There's bubble in your eye, sucka
Nostalgiaville, USA- In the process of cleaning out my folks' basement, I have discovered many interesting items. I'm a little dismayed by my attitude toward the baseball cards for instance. I have a box full of them. Most are housed in plastic sleeves and organized by team. I'm no longer interested in them, but clearly I spent a big chunk of 1988-1990 buying, trading, and organizing them. It seems callous to toss them. Initially I pulled out the Royals and the Cardinals cards, along with a few pitchers that I followed- Dwight Gooden, Oral Hershesier, Roger Clemens, but then I realized that I didn't really want to keep those collections either. It's time to part ways with a box full of cards. I'm struggling with the trashing (whatever form it may take) of something that at one time was so valuable in time and money. It's hitting me a little hard.
The next item to hit me hard is one that I've been searching for. Earlier this month, I ran a brisk 10k in 36:58. I was pretty proud of it. Since I've only run a few 10k races in my life I figured this one had to be approaching my PR, or personal record. I asked my parents to take a look to see if they could locate results from the only 10k race I remembered from high school. They had no luck finding the results. I asked a friend if he had the results and he figured he lost the results in a move. I was starting to think that I should just call it. Maybe I ran 36:30 in high school. I could go after 36:30.
Welllll, it looks like I didn't give high school me enough credit. I found the results. In '95, I ran 35:40. In '97, I ran 34:43. I need to shave about 22 seconds PER mile off of my time. Um. I'm afraid that means that I have a lot more lifting and running to do. I really thought the 10k time was the most reachable. The course is very flat and of my events, that one probably comes closest.
For comparison sake, let's look at some figures. Most recent mile: 4.41. Best: 4.18. Difference of 23 seconds, over 1 mile. Most recent 5k: 17.11. Best: 15:46. Difference of 1 minute 25 seconds over 3.1 miles or 27 seconds per mile. Looks like this is all pretty close, but the 10k seems most reachable.
It's time to get to work, or at least it's time to get back to cleaning up the basement.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
What a compliment
I think my shin cramped today. That was after the calves, the right quad, the hamstrings, and various cramp-like feelings all up and down my legs. I didn't even know shins could cramp.
I'd like to be able to tell you what it is about Ultimate. Playing for a day beats me up. The beatings tend to get worse the farther away I get from my birthday. The disappointment can be brutal at times. I ended one game today watching a floating disc bounce off my hands. I ended another throwing a break throw right to the defense. Those images tend to stick in my head, but I'm trying to have a short memory. At least I'm trying to replace the bad with good. I'm trying to remember the string where my in cut seemed covered and so I went deep. My deep cut was covered by two people, but Alan threw it anyway. It had a little bend and I read it well, curled around just right, and caught it in stride and with my outstretched hand. I'm thinking of the up the line dump cut I made. I turned and fired a nice flat throw over MBs head that he was able to track down.
Even as I fight my age, my throws have improved. I'm a bit worried that I'm trigger happy of late, but the throws are better than they used to be. Each of those plays provided a high, as did tossing a score to MD, or seeing SM make a perfectly timed cut, or watching YB get a few big D's. There's something special in about every game, something to appreciate and enjoy. The one-offs are one thing, spending a day playing Ultimate with a team is another. There's something about fighting fatigue or about the volume of throws and catches, about the struggle against body, concentration, momentum. I've written about it many times in this space and I spend a great deal of energy and thought on Ultimate. I often run out of things to say about it, but I keep coming back for all those reasons and in a voltron-esque way, more than the sum of those reasons.
As I was standing on the sidelines, exchanging some banter with ES, a teammate on Team Schaefer for some five or so years now, she said a wonderful thing. She said that she appreciated my passion. She liked the way I played and my skill level, but she called the best part, passion.
I find a great deal of joy in chasing the disc and getting lost in the game. It hasn't always been smooth or easy or even fun, but more often than not, I have a "strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire" for Ultimate.
Cheers to another spring tournament.
I think my shin cramped today. That was after the calves, the right quad, the hamstrings, and various cramp-like feelings all up and down my legs. I didn't even know shins could cramp.
