where people submitted some interesting Google suggest search disparities. Language and spelling brought to light some disturbing and curious searches that folks are doing. Check it out here. It's getting hard to remember a world without search engines (aside: like saying facial tissue instead of Kleenex, saying search engine instead of Google almost seems silly, sorry Bing).

I'm too late for the contest and I don't have any terribly interesting results to report, but I am amused that "Where is" yields a search for Chuck Norris. Who is looking for Chuck Norris? What will they do when they find him? Nothing I'm sure, because I've heard that Chuck Norris does whatever he wants, even when God asks nicely. I also just discovered a site called makemebabies.com where a person can use two photos or celeb photos to create a picture of their future baby. I'm a little curious to find out how this works with beards, but not so curious that I'm actually going to try it. The Internet is a crazy place and I usually forget that I hang out in just a tiny little portion.

Shoe you love me?

DSW is like a shoe convention hall. I might have been intimidated, except that I knew I was looking for a new brown work shoe. That level of specificity allowed me to hone in on the three rows that contained brown shoes that were work appropriate. Work appropriate sometimes crossed the line into not, like the brown skechers with the dragon lightly etched in the heel. According to my informal survey of brown shoes, it seems that the slip-on is a popular choice these days. Trying to be "with it" I tried on a few pairs. I liked the way they looked with their smooth lines unbroken by the chaos of laces, but I worried. What if I had the urge to run, would the slip-ons stay on or would they go all antonym on me and slip off? I lightly tested several pairs and I didn't like what I was feeling. It felt precarious. The shoes might not slip off, but in a sprint I wasn't sure any of them could be trusted. After more pacing in strange shoes and some internal debate including the question of "How often will you really run in these?" and the disdainful and a smidge disrespectful "Unh," answer, I decided to go ahead and purchase the brand new version of the shoes I already own. I can run in those in a pinch. They look good. The only reason to change was really to prove that I could. I don't want people thinking I'm stuck in my ways.

To prove that I'm very comfortable with change, I also got a new pair of running shoes. Talk about change, I purchased a pair of 2140 series Asics. They are way different than the 2130 series I had before. I'm kind of unpredictable.

I had to be in 3 places at once

This weekend was crazy with Ultimate. I was supposed to play in two one-day tournaments and coach one two-day tournament. I created a priority hierarchy, which would allow me to play in one, and coach half. I was ok with my decision. Then some rain came and they rescheduled, so I had coached half and it felt like the team might end up in the championship game, but I was scheduled to play in two tournaments on the same day in different places. I like to chase plastic, but across town is not possible. I headed out this morning, not actually knowing where I would play. Finally at 8:30, the news came that the rain had stopped us again and I should finish my stint coaching.

I did. The team made it to the finals after a strong run of 13-1 and 13-7. Habit was set to play a team of alums they'd beaten previously. The air changed and the tournament went from kind of silly and fun to serious, championship Ultimate. Layouts, big throws, and intensity became the norm. Habit had looked like they were about to fall to pieces when the previous game was at 12-4 and now they had more energy than I'd seen all year. It was borderline sick (the good kind). Points were traded. Lemon swiped a disc right out of a guy's hand. Tini made a HUGE layout for a swing that looked completely out of reach. He landed with a thud and left a divot the size of his head in the endzone. Madness. Habit had a 6-4 lead, but dropped half 7-6. The fight kept coming. Everybody was playing with great intensity. Habit was moving the disc well, but the break throws from the alums were really hurting. There were some BIG grabs from Lemon and Classics. The highlights stick out, but it was all around solid play that kept Habit in the game. I think the alums built a 9-7 lead and then Habit knotted the game at 10-10, before falling 13-11. It was the best I've seen the team play and I'm really excited to try to find a way to sustain that effort. I'm so glad I got to be there to witness it.

Zippedy-doo-whaaaat?

My karma must be a bit out of whack. Today was some kind of odd. I had an immediate need for a Zipcar this morning. Zipcar allows me to rent cars by the hour and is usually near public transportation or high-traffic areas. Weekends are usually busy, but in three years I've always been able to find a car somewhat close to where I need it. I was able to find a car, but when I went to make a reservation, I found that I could not. For some reason, my credit card information was messed up. That took some time and phone calls to get solved. There were no cars in my vicinity, so I had to Metro a stop to find the Honda Fit I'd reserved. The morning was already an ordeal for other reasons, but When I started the Fit, I got nothing. After another phone call, the Zipcar rep decided the best course of action was to transfer my reservation from the Fit to a Mini Cooper. That's ok, except that the Fit had 5 seats and the Mini did not. We squeezed, like clowns, in a sporty little car and headed to our destination.

