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?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Day Mardi
We bounced up before eight and noticed immediately that sunny France was not looking so sunny. The bike riding plans were put on hold. This was the Europe of my childhood and I wasn't going to let a little rain stop me. I left for a run immediately after breakfast and returned in the rain. Then came the thunderstorm. Maybe it was good we weren't riding, but I was still bummed. Arles is not big and we were reaching its activity/shopping/tourist attraction/Roman ruin capacity. We had lunch at a cafe. I chose the plat du jour which was fish. It was a risk, but I needed to take one. The fish was supposedly sweet. It wasn't candy fish, but it wasn't fishy-fish either. I'd write about the kind of fish, but I could neither understand the waiter nor read it on the chalked-in blackboard menu. Fish it is! I survived.
After some false starts, C and I made our way to Avignon by train. It turns out Avignon was a temporary Vatican City some time ago. The cool thing about Avignon was its wall. There's something about a town inside a wall. It seems important. Avignon was pleasant enough, pretty even, in its views of the Rhone river and the famous bridge that no longer spans the gap, Saint Benezet's Bridge. I took lots of pictures and am extremely pleased with my camera. Avignon tested my lens though, as much of the scenery was pretty far away and I needed a little more zoom, or a telephoto lens. I was prepared for my limitations though, so for now I'll return to the arty pictures and when that doesn't work I'll use one of the filters like fish-eye.
I stepped up my French game a bit today, in a sense. C burnt out at the train station and I could tell she'd had it. We couldn't figure out if the train was headed back to Arles or not and we weren't really in the mood to go to the wrong place. Finally after bouncing around between signs, I went up and asked the ticket agent if he spoke English. I asked in French. He responded in English, "very badly". We got through it and on to the right train. Later I snuck off to do a little shopping excursion. I knew what I wanted and said "I want" in French, but then had to resort to pointing. I had no idea what the clerk was asking me when she wondered if it was a gift. The French pretty much fell apart there and her English came through. She was extremely polite and switched back to French to complete our transaction. I mostly stood around bewildered.
Tonight, BC arrives by train (we hope). More adventures tomorrow.
We bounced up before eight and noticed immediately that sunny France was not looking so sunny. The bike riding plans were put on hold. This was the Europe of my childhood and I wasn't going to let a little rain stop me. I left for a run immediately after breakfast and returned in the rain. Then came the thunderstorm. Maybe it was good we weren't riding, but I was still bummed. Arles is not big and we were reaching its activity/shopping/tourist attraction/Roman ruin capacity. We had lunch at a cafe. I chose the plat du jour which was fish. It was a risk, but I needed to take one. The fish was supposedly sweet. It wasn't candy fish, but it wasn't fishy-fish either. I'd write about the kind of fish, but I could neither understand the waiter nor read it on the chalked-in blackboard menu. Fish it is! I survived.
After some false starts, C and I made our way to Avignon by train. It turns out Avignon was a temporary Vatican City some time ago. The cool thing about Avignon was its wall. There's something about a town inside a wall. It seems important. Avignon was pleasant enough, pretty even, in its views of the Rhone river and the famous bridge that no longer spans the gap, Saint Benezet's Bridge. I took lots of pictures and am extremely pleased with my camera. Avignon tested my lens though, as much of the scenery was pretty far away and I needed a little more zoom, or a telephoto lens. I was prepared for my limitations though, so for now I'll return to the arty pictures and when that doesn't work I'll use one of the filters like fish-eye.
I stepped up my French game a bit today, in a sense. C burnt out at the train station and I could tell she'd had it. We couldn't figure out if the train was headed back to Arles or not and we weren't really in the mood to go to the wrong place. Finally after bouncing around between signs, I went up and asked the ticket agent if he spoke English. I asked in French. He responded in English, "very badly". We got through it and on to the right train. Later I snuck off to do a little shopping excursion. I knew what I wanted and said "I want" in French, but then had to resort to pointing. I had no idea what the clerk was asking me when she wondered if it was a gift. The French pretty much fell apart there and her English came through. She was extremely polite and switched back to French to complete our transaction. I mostly stood around bewildered.
Tonight, BC arrives by train (we hope). More adventures tomorrow.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Day lundi
Another lazy day for us. We meandered around town and passed by the ampitheater, the St. Triomphe church and Hotel de Ville. We ate couscous for lunch and meandered some more. We traveled through industrial Arles to try to find a bike rental shop, but came up empty. We ended up tossing the disc in a field nearby. On the way back through town, we shopped hungrily at the monoprix (Arles' answer to WalMart) and made dinner at home. Arles is the sausage capital of France and we added some sausage to pasta for dinner. It tasted great and we're turning in early to try to discover morning in Arles tomorrow.
Another lazy day for us. We meandered around town and passed by the ampitheater, the St. Triomphe church and Hotel de Ville. We ate couscous for lunch and meandered some more. We traveled through industrial Arles to try to find a bike rental shop, but came up empty. We ended up tossing the disc in a field nearby. On the way back through town, we shopped hungrily at the monoprix (Arles' answer to WalMart) and made dinner at home. Arles is the sausage capital of France and we added some sausage to pasta for dinner. It tasted great and we're turning in early to try to discover morning in Arles tomorrow.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Another day in Arles
We lost some time to daylight savings and some more time to a desperate need to sleep. By lunch time, we were ready for breakfast. C went out to get bread, jam, and Nutella to go with our tea. We spent the day meandering about town, past the arena where we'd later see the bullfight and through the forum/square/thing. We again had trouble finding a restaurant who wanted to serve us food on our schedule. We finally settled outside a cafe and proceeded to order every salade on the menu as we conversed away the afternoon. It was very French and relaxing, but for our English tongues. We went to the grocery store to gather dinner on our own terms and ended up with bags and cans of food, including steak in some very strange packaging, frozen legume mixtures, and a can of lentils. I designed that dinner, merci beaucoup.
I went for a run along the Rhone and felt great. I was bounding off rocks and hurdling gates as I ran past the sheep and the water treatment plant before turning around at the goats. The goats were loud and I was actually a little frightened of them. I was running on my toes as I think I'm gearing up to go barefoot. It may be a placebo effect, but I swear it engages the big muscles and makes me feel faster.
It took three of us and lots of effort to get the grill going on our rooftop terrace for dinner. I can't even blame the brie, wine, or darkness as a distraction. It was simply poor fire skill at work. We finally got things cooking and turned out a fine meal. Bed has come quickly, but then it would since I hadn't left it that long ago.
We lost some time to daylight savings and some more time to a desperate need to sleep. By lunch time, we were ready for breakfast. C went out to get bread, jam, and Nutella to go with our tea. We spent the day meandering about town, past the arena where we'd later see the bullfight and through the forum/square/thing. We again had trouble finding a restaurant who wanted to serve us food on our schedule. We finally settled outside a cafe and proceeded to order every salade on the menu as we conversed away the afternoon. It was very French and relaxing, but for our English tongues. We went to the grocery store to gather dinner on our own terms and ended up with bags and cans of food, including steak in some very strange packaging, frozen legume mixtures, and a can of lentils. I designed that dinner, merci beaucoup.
I went for a run along the Rhone and felt great. I was bounding off rocks and hurdling gates as I ran past the sheep and the water treatment plant before turning around at the goats. The goats were loud and I was actually a little frightened of them. I was running on my toes as I think I'm gearing up to go barefoot. It may be a placebo effect, but I swear it engages the big muscles and makes me feel faster.
It took three of us and lots of effort to get the grill going on our rooftop terrace for dinner. I can't even blame the brie, wine, or darkness as a distraction. It was simply poor fire skill at work. We finally got things cooking and turned out a fine meal. Bed has come quickly, but then it would since I hadn't left it that long ago.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Vacation
The first few days of the trip were spent in full travel mode. I took those jet-lag pills, but I'm either too tired to notice them working or they didn't work. There was a trans-Atlantic flight to London. I actually did some sleeping since the entertainment system was on the fritz. In Heathrow, we hit up the yotel (probably pronounced like hotel, but I preferred the pronunciation that more closely mirrored the high pitched singing in the Alps). The yotel was the comforts of a cruise ship on dry land bathed in purple light. We were packed in like a can of those smelly fishes. As far as hotels connected to an airport go, the yotel is definitely the best (and only) one I've ever stayed in. From London, we flew to Barcelona. I have no idea what happened in Barcelona except that I vaguely recall some dinner, a hostel, a walk, and some attempts at Spanish that went nowhere. There was an Amazing Race-style event that C and I attempted at her urging. Somehow my train got walloped by her bus. I have to wonder if it was rigged.
To add to the international intrigue, my pocket was very nearly picked on the public transit system. Fortunately, I felt the shady fellow trying and failing to scratch my passport out of my pocket. It was pretty awkward and unnerving, but a good wake-up call.
Then came a new day with a lost lens cap and a train ride from Barcelona to Arles, France. I think the train ride in Norway spoiled me. There were some nice moments where green rolling hills dotted with country houses and towns were part of the vast landscape in front of the snow-capped Pyrenees, but there were also a fair number of industrial buildings with graffiti on their backsides. I mostly took to reading "The Yellow Jersey". The cover calls it the greatest cycling novel ever written. I'm afraid if that's true that I'm finished reading cycling novels.
That night, we lounged around our home for the week long enough to turn a leisurely dinner into a rush to get back to the train station to meet another reveler/traveler/our conversational sherpa. I ended up alone in the restaurant waiting for l'addition (the check) and alternately trying out half-remembered French phrases on my self and straining to hear the couple speaking at the nearest table. I may have napped too long today because as the clock rolled past bedtime, I got my second wind.
The first few days of the trip were spent in full travel mode. I took those jet-lag pills, but I'm either too tired to notice them working or they didn't work. There was a trans-Atlantic flight to London. I actually did some sleeping since the entertainment system was on the fritz. In Heathrow, we hit up the yotel (probably pronounced like hotel, but I preferred the pronunciation that more closely mirrored the high pitched singing in the Alps). The yotel was the comforts of a cruise ship on dry land bathed in purple light. We were packed in like a can of those smelly fishes. As far as hotels connected to an airport go, the yotel is definitely the best (and only) one I've ever stayed in. From London, we flew to Barcelona. I have no idea what happened in Barcelona except that I vaguely recall some dinner, a hostel, a walk, and some attempts at Spanish that went nowhere. There was an Amazing Race-style event that C and I attempted at her urging. Somehow my train got walloped by her bus. I have to wonder if it was rigged.
To add to the international intrigue, my pocket was very nearly picked on the public transit system. Fortunately, I felt the shady fellow trying and failing to scratch my passport out of my pocket. It was pretty awkward and unnerving, but a good wake-up call.
Then came a new day with a lost lens cap and a train ride from Barcelona to Arles, France. I think the train ride in Norway spoiled me. There were some nice moments where green rolling hills dotted with country houses and towns were part of the vast landscape in front of the snow-capped Pyrenees, but there were also a fair number of industrial buildings with graffiti on their backsides. I mostly took to reading "The Yellow Jersey". The cover calls it the greatest cycling novel ever written. I'm afraid if that's true that I'm finished reading cycling novels.
That night, we lounged around our home for the week long enough to turn a leisurely dinner into a rush to get back to the train station to meet another reveler/traveler/our conversational sherpa. I ended up alone in the restaurant waiting for l'addition (the check) and alternately trying out half-remembered French phrases on my self and straining to hear the couple speaking at the nearest table. I may have napped too long today because as the clock rolled past bedtime, I got my second wind.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Shamrockin'
Thanks to public transportation, I was early to the St. Patrick's Day 8k. The city was relatively quiet and grey thanks to possible rain and the lost hour of daylight savings time. I considered a number of warm-up options, but finally settled on walking the course in reverse for a while and then starting my run in that direction before turning around to warm-up on the last mile to focus my finish. It was a perfect temperature for running, a bit cold for standing around, but just warm enough for the single layer during the race. I wasn't very nervous. I had a few flashes of pre-race jitters and I had to slow my warm-up down, but for the most part I was calm like Pennsylvania Avenue on this Sunday morning.