I'd like to be able to tell you what it is about Ultimate. Playing for a day beats me up. The beatings tend to get worse the farther away I get from my birthday. The disappointment can be brutal at times. I ended one game today watching a floating disc bounce off my hands. I ended another throwing a break throw right to the defense. Those images tend to stick in my head, but I'm trying to have a short memory. At least I'm trying to replace the bad with good. I'm trying to remember the string where my in cut seemed covered and so I went deep. My deep cut was covered by two people, but Alan threw it anyway. It had a little bend and I read it well, curled around just right, and caught it in stride and with my outstretched hand. I'm thinking of the up the line dump cut I made. I turned and fired a nice flat throw over MBs head that he was able to track down.
Even as I fight my age, my throws have improved. I'm a bit worried that I'm trigger happy of late, but the throws are better than they used to be. Each of those plays provided a high, as did tossing a score to MD, or seeing SM make a perfectly timed cut, or watching YB get a few big D's. There's something special in about every game, something to appreciate and enjoy. The one-offs are one thing, spending a day playing Ultimate with a team is another. There's something about fighting fatigue or about the volume of throws and catches, about the struggle against body, concentration, momentum. I've written about it many times in this space and I spend a great deal of energy and thought on Ultimate. I often run out of things to say about it, but I keep coming back for all those reasons and in a voltron-esque way, more than the sum of those reasons.
As I was standing on the sidelines, exchanging some banter with ES, a teammate on Team Schaefer for some five or so years now, she said a wonderful thing. She said that she appreciated my passion. She liked the way I played and my skill level, but she called the best part, passion.
I find a great deal of joy in chasing the disc and getting lost in the game. It hasn't always been smooth or easy or even fun, but more often than not, I have a "strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire" for Ultimate.
Cheers to another spring tournament.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The three branches of Sunday
Only the judicial branch was not well represented in my Sunday plans. Decisions were made, judgments were passed, and the day reigned supreme, but it was the executive branch, I watched eight episodes of season four The West Wing while recovering, and the legislative branch, I ran a 10k on Capitol Hill, that were the highlights.
I didn’t want to miss a race so close to home. ML and I tried to form a team named “Declarations of Swiftness”, but we ended up declaring our speed only to one another. Fortunately, that was quite enjoyable. I did the wrong things in preparation for the race. I played Ultimate on Saturday. I stayed up and on my feet and even had a few drinks Saturday night. Yet, at the sound of my alarm on Sunday morning, I was ready to go. To me this either highlights the fortunes of genetics or highlights the importance of the more general decisions that get made in life rather than the ones immediately preceding an athletic endeavor.
I endeavored to run reasonably fast. As usual, I hadn’t really trained for the specific race I was about to enter. I thought I’d go out a little slower than my general goal, say 6:15 in the first mile and try to build from there. Those with exceptional recall may remember that a similar plan was enacted for the 10k I ran in December. The story line is remarkably similar. I got distracted in my warm-up catching up with ML, but was still fairly ready when race time rolled around. At first, ML and I stood toward the front of the thousands, but as the minutes came ever closer to start time, I decided that I wanted to be nearly at the starting line. I moved up and chose a spot about three rows deep. At “GO”, the masses bolted. I was immediately stuck behind two young girls, but soon found a space on the outside and made a move. I’d guess about fifty runners stretched out ahead of me. I ran down the center line of the road and watched as the pack began to spread. At the first real waggle around a park, I could still see the leaders moving at lickety-split speed. I was up on my toes and making comfortable, but fast strides. Strategy was again out the window and I crossed the mile at 5:55.
Right on cue, C appeared on the street to cheer me on. In a moment of frivolity, I crossed over to give her a high-five. It was nice to have the support. I returned to the pack and continued to pick away at the runners in front of me. Meanwhile, the sun continued to pick away the clouds. It had started as a cool morning, perfect running weather, but as we neared RFK, the sun sent telegrams from summertime and the wind picked up too. It was lonely, hot, and windy as we rounded the stadium. I made note of it and then focused again on the runner in front of me. I spent a lot of time focused on the next runner. I remember very little of the scenery, even less than usual. My focus was quite pleasing. My thirst, less so.
