The list in my head
There's a checklist that I go through mentally almost every day. Did I eat? Did I exercise? Did I take a moment to recharge? Using a variation of the international "check please" symbol, I either place my check mark in the sky or I address the list item. Did I eat? Did I exercise? Did I take a moment to recharge? are my three main questions. The catch is about 153 other questions seem to sneak onto the list every day.
It sometimes feels as though my main job is beating back those questions so that I can affirm my main three. Some days I beat the others back well and some days not so much. The other catch (man, it stinks that there are two catches) is that it seems to me that my main questions have become trickier. I used to answer, "Did I eat?" with "Yeah, straight from a can." Now, I want to answer that I ate in a healthy way. I had my veggies, my protein, my omega-3s, and on and on. I used to answer "Did I exercise?" with "Yeah. I ran." Now, I want to answer that I warmed up, ran and/or lifted, used the foam-roller, and stretched. "Did I take a moment to recharge?" has grown trickier as well. It's not the answer that has changed as much as the moments that are in competition with the recharging moment. I can sometimes steal a moment in the exercise or in the eating or cooking. I can sometimes steal a moment at work or on my commute. The tricky part is my mind. It often chooses to run through the daily list instead of taking a moment. Sometimes when I mean to take a moment I end up on the Internet trying to get a little kick from a new status update or a new email. It occasionally works, but it's often a hollow victory, not a real moment to recharge.
There are times when other items make the main list. Writing still makes a cameo appearance. Thinking about playing the banjo tries to throw its hat in the ring. Ultimate and the associated planning still takes a starring role. The list is life and it keeps going.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
College Sectionals
There were two main story lines at Sectionals for Habit. I tried my best to be part of both. In the open division, we were back at St. Mary's with Bad Habit. I still had some bad memories lingering from last year. Entering the outskirts of town, I could still taste a bit of the disappointment of wasted potential, as eight graduates had managed to not practice together much and it showed throughout the tournament. I wiped away that taste. This was a new year with new expectations. The men were seeded 11th out of 19 teams. I'd heard murmurs that we would upset the apple cart with this team, but although we are a young team, I was realistic because we'd run into some of the same problems. Practice time together has been mostly a luxury. I saw our seed as appropriate, maybe even high. I wanted us to build on the experience though and come back stronger in the future.
On the other side, were the women. Some time, not long, ago I realized that we were just a few women short from having enough for a line. I started to think that maybe we could take a team to Sectionals. I pushed a little in February to try to send a team to a tournament, but it didn't fly. A few weeks ago, with the enthusiasm of Paco and the return of Fruit Loop, the team took shape. In three weeks we saw recruits come and for the time being go. By the end the women had just enough to field a team, eight on Saturday and seven on Sunday. They had no expectations, and having never played a game, were seeded 12th of 14 teams. We had to laugh at that.
I was bouncing back and forth between games trying to see as much as I could and be there for the key moments. I missed a lot, but I saw a lot. Bad Habit (the men) split their games on Saturday, losing to the teams seeded above and handling the teams seeded below. Good Habit (the women) dropped two games to strong contenders and then crushed a B team in the cross-over game. The first victory was nearly a shutout and I was surprised to see that the tiers of teams were so varied.
I was proud of the individuals, but it seemed like Bad Habit couldn't quite gel or couldn't hold it for long when they did. I don't know how to teach that or what it would take, but I suspect it's practice. Good Habit on the other hand seemed to be coming together. Perhaps it was expectations, or perhaps it was the fact that the women only had each other and no subs by Sunday.
There was no one on either of the teams that I wasn't proud of. Everyone was a great reminder of why I like to be a part of this sport. The effort and the highlights of individuals working together were something special. The frustration came when someone tried to do too much or when we realized that we'd let too much potential slip away. It's okay to want more, but demanding it as Sectionals slides through our fingers seems counter-productive. It needs to be demanded months ago.
The men finished 12th, the women 10th. Their weekends were nearly parallel, small squads, flashes of talent, fading a bit at the end. One slight difference: Expectations. The other slight difference: The attitude that came with those expectations.
I don't know if it was seeing freshman score, or make calls, or make good cuts that made me happiest. It might have been the great catches by the women and their aggressive defense that pleased me most, but it was only by a hair. It only outshone the battles and the rest of the game and the men's fight against Maryland slightly. I hated wanting to be in two places at once, but it was super to be a part of both experiences. Choices loom in the future, but for now, Sectionals met and perhaps even exceeded my expectations. Can we carry that momentum forward? And am I the guy to help?