The race had a team element, like the 10k in December. Many participants from that group returned and we added in some new legs. We'd gone from Team Shiver to Shiver Me Shamrocks, ShiMeSham for short. People seemed genuinely excited to be together. I had trouble focusing on both racing and socializing, but I managed. MB helped me coax the team into a warm-up. I had us go through a similar route including the little out and back down 10th street that extended the finish just a bit. It was a strategic warm-up, but we didn't communicate it well enough and so still left a few people surprised.
The starting line was packed with green-clad runners. We stood and chatted as we waited for "Go". I again had trouble focusing on the race and the chatter, but found something soothing about being around so many familiar smiles. We were a ways back in the pack again, but it felt right, like we should stay with the team rather than forcing them out of their comfort zone or splitting apart.
Go. We went, slowly at first, weaving our way through green human traffic. There were four of us together who had similar goals. AS was the wild card, younger and faster than the rest of us, but he fell in with us for the early part of the race. MB, PJ, and I all had designs of running 5:50 miles and holding that over 8k. PJ moved first and we dodged and weaved trying to follow. He seemed to be moving fast and I worried that my pacing was poor or I wasn't having a good day. I had to let him go a little bit and found that I wasn't moving as well as I'd thought. I had a first mile split of 5:57. I was in a little hole, but I figured it was as much the slow start as anything. After we climbed the hill near Columbus Circle and turned back, the four of us began to bunch. MB and I traded the lead a few times while still passing people at a good clip. The advantage of starting back is that passing people goes on for long stretches. We chewed through another 9 minutes that I barely noticed or remembered. I didn't see a two mile marker or much else. Only the sounds of a few clapping hands and the light thunder of hundreds of shuffling feet remain in my memory. AS silently made a move. He looked silky smooth and was made smoother by my awareness of MB's labored breathing. I looked over at MB and offered up an encouraging word as I strode after AS. I crossed the 5k mark at 17:56 (18:03 by the officials). I tried to do calculations in my head, but had to settle for a general awareness that I was nearly on schedule and maybe a bit ahead. I was still near AS; MB and PJ weren't far behind. As we approached the four mile mark, AS began to pull away. I offered up some encouragement and lost a few steps, grabbed a drink and lost a few more. AS was out of reach with less than a mile to go.
In the territory I'd warmed up in, I looked at the 23:04 on my watch and called on the couple of mile-repeat workouts I had done. I knew I needed to run as I'd finished those, preferably in the low 5:40s and definitely under 6 minutes. I made my move, which after looking at some time charts, seems to mean I didn't slow down. We made the turn on 10th and I looked back to see MB gaining. After being unable to hang with him in the 10k, I really wanted to edge him out in the 8k. He propelled me forward. My other goal was trying to track down all the green. I wanted to beat everyone in that hue. I may not have succeeded, but I came very close. I chased a guy in a Clark jersey, but I couldn't quite catch him and finished in 28:41.
I pause from the narrative for a moment to try to determine how that could be. My original goal had been 29:30, just a few seconds per mile faster than my 10k time. My adjusted goal had become 29 to 29:10, about 10 seconds per mile faster. Here I was at nearly 13 seconds faster per mile. I believe there were a number of contributing factors, both the workouts of mile repeats and the presence of AS as well as the team, the temperature, and general success with my new eating plan and the use of an energy gel before the race to fight off hunger. Based on various race time calculators from the 10k, I should have run about 29 minutes*. I like to think it was more than just a good day.
Back in the race, MB came in ten seconds later and PJ soon after. We cheered on the others and returned to our chatting. I was pleased with the race and the results. We thought that third place as a team was a possibility after our fourth place finish in December. The decision to stay for the awards was made and it turned out to be a good one. Not only did we win prizes in the raffle, but we also picked up three age division awards; I snagged second (Update: Now third, apparently they lost somebody) in the 30-34 category (after removing the four who were in the top ten, so really I was sixth). That meant a gift certificate and a new green shirt! The winning wasn't over though, as they announced the team victor and that team was Shiver Me Shamrocks. Jubilation ensued. Our top four (including at least one of the other gender, our captain SM) averaged 30:06. The second place team averaged 30:45. We were in very good shape and quite pleased. We gladly accepted the trophy and vowed to take to the streets again.
*I've never used a calculator like this for anything but curiosity, but based on my times for various events last year the thing matches up well. Only that mile really throws it off. This 8k is a little off too. Maybe good things are coming.
Thanks to public transportation, I was early to the St. Patrick's Day 8k. The city was relatively quiet and grey thanks to possible rain and the lost hour of daylight savings time. I considered a number of warm-up options, but finally settled on walking the course in reverse for a while and then starting my run in that direction before turning around to warm-up on the last mile to focus my finish. It was a perfect temperature for running, a bit cold for standing around, but just warm enough for the single layer during the race. I wasn't very nervous. I had a few flashes of pre-race jitters and I had to slow my warm-up down, but for the most part I was calm like Pennsylvania Avenue on this Sunday morning.
The race had a team element, like the 10k in December. Many participants from that group returned and we added in some new legs. We'd gone from Team Shiver to Shiver Me Shamrocks, ShiMeSham for short. People seemed genuinely excited to be together. I had trouble focusing on both racing and socializing, but I managed. MB helped me coax the team into a warm-up. I had us go through a similar route including the little out and back down 10th street that extended the finish just a bit. It was a strategic warm-up, but we didn't communicate it well enough and so still left a few people surprised.
The starting line was packed with green-clad runners. We stood and chatted as we waited for "Go". I again had trouble focusing on the race and the chatter, but found something soothing about being around so many familiar smiles. We were a ways back in the pack again, but it felt right, like we should stay with the team rather than forcing them out of their comfort zone or splitting apart.
Go. We went, slowly at first, weaving our way through green human traffic. There were four of us together who had similar goals. AS was the wild card, younger and faster than the rest of us, but he fell in with us for the early part of the race. MB, PJ, and I all had designs of running 5:50 miles and holding that over 8k. PJ moved first and we dodged and weaved trying to follow. He seemed to be moving fast and I worried that my pacing was poor or I wasn't having a good day. I had to let him go a little bit and found that I wasn't moving as well as I'd thought. I had a first mile split of 5:57. I was in a little hole, but I figured it was as much the slow start as anything. After we climbed the hill near Columbus Circle and turned back, the four of us began to bunch. MB and I traded the lead a few times while still passing people at a good clip. The advantage of starting back is that passing people goes on for long stretches. We chewed through another 9 minutes that I barely noticed or remembered. I didn't see a two mile marker or much else. Only the sounds of a few clapping hands and the light thunder of hundreds of shuffling feet remain in my memory. AS silently made a move. He looked silky smooth and was made smoother by my awareness of MB's labored breathing. I looked over at MB and offered up an encouraging word as I strode after AS. I crossed the 5k mark at 17:56 (18:03 by the officials). I tried to do calculations in my head, but had to settle for a general awareness that I was nearly on schedule and maybe a bit ahead. I was still near AS; MB and PJ weren't far behind. As we approached the four mile mark, AS began to pull away. I offered up some encouragement and lost a few steps, grabbed a drink and lost a few more. AS was out of reach with less than a mile to go.
In the territory I'd warmed up in, I looked at the 23:04 on my watch and called on the couple of mile-repeat workouts I had done. I knew I needed to run as I'd finished those, preferably in the low 5:40s and definitely under 6 minutes. I made my move, which after looking at some time charts, seems to mean I didn't slow down. We made the turn on 10th and I looked back to see MB gaining. After being unable to hang with him in the 10k, I really wanted to edge him out in the 8k. He propelled me forward. My other goal was trying to track down all the green. I wanted to beat everyone in that hue. I may not have succeeded, but I came very close. I chased a guy in a Clark jersey, but I couldn't quite catch him and finished in 28:41.
I pause from the narrative for a moment to try to determine how that could be. My original goal had been 29:30, just a few seconds per mile faster than my 10k time. My adjusted goal had become 29 to 29:10, about 10 seconds per mile faster. Here I was at nearly 13 seconds faster per mile. I believe there were a number of contributing factors, both the workouts of mile repeats and the presence of AS as well as the team, the temperature, and general success with my new eating plan and the use of an energy gel before the race to fight off hunger. Based on various race time calculators from the 10k, I should have run about 29 minutes*. I like to think it was more than just a good day.
Back in the race, MB came in ten seconds later and PJ soon after. We cheered on the others and returned to our chatting. I was pleased with the race and the results. We thought that third place as a team was a possibility after our fourth place finish in December. The decision to stay for the awards was made and it turned out to be a good one. Not only did we win prizes in the raffle, but we also picked up three age division awards; I snagged second (Update: Now third, apparently they lost somebody) in the 30-34 category (after removing the four who were in the top ten, so really I was sixth). That meant a gift certificate and a new green shirt! The winning wasn't over though, as they announced the team victor and that team was Shiver Me Shamrocks. Jubilation ensued. Our top four (including at least one of the other gender, our captain SM) averaged 30:06. The second place team averaged 30:45. We were in very good shape and quite pleased. We gladly accepted the trophy and vowed to take to the streets again.
*I've never used a calculator like this for anything but curiosity, but based on my times for various events last year the thing matches up well. Only that mile really throws it off. This 8k is a little off too. Maybe good things are coming.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
What's green and awesome?
When I was talking about moving in to a new home with new roommates there were people that said I was silly. It was time to go from one roommate to none they implied. It was time to strike out on my own and find my own way. I admire and support independence, yet, I resisted. At the time, I thought it was a general resistance to change, but now I've come to believe that I understood something about me that I couldn't verbalize.
That something: Pickle jokes.
What's green and goes slam, slam, slam, slam?
A four-door pickle.
Not pickle jokes specifically, but the joy that comes from having someone there to laugh at pickle jokes. So much of day to day life ends up being about separation. Everybody has their own screen to watch their own shows or do their own work. In this big city, we pass by people without greeting because the greetings become too numerous or an invitation to unwanted attention. Even in a full world, community can be as hard to come by as parking.
Roommates are community. They'll sing commercial jingles on request. They'll make up religions or talk in the slow drawl of an unfamiliar America. They do this because time and triumph has accumulated. At first, it may have been a shared support of a team on Amazing Race or a book review. Then came the snow that wouldn't stop and then the Winter Olympics and Apolo Ohno-related screaming. It was trying new things in the kitchen- beef wellington, chopping the frickin' garlic, or the infamous melk turt through a straw. The victories would not win wars, the setbacks did not crush souls, and always their paths crossed unloading the dishwasher, watching TV, or calling it a night. Chatter turned to conversation; conversation turned to silliness; silliness turned serious; serious turned to reality. Television. And regular old reality. Still they were there. Floating in the brine of a three story town house, co-existing at unusual angles with too many futons.
What is green and awesome? Pickles. Roommates.
When I was talking about moving in to a new home with new roommates there were people that said I was silly. It was time to go from one roommate to none they implied. It was time to strike out on my own and find my own way. I admire and support independence, yet, I resisted. At the time, I thought it was a general resistance to change, but now I've come to believe that I understood something about me that I couldn't verbalize.
That something: Pickle jokes.
What's green and goes slam, slam, slam, slam?
A four-door pickle.