Back up the slightest hill on the out and back section, I crossed the two mile in 11:50. My pace had not changed. I grabbed at the early water stop with some greed, told C to look for M and went back to my business of chasing backs. I don’t know what happened to mile three or really four. I know I crossed mile four at 23:35 and was pleased that I’d sped up just slightly. I did wonder for a moment if I could hold my pace, but mostly I kept looking ahead. As the pack in front of me broke apart little by little and more runners had separation from each other, I kept passing one at a time. As we neared the downhill of Capitol Hill, I tried hard to encourage one runner to join me in my chase. He wasn’t the only runner I encouraged to try to combine forces, but he was the only one that responded. He stuck with me for several hundred meters as we closed in on another runner. With only a few more meters to go before we closed the gap though, I seemed to lose my new partner. I moved past another and another as we made our way down the hill. I watched the leaders rip by as they made their way through the last turnaround. Third place followed soon after. With a slight estimate, I figured that I was currently running in about fifteenth place. Just before the turn, I picked off the woman who was in second place. By the time I reached the up portion of Capitol Hill, I had the leading woman in my sights. My motivation remained steady and I put a target on her back. I was still closing the gap at about three-quarters of the way up the hill when I couldn’t close any more. I lost a few steps in that last quarter of the hill and a bit more at the crest. It wasn’t a lot, but it was noticeable. I was still moving well, but my legs no longer seemed to be moving at quite the same pace.
At the six mile mark, I was able to recover a little and I began to close the gap a bit. I raced past photographers and I heard the click of their shutters. As soon as I went by I heard more clicks. I hadn’t been passed for miles and I really didn’t want to be passed now. I tried to surge. When I finally turned the corner and could see the finish line, I gave a pretty good kick, but I knew that I was really only fighting to hold off challengers behind me. I could not challenge the woman in front of me.
It was a good race. I ran nine seconds faster than I did in December. My time was 36:58. I placed fourteenth overall and fifth in my age group. I’m pleased.
Only the judicial branch was not well represented in my Sunday plans. Decisions were made, judgments were passed, and the day reigned supreme, but it was the executive branch, I watched eight episodes of season four The West Wing while recovering, and the legislative branch, I ran a 10k on Capitol Hill, that were the highlights.
I didn’t want to miss a race so close to home. ML and I tried to form a team named “Declarations of Swiftness”, but we ended up declaring our speed only to one another. Fortunately, that was quite enjoyable. I did the wrong things in preparation for the race. I played Ultimate on Saturday. I stayed up and on my feet and even had a few drinks Saturday night. Yet, at the sound of my alarm on Sunday morning, I was ready to go. To me this either highlights the fortunes of genetics or highlights the importance of the more general decisions that get made in life rather than the ones immediately preceding an athletic endeavor.
I endeavored to run reasonably fast. As usual, I hadn’t really trained for the specific race I was about to enter. I thought I’d go out a little slower than my general goal, say 6:15 in the first mile and try to build from there. Those with exceptional recall may remember that a similar plan was enacted for the 10k I ran in December. The story line is remarkably similar. I got distracted in my warm-up catching up with ML, but was still fairly ready when race time rolled around. At first, ML and I stood toward the front of the thousands, but as the minutes came ever closer to start time, I decided that I wanted to be nearly at the starting line. I moved up and chose a spot about three rows deep. At “GO”, the masses bolted. I was immediately stuck behind two young girls, but soon found a space on the outside and made a move. I’d guess about fifty runners stretched out ahead of me. I ran down the center line of the road and watched as the pack began to spread. At the first real waggle around a park, I could still see the leaders moving at lickety-split speed. I was up on my toes and making comfortable, but fast strides. Strategy was again out the window and I crossed the mile at 5:55.
Right on cue, C appeared on the street to cheer me on. In a moment of frivolity, I crossed over to give her a high-five. It was nice to have the support. I returned to the pack and continued to pick away at the runners in front of me. Meanwhile, the sun continued to pick away the clouds. It had started as a cool morning, perfect running weather, but as we neared RFK, the sun sent telegrams from summertime and the wind picked up too. It was lonely, hot, and windy as we rounded the stadium. I made note of it and then focused again on the runner in front of me. I spent a lot of time focused on the next runner. I remember very little of the scenery, even less than usual. My focus was quite pleasing. My thirst, less so.