All was well, except for some cramped muscles and spaces and we made it to our destination. Hours passed and then I went to start the Mini I inserted the round fob, pushed down the brake, and pressed the "start" engine button. Nothing happened. I couldn't believe it. I checked the brake, the fob, the shifter, the windshield wiper, and the radio. I tried again. Still nothing. Disbelieving I called the zip folks again. At first the help was confused as he thought we were moving. I said, no, we were very much sitting still in a parking lot with the engine off. He went through a series of locking and unlocking of the doors remotely, which was odd and somehow both frightening and comforting. We are so close to flying cars, I know it! Eventually, the zip help was convinced that I should try the fob, brake, button press again. I did and the Mini came to life.

Karma corrected? Perhaps.

TV: my viewing habits

I thought I'd provide a run down of the shows that I am watching, so you can watch them too and prevent another Dollhouse.

I have been watching Dollhouse, but it's been an uninspiring season. There seemed to be some intrigue and interesting questions about what it meant to be human last season, but this season there wasn't much to go on. Fox must have noticed the same since they've killed it. I'm disappointed that we won't get resolution, but I'm not even sure there was anything to resolve.

I'm still holding on to How I Met Your Mother, hoping that one day we'll actually find out. The show manages about one genuinely likable moment per episode and is sometimes good for a really hearty laugh. Slap bets are pretty amazing and I find that like FutureMarshall and FutureTed, I'm making FutureDave deal with more and more of the ramifications of my decisions (or non-decisions).

I've recently picked up Modern Family. It's got Carol Vescey from Ed, the actual Ed from Married With Children and a pretty hilarious kid. The other cast members have their moments, but the kid just cracks me up. It's three families who are all part of one big extended family and I like the balance of the three stories and the interplay of the group. The kid is holding this one together though.

I also watch Glee. I have some concerns about their ability to tell a story throughout the season, but for now I like the music and the drama is on the right side of that show about pies that I quit watching. This could really go either way.

I'm still holding strong with The Office. I don't like Jim in his new role as much and Pam seems a touch crazier, but overall this group is one that I'm willing to continue to watch for quite some time. I feel pretty connected at this point. It's almost like a real office.

Community has my attention. The character Ahbed is the funniest character on TV. He has stolen the show multiple times. His Batman was hand-waving, foot-stomping fantastic. The other characters have good roles and the right mix of likable and not.

There are a lot of ensembles on this list, eh?

I'm still watching Grey's Anatomy. It has some good moments, balanced by some pretty silly overblown drama, but I feel invested enough to stick it out for at least this season.

I'm also still watching Project Runway. I have the sense that they are moving away from the creative process and into the human drama. I don't approve. I probably should've called it quits, but I'm loyal to Heidi and I like Tim and a some of the designers were really good looking this season.

Oh yeah, I'm all about the creative process.

Tivo is keeping me up to date and I just found a new hour on Fridays. Tuning in or out or on or rewinding to catch that again...

Oh, Internet, what are you up to?

A recent post on an Ultimate website I read is reporting that the women's team that won Club Nationals is done playing women's Ultimate and is looking for new challenges. It reads a bit like an April Fool's joke, but there is no indication that it is, including but not limited to the fact that it is not April. I don't follow the elite teams in any division closely, and I've never watched this particular team play. I've read that they've won Club Nationals four years running. It's not a long dynasty, but that's impressive. If this shift is true, it's fascinating to think about. I wish I had real insight to offer, but I only have questions.

My first questions tend to be about the level of play and the competition: How does the best women's team stack up against open teams? Are they good enough to beat mid-level open club teams? Strong enough to snag a series bid and knock an open team out? Is a division called open just waiting for something like this to happen?

My next questions are about spirit: Can egos on either side handle this climate? Presumably, the women's team would lose more games than usual. How used to dominance are they? Presumably, there are open teams who would not handle losing to a women's team very well. Can spirit of the game keep tempers in check?

I have questions about the community reaction: Would Ultimate as a whole be supportive of a women's team in the open division? Would this generate interest in the sport outside of the Ultimate community or confirm our niche status? Are there examples of this happening in other sports? If successful, could this open the door for other such cross-overs?