Not pickle jokes specifically, but the joy that comes from having someone there to laugh at pickle jokes. So much of day to day life ends up being about separation. Everybody has their own screen to watch their own shows or do their own work. In this big city, we pass by people without greeting because the greetings become too numerous or an invitation to unwanted attention. Even in a full world, community can be as hard to come by as parking.
Roommates are community. They'll sing commercial jingles on request. They'll make up religions or talk in the slow drawl of an unfamiliar America. They do this because time and triumph has accumulated. At first, it may have been a shared support of a team on Amazing Race or a book review. Then came the snow that wouldn't stop and then the Winter Olympics and Apolo Ohno-related screaming. It was trying new things in the kitchen- beef wellington, chopping the frickin' garlic, or the infamous melk turt through a straw. The victories would not win wars, the setbacks did not crush souls, and always their paths crossed unloading the dishwasher, watching TV, or calling it a night. Chatter turned to conversation; conversation turned to silliness; silliness turned serious; serious turned to reality. Television. And regular old reality. Still they were there. Floating in the brine of a three story town house, co-existing at unusual angles with too many futons.
What is green and awesome? Pickles. Roommates.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Some days happiness is so simple
My plan worked perfectly. If I announced to people that a group would be out throwing the disc, then people were bound to show up and throw, right? I didn't actually know for sure, but I was hoping and it worked today. It was a little chilly. The wind was blowing, sometimes even gusting, but people were throwing. I didn't need to be there. For a moment I wondered if I was even welcome. Throwing becomes a lot like practice when coach shows up. It's a bit like the boss ruining happy hour. I tried to blend in and stay quiet.
The numbers dwindled. Then there were four of us. Two pairs throwing as the light broke through the clouds for a bit and shone down on the lawn to be. At first, I just threw with my partner. She's been playing Ultimate for a semester, is fast, has good defensive instincts or at least a great reaction time and really seems into the game. She was throwing up wind and struggling some. I couldn't just sit quietly by any more. I started to to try to offer some tips that might help her throw, particularly in the wind. She took them and adjusted almost immediately. The results were startling. Within half an hour, we'd easily added ten yards to her forehand and backhand. Her throws looked smoother, flatter, and like an Ultimate player's. The evolution was so fast and made me so proud. We worked a little on her footwork and she was absorbing tips like a sponge. I tried not to get too giddy, but the reason that I keep showing up washed over me as the sun ducked back behind the clouds. Helping somebody get better at something is an awesome feeling. I don't know that I could have such an immediate impact on others, but I wonder if I need to find time for more individual attention for everyone. It might be worth it. Today, it was worth it many times over.
My plan worked perfectly. If I announced to people that a group would be out throwing the disc, then people were bound to show up and throw, right? I didn't actually know for sure, but I was hoping and it worked today. It was a little chilly. The wind was blowing, sometimes even gusting, but people were throwing. I didn't need to be there. For a moment I wondered if I was even welcome. Throwing becomes a lot like practice when coach shows up. It's a bit like the boss ruining happy hour. I tried to blend in and stay quiet.
The numbers dwindled. Then there were four of us. Two pairs throwing as the light broke through the clouds for a bit and shone down on the lawn to be. At first, I just threw with my partner. She's been playing Ultimate for a semester, is fast, has good defensive instincts or at least a great reaction time and really seems into the game. She was throwing up wind and struggling some. I couldn't just sit quietly by any more. I started to to try to offer some tips that might help her throw, particularly in the wind. She took them and adjusted almost immediately. The results were startling. Within half an hour, we'd easily added ten yards to her forehand and backhand. Her throws looked smoother, flatter, and like an Ultimate player's. The evolution was so fast and made me so proud. We worked a little on her footwork and she was absorbing tips like a sponge. I tried not to get too giddy, but the reason that I keep showing up washed over me as the sun ducked back behind the clouds. Helping somebody get better at something is an awesome feeling. I don't know that I could have such an immediate impact on others, but I wonder if I need to find time for more individual attention for everyone. It might be worth it. Today, it was worth it many times over.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Animal, vegetable, protein powder
My new nutrition plan, my new culinary exploration, my new grocery shopping on the edges of the store, my new eating experiment near the month mark. In some ways it is coming easier. I turned out a meatloaf-like meal last night without a second thought. I continue to use items that I'd never even heard of before in large quantities. Flax meal is like candy. Egg whites are liquid candy. Man, I like candy.
I dig what I'm eating. I feel good about the meals I'm making. They taste right and healthy. I feel good and strong. I'm working at it, sometimes multiple hours an evening. I know there is room for improvement, but I sense that the fruits, the vegetables, and the real stuffs that I ingest are way better than my previous canned existence. I'd like to explain this feeling in grand terms, but I am unable. Just last month, I continued to feel like what I was cramming in my mouth was wrong. It was sustaining me. It was filling me up. I just felt like I needed to do better. I don't know where that sense came from, but it was repetitive and gnawed at me. Now, better is what I'm eating. I've found it and that's awesome. I've had to go out of my comfort zone to do it. It has taken planning. It has taken a bigger chunk from my wallet. It has taken blending, chopping, slicing, and some humility as I've had to admit that I don't really know my way around the kitchen at all.
Globally, internally, it feels good. This inner glow breaks down in two important ways. First, I get really hungry. There's no way I'm not getting the calories I need, but I still crave food. I'm eating more meals, more complete meals than ever before and hunger still strikes like a baseball bat to the back of the knees. I think hunger is more mental than I'd previously realized. That hasn't helped me control it yet, but I'm going to start working on it. The second breakdown is with sugar. When I eat sweets, I lose my mind. Sugar tastes like magic. It makes my tastebuds do the triple jump and follow that up with a hundred meter dash. I want to grab handfuls of it and rub it languidly in my beard like I'm in a sugar shampoo commercial.
Those feelings are really hard to control. For now, I'll continue to sugar shampoo and host track meets in my mouth, but I hope to master these feelings and the hunger soon. If I can do that and sustain my momentum, I will be doing well in the next month.
My new nutrition plan, my new culinary exploration, my new grocery shopping on the edges of the store, my new eating experiment near the month mark. In some ways it is coming easier. I turned out a meatloaf-like meal last night without a second thought. I continue to use items that I'd never even heard of before in large quantities. Flax meal is like candy. Egg whites are liquid candy. Man, I like candy.
I dig what I'm eating. I feel good about the meals I'm making. They taste right and healthy. I feel good and strong. I'm working at it, sometimes multiple hours an evening. I know there is room for improvement, but I sense that the fruits, the vegetables, and the real stuffs that I ingest are way better than my previous canned existence. I'd like to explain this feeling in grand terms, but I am unable. Just last month, I continued to feel like what I was cramming in my mouth was wrong. It was sustaining me. It was filling me up. I just felt like I needed to do better. I don't know where that sense came from, but it was repetitive and gnawed at me. Now, better is what I'm eating. I've found it and that's awesome. I've had to go out of my comfort zone to do it. It has taken planning. It has taken a bigger chunk from my wallet. It has taken blending, chopping, slicing, and some humility as I've had to admit that I don't really know my way around the kitchen at all.
Globally, internally, it feels good. This inner glow breaks down in two important ways. First, I get really hungry. There's no way I'm not getting the calories I need, but I still crave food. I'm eating more meals, more complete meals than ever before and hunger still strikes like a baseball bat to the back of the knees. I think hunger is more mental than I'd previously realized. That hasn't helped me control it yet, but I'm going to start working on it. The second breakdown is with sugar. When I eat sweets, I lose my mind. Sugar tastes like magic. It makes my tastebuds do the triple jump and follow that up with a hundred meter dash. I want to grab handfuls of it and rub it languidly in my beard like I'm in a sugar shampoo commercial.
Those feelings are really hard to control. For now, I'll continue to sugar shampoo and host track meets in my mouth, but I hope to master these feelings and the hunger soon. If I can do that and sustain my momentum, I will be doing well in the next month.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The last two top ten lists
I've been putting this off, but I think it's time to finish what I've started. The first of the last top ten lists is a dedication from Nerds vs. Dorks which I'm grateful for because I am struggling mightily.
The final top ten list is a list of career moments/events in the last decade. I've had this list since the beginning, but I'm a little reluctant to admit that I have a job, let alone a career.
10. Extending my temp job
9. Allocation
8. Having an office built around me
7. Working as a ski lift operator
6. The PM revision
5. Surviving
4. Getting hired
3. Helping people help people
2. Getting a promotion
1. Getting vested
That's it. We're moving on to the next decade.
I've been putting this off, but I think it's time to finish what I've started. The first of the last top ten lists is a dedication from Nerds vs. Dorks which I'm grateful for because I am struggling mightily.
The final top ten list is a list of career moments/events in the last decade. I've had this list since the beginning, but I'm a little reluctant to admit that I have a job, let alone a career.
10. Extending my temp job
9. Allocation
8. Having an office built around me
7. Working as a ski lift operator
6. The PM revision
5. Surviving
4. Getting hired
3. Helping people help people
2. Getting a promotion
1. Getting vested
That's it. We're moving on to the next decade.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A list of things I've done today
I haven't been to work in 3.5 days. The list of things I'm doing to occupy my time has started to get more interesting. I have
-re-threaded a drawstring in a pair of shorts using a safety pin, but not very effectively.
-sewn on a button.
-made my own hummus.
-cooked chicken.
-made a blueberry protein shake for now and one for later.
-made (poured maple syrup on) sugar on snow.
-made quinoa.
-shopped for a camera.
-watched the final episodes of the mini-series Tin Man starring Zooey Deschanel.
-shoveled snow.
-washed dishes.
-written a blog post and a list (in progress).
It's not even 6; the garlic in the hummus is stinging the upper part of my mouth, there's a book of short stories calling my name (rather softly), a workout, and high winds still to come.
I haven't been to work in 3.5 days. The list of things I'm doing to occupy my time has started to get more interesting. I have
-re-threaded a drawstring in a pair of shorts using a safety pin, but not very effectively.
-sewn on a button.
-made my own hummus.
-cooked chicken.
-made a blueberry protein shake for now and one for later.
-made (poured maple syrup on) sugar on snow.
-made quinoa.
-shopped for a camera.
-watched the final episodes of the mini-series Tin Man starring Zooey Deschanel.
-shoveled snow.
-washed dishes.
-written a blog post and a list (in progress).
It's not even 6; the garlic in the hummus is stinging the upper part of my mouth, there's a book of short stories calling my name (rather softly), a workout, and high winds still to come.
and I feel fine
There's a low constant hum that covers multiple city blocks. It's like a heater struggling to start, or a snow-blower running low on fuel. The euphoria of Saturday when snowball fights reigned and passing neighbors smiled in amusement has been replaced by a white-grey dread. People no longer bound out of doors and down the middle of the street bending to form a snowball or a ready-made sno-cone. Now they trudge. They've bundled a little tighter. The bright colors of winter wear seem a little muted. Playing in 20 inches of snow with the hope of missing work dancing on the falling flakes is replaced by shoveling 10 more inches with the flakes flying horizontally. The weather and the city's accompanying emotion have gone from Lady Ga-Ga inspired party dress to the long walk of shame home. That walk seems to grow longer with each hour. The questions of where will we put the snow? and what do you mean the snow plows have stopped due to dangerous conditions? don't seem to be real. How can they be?
We still have power. Others have lost theirs. At the risk of being too dramatic, I can't help but wonder how fragile we are. I can't help but think about global warming either. Could this be a harbinger of things to come?
I read the newspaper stories about young neighbors taking care of their older neighbors and I talk to my friends who have shoveled driveways and pushed cars out of snow drifts. The spirit of community rises in these situations. Could this too be a harbinger of things to come? It seems just as likely.