Back up the slightest hill on the out and back section, I crossed the two mile in 11:50. My pace had not changed. I grabbed at the early water stop with some greed, told C to look for M and went back to my business of chasing backs. I don’t know what happened to mile three or really four. I know I crossed mile four at 23:35 and was pleased that I’d sped up just slightly. I did wonder for a moment if I could hold my pace, but mostly I kept looking ahead. As the pack in front of me broke apart little by little and more runners had separation from each other, I kept passing one at a time. As we neared the downhill of Capitol Hill, I tried hard to encourage one runner to join me in my chase. He wasn’t the only runner I encouraged to try to combine forces, but he was the only one that responded. He stuck with me for several hundred meters as we closed in on another runner. With only a few more meters to go before we closed the gap though, I seemed to lose my new partner. I moved past another and another as we made our way down the hill. I watched the leaders rip by as they made their way through the last turnaround. Third place followed soon after. With a slight estimate, I figured that I was currently running in about fifteenth place. Just before the turn, I picked off the woman who was in second place. By the time I reached the up portion of Capitol Hill, I had the leading woman in my sights. My motivation remained steady and I put a target on her back. I was still closing the gap at about three-quarters of the way up the hill when I couldn’t close any more. I lost a few steps in that last quarter of the hill and a bit more at the crest. It wasn’t a lot, but it was noticeable. I was still moving well, but my legs no longer seemed to be moving at quite the same pace.
At the six mile mark, I was able to recover a little and I began to close the gap a bit. I raced past photographers and I heard the click of their shutters. As soon as I went by I heard more clicks. I hadn’t been passed for miles and I really didn’t want to be passed now. I tried to surge. When I finally turned the corner and could see the finish line, I gave a pretty good kick, but I knew that I was really only fighting to hold off challengers behind me. I could not challenge the woman in front of me.
It was a good race. I ran nine seconds faster than I did in December. My time was 36:58. I placed fourteenth overall and fifth in my age group. I’m pleased.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The return of the psoas
There are few muscles in my body more sinister than the psoas. Some two years ago while trying to play Ultimate on a mid-level club team I managed to aggravate my psoas. I don't know how it happened, but I ended up sitting out most of the season and bouncing around between doctors and therapists who barely managed to help me deal with the slight pain and the decreased use of some much needed body parts for the game of Ultimate. I'm talking about my groin, my back, and my stomach muscles. Pretty important stuff when trying to run, cut, and throw. My life went into a bit of a tailspin at that point. I recognize that aggravation of a major muscle isn't exactly a big deal when so many people are dealing with real problems, but I was inconsolable. It was ugly.
I came to terms with less Ultimate. I spent time weightlifting. I made amends and got a hold of the inconsolable parts and finally talked some sense into them. I'd worked it out. I got to play some Ultimate and I put my energy into other areas. It was good, even great. Then consistent weightlifting started to translate into Ultimate success. Ultimate success sent me out looking for more Ultimate.
Recently, I chose a low-level, low-commitment club team to be my new playground. I figured that I could recruit my friends to be on the team, not worry so much about the game and the score, and have a good time. Parts of me struggled with this decision. There's still a piece of me that yearns to be the best and battle it out with the best, but frankly, I was scared to of the time and effort that might take and I was scared of my psoas. I admitted it, but a voice in my head (and a few voices not in my head) kept egging me on to try to do more. I was content with my decision, until Saturday. On Saturday, the team I'd chosen canceled the low-commitment practice for the rest of the month.
I wanted to play Ultimate. That was the point. So, I made up my mind to put out a feeler at the mid-level again. My psoas didn't like that. I didn't even get to the practice. I just decided to go. That sent my psoas into a frenzy. Just like last time, the pain started in my groin. Then it anchors itself firmly in my right abdomen and teases my back muscles. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it spells trouble. I skipped the mid-level stuff and began trying to do damage control.
Even if I need to slow back down with Ultimate, I will not crash this time. I am more than a game with a disc and I will prove it everyday if I have to.
There are few muscles in my body more sinister than the psoas. Some two years ago while trying to play Ultimate on a mid-level club team I managed to aggravate my psoas. I don't know how it happened, but I ended up sitting out most of the season and bouncing around between doctors and therapists who barely managed to help me deal with the slight pain and the decreased use of some much needed body parts for the game of Ultimate. I'm talking about my groin, my back, and my stomach muscles. Pretty important stuff when trying to run, cut, and throw. My life went into a bit of a tailspin at that point. I recognize that aggravation of a major muscle isn't exactly a big deal when so many people are dealing with real problems, but I was inconsolable. It was ugly.