I really don't have any answers and I suspect that this will soon be revealed as a lark, but I think I would be interested to see an exhibition. I think about the women at CUA who play against men at nearly every tournament. An individual match-up may differ from a team setting, but I find both to be courageous.

four on the floor, one on the bus?

Today marks the first time I have taken the bus from home to work and then back again at the end of the day. Sometimes it feels like the rain is winning.

Tonight marks the first time I have driven a manual transmission vehicle in quite some time. I thought I was going to get a shot of re-living my early years (read 15.5 to about 28.5) in Iceland, but that rug was pulled out from under me by the rental agency. I had another shot a few weeks ago, but a series of car-borrowing events later put me behind the wheel of yet another automatic transmission machine. Tonight, through the generosity of others, I got my chance.

I will grant that Taylor Swift's song "You belong to me" may have contributed to my sense of nostalgia, but I still felt a ripple when I sat down in the driver's seat, depressed the clutch, put my right hand on the stick shift and was whisked away to another time and place. I felt the heartache of my late teens seep through the transmission and enter my body through my hand. I couldn't find a girlfriend, I wasn't sure of my place in the world, the rain made me sad and lonely. I released the stick and breathed back into my thirties. It's a more confident place, though perhaps not as far removed from those days as I like to pretend. As I maneuvered in and out of parallel parking spots, another wave of nostalgia came over me, this time in a surge of valet-instilled confidence. I was the sort of parking machine that women and men alike adored and under-tipped. I could park your big boat of a Lincoln towncar or pull around your late 90s T-bird, no sweat. I'm versatile that way. Manual, automatic, past, present- it's all here. Baby.

The turning point

This evening is on a teetering bridge made of rope and two by fours. If I scamper across, I'll go to bed early feeling productive and satisfied. If I stand here and stare at the abyss I will go to sleep late wondering how TV and the Internet managed to completely soak up my night off. I used to have hobbies, but lately it seems like I have exercise/Ultimate or I don't. This imbalance can be off-putting some nights, but mostly it's fine. Tonight, however, I'm passing on exercise, having gone pretty hard for several days in a row. Without Ultimate and without exercise my evening is free. I'd like to read, maybe play the banjo, or just meditate a moment on my career path, but somehow I find myself in the habit of just trying to fill the moments between thoughts of exercise and Ultimate or the actual activity. It's time for more action.

When I finish this paragraph, I'm leaving the Internet behind for several hours. I'm going to change clothes a la Monsieur Rogers, crack open a book and get to reading in my rarely used reading corner. When I get tired of being curled up, I will tune my banjo and bluegrass out. When even my leisure needs planning, I start to wonder who inhabits this mind of mine.

Seeking inspiration

I found myself in a full-on physical funk this evening when the little hand was on the six and big hand was on the twelve. My evening still involved getting home and working out. I was so tired I considered taking a cab home. I was going to call off the workout, but instead my mind started to wander to places of inspiration and motivation. I thought of the blog I'd read earlier in the day about my friend's 50 mile, 10-hour running odyssey. She ran 50 freaking miles. Wow. In the post, she detailed her run and the support she had a long the way. As I trotted home, weary only from a day of work, I thought about the support waiting for me. I couldn't quit today, not after I'd complained about others saying they were in before the moment when they bail. This is not FASHION, people. One minute you are IN and the next, you should still be in. I couldn't quit today because I'd already said I was in. I like to live up to the ideals and expectations I have of others. I didn't realize I would be tested so quickly. I arrived home and found my workout partners ready and waiting. My support was in place. There was really no quitting now. I turned to one final piece of inspiration and motivation, I turned to the toaster pastry of choice- the Pop-Tart. The Pop-Tart pushed me over the edge. I worked out. I lived up to my ideals. It's not 50 miles, but it's a step in that direction. I don't know what turned my mind to the positive tip, but I'd like to keep it around.

Focus on the positive

My rec league team had an unexpectedly great day. We were a small squad and I felt guilty as I’ve been a mostly absent captain, but once and a while, none of that matters. We started off trading points against a team and eventually pulled away. From there, we never really looked back. Our small group was clicking. Everything we did seemed to be working. Guys who have played fast and loose in the past, brought it down a notch. Our defense wasn’t great, but we were close enough to cause some problems and then able to punch it in for the score. ("Stalk and score", anyone?) Everyone was involved. Everyone was getting open, making good grabs, and working hard. The throws were generally pretty good. We had deep looks, we had dump swing offense, we busted through the zone on this perfect windless day in November.