There's a low constant hum that covers multiple city blocks. It's like a heater struggling to start, or a snow-blower running low on fuel. The euphoria of Saturday when snowball fights reigned and passing neighbors smiled in amusement has been replaced by a white-grey dread. People no longer bound out of doors and down the middle of the street bending to form a snowball or a ready-made sno-cone. Now they trudge. They've bundled a little tighter. The bright colors of winter wear seem a little muted. Playing in 20 inches of snow with the hope of missing work dancing on the falling flakes is replaced by shoveling 10 more inches with the flakes flying horizontally. The weather and the city's accompanying emotion have gone from Lady Ga-Ga inspired party dress to the long walk of shame home. That walk seems to grow longer with each hour. The questions of where will we put the snow? and what do you mean the snow plows have stopped due to dangerous conditions? don't seem to be real. How can they be?
We still have power. Others have lost theirs. At the risk of being too dramatic, I can't help but wonder how fragile we are. I can't help but think about global warming either. Could this be a harbinger of things to come?
I read the newspaper stories about young neighbors taking care of their older neighbors and I talk to my friends who have shoveled driveways and pushed cars out of snow drifts. The spirit of community rises in these situations. Could this too be a harbinger of things to come? It seems just as likely.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Super Bowl commercials
Once again I'm late to the Super Bowl commercial reviewing party. Heck, John was reviewing them live. I've read a few reviews, given it some thought and decided only a few are even worth mentioning. I may be getting old and crusty, but this year's crop of commercials was pretty sad. The jokes weren't funny. The sex wasn't sexy. The animals were kind of weird and the babies were a bunch of milkaholics. What gives? Further, why did so many ads with similar themes/gimmicks air together? Bad luck?
-The Tim Tebow ad was nothing. This commercial has defeated us because it entered the conversation long before it aired. I bet 75% of the audience would have missed it had we not heard about it for a week. Too bad, so sad. public relations-1, personal politics- 0.
-The Google ad was quaint, quiet, engaging, interesting and darn good. Google is verb. Google is life.
-My favorite commercial was the Kia Sorento ad. I haven't seen this ad on any of the lists. Dude. This ad had a sock monkey on a jet-ski. It had a robot doing the robot on the dance floor. It had the toys in a slow-motion Reservoir Dogs walk. If toys think the Kia Sorento is cool, then it must be cool.
Wait. Am I being sarcastic? Yes, but I still really liked the ad.
Doritos? Bud Light? The Hangover on wheels with a whale? Whatever. Until $2.5 million brings us together again next year...
Once again I'm late to the Super Bowl commercial reviewing party. Heck, John was reviewing them live. I've read a few reviews, given it some thought and decided only a few are even worth mentioning. I may be getting old and crusty, but this year's crop of commercials was pretty sad. The jokes weren't funny. The sex wasn't sexy. The animals were kind of weird and the babies were a bunch of milkaholics. What gives? Further, why did so many ads with similar themes/gimmicks air together? Bad luck?
-The Tim Tebow ad was nothing. This commercial has defeated us because it entered the conversation long before it aired. I bet 75% of the audience would have missed it had we not heard about it for a week. Too bad, so sad. public relations-1, personal politics- 0.
-The Google ad was quaint, quiet, engaging, interesting and darn good. Google is verb. Google is life.
-My favorite commercial was the Kia Sorento ad. I haven't seen this ad on any of the lists. Dude. This ad had a sock monkey on a jet-ski. It had a robot doing the robot on the dance floor. It had the toys in a slow-motion Reservoir Dogs walk. If toys think the Kia Sorento is cool, then it must be cool.
Wait. Am I being sarcastic? Yes, but I still really liked the ad.
Doritos? Bud Light? The Hangover on wheels with a whale? Whatever. Until $2.5 million brings us together again next year...
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
6 more weeks of winter
I'm lucky to be alive. I've taken up a nutrition plan and therefore cooking that involves more than a can and a skillet. This is all well and good and time consuming, but it means that I'm putting knives to use like never before. I am not properly trained in knives. In the last 10 days this has not been more evident than while attacking an avocado last night. Compounded by my lack of patience to achieve the proper soft ripened green mass, I recklessly attacked a poor avocado. The thing about an unripe avocado is that it is far from defenseless. What it lacks in technical ability it more than makes up for in hardness. I peeled and I poked. I sliced and I chopped in a near fruitless effort, all the while narrowly avoiding slicing, dicing, and generally ginsu-ing my own fingers down to the bone or perhaps beyond. Today at work I touched skin that had obviously been cut, but hadn't bled.
After a long struggle with an avocado and the laughs of my flatmates, I finally gave in and tossed my guacamole to be in the blender. It chopped most into a fine green mess, but some avocado chunk remained. The recipe did say to leave some chunks for texture. What says texture like 1/4 of an avocado uncut by the spinning blade of a blender?
More kitchen adventures to come.
I'm lucky to be alive. I've taken up a nutrition plan and therefore cooking that involves more than a can and a skillet. This is all well and good and time consuming, but it means that I'm putting knives to use like never before. I am not properly trained in knives. In the last 10 days this has not been more evident than while attacking an avocado last night. Compounded by my lack of patience to achieve the proper soft ripened green mass, I recklessly attacked a poor avocado. The thing about an unripe avocado is that it is far from defenseless. What it lacks in technical ability it more than makes up for in hardness. I peeled and I poked. I sliced and I chopped in a near fruitless effort, all the while narrowly avoiding slicing, dicing, and generally ginsu-ing my own fingers down to the bone or perhaps beyond. Today at work I touched skin that had obviously been cut, but hadn't bled.
After a long struggle with an avocado and the laughs of my flatmates, I finally gave in and tossed my guacamole to be in the blender. It chopped most into a fine green mess, but some avocado chunk remained. The recipe did say to leave some chunks for texture. What says texture like 1/4 of an avocado uncut by the spinning blade of a blender?
More kitchen adventures to come.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Trying on a different life
I'm listening to somebody else's records in somebody else's home. Somebody else isn't here, but I'm settling in. I went to the books first and scanned the shelves. I looked for the books I'd read and the books I want to read. I looked for a connection to my interests, then I looked for a pattern. My efforts were not so concentrated as they sound, but as I scanned the shelves I tried to put together this person that I didn't know. How was she like me? She had "Men are from Mars.." How was she different? Dorothy Parker, financial success for women, feminism, I soon lost track. This was not my literary double. With my head tilted, I then scanned the titles for books that I wanted to skim. I found "Why Men Love Bitches."
I switched from Zeppelin to Supertramp.
At first the records seem more accessible than the books. Perhaps, this is a function of their weight and the commitment they require. Why Men Love Records? Unable to focus, I moved to the DVD collection, but found nothing that I needed now, certainly not "Bridget Jones' Diary". v. much no, thank you.
Supertramp turns to Bruce Springsteen.
I made another lap around the house, arms tucked behind me like a speed skater, though my walk and my eye were more like those of the art student. I studied the pictures and paintings, the candles and saucers on the mantle, the clutter of existence. Every object told a piece of story I didn't know. One wall hanging held my eye. The top was a vibrant red hand print on a black background. On an Indian tablet below the precise lettering of an elementary school student proudly proclaimed the recess skills that every child wanted. The confidence of the young student echoed in the confidence of the thick wooden frame.
Springsteen became Aretha Franklin.
I returned to the records and pored over them. I feel like a man lost in another time. I have nostalgia for a life I haven't led. My studies again follow a similar trajectory as I look for the intersection of familiar and interesting. The familiar are less widespread when I realize that my reference point for record collections is my parents'. A few records overlap, but much of this collection veers closer to the days of CD, or at least cassette tape. I begin to pull records from the shelf. The other records close the gap and I lose track of the exact location. I'll slide the sleeves back in as best I can and hope my host is not like Rob of "High Fidelity" organizing and re-organizing the collection by major life events.
I open the sleeve and pour the black grooved disc out. It feels so delicate. The delicacy is compounded by the fear of damaging someone else's property. Has age made records more brittle? I suspect they've always been brittle and delicate, that's why my dad severely limited my handling privileges. Holding my breath, I move the needle without shaking or scratching. The record spins on and then crackles to a start. There's something violent and satisfying about starting a record and finding a groove.
Then it stops.
More Aretha.
I'm listening to somebody else's records in somebody else's home. Somebody else isn't here, but I'm settling in. I went to the books first and scanned the shelves. I looked for the books I'd read and the books I want to read. I looked for a connection to my interests, then I looked for a pattern. My efforts were not so concentrated as they sound, but as I scanned the shelves I tried to put together this person that I didn't know. How was she like me? She had "Men are from Mars.." How was she different? Dorothy Parker, financial success for women, feminism, I soon lost track. This was not my literary double. With my head tilted, I then scanned the titles for books that I wanted to skim. I found "Why Men Love Bitches."
I switched from Zeppelin to Supertramp.
At first the records seem more accessible than the books. Perhaps, this is a function of their weight and the commitment they require. Why Men Love Records? Unable to focus, I moved to the DVD collection, but found nothing that I needed now, certainly not "Bridget Jones' Diary". v. much no, thank you.
Supertramp turns to Bruce Springsteen.
I made another lap around the house, arms tucked behind me like a speed skater, though my walk and my eye were more like those of the art student. I studied the pictures and paintings, the candles and saucers on the mantle, the clutter of existence. Every object told a piece of story I didn't know. One wall hanging held my eye. The top was a vibrant red hand print on a black background. On an Indian tablet below the precise lettering of an elementary school student proudly proclaimed the recess skills that every child wanted. The confidence of the young student echoed in the confidence of the thick wooden frame.
Springsteen became Aretha Franklin.
I returned to the records and pored over them. I feel like a man lost in another time. I have nostalgia for a life I haven't led. My studies again follow a similar trajectory as I look for the intersection of familiar and interesting. The familiar are less widespread when I realize that my reference point for record collections is my parents'. A few records overlap, but much of this collection veers closer to the days of CD, or at least cassette tape. I begin to pull records from the shelf. The other records close the gap and I lose track of the exact location. I'll slide the sleeves back in as best I can and hope my host is not like Rob of "High Fidelity" organizing and re-organizing the collection by major life events.
I open the sleeve and pour the black grooved disc out. It feels so delicate. The delicacy is compounded by the fear of damaging someone else's property. Has age made records more brittle? I suspect they've always been brittle and delicate, that's why my dad severely limited my handling privileges. Holding my breath, I move the needle without shaking or scratching. The record spins on and then crackles to a start. There's something violent and satisfying about starting a record and finding a groove.
Then it stops.
More Aretha.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A bit of catching up, sans the final top tens
The time between 12/31/09 and 1/1/10
Escorted like the privileged class, dining on cupcakes, and sipping champagne, we waited on the eleventh floor for the ball to drop. We were a party of seven pressed against the windows. Parties of more or fewer calmly raged to the right and to the left and in the conference room and down below. The famous ball of the square of time that marks the passage of another Seacrest/Clark moment was but a nose-press and a glance away. When the countdown came and the fireworks spewed in our general direction and then right at us, the ball began its descending wave to nine before disappearing in a cloud of ten. Saliva was exchanged in a passionate plea to the universe to improve. Ten could make us better and brighter, but for now only the remnants of lip balm and its oddly shaped headgear advertising remained.