I came to terms with less Ultimate. I spent time weightlifting. I made amends and got a hold of the inconsolable parts and finally talked some sense into them. I'd worked it out. I got to play some Ultimate and I put my energy into other areas. It was good, even great. Then consistent weightlifting started to translate into Ultimate success. Ultimate success sent me out looking for more Ultimate.
Recently, I chose a low-level, low-commitment club team to be my new playground. I figured that I could recruit my friends to be on the team, not worry so much about the game and the score, and have a good time. Parts of me struggled with this decision. There's still a piece of me that yearns to be the best and battle it out with the best, but frankly, I was scared to of the time and effort that might take and I was scared of my psoas. I admitted it, but a voice in my head (and a few voices not in my head) kept egging me on to try to do more. I was content with my decision, until Saturday. On Saturday, the team I'd chosen canceled the low-commitment practice for the rest of the month.
I wanted to play Ultimate. That was the point. So, I made up my mind to put out a feeler at the mid-level again. My psoas didn't like that. I didn't even get to the practice. I just decided to go. That sent my psoas into a frenzy. Just like last time, the pain started in my groin. Then it anchors itself firmly in my right abdomen and teases my back muscles. It doesn't hurt exactly, but it spells trouble. I skipped the mid-level stuff and began trying to do damage control.
Even if I need to slow back down with Ultimate, I will not crash this time. I am more than a game with a disc and I will prove it everyday if I have to.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
When the past meets the present
The alumni game is a junior this year. It has found its stride. This by far is the best alumni game we've had. We pulled John from Chicago. We pulled Kevin from 1999. We pulled three of the most prominent women from CUA's Ultimate past (as known to me). There were 30 some-odd people wandering the sidelines and a number of fans. The women's team got a chance to show their stuff and then we went to 5:2 mixed format for the game.
This game had some chatter going into it. The alumni were convinced that this would be their year. Having graduated eight players just one year ago, it was hard to disagree. They lost a couple key individuals to conflicts, but the alumni still looked strong. My loyalties, as they always are, were torn. I tried hard to cheer for Ultimate, but did find myself slightly on the side of the current team as the game was winding down. Maybe a little bit at the beginning too when I offered up a few scouting tips. I found myself on the other side when I picked up a Karpo lame-duck hammer for a score and then tossed a break-side backhand to Arin for another to tie the game before exiting. Alan has recapped the scoring reasonably well. I'll recap a few moments.
What always gets me about the alumni game are the memories and the new battles. One of the great new battles was Rachel vs. Jess. Rachel was playing really well. I'd forgotten how effective she could be, especially against other women. Jess was rotating through a full team of women, so didn't have the chance to battle back. That gave R more opportunities for my flashbacks like when Dirty tossed her the disc and they moved it up the field. Another great battle was Paul and Arin. Arin has the height and great instincts, but Paul can jump to the clouds and he's no slouch in the play-making department. In the nostalgic category, Tim was working the zone, Karpo found a few patented dives, and Alan pulled out some big hucks. It was so neat to see so many familiar faces making familiar plays. So many styles of play remain unchanged. Ranjo still brings a smile to my face. Dan is still tough to chase. John finds his spots. One of the major post college success stories has to be Sam. She has gone from XC runner working the field to Ultimate player. She poached the lanes well, played hard, and just knows what's what. It's pretty awesome. I get to see her weekly, but to see her in the context where I first saw her play, it made me appreciate what she is doing even more.
The game was close, and Stills who graduated at semester switching sides gave the current team too many fast weapons for the tiring alum to handle, but I'd like to believe that the real lessons for the current team are the following: 1. Playing together makes you better. The alums struggled early and late because they didn't have the familiarity to know where their teammates would be or who to turn to, and 2. It doesn't take long to get out of shape. Even the alums a year out of college were remarking about how much faster the game seemed to be and how they weren't used to running. Both of those lessons should be applied to the current team as they head to next year.