My personal highlights involved laying out for a D on a dump by a member of Bad Habit and catching a trailing edge score off a ricochet D. I tried to huck a few times, but didn’t have much success. My game remains in the mid-range. I’m also excited because my Ultimate protégé coworker said that today might keep her coming back for more in the spring. Yeah, team.

Soda pops and italian subs

There aren't many days that I drink soda, but I couldn't pass up some post-practice root beer. The glass bottle in hand, sweetness on the lips and tongue, and the satisfying clink of a teammate to teammate cheer. Topping that off with an Italian sub from the warehouse district was the filling in the pothole. So smooth. I never would have ventured into the authentic Italian place on my own for a variety of reasons, but none so much as the fact that the building looked like a roughed up, downtrodden warehouse. Inside riches were displayed in olive oil of all shapes and sizes. Cans and bottles, truffles and extra extra virgin, all the olive oil I could imagine dominated the scene. In the far back, there was a butcher and some sandwich makers. They churned out real Italian subs, just like one might expect from the back of warehouse filled with olive oil and wine. If I knew Italian I'd whip it out right now and say, "delicious." I'm not that worldly, instead I present another post and the celebration of soda and subs.

more on lifting, more on vanity

There's another benefit of lifting that I neglected- MUSCLES! Every month or so, I find some muscles I never knew I had. Muscles remind me of a lot of people I know. They'll stay out of the way, lay low, try not to do work if they don't have to, but then give them a project and they work hard. Keep them motivated and they flourish. It started with my underarms. One day I flexed and I had triceps. My stick-figure arm suddenly had a little bulge. It was pleasing. I spent time in front of the mirror confirming that my imagination was not playing tricks. A tickle attack was in full force at some later date and I naturally tensed my stomach muscles. I knew I had stomach muscles, but these were tickle-stoppers. They shut down the attack. Now, this week as I was reaching across my body to grab a toothbrush, I found wings. I'm a few years removed from anything remotely resembling an anatomy class, so I don't know what they are, but trust me, I've never seen these muscles before.

If muscles were stocks, my portfolio would be looking good. Unfortunately, I still wouldn't be ready for retirement.

Lifting and special feelings

Some time ago, along about May or June, I started showing up at Alan's house to fit in a few basement weightroom workouts. I've never been much of a fan of weights. I never finished a weight workout feeling great like I did after a run. The workouts always took a lot of time and even though I didn't know what results to expect I knew that I didn't want to be too muscular. The best way to avoid that was to avoid the whole scene, I decided. I tend to make sweeping decisions even when they don't make sense. Then in May or June, after many declined invitations I decided to head to the basement and workout again. I wouldn't do it four days a week, but maybe two and I'd see what happened. I found that working out with Alan and Jim was nice enough. It felt like we were struggling together, a bit like the old days on a high school cross country team. They were (and are) clearly stronger, but weights like running can be an individual pursuit with individual standards and improvement.

I stuck with my two or almost two days a week and mixed in Ultimate, bike riding, running, and the fun stuff I enjoyed. Much of my exercise was transit, but I was spending a lot of time exercising. This netted some pretty nifty previously chronicled results in a mile I ran in July and I knew that much of the credit belonged to the lifting I'd been doing. That motivated me to continue to keep up my efforts in the weightroom. Throughout the summer, my efforts remained consistent. Then, as luck or fate or something would have it, Alan and I became housemates. That put his superior collection of weightlifting paraphenilia in the garage, as in close enough to trip over. The excuses not to work out shrank significantly.

At first I thought the weights were too close to the television. I could feel myself being sucked in and away from working out, but as we got into our new routine, I found something had changed. I found that I wanted to work out. I found that when I didn't work out, I was disappointed. It was a familiar feeling that I get with running. Now, I find that I'm itching to workout when I'm sitting on the couch. I don't get the same satifisfaction from lifting that I get from running, but I get more than I thought possible. I know that the strength will contribute to my other goals, running goals, Ultimate goals, and my own well-being.

That's a pretty special feeling.

Put that one in the kitty

A look through the archives reveals that yesterday’s post was treading on territory dangerously close to a post written in May. Either the realization is slower than I realized or my memory is so poor that I get to have the same epiphany every few months.

In hopes of getting out of my rut, I’m going to enter some new territory. This territory is inhabited by furry alien beings.

I’m not a pet guy. My sister had a fish when we were growing up, but for the most part I’ve spent my life in a pet-free zone. I did live with a dumb dog named Champ for a while, but that relationship never really clicked. Champ ran with me a time or two, but he couldn’t catch a disc and his conversation skills were lacking. He also smelled like dog. That wasn’t really his fault, but it wasn’t endearing.