There were two main story lines at Sectionals for Habit. I tried my best to be part of both. In the open division, we were back at St. Mary's with Bad Habit. I still had some bad memories lingering from last year. Entering the outskirts of town, I could still taste a bit of the disappointment of wasted potential, as eight graduates had managed to not practice together much and it showed throughout the tournament. I wiped away that taste. This was a new year with new expectations. The men were seeded 11th out of 19 teams. I'd heard murmurs that we would upset the apple cart with this team, but although we are a young team, I was realistic because we'd run into some of the same problems. Practice time together has been mostly a luxury. I saw our seed as appropriate, maybe even high. I wanted us to build on the experience though and come back stronger in the future.
On the other side, were the women. Some time, not long, ago I realized that we were just a few women short from having enough for a line. I started to think that maybe we could take a team to Sectionals. I pushed a little in February to try to send a team to a tournament, but it didn't fly. A few weeks ago, with the enthusiasm of Paco and the return of Fruit Loop, the team took shape. In three weeks we saw recruits come and for the time being go. By the end the women had just enough to field a team, eight on Saturday and seven on Sunday. They had no expectations, and having never played a game, were seeded 12th of 14 teams. We had to laugh at that.
I was bouncing back and forth between games trying to see as much as I could and be there for the key moments. I missed a lot, but I saw a lot. Bad Habit (the men) split their games on Saturday, losing to the teams seeded above and handling the teams seeded below. Good Habit (the women) dropped two games to strong contenders and then crushed a B team in the cross-over game. The first victory was nearly a shutout and I was surprised to see that the tiers of teams were so varied.
I was proud of the individuals, but it seemed like Bad Habit couldn't quite gel or couldn't hold it for long when they did. I don't know how to teach that or what it would take, but I suspect it's practice. Good Habit on the other hand seemed to be coming together. Perhaps it was expectations, or perhaps it was the fact that the women only had each other and no subs by Sunday.
There was no one on either of the teams that I wasn't proud of. Everyone was a great reminder of why I like to be a part of this sport. The effort and the highlights of individuals working together were something special. The frustration came when someone tried to do too much or when we realized that we'd let too much potential slip away. It's okay to want more, but demanding it as Sectionals slides through our fingers seems counter-productive. It needs to be demanded months ago.
The men finished 12th, the women 10th. Their weekends were nearly parallel, small squads, flashes of talent, fading a bit at the end. One slight difference: Expectations. The other slight difference: The attitude that came with those expectations.
I don't know if it was seeing freshman score, or make calls, or make good cuts that made me happiest. It might have been the great catches by the women and their aggressive defense that pleased me most, but it was only by a hair. It only outshone the battles and the rest of the game and the men's fight against Maryland slightly. I hated wanting to be in two places at once, but it was super to be a part of both experiences. Choices loom in the future, but for now, Sectionals met and perhaps even exceeded my expectations. Can we carry that momentum forward? And am I the guy to help?
Monday, April 12, 2010
Neglect and vacations
If not for the posts I just snuck into March and early April about vacation, it had been nearly a month since I've posted to the old blog. I tried some new things on vacation this round. It was a more relaxing brand of vacation and it included Internet access. I knocked out two books and while I intended to do some "writing", all I really came up with were the posts below. Rather than just take notes, I wrote my posts on the road. I found it interesting to reread because I could sense the feeling of the day better than with the notes, but as I slightly edited my work I realized that I missed recreating the vacation days in my head. I suppose a different kind of vacation calls for a different kind of record.
I have Sectionals tales to tell now after just a few days after getting back to the US of A and holiday pictures which appear to be particularly grainy to edit and post to other places, so perhaps more is to come. This record of life goes on, round and round, and for the moment, in a groove.
If not for the posts I just snuck into March and early April about vacation, it had been nearly a month since I've posted to the old blog. I tried some new things on vacation this round. It was a more relaxing brand of vacation and it included Internet access. I knocked out two books and while I intended to do some "writing", all I really came up with were the posts below. Rather than just take notes, I wrote my posts on the road. I found it interesting to reread because I could sense the feeling of the day better than with the notes, but as I slightly edited my work I realized that I missed recreating the vacation days in my head. I suppose a different kind of vacation calls for a different kind of record.
I have Sectionals tales to tell now after just a few days after getting back to the US of A and holiday pictures which appear to be particularly grainy to edit and post to other places, so perhaps more is to come. This record of life goes on, round and round, and for the moment, in a groove.