For me, what I take away more than anything else, is what I've always taken away. Ultimate people are good people. I'm so lucky that the CUA gang has let me hang around and grow with the team. I look forward to many games to come.
The alumni game is a junior this year. It has found its stride. This by far is the best alumni game we've had. We pulled John from Chicago. We pulled Kevin from 1999. We pulled three of the most prominent women from CUA's Ultimate past (as known to me). There were 30 some-odd people wandering the sidelines and a number of fans. The women's team got a chance to show their stuff and then we went to 5:2 mixed format for the game.
This game had some chatter going into it. The alumni were convinced that this would be their year. Having graduated eight players just one year ago, it was hard to disagree. They lost a couple key individuals to conflicts, but the alumni still looked strong. My loyalties, as they always are, were torn. I tried hard to cheer for Ultimate, but did find myself slightly on the side of the current team as the game was winding down. Maybe a little bit at the beginning too when I offered up a few scouting tips. I found myself on the other side when I picked up a Karpo lame-duck hammer for a score and then tossed a break-side backhand to Arin for another to tie the game before exiting. Alan has recapped the scoring reasonably well. I'll recap a few moments.
What always gets me about the alumni game are the memories and the new battles. One of the great new battles was Rachel vs. Jess. Rachel was playing really well. I'd forgotten how effective she could be, especially against other women. Jess was rotating through a full team of women, so didn't have the chance to battle back. That gave R more opportunities for my flashbacks like when Dirty tossed her the disc and they moved it up the field. Another great battle was Paul and Arin. Arin has the height and great instincts, but Paul can jump to the clouds and he's no slouch in the play-making department. In the nostalgic category, Tim was working the zone, Karpo found a few patented dives, and Alan pulled out some big hucks. It was so neat to see so many familiar faces making familiar plays. So many styles of play remain unchanged. Ranjo still brings a smile to my face. Dan is still tough to chase. John finds his spots. One of the major post college success stories has to be Sam. She has gone from XC runner working the field to Ultimate player. She poached the lanes well, played hard, and just knows what's what. It's pretty awesome. I get to see her weekly, but to see her in the context where I first saw her play, it made me appreciate what she is doing even more.
The game was close, and Stills who graduated at semester switching sides gave the current team too many fast weapons for the tiring alum to handle, but I'd like to believe that the real lessons for the current team are the following: 1. Playing together makes you better. The alums struggled early and late because they didn't have the familiarity to know where their teammates would be or who to turn to, and 2. It doesn't take long to get out of shape. Even the alums a year out of college were remarking about how much faster the game seemed to be and how they weren't used to running. Both of those lessons should be applied to the current team as they head to next year.
For me, what I take away more than anything else, is what I've always taken away. Ultimate people are good people. I'm so lucky that the CUA gang has let me hang around and grow with the team. I look forward to many games to come.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
May day quick hits
*There will likely be a bigger mushier post about Ultimate after the alumni game tomorrow, but for now, I just have to say that although Team Schaefer got crushed today, I dropped a really dumb pass and threw a couple away, for one moment I jumped like I haven't jumped in years and skyed a guy. It. felt. awesome. I also had some passes that had my roommate M working hard, but she did the dirty work to pull them in. That was pretty cool too.
*I took a one-day-only business trip yesterday. I don't know that I've ever flown somewhere and then come back all in one day. It was a morning meeting and I think I was there mostly as a show of support. It felt surreal and I've been tired pretty much since then. It's part of some new responsibilities which have me excited about my job, but it's going to be a challenge.
*I had something else important to say, but it's gone.
*There will likely be a bigger mushier post about Ultimate after the alumni game tomorrow, but for now, I just have to say that although Team Schaefer got crushed today, I dropped a really dumb pass and threw a couple away, for one moment I jumped like I haven't jumped in years and skyed a guy. It. felt. awesome. I also had some passes that had my roommate M working hard, but she did the dirty work to pull them in. That was pretty cool too.
*I took a one-day-only business trip yesterday. I don't know that I've ever flown somewhere and then come back all in one day. It was a morning meeting and I think I was there mostly as a show of support. It felt surreal and I've been tired pretty much since then. It's part of some new responsibilities which have me excited about my job, but it's going to be a challenge.
*I had something else important to say, but it's gone.
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