I’ve gone many years again without a pet and I was happy, or mostly happy. I certainly didn’t feel like I was missing anything. I don’t hate animals, I just don’t have much use for them. I don’t connect. I don’t feel warm and cuddly when they are near. Did I mention they smell?

Not too long ago, I moved. I have new housemates. One of my housemates is named Manley and that’s my favorite thing about him. I think that’s worse than saying he’s ugly, but he has a great personality. For the record, Manley isn’t ugly and he doesn’t have a great personality. He’s got a cool name. Manley and I have the house to ourselves this week. It’s a bachelor pad. We’re watching movies in our skivvies, drinking brews, working out, staying up late watching inappropriate TV, tossing the lacrosse ball around, and belching without remorse. Awesome, huh?

No. Manley does not live up to his name. He doesn’t do manly things at all. He doesn’t even really do cat things. I’m told he’s a fine cuddler if the stars are aligned, but I’m also told that he’s a nasty biter if they aren’t. He’s a chubby cat and while he does chase a ball, bat a plush mouse, and eat, he doesn’t do much else.

There’s some tension in the bachelor pad. It grows with each passing meal. Manley wants more food. I want him to leave me alone while I scoop out his meal pellets. Will this end in bloodshed? Does Manley have secret hidden ninja powers? Will some other housemate return in time to quell this growing feud?

The slow burn of realization on the Ultimate field

When I first moved to town and I found CUltimAte, I was a year or two older than college seniors. I was the same age or younger than the grad students. I could slip into a college Ultimate tournament quite comfortably. If memory serves, I didn't play in the series or in games where I didn't belong, especially in the Spring. I jumped in to help the team or help myself to some more playing time, but not at the cost of someone's season, I gambled. The calendars have flopped over a time or seven and those college seniors I started with return only for the alumni game. New college seniors and grad students stand in their place, but time has moved on. I don't have quite the same speed or the same leap that I did back then, but my throws are better, and I can still hold my own. Last year, I jumped in to a mixed tournament during the fall college season. Being on the field was fun, but it didn't sit entirely right with me somehow.

This year, as the team has sometimes struggled with numbers, I've been asked to "cleat up" and take the field. I've resisted. I feel bad if I'm at a tournament where colleges expect to face colleges and I take advantage of a new player just learning the game. I feel worse if a college player uses superior speed and ability to take advantage of me in this same setting. So, I decline.

Saturday, the team faced a team of Haverford alums. I don't feel bad about battling college graduates, so I laced up the green cleats, donned the clown dress and afro-wig, and went to work. The team and I battled, but we again made too many mistakes to keep it close. The Mario-Kart clad alums were a bit drunk, but mostly solid. I had a few good moments- Tini picked up the junk deep put I threw his way. They threw zone without wind and I enjoyed dropping it over and around their cup. I picked up a layout D and got to hustle on the field. I got to share more directly in some of the frustration of our re-building year. I dropped a disc. I think I resisted throwing one away. We got rolled, but I couldn't stop smiling. I know the theme repeats itself here many times, but Ultimate means a lot to me. It's allowed me to meet and play with a lot of people. It keeps evolving with me or to me. I hope to be a part of it as long as it keeps bringing me joy and/or hot chocolate in a box.

I can do whatever I like

I've been told that it's National Blog Post Writing Month. It's supposedly this less-involved lower-key version of National Novel Writing Month. As a NaBloPo writer, I'm supposed to post something to my blog everyday. I'd link to the official site, but it's got all of these rules that I don't want to follow. Mostly the rules I don't want to follow are that since I didn't post yesterday I am no longer eligible for prizes. So, I'm making up my own rules while I try to build on my NaNoWriMo success of some five years ago by actually trying to get a little bit of writing done this month. In that less-than-inspired way, I plan to write more posts, post more writing, and find meaningful* ways to rearrange the language to suit my needs.

If I were betting, I'd say my readers can expect more posts about Ultimate, running, my vanity, lost cell phones, and the ongoing struggle of being a thirty-something man with the mindset of a twenty-something. If I'm feeling particularly feisty, I may again combine all five.

All of this is available for the low, low price of time. In the time it takes to brush some teeth, I can offer insight and brightening power.

*Meaningful in this case refers more to the act of making sense or attempting word play and less to the general appeal to the senses or emotions.