Monday, April 05, 2010
One last day
I was done last night, ready to go home, but today was grrreat. After seeing the Fry Guy off, C and I were finally able to rent bikes. It barely happened again though as we failed to get the tandem they promised us and then we were the last two bikes they sent out. Phew.
It started off a little scary, but after some time we were able to translate the claims of bike-friendly and wind our way up the hill to the '92 Olympic Stadium and then back down to take bike paths that were weaving all over the city. We stopped by the port for some tapas and outdoor seating and paid for it, but the weather was nearly perfect and the tapas weren't bad either. I could have done without the little fried fish, but C ate them up. We biked on for most of the afternoon, passing some great views and some new sights. Biking really turned out to be a great way to see lots of Barcelona in a blur. We stopped when we needed to stop and covered the city nicely. There are a few spots that we didn't get to- Tibidabo looms on the hill for next time, but we rocked the Ramblas and were shocked by the sheer number of people out on a Monday. It must be spring break somewhere.
We decided to stay close to our boutique hostel for dinner. Google maps directed us to an 11th century castle. We thought it might be too expensive, but decided to splurge. We arrived at 8:15 before the kitchen even opened. We decided to wait and we were rewarded. I had amazing grilled vegetables and then Iberian ham with some foie gras on top. This dinner usurped the French cuisine of the other night. It was that good and it was finished with nougat ice cream with whiskey. I don't know my Spanish or my Catalonian, but it was magnificent.
Tomorrow is the long ride home.
I was done last night, ready to go home, but today was grrreat. After seeing the Fry Guy off, C and I were finally able to rent bikes. It barely happened again though as we failed to get the tandem they promised us and then we were the last two bikes they sent out. Phew.
It started off a little scary, but after some time we were able to translate the claims of bike-friendly and wind our way up the hill to the '92 Olympic Stadium and then back down to take bike paths that were weaving all over the city. We stopped by the port for some tapas and outdoor seating and paid for it, but the weather was nearly perfect and the tapas weren't bad either. I could have done without the little fried fish, but C ate them up. We biked on for most of the afternoon, passing some great views and some new sights. Biking really turned out to be a great way to see lots of Barcelona in a blur. We stopped when we needed to stop and covered the city nicely. There are a few spots that we didn't get to- Tibidabo looms on the hill for next time, but we rocked the Ramblas and were shocked by the sheer number of people out on a Monday. It must be spring break somewhere.
We decided to stay close to our boutique hostel for dinner. Google maps directed us to an 11th century castle. We thought it might be too expensive, but decided to splurge. We arrived at 8:15 before the kitchen even opened. We decided to wait and we were rewarded. I had amazing grilled vegetables and then Iberian ham with some foie gras on top. This dinner usurped the French cuisine of the other night. It was that good and it was finished with nougat ice cream with whiskey. I don't know my Spanish or my Catalonian, but it was magnificent.
Tomorrow is the long ride home.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Things not going as planned
Train canceled. Rerouted, waited for a bus while our train came, had the real French cafe experience while we waited for another train. Took the train to a college town that was not our planned destination. Fry Guy and the Hamburgler had to eat so they went to McDonald's. I went looking for a hostel and it was full, so was much of the town. We finally found a 2-star joint and took it. Hamburgler found it creepy. She went back to the train station to get Internet while Fry guy and I went to find me some grub. I found a good restaurant that served three courses. Fry guy left me to go get Hamburgler from our designated meeting spot. I waited forever at dinner. Fry guy didn't return after the Chevre Chaud and well into my cassoulet. Hamburgler was nowhere to be seen. I was a little freaked. I was then told that she'd had some run-ins with locals, fell down, broke down in a hotel lobby, and just ran into Fry guy as they were circling our hotel. I wasn't loving it, but I downed my three scoops of awesome ice cream and went back to the crap hotel. Bam. A zillion hours later we made it to Barcelona.
Fry guy and I went to Guell Park- totally Gaudi. Then we all went to an apartment joint by Gaudi. It was pretty cool and had a neat looking roof-top terrace that rain prevented us from visiting. We walked to Rita's for some good food. Thanks guide-book. I finally found some vegetables after surviving the day on bread and lunch meat. We rambled down the Ramblas and returned to the hostel where our room is next to the common area and it's loud. Go earplugs. Maybe next time we should camp. I'm ready to go home.