The bag tax
My fair city has passed a law. I'm sure they do this all the time, like it's their job. This law is different. This law has had an immediate positive impact on my day to day life. Washington DC has made plastic bags five cents. Some folks are flipping out. The paper detailed the story of a woman who drives to a state next door (where they pay a higher food tax) to avoid the fee. It makes no sense. I've been known to make no sense, but this time, I'm relishing the bag tax. It encourages behavior that I support in a way that isn't completely prohibitive. The best part, however, was the immediate culture shift of my grocery store checkers. Instead of immediately cramming my food into a plastic bag, they now turn to me to ask if I have bags or if I'm willing to pay the five cents. I am no longer stuck stuttering with my re-usable bag in my hand while a checker buries my food in plastic.
There are challenges. I don't usually have my bag when I go for lunch time take-out. The produce bags are five cents. I try to get by without them and I wonder if there is a suitable alternative. The morning paper (as if there was an evening one anymore?) comes in a bag adding a cost to an industry that could probably do without losing its last eight subscribers. I'm ok with all of this. Grocers are reporting bag use has been cut in half. The five cents on that half go toward cleaning up the muck in the Anacostia River. I'm lovin' it.
Lost in the aisles
While I'm thinking of the market, I should mention my most recent shopping experience. I'm working to improve my nutrition and I've found a plan that seems pretty reasonable, though not without its bumps in the road. My first challenge was grocery shopping. I took the pre-made list to the store and quickly realized that I couldn't find anything. I was cruising the outside of the store rather than the processed food haven I've come to count on. Life outside of the can is far different. I wandered wide-eyed and bordering on frantic as I searched and found quinoa, but failed to find steel cut oats or oat bran. I spent more time buying fruit and vegetables than I usually spend at the store. I won't even begin to discuss the challenges I've faced in the kitchen.
That'll have to do for now. I still want to write, but I find that I want to do a lot lately.
The time between 12/31/09 and 1/1/10
Escorted like the privileged class, dining on cupcakes, and sipping champagne, we waited on the eleventh floor for the ball to drop. We were a party of seven pressed against the windows. Parties of more or fewer calmly raged to the right and to the left and in the conference room and down below. The famous ball of the square of time that marks the passage of another Seacrest/Clark moment was but a nose-press and a glance away. When the countdown came and the fireworks spewed in our general direction and then right at us, the ball began its descending wave to nine before disappearing in a cloud of ten. Saliva was exchanged in a passionate plea to the universe to improve. Ten could make us better and brighter, but for now only the remnants of lip balm and its oddly shaped headgear advertising remained.
The bag tax
My fair city has passed a law. I'm sure they do this all the time, like it's their job. This law is different. This law has had an immediate positive impact on my day to day life. Washington DC has made plastic bags five cents. Some folks are flipping out. The paper detailed the story of a woman who drives to a state next door (where they pay a higher food tax) to avoid the fee. It makes no sense. I've been known to make no sense, but this time, I'm relishing the bag tax. It encourages behavior that I support in a way that isn't completely prohibitive. The best part, however, was the immediate culture shift of my grocery store checkers. Instead of immediately cramming my food into a plastic bag, they now turn to me to ask if I have bags or if I'm willing to pay the five cents. I am no longer stuck stuttering with my re-usable bag in my hand while a checker buries my food in plastic.
There are challenges. I don't usually have my bag when I go for lunch time take-out. The produce bags are five cents. I try to get by without them and I wonder if there is a suitable alternative. The morning paper (as if there was an evening one anymore?) comes in a bag adding a cost to an industry that could probably do without losing its last eight subscribers. I'm ok with all of this. Grocers are reporting bag use has been cut in half. The five cents on that half go toward cleaning up the muck in the Anacostia River. I'm lovin' it.
Lost in the aisles
While I'm thinking of the market, I should mention my most recent shopping experience. I'm working to improve my nutrition and I've found a plan that seems pretty reasonable, though not without its bumps in the road. My first challenge was grocery shopping. I took the pre-made list to the store and quickly realized that I couldn't find anything. I was cruising the outside of the store rather than the processed food haven I've come to count on. Life outside of the can is far different. I wandered wide-eyed and bordering on frantic as I searched and found quinoa, but failed to find steel cut oats or oat bran. I spent more time buying fruit and vegetables than I usually spend at the store. I won't even begin to discuss the challenges I've faced in the kitchen.
That'll have to do for now. I still want to write, but I find that I want to do a lot lately.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Top 10 lists continued
Top 10 movies
1. Lost in Translation
2. Bend it Like Beckham
3. Lord of the Rings
4. Love Actually
5. The Notebook
6. Once
7. Walk the Line
8. Spirit of the Marathon
9. The Family Man
10. Mulholland Dr.
Top 10 (non-Ultimate) trips
10. Providence,RI
9. Boston, MA for Marathon spectating
8. San Francisco, CA
7. New Orleans, LA- first work trip
6. Door County, WI
5. Hays, KS
4. Iceland/Norway
3. Grand Canyon- hike
2. Grand Canyon- mule
1. Paris
Top 10 Ultimate trips (maybe? I'm mixing trips and tournaments here)
1. Columbia to Sectionals, Dallas, TX in an RV
2. DC to Edinboro, PA- Something Frozen, met CUA
3. Columbia to St. Louis, MO- First tournament
4. Winter Park St. Louis to Baton Rouge, LA- Mardi Gras
5. DC to Atlanta, GA (including the panic attack at Arby's)
6. KC to Fayetteville, AR- Harvest Moon
7. Winter Park to Lawrence, KS for Fool's Fest
7. Columbus to Cleveland, OH- No Surf
8. Columbus to Washington, DC- Choptank
9. DC to Boston, MA for ? Invite (which I didn't actually play in, but I was on the roster)
10. DC to Wildwood, NJ and back in many years including the Kelly Clarkson performance and the Jersey cop experience
Top 10 movies
1. Lost in Translation
2. Bend it Like Beckham
3. Lord of the Rings
4. Love Actually
5. The Notebook
6. Once
7. Walk the Line
8. Spirit of the Marathon
9. The Family Man
10. Mulholland Dr.
Top 10 (non-Ultimate) trips
10. Providence,RI
9. Boston, MA for Marathon spectating
8. San Francisco, CA
7. New Orleans, LA- first work trip
6. Door County, WI
5. Hays, KS
4. Iceland/Norway
3. Grand Canyon- hike
2. Grand Canyon- mule
1. Paris
Top 10 Ultimate trips (maybe? I'm mixing trips and tournaments here)
1. Columbia to Sectionals, Dallas, TX in an RV
2. DC to Edinboro, PA- Something Frozen, met CUA
3. Columbia to St. Louis, MO- First tournament
4. Winter Park St. Louis to Baton Rouge, LA- Mardi Gras
5. DC to Atlanta, GA (including the panic attack at Arby's)
6. KC to Fayetteville, AR- Harvest Moon
7. Winter Park to Lawrence, KS for Fool's Fest
7. Columbus to Cleveland, OH- No Surf
8. Columbus to Washington, DC- Choptank
9. DC to Boston, MA for ? Invite (which I didn't actually play in, but I was on the roster)
10. DC to Wildwood, NJ and back in many years including the Kelly Clarkson performance and the Jersey cop experience
Saturday, January 02, 2010
I'm interrupting my top 10s to bring you the straight lists from 2009.
Movies I saw in 2009
1. Run Fat boy Run
2. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
3. Tropic Thunder
4. Outsourced
5. Hamlet 2
6. The Dark Knight
7. 10 items or less
8. Cooley High
9. In Bruges
10. Brian's Song
11. Calendar Girls
12. Love and Other Disasters
13. Taken
14. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2
15. Get Smart
16. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
17. Bella (sort of)
18. Coraline
19. Employee of the Month
20. The Watchmen
21. Just Friends
22. Much ado about nothing
23. Baby Mamma
24. Now we know
25. Chalk
26. National Treasure: Book of Secrets
27. Milk
28. Adventureland
29. Waiting for Guffman
30. Sweeney Todd
31. Pineapple Express
32. Happy Go Lucky
33. Frost/Nixon
34. Up
35. Ghost Town
36. The House Bunny
37. Star Trek
38. Bedtime Stories
39. WordPlay
40. The Proposal
41. Passengers
42. The Wrestler
43. Happy Accents
44. Last Chance Harvey
45. Fanboys
46. 500 Days of Summer
47. How about you
48. Henry Poole is here
49. The Time Traveler's Wife
50. Doubt
51. 17 Again
52. The Savages
53. Die Hard: Live Free or Die
54. Whip it
55. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry
56. Valkyrie
57. Bigger, Stronger, Faster
58. Eastern Promises
59. I Love You Man
60. Defiance
61. An Education
62. The Hangover
63. Away we go
64. Up in the Air
65. Sherlock Holmes
66. The Informant
Books I read in 2009
1. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and other Jazz Age Stories (started in '08)
2. The Five Dysfunctions of Team
3. The Hand of Fate
4. Tell no one
5. I love you, Beth Cooper
6. Drop Shot
7. The Woods
8-10. 28 Barbary Lane
11. Watchmen
12. Small is Possible: Life in a local economy
13-15. Back to Barbary Lane
16. Change your questions, Change your life
17. Soul Thief
18. Blindness
19. There's no Place Like Here
20. The Road
21. The Accidental Tourist
22. Sway- The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior
23. Schulz and Peanuts
24. The Last Lecture
25. Time Traveler's Wife (re-read)
26. Eavesdropping
27. Her Fearful Symmetry
28. Juliet, Naked
29. Dead Sleep
30. Possibly Strongly Opposed (online)
31. Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress
32. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
33. Micromessaging
34. Dara Torres: Age is just a number
35. The Inheritance of Loss
36. Run Fast
Movies I saw in 2009
1. Run Fat boy Run
2. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
3. Tropic Thunder
4. Outsourced
5. Hamlet 2
6. The Dark Knight
7. 10 items or less
8. Cooley High
9. In Bruges
10. Brian's Song
11. Calendar Girls
12. Love and Other Disasters
13. Taken
14. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2
15. Get Smart
16. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
17. Bella (sort of)
18. Coraline
19. Employee of the Month
20. The Watchmen
21. Just Friends
22. Much ado about nothing
23. Baby Mamma
24. Now we know
25. Chalk
26. National Treasure: Book of Secrets
27. Milk
28. Adventureland
29. Waiting for Guffman
30. Sweeney Todd
31. Pineapple Express
32. Happy Go Lucky
33. Frost/Nixon
34. Up
35. Ghost Town
36. The House Bunny
37. Star Trek
38. Bedtime Stories
39. WordPlay
40. The Proposal
41. Passengers
42. The Wrestler
43. Happy Accents
44. Last Chance Harvey
45. Fanboys
46. 500 Days of Summer
47. How about you
48. Henry Poole is here
49. The Time Traveler's Wife
50. Doubt
51. 17 Again
52. The Savages
53. Die Hard: Live Free or Die
54. Whip it
55. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry
56. Valkyrie
57. Bigger, Stronger, Faster
58. Eastern Promises
59. I Love You Man
60. Defiance
61. An Education
62. The Hangover
63. Away we go
64. Up in the Air
65. Sherlock Holmes
66. The Informant
Books I read in 2009
1. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and other Jazz Age Stories (started in '08)
2. The Five Dysfunctions of Team
3. The Hand of Fate
4. Tell no one
5. I love you, Beth Cooper
6. Drop Shot
7. The Woods
8-10. 28 Barbary Lane
11. Watchmen
12. Small is Possible: Life in a local economy
13-15. Back to Barbary Lane
16. Change your questions, Change your life
17. Soul Thief
18. Blindness
19. There's no Place Like Here
20. The Road
21. The Accidental Tourist
22. Sway- The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior
23. Schulz and Peanuts
24. The Last Lecture
25. Time Traveler's Wife (re-read)
26. Eavesdropping
27. Her Fearful Symmetry
28. Juliet, Naked
29. Dead Sleep
30. Possibly Strongly Opposed (online)
31. Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress
32. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
33. Micromessaging
34. Dara Torres: Age is just a number
35. The Inheritance of Loss
36. Run Fast
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Top 10 top 10 lists from the last 10 years as we head into 2010
I'm working on 10 lists to highlight some of my experiences over the last decade. I'm afraid that some of my lists are going to be more heavily weighted to the last few years because I don't remember stuff that well. I don't have all 10 lists yet, but I'll keep at it. Some of this may spill into next year.
Top 10 books I read in the last 10 years
10. Pistol: The Story of Pete Maravich
9. Count of Monte Cristo
8. Jitterbug Perfume
7. Harry Potter (I'm just lumping them all together, but I preferred the ones with Quidditch)
6. Ender's Game
5. Interpreter of Maladies
4. Prodigal Summer
3. The Perfect Mile
2. Bel Canto
1. Time Traveler's Wife
Top 10 years of the last 10
1. 2004
2. 2009
3. 2001
4. 2005
5. 2006
6. 2008
7. 2000
8. 2003
9. 2002
10. 2007
Top 10 songs played on iTunes (This is obviously skewed to the mid to late aughts)
10. Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly
9. Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz
8. Pale Moon by Shannon McNally
7. Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional
6. These Boots Are Made for Walkin' by Jessica Simpson
5. Gracie by Ben Folds
4. Age Six Racer by Dashboard Confessional
3. Half Acre by Hem
2. The Comeback by Shout Out Louds
1. 1B by Yo-yo Ma, Mark O'Connor and Edgar Meyer
Top 10 Athletic Achievements (I really feel like I'm forgetting something)
10.6k victory
9. making HOV and contributing in the early season
8. consistent weight training (165 front squat!)
7. Return to Ultimate after the year (?) of the psoas
6. The Golden Cup from Wildwood
5. Sectionals '02 game-winning Callahan
4. Pacing MB to a 5-minute mile on the first try
3.breaking 30 minutes in a 5-miler PRs including 15:46 5k, 29:36 5-miler...
2. 4:41 mile, the fastest in quite some time by bunches
1. The training and completion of the Marine Corps Marathon in '04
1a. MUtants and the Peter L. Offense Sectionals '01
Top 10 TV shows (some on DVD)
1. Gilmore Girls
2. Buffy The Vampire Slayer
3. The Office
4. Friends
5. Project Runway
6. Coupling
7. Flight of the Conchords
8. Sports Night
9. Ed
10. Alias
I'm working on 10 lists to highlight some of my experiences over the last decade. I'm afraid that some of my lists are going to be more heavily weighted to the last few years because I don't remember stuff that well. I don't have all 10 lists yet, but I'll keep at it. Some of this may spill into next year.
Top 10 books I read in the last 10 years
10. Pistol: The Story of Pete Maravich
9. Count of Monte Cristo
8. Jitterbug Perfume
7. Harry Potter (I'm just lumping them all together, but I preferred the ones with Quidditch)
6. Ender's Game
5. Interpreter of Maladies
4. Prodigal Summer
3. The Perfect Mile
2. Bel Canto
1. Time Traveler's Wife
Top 10 years of the last 10
1. 2004
2. 2009
3. 2001
4. 2005
5. 2006
6. 2008
7. 2000
8. 2003
9. 2002
10. 2007
Top 10 songs played on iTunes (This is obviously skewed to the mid to late aughts)
10. Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly
9. Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz
8. Pale Moon by Shannon McNally
7. Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional
6. These Boots Are Made for Walkin' by Jessica Simpson
5. Gracie by Ben Folds
4. Age Six Racer by Dashboard Confessional
3. Half Acre by Hem
2. The Comeback by Shout Out Louds
1. 1B by Yo-yo Ma, Mark O'Connor and Edgar Meyer
Top 10 Athletic Achievements (I really feel like I'm forgetting something)
10.
9. making HOV and contributing in the early season
8. consistent weight training (165 front squat!)
7. Return to Ultimate after the year (?) of the psoas
6. The Golden Cup from Wildwood
5. Sectionals '02 game-winning Callahan
4. Pacing MB to a 5-minute mile on the first try
3.
2. 4:41 mile, the fastest in quite some time by bunches
1. The training and completion of the Marine Corps Marathon in '04
1a. MUtants and the Peter L. Offense Sectionals '01
Top 10 TV shows (some on DVD)
1. Gilmore Girls
2. Buffy The Vampire Slayer
3. The Office
4. Friends
5. Project Runway
6. Coupling
7. Flight of the Conchords
8. Sports Night
9. Ed
10. Alias
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Christmas letter you didn't get from me
Dear Friends and Family,
I am going to share with you my year in Facebook status updates. I thought it might accomplish the same thing as a good letter, but I'm really quite vague.
Love,
Dave
Oh, yeah, the updates:
January:
David is looking for the team to come together after this.
David feels his philosophy shifting.
David is going to make popsicles… on the track.
David is kind of pretty sure we can. Maybe.
David is trying to fathom 1.8 million people.
David was on the wrong side of 15-14.
February:
David cannot think of a fitting superlative for Evie’s cookies.
David feels the sting of beard-ism.
David sends bearded kisses in your general direction.
David is wondering if anybody wants to go with him to support Kyle in the 24 hour musicals?
David's favorite moment of the day was entering the darkness on the first turn of the first 400 meters.
March:
David is frisbee crush on Sam, dance crush on Anne, general crush on February 28.
David is no longer amused by the Not-so-great Depression.
David is aw yeah.
David thinks marriages shouldn't last forever just so there can be more weddings.
David really just wants more parties with families, dancing, and love, not divorce as the genie named Aaron has pointed out.
David has a theory, will never tell, and walks through the fire.
David has a lot to learn.
Whatever it is, it isn’t here.
David just asked a squirrel, "Are you ok?" after it fell out of a 25-foot tree. The squirrel didn't answer, but scurried away.
April:
David has already been fooled.
Sometimes you get what you deserve and even though you want more, you can't be too sad about that.
David is on the verge of creating a series of surveys about himself to send to his friends.
David thinks a run is in order. Wishes Borman lived up the street.
David was in second place for about three steps, fortunately they were the last three. Yeah.
David is 2nd again.
David’s legs didn’t quit, but everything else is striking on their behalf.
David has auto-tuning on his mind.
“He lives vicariously through himself”
May:
David saw two pirates making out and couldn’t resist shouting, “Pirate love!”
The rain will not deter us. It will only moisten our spirits.
If I achieve nothing else, at least I taught Tedward to dance.
The intensity got fixed but the mark got broken.
David wants to make out with this weather.
David suspended “your mom” jokes for the day. No need to thank me.
David is quietly rocking the red.
David is quietly watching the red get rocked. Ouch.
David needs Parks and Rec to go away or needs some self control. Both seem unlikely.
David is all about the slow start this weekend.
David had a dream about cleaning and is now making that a reality. Hopefully, that’s the start of a trend.
David might become a loyal customer of Southwest after all.
David wonders if overreaction might be the right reaction.
June:
David is pretty sure his hamstrings are tuned an octave too high.
David is no match for an armored King Hippo.
David blames it on the al-al-al- weather.
David hopes Betty bounced back and was glad to spend time with familiar faces.
David is warming up his weirdness. The leftovers will be slathered in BBQ sauce.
everything but the canoe
David is going for an unofficial tubing record today. The late start won't do us any favors.
dodging rain drops and responsibility.
David would rather be night-tubing.
David experienced a glitch in the Matrix.
David would like to auto-tune father's day. I'm not sure it would do anything, but it makes T-Pain and the news better, so maybe it would work for Dads.
David is alive. Thanks for asking.
David laughed and cried at "The Proposal". That's one perfectly predictable romantic comedy.
Wait? What? Michael Jackson is dead? Inconceivable. (Also, Billie Jean. Not my girl.)
David wants to shed material possessions in theory, but not in practice.
David is whaddaya know? 2nd place again (This time in my age group).
July:
David is trying to hold off a thunderstorm with just an outstretched hand.
David is in the promised land of leftovers.
David was not second, but is feeling a little fast.
David has got the beach vision, but still needs the beach attire (half of it anyway.)
David can't believe it. Turns out I was second in my age group on Friday.
David is in the peloton, but always considering a breakaway.
David wrestles with the age-old Sunday night question: watch low quality Lohan movie or do something productive?
David enjoyed downtown Fort Worth and is now headed to the land of diving in the sand!
The faux-Brits DO drink from a faux-golden cup!
David has finished his championship laundry and grocery shopping. Next up: Championship bathroom cleaning. There's nothing like glory.
David is not happy with non-confrontational double-speak. Make a decision and mean it, punks.
August:
David is watching his own every move on the Internet in a mirror. Don't raise your eyebrow at me, mirrorDave.
David is unable to handle his rock and roll lifestyle; considering something more bluegrass-y.
It takes very little to create the illusion of security: just a few pieces of wood can do it.
David has the best non-roommate ever and I'm not talking about the giant dead beetle.
the modern amateur philosopher inside of me asks, "If I cannot tweet or share my status update, do I really exist?"
David finds an increasing number of things irrelevant. Why not this thing?
As I pack the artifacts from my life into boxes I realize that the people in it have helped make it pretty awesome.
Newsflash: Usain Bolt= Fast. Wow.
David curses stuff.
“don’t stop ‘til you get enough!”
“Goodnight, Moon”
David is tempted by the prospect of a landline. Really, really tempted.
David met his adorable second cousin, ran up the side of a little mountain, watched the bright orange sunrise and is using up his adjectives in hot Arizona.
September:
David was only over Facebook when he couldn't get to it.
David ran a practice on the turf in the rain with 25 people. Did I slip into an alternate universe?
Field space is on my mind.
David is after fjords and bjork.
David wonders if he can be a fan of Finse.
The ants are throwing a welcome back party and lots of them are invited.
David feels a low constant hum of the question, "is this important?"
October:
David is going to plop his priorities in a coliseum, have them battle gladiators, and if they live then he'll know what to do.
David played crab soccer in the park this morning. It was a crabtacular day to abuse my arms and hands.
David is quite pleased to know you.
David is ham and cheese, ham and biscuits, hamhocks, ham and pineapple, honey-baked ham, MC Hammer, green eggs and ham...
David screamed like mad for a tie and walked home with chants of U-S-A ringing in his ears.
David quietly wrestles some big questions. The questions appear to have both a size and tactical advantage.
David just found out that deep down inside, he's still a Chiefs fan.
As the Kool-Aid man once said as he broke through the wall, "Oh yeah!"
Wayne's World?
Adversity is the test. Defeat is the education. Pay attention and pack some extra socks next time.
David thinks the Internet should know that Roller Derby is awesome. See, look, I even said it on the Internet.
November:
David is turning left.
David thinks daylight savings time should be an individual choice. This could be problematic when meeting someone at 10 PM give or take 1 hour.
The rain is complicating an already complicated weekend. Biting off more Ultimate than I can chew is catching up with me NOW.
My marathon PR is about 50 seconds slower than Sarah Palin's. Who do I get to blame?
A very late layout on some bad force side defense led to full on cramping in BOTH calves simultaneously. Not the highlight of my day.
David is wondering when he became a planner.
I'm an Uncle x 2. Welcome Parker!
December:
The Internet is good for lots of things, but hugging isn't one of them.
David is brought to you by the number 5.
David is concerned that babies are taking over Facebook. First Facebook, next...
If I get sick, I'm going down fighting. I am not afraid to pull hair.
early to bed and early to rise, hopefully makes this man f-a-s-t.