Train canceled. Rerouted, waited for a bus while our train came, had the real French cafe experience while we waited for another train. Took the train to a college town that was not our planned destination. Fry Guy and the Hamburgler had to eat so they went to McDonald's. I went looking for a hostel and it was full, so was much of the town. We finally found a 2-star joint and took it. Hamburgler found it creepy. She went back to the train station to get Internet while Fry guy and I went to find me some grub. I found a good restaurant that served three courses. Fry guy left me to go get Hamburgler from our designated meeting spot. I waited forever at dinner. Fry guy didn't return after the Chevre Chaud and well into my cassoulet. Hamburgler was nowhere to be seen. I was a little freaked. I was then told that she'd had some run-ins with locals, fell down, broke down in a hotel lobby, and just ran into Fry guy as they were circling our hotel. I wasn't loving it, but I downed my three scoops of awesome ice cream and went back to the crap hotel. Bam. A zillion hours later we made it to Barcelona.
Fry guy and I went to Guell Park- totally Gaudi. Then we all went to an apartment joint by Gaudi. It was pretty cool and had a neat looking roof-top terrace that rain prevented us from visiting. We walked to Rita's for some good food. Thanks guide-book. I finally found some vegetables after surviving the day on bread and lunch meat. We rambled down the Ramblas and returned to the hostel where our room is next to the common area and it's loud. Go earplugs. Maybe next time we should camp. I'm ready to go home.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Vendredi, the bulls
No fondue.
Today was largely about sampling and relaxation. I suppose my run was not so relaxing, but after that I read extensively about Julia Child's life in France. That lady was a character. It was bright and sunny out and I rotated through reading locations from the roof deck, to the bedroom, to the library, to the dining room and back again. This went on most of the day.
It was our last day in France and we started to grab at all things French. For late breakfast, we sampled items from the patisserie. The Nutella on a sugary hole-less doughnut-like substance was pretty solid. As we walked to the bull fight, I nabbed my first crepe of the trip, Nutella again. We decided to dine in after the bull fight and whipped up steaks, pasta, frozen veggies, and bread and olives. We topped it off with leftover chocolate tart and venietta(?).
Enough about the food, what about the bull fight? I have mixed emotions on the bull fight. It wasn't quite as exciting as I remember. I was about eight at the time, so perhaps my memory has grown fuzzy. There was a lot of showy posturing and downtime. I suppose it's also possible that my tastes have changed a bit in the last 23 years. There was a certain elegance to go along with the bloodshed. Although, I did find it strange how much running from the bulls seemed standard. Perhaps we needed a reminder of the speed and power of the bull. We were pretty high up and the fighters made a dangerous sport look mostly easy.
We saw a matador make his debut in the hometown Arles arena. It was interesting to contrast his style with the far more popular fighter who followed. The hometown boy had trouble finishing off his bulls and elicited some whistles of disapproval while El Juli's strikes were deadly and brought out the white handkerchief waves of the fans. (We found out later this was a plea to give the fighter the bull's ear due to his fine performance.) The blood was at times gushing and hard to watch. One fighter who enjoyed taunting the bulls, miscalculated and nearly got gored which gave the crowd a fright. Another missed his mark and seemed to trip. There were moments of excitement and tension for both fans of the matador and fans of the bulls. I think it was clear that people respected the bulls and yet I had moments where I was repulsed by the display. Those moments passed when I thought about my forthcoming steak dinner.
We closed out the night with the instant slideshows of the digital age and a final toasting of French wine and beer. Tomorrow brings the last of bread for breakfast and a day of travel and separation. We'll make our return to Barcelona (or so we thought).
No fondue.
Today was largely about sampling and relaxation. I suppose my run was not so relaxing, but after that I read extensively about Julia Child's life in France. That lady was a character. It was bright and sunny out and I rotated through reading locations from the roof deck, to the bedroom, to the library, to the dining room and back again. This went on most of the day.
It was our last day in France and we started to grab at all things French. For late breakfast, we sampled items from the patisserie. The Nutella on a sugary hole-less doughnut-like substance was pretty solid. As we walked to the bull fight, I nabbed my first crepe of the trip, Nutella again. We decided to dine in after the bull fight and whipped up steaks, pasta, frozen veggies, and bread and olives. We topped it off with leftover chocolate tart and venietta(?).
Enough about the food, what about the bull fight? I have mixed emotions on the bull fight. It wasn't quite as exciting as I remember. I was about eight at the time, so perhaps my memory has grown fuzzy. There was a lot of showy posturing and downtime. I suppose it's also possible that my tastes have changed a bit in the last 23 years. There was a certain elegance to go along with the bloodshed. Although, I did find it strange how much running from the bulls seemed standard. Perhaps we needed a reminder of the speed and power of the bull. We were pretty high up and the fighters made a dangerous sport look mostly easy.