37:07 in the morning, not shot by John Wilkes Booth at night. Nice day, indeed.
I need some hair to pull. I'm going down...
oh instant karma, why do you take so long to get at me?
David has decided to mentally add "in bed" to all Facebook updates. It's like eating fortune cookies for days.
You can cancel my flight, but you can't cancel my fun. Yeah, snow!
David is excited and nervous to tele-ski today.
David hopes status updates and snow blanket you and yours with all the holiday cheer you can handle, and maybe a cup more.
Dear Friends and Family,
I am going to share with you my year in Facebook status updates. I thought it might accomplish the same thing as a good letter, but I'm really quite vague.
Love,
Dave
Oh, yeah, the updates:
January:
David is looking for the team to come together after this.
David feels his philosophy shifting.
David is going to make popsicles… on the track.
David is kind of pretty sure we can. Maybe.
David is trying to fathom 1.8 million people.
David was on the wrong side of 15-14.
February:
David cannot think of a fitting superlative for Evie’s cookies.
David feels the sting of beard-ism.
David sends bearded kisses in your general direction.
David is wondering if anybody wants to go with him to support Kyle in the 24 hour musicals?
David's favorite moment of the day was entering the darkness on the first turn of the first 400 meters.
March:
David is frisbee crush on Sam, dance crush on Anne, general crush on February 28.
David is no longer amused by the Not-so-great Depression.
David is aw yeah.
David thinks marriages shouldn't last forever just so there can be more weddings.
David really just wants more parties with families, dancing, and love, not divorce as the genie named Aaron has pointed out.
David has a theory, will never tell, and walks through the fire.
David has a lot to learn.
Whatever it is, it isn’t here.
David just asked a squirrel, "Are you ok?" after it fell out of a 25-foot tree. The squirrel didn't answer, but scurried away.
April:
David has already been fooled.
Sometimes you get what you deserve and even though you want more, you can't be too sad about that.
David is on the verge of creating a series of surveys about himself to send to his friends.
David thinks a run is in order. Wishes Borman lived up the street.
David was in second place for about three steps, fortunately they were the last three. Yeah.
David is 2nd again.
David’s legs didn’t quit, but everything else is striking on their behalf.
David has auto-tuning on his mind.
“He lives vicariously through himself”
May:
David saw two pirates making out and couldn’t resist shouting, “Pirate love!”
The rain will not deter us. It will only moisten our spirits.
If I achieve nothing else, at least I taught Tedward to dance.
The intensity got fixed but the mark got broken.
David wants to make out with this weather.
David suspended “your mom” jokes for the day. No need to thank me.
David is quietly rocking the red.
David is quietly watching the red get rocked. Ouch.
David needs Parks and Rec to go away or needs some self control. Both seem unlikely.
David is all about the slow start this weekend.
David had a dream about cleaning and is now making that a reality. Hopefully, that’s the start of a trend.
David might become a loyal customer of Southwest after all.
David wonders if overreaction might be the right reaction.
June:
David is pretty sure his hamstrings are tuned an octave too high.
David is no match for an armored King Hippo.
David blames it on the al-al-al- weather.
David hopes Betty bounced back and was glad to spend time with familiar faces.
David is warming up his weirdness. The leftovers will be slathered in BBQ sauce.
everything but the canoe
David is going for an unofficial tubing record today. The late start won't do us any favors.
dodging rain drops and responsibility.
David would rather be night-tubing.
David experienced a glitch in the Matrix.
David would like to auto-tune father's day. I'm not sure it would do anything, but it makes T-Pain and the news better, so maybe it would work for Dads.
David is alive. Thanks for asking.
David laughed and cried at "The Proposal". That's one perfectly predictable romantic comedy.
Wait? What? Michael Jackson is dead? Inconceivable. (Also, Billie Jean. Not my girl.)
David wants to shed material possessions in theory, but not in practice.
David is whaddaya know? 2nd place again (This time in my age group).
July:
David is trying to hold off a thunderstorm with just an outstretched hand.
David is in the promised land of leftovers.
David was not second, but is feeling a little fast.
David has got the beach vision, but still needs the beach attire (half of it anyway.)
David can't believe it. Turns out I was second in my age group on Friday.
David is in the peloton, but always considering a breakaway.
David wrestles with the age-old Sunday night question: watch low quality Lohan movie or do something productive?
David enjoyed downtown Fort Worth and is now headed to the land of diving in the sand!
The faux-Brits DO drink from a faux-golden cup!
David has finished his championship laundry and grocery shopping. Next up: Championship bathroom cleaning. There's nothing like glory.
David is not happy with non-confrontational double-speak. Make a decision and mean it, punks.
August:
David is watching his own every move on the Internet in a mirror. Don't raise your eyebrow at me, mirrorDave.
David is unable to handle his rock and roll lifestyle; considering something more bluegrass-y.
It takes very little to create the illusion of security: just a few pieces of wood can do it.
David has the best non-roommate ever and I'm not talking about the giant dead beetle.
the modern amateur philosopher inside of me asks, "If I cannot tweet or share my status update, do I really exist?"
David finds an increasing number of things irrelevant. Why not this thing?
As I pack the artifacts from my life into boxes I realize that the people in it have helped make it pretty awesome.
Newsflash: Usain Bolt= Fast. Wow.
David curses stuff.
“don’t stop ‘til you get enough!”
“Goodnight, Moon”
David is tempted by the prospect of a landline. Really, really tempted.
David met his adorable second cousin, ran up the side of a little mountain, watched the bright orange sunrise and is using up his adjectives in hot Arizona.
September:
David was only over Facebook when he couldn't get to it.
David ran a practice on the turf in the rain with 25 people. Did I slip into an alternate universe?
Field space is on my mind.
David is after fjords and bjork.
David wonders if he can be a fan of Finse.
The ants are throwing a welcome back party and lots of them are invited.
David feels a low constant hum of the question, "is this important?"
October:
David is going to plop his priorities in a coliseum, have them battle gladiators, and if they live then he'll know what to do.
David played crab soccer in the park this morning. It was a crabtacular day to abuse my arms and hands.
David is quite pleased to know you.
David is ham and cheese, ham and biscuits, hamhocks, ham and pineapple, honey-baked ham, MC Hammer, green eggs and ham...
David screamed like mad for a tie and walked home with chants of U-S-A ringing in his ears.
David quietly wrestles some big questions. The questions appear to have both a size and tactical advantage.
David just found out that deep down inside, he's still a Chiefs fan.
As the Kool-Aid man once said as he broke through the wall, "Oh yeah!"
Wayne's World?
Adversity is the test. Defeat is the education. Pay attention and pack some extra socks next time.
David thinks the Internet should know that Roller Derby is awesome. See, look, I even said it on the Internet.
November:
David is turning left.
David thinks daylight savings time should be an individual choice. This could be problematic when meeting someone at 10 PM give or take 1 hour.
The rain is complicating an already complicated weekend. Biting off more Ultimate than I can chew is catching up with me NOW.
My marathon PR is about 50 seconds slower than Sarah Palin's. Who do I get to blame?
A very late layout on some bad force side defense led to full on cramping in BOTH calves simultaneously. Not the highlight of my day.
David is wondering when he became a planner.
I'm an Uncle x 2. Welcome Parker!
December:
The Internet is good for lots of things, but hugging isn't one of them.
David is brought to you by the number 5.
David is concerned that babies are taking over Facebook. First Facebook, next...
If I get sick, I'm going down fighting. I am not afraid to pull hair.
early to bed and early to rise, hopefully makes this man f-a-s-t.
37:07 in the morning, not shot by John Wilkes Booth at night. Nice day, indeed.
I need some hair to pull. I'm going down...
oh instant karma, why do you take so long to get at me?
David has decided to mentally add "in bed" to all Facebook updates. It's like eating fortune cookies for days.
You can cancel my flight, but you can't cancel my fun. Yeah, snow!
David is excited and nervous to tele-ski today.
David hopes status updates and snow blanket you and yours with all the holiday cheer you can handle, and maybe a cup more.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Back to basics
It's been about 10 years since I went from downhill skis to the snowboard. I can't remember the exact moment when I looked over jealously at all of those "cool" boarders shredding the mountain and thought, "I want to try that." I wasn't the greatest skier, but I could go pretty much anywhere on the mountain from in the trees to the black diamonds. I couldn't keep my skis perfectly parallel, but I sensed that it would take many expensive lessons to get me from "good" to "great". Instead, I decided to try a new way down the hill. I've read that skiing is easy to learn and hard to master and snowboarding is hard to learn and easy to master. I think that's accurate. The first few days of snowboarding were brutal. I slammed into the ground repeatedly as I caught edges or couldn't find a way to stop. Snowboards don't pop off in a violent crash, that plank stays attached to your feet which meant hopping up to try again was a cinch. Slam down, hop up, slam down, repeat. I took lessons, I had body aches, and then... it all came together. Turning in those sweeping parallel turns that look so cool and take years to get good at on skis, suddenly clicked on the snowboard. From then on, I was mostly a snowboarder. If pressed at the top of a precipice or a field of moguls, I would probably still choose skis, but on an open run a snowboard is still really cool.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to try a new way down the hill- telemark skiing. It's downhill with a free-heel. It involves lunging turns and probably works best for use in the back country. I wasn't in the back country, instead returning to A-basin after 15 years or so away. A-basin has a lot of acreage above the tree line, which can be disorienting. Yesterday, I was disoriented for other reasons as I tried to learn this new way down. The lunges were as tiring as I expected and my struggle was mostly frustrating. I was surprised to find that in a pinch I could fall back on alpine turns, but since I'd come for the challenge of learning tele (short for telemark) turns, that's what I tried to do. I'd read a book of tips and A tried to give me hints as we went, but mostly I battled. I could see the similarities between snowboarding and tele-skiing, but translating the body motions was exhausting work. I was able to turn right with some success, but turning left was just not happening. A claimed I needed more speed, but I know that I needed more body control and a renewal of trust that when I moved from one edge of the ski, to the flat, to the other edge I would be able to recover. At times, I had enough success to make me proud and at other times I threw up my hands in exasperation. Tele-skiing and the altitude wore me out quickly, but I enjoyed the challenge enough that I might try again. In ways that I can't quite explain, I think getting out of my comfort zone was a very good thing.
It's been about 10 years since I went from downhill skis to the snowboard. I can't remember the exact moment when I looked over jealously at all of those "cool" boarders shredding the mountain and thought, "I want to try that." I wasn't the greatest skier, but I could go pretty much anywhere on the mountain from in the trees to the black diamonds. I couldn't keep my skis perfectly parallel, but I sensed that it would take many expensive lessons to get me from "good" to "great". Instead, I decided to try a new way down the hill. I've read that skiing is easy to learn and hard to master and snowboarding is hard to learn and easy to master. I think that's accurate. The first few days of snowboarding were brutal. I slammed into the ground repeatedly as I caught edges or couldn't find a way to stop. Snowboards don't pop off in a violent crash, that plank stays attached to your feet which meant hopping up to try again was a cinch. Slam down, hop up, slam down, repeat. I took lessons, I had body aches, and then... it all came together. Turning in those sweeping parallel turns that look so cool and take years to get good at on skis, suddenly clicked on the snowboard. From then on, I was mostly a snowboarder. If pressed at the top of a precipice or a field of moguls, I would probably still choose skis, but on an open run a snowboard is still really cool.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to try a new way down the hill- telemark skiing. It's downhill with a free-heel. It involves lunging turns and probably works best for use in the back country. I wasn't in the back country, instead returning to A-basin after 15 years or so away. A-basin has a lot of acreage above the tree line, which can be disorienting. Yesterday, I was disoriented for other reasons as I tried to learn this new way down. The lunges were as tiring as I expected and my struggle was mostly frustrating. I was surprised to find that in a pinch I could fall back on alpine turns, but since I'd come for the challenge of learning tele (short for telemark) turns, that's what I tried to do. I'd read a book of tips and A tried to give me hints as we went, but mostly I battled. I could see the similarities between snowboarding and tele-skiing, but translating the body motions was exhausting work. I was able to turn right with some success, but turning left was just not happening. A claimed I needed more speed, but I know that I needed more body control and a renewal of trust that when I moved from one edge of the ski, to the flat, to the other edge I would be able to recover. At times, I had enough success to make me proud and at other times I threw up my hands in exasperation. Tele-skiing and the altitude wore me out quickly, but I enjoyed the challenge enough that I might try again. In ways that I can't quite explain, I think getting out of my comfort zone was a very good thing.