We saw a matador make his debut in the hometown Arles arena. It was interesting to contrast his style with the far more popular fighter who followed. The hometown boy had trouble finishing off his bulls and elicited some whistles of disapproval while El Juli's strikes were deadly and brought out the white handkerchief waves of the fans. (We found out later this was a plea to give the fighter the bull's ear due to his fine performance.) The blood was at times gushing and hard to watch. One fighter who enjoyed taunting the bulls, miscalculated and nearly got gored which gave the crowd a fright. Another missed his mark and seemed to trip. There were moments of excitement and tension for both fans of the matador and fans of the bulls. I think it was clear that people respected the bulls and yet I had moments where I was repulsed by the display. Those moments passed when I thought about my forthcoming steak dinner.
We closed out the night with the instant slideshows of the digital age and a final toasting of French wine and beer. Tomorrow brings the last of bread for breakfast and a day of travel and separation. We'll make our return to Barcelona (or so we thought).
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Birthday plans and beyond
We flip-flopped our plans at the last minute and purchased tickets for a train as it pulled away from the station. Eventually we made it to Marseilles, where we again did not rent bikes. C tried to leave the rest of us behind on public transit, but we found our way to reunion at the port. We tried to go to Chateau d'If (famous thanks to the Count of Monte Cristo), but it was closed due to weather. We assumed wind as it was a bright sunny day. Marseilles was a happening place, but we headed by the island of If and went right on to the island of Frioul (I think). We hiked a bit, had some great looks at If and Marseille. I couldn't believe how far it stretched along the coast. It turned into a good day. To keep the string going we headed out for dinner and quickly found that no one was willing to seat us. We gave up and headed to the street vendor's steak haiche and fries sandwiches. They were surprisingly delicious. We'd planned ahead and had a delicious tart for dessert.
We woke up early to return to Avignon and rent bikes. My patisserie self control was now shot, so I had maxi coco for breakfast part deux and just finished off a sachristine before recording these events. We took the bus to Avignon, showed up to rent bikes within the given time to do so, and still the bike shop was closed. ARG. We ended up renting city bikes from a kiosk called VeloPop. It's like smart bikes in DC or other card-based bike rentals. The bikes are tanks, but they got us out and around in Avignon. We cruised the Rhone and later crossed the bridge to ride on an island in the middle of the river. It was a gorgeous day and time well spent. We then separated for shopping adventures. I found a great store, but couldn't quite bring myself to spend 80 euros on a rustic French clock. I saw some tie-dye yarn and a shirt for the sandwich- it said, "My other shirt with awesome graphics is in the laundry."
Tonight, fondue?
We flip-flopped our plans at the last minute and purchased tickets for a train as it pulled away from the station. Eventually we made it to Marseilles, where we again did not rent bikes. C tried to leave the rest of us behind on public transit, but we found our way to reunion at the port. We tried to go to Chateau d'If (famous thanks to the Count of Monte Cristo), but it was closed due to weather. We assumed wind as it was a bright sunny day. Marseilles was a happening place, but we headed by the island of If and went right on to the island of Frioul (I think). We hiked a bit, had some great looks at If and Marseille. I couldn't believe how far it stretched along the coast. It turned into a good day. To keep the string going we headed out for dinner and quickly found that no one was willing to seat us. We gave up and headed to the street vendor's steak haiche and fries sandwiches. They were surprisingly delicious. We'd planned ahead and had a delicious tart for dessert.
We woke up early to return to Avignon and rent bikes. My patisserie self control was now shot, so I had maxi coco for breakfast part deux and just finished off a sachristine before recording these events. We took the bus to Avignon, showed up to rent bikes within the given time to do so, and still the bike shop was closed. ARG. We ended up renting city bikes from a kiosk called VeloPop. It's like smart bikes in DC or other card-based bike rentals. The bikes are tanks, but they got us out and around in Avignon. We cruised the Rhone and later crossed the bridge to ride on an island in the middle of the river. It was a gorgeous day and time well spent. We then separated for shopping adventures. I found a great store, but couldn't quite bring myself to spend 80 euros on a rustic French clock. I saw some tie-dye yarn and a shirt for the sandwich- it said, "My other shirt with awesome graphics is in the laundry."
Tonight, fondue?
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