DC has it
I got to place a small check mark next to a few big items on the DC list. Thanks to the deputy roomie, we woke up early in the morning and went to see decorations at 1600 Penn. We saw the more public spaces, the colored rooms, and such. It was a thrill and something on my list, but not quite as exciting as I'd hoped. I couldn't really detect the O' touch with any of the decor.
Later in the weekend, C took me to Ford's theater for "A Christmas Carol". It was good for getting in the spirit. I've never seen the play with actual Christmas carols, so I thought that was a nice touch. I'm told Ford's theater has recently been redone, but I don't have much theater experience, so I'm not sure what we saw. I did enjoy the set design of the play, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't part of the renovation. Lincoln's infamous balcony was still intact. I was proud that the bus got us part way too and from the play. So urban.
Last weekend, we got the snow I've been waiting since that first year when it snowed about 15 inches. I'd say it was about 20 inches where I was. It canceled my flight out of town, but was otherwise great. It was pretty, white, and I could dive in it. A lot. So, I did. I found I was only diving off my right foot. Next time we get 20 inches I might need to work on that. I left town before it got too messy. Probably not a bad way to go, well except for the 11-hour travel day...
I got to place a small check mark next to a few big items on the DC list. Thanks to the deputy roomie, we woke up early in the morning and went to see decorations at 1600 Penn. We saw the more public spaces, the colored rooms, and such. It was a thrill and something on my list, but not quite as exciting as I'd hoped. I couldn't really detect the O' touch with any of the decor.
Later in the weekend, C took me to Ford's theater for "A Christmas Carol". It was good for getting in the spirit. I've never seen the play with actual Christmas carols, so I thought that was a nice touch. I'm told Ford's theater has recently been redone, but I don't have much theater experience, so I'm not sure what we saw. I did enjoy the set design of the play, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't part of the renovation. Lincoln's infamous balcony was still intact. I was proud that the bus got us part way too and from the play. So urban.
Last weekend, we got the snow I've been waiting since that first year when it snowed about 15 inches. I'd say it was about 20 inches where I was. It canceled my flight out of town, but was otherwise great. It was pretty, white, and I could dive in it. A lot. So, I did. I found I was only diving off my right foot. Next time we get 20 inches I might need to work on that. I left town before it got too messy. Probably not a bad way to go, well except for the 11-hour travel day...
Monday, December 14, 2009
Triumph in the land of doubt
I spent much of the week explaining to myself why my 10k race would not be a success. My body felt tired. My running felt out of sync. I hadn't run enough. I hadn't run fast in quite some time. I don't run 10k races. It would be cold or wet or I don't run 10k races. I've run enough races to know that my brain lies and I said something about it to AJ, "My brain is in negativity mode." He said something like, "You know how to push your limits from running and from lifting. You'll be fine."
MB and I formulated a conservative plan. We would run 6:15 miles for a while and see how we felt. We were running as Team Shiver, a collection of Ultimate players brave enough to run a race in the mild Mid-Atlantic winter. There was a chance of rain, but I was secretly hoping for snow. The rain let up and turned to a mist. We crawled over a barrier and into the front quarter of the starting group. There were thousands of runners. "Go" was uttered and we shuffled to the start. Moments later, the race plan was out the window as competitive urges took over. We dodged and weaved our way through the crowd. Sometimes I was on MB's heels and sometimes he was on mine. The mile came quickly at about 5:55. So much for strategy.
From there, MB and I settled in and passed people. He led me. I led him. We each took a side and cruised on. We passed the mayor. I took a look at Reagan National Airport in the morning fog. We cruised through two miles at about 12:08. We hit the 5k mark at 18:43. Things were going well. We wrapped around the point and doubled part way back. I felt my first twinge of tiredness at that point, but fought on. Our passing had slowed and teammate SM informed us we were in something like 55th place as those coming met those going. I wasn't sure what to do with that information, but my inclination was to find more people to pass. We crossed 4 miles at something like 23:58. I don't remember how it happened, but suddenly MB was way out in front of me. I could still chase the black and gold of his stocking cap, but we were out of touch. I struggled on. I watched him battle a green and gold singlet and move on. A little later I went past too. I kept my eyes up and on his hat. I passed the 5 mile mark at 30:03. My body felt strong, although at times my arms felt a little heavy. As I pushed on, with the bobbing black and gold as my goal, I figured if I could hold on for 6 minutes and 43 seconds, I would be done. I don't know exactly why I thought that was the amount left, but I was pretty convinced. I crested a small hill on the mostly flat course and found a small group to battle as we made our way to the straight-away finish. I checked my watch and I still had 3 minutes to power through. I chased a woman who was moving, then I passed a guy as well. For the first time all day, someone came up on my shoulder. I held him off as we picked up the pace more and more. Then I break him. The long straight to the finish was still a pretty long straight to the finish and I soon broke too. He came back and passed me and kindly encouraged me. I struggled in, frustrated that I'd made my move too early. I had to fight a bit and I used the team as inspiration. I made my way in at 37:07, with a final place of 31st. Not a bad little 10k.
Since there were very few uniforms, there was no way to get a sense of how the team was doing. We could only support one another and hope. I think each of us had a moment where the team inspired us to fight off a few extra seconds. Later we would find out that we were 4th out of 49 teams. We'd done well as our 7 or 8 member team had become 6 and one of those didn't get a working chip. Four times (at least one of each gender) counted toward our final time. We were about 7 minutes out of third place, but had lots to celebrate over breakfast. I'm hoping for more some other day.
I spent much of the week explaining to myself why my 10k race would not be a success. My body felt tired. My running felt out of sync. I hadn't run enough. I hadn't run fast in quite some time. I don't run 10k races. It would be cold or wet or I don't run 10k races. I've run enough races to know that my brain lies and I said something about it to AJ, "My brain is in negativity mode." He said something like, "You know how to push your limits from running and from lifting. You'll be fine."
MB and I formulated a conservative plan. We would run 6:15 miles for a while and see how we felt. We were running as Team Shiver, a collection of Ultimate players brave enough to run a race in the mild Mid-Atlantic winter. There was a chance of rain, but I was secretly hoping for snow. The rain let up and turned to a mist. We crawled over a barrier and into the front quarter of the starting group. There were thousands of runners. "Go" was uttered and we shuffled to the start. Moments later, the race plan was out the window as competitive urges took over. We dodged and weaved our way through the crowd. Sometimes I was on MB's heels and sometimes he was on mine. The mile came quickly at about 5:55. So much for strategy.
From there, MB and I settled in and passed people. He led me. I led him. We each took a side and cruised on. We passed the mayor. I took a look at Reagan National Airport in the morning fog. We cruised through two miles at about 12:08. We hit the 5k mark at 18:43. Things were going well. We wrapped around the point and doubled part way back. I felt my first twinge of tiredness at that point, but fought on. Our passing had slowed and teammate SM informed us we were in something like 55th place as those coming met those going. I wasn't sure what to do with that information, but my inclination was to find more people to pass. We crossed 4 miles at something like 23:58. I don't remember how it happened, but suddenly MB was way out in front of me. I could still chase the black and gold of his stocking cap, but we were out of touch. I struggled on. I watched him battle a green and gold singlet and move on. A little later I went past too. I kept my eyes up and on his hat. I passed the 5 mile mark at 30:03. My body felt strong, although at times my arms felt a little heavy. As I pushed on, with the bobbing black and gold as my goal, I figured if I could hold on for 6 minutes and 43 seconds, I would be done. I don't know exactly why I thought that was the amount left, but I was pretty convinced. I crested a small hill on the mostly flat course and found a small group to battle as we made our way to the straight-away finish. I checked my watch and I still had 3 minutes to power through. I chased a woman who was moving, then I passed a guy as well. For the first time all day, someone came up on my shoulder. I held him off as we picked up the pace more and more. Then I break him. The long straight to the finish was still a pretty long straight to the finish and I soon broke too. He came back and passed me and kindly encouraged me. I struggled in, frustrated that I'd made my move too early. I had to fight a bit and I used the team as inspiration. I made my way in at 37:07, with a final place of 31st. Not a bad little 10k.
Since there were very few uniforms, there was no way to get a sense of how the team was doing. We could only support one another and hope. I think each of us had a moment where the team inspired us to fight off a few extra seconds. Later we would find out that we were 4th out of 49 teams. We'd done well as our 7 or 8 member team had become 6 and one of those didn't get a working chip. Four times (at least one of each gender) counted toward our final time. We were about 7 minutes out of third place, but had lots to celebrate over breakfast. I'm hoping for more some other day.
Friday, December 11, 2009
The posts that got away
I didn't quite get through the blogging month, but I'm pleased with what I did get through. I found a few things out. When I work at it my interests do still extend slightly beyond running, Ultimate, and working out. I also found that writing every day made me more observant. In the last few weeks as I've fallen out of the habit of posting, days sometimes go by both instantly and terribly slowly. All of this can't be attributed to blogging, but I think blogging takes my awareness of interaction and purpose up a notch.
I can't decide if the daily writing also loosened up some other creativity inside of me. I had a quick spell where I was feeling all kinds of creative. I came up with projects for myself. I hardly ever do that.
I haven't meant to stop blogging completely, although the thought did cross my mind, but somehow each day has managed to get away. I'd like to tackle a few of the items in brief for my memoirs before moving into this weekend and adding a few more.
Hiking on Thanksgiving
For the second year in a row I was in the Smokey Mountains with C's family and we did a little hiking on Thanksgiving. The fresh air and the sense of completing a hike pre-turkey is extremely satisfying for me. It's all made possible by the fine cooks who stay behind, but it certainly gives me something to be thankful for. I don't know if two years are enough to make a tradition, but tradition or not, it's a great way to enjoy Thanksgiving.
Roller Derby Fan Club
Friends gathered together to cheer on LBJ in her first full bout. We brought signs. I had my face painted. When I sat down, I forgot that most of my face is covered in beard, but the artist did well to work around it. As a fan, I had a terrible time sitting still. I paced. I worried that LBJ wouldn't get playing time. I worried about how she'd do. I worried about her getting hurt because she seems to think that injury is a foregone conclusion. She played. Her team had a stirring come from behind victory. She had some nice hits and either hunger or nerves left a curious feeling in my tummy.
Girls on the Run
I don't even remember how I got roped into this one, but somewhere along the line I signed up to be a "buddy" for a fifth grade girl. I didn't know what to expect, but I was told that I'd been placed with the fast girl. Running a 5k at that age is impressive, but what's fast? I didn't have a clue. Up at 5:30 AM and riding with a stranger, I soon was on a bus full of young girls and their buddies (mostly moms and teachers). The girls seemed excited. They'd been working for several months building up to this distance. The chaos had only just begun. About 6,000 girls and their buddies later, we were crossing the starting line in waves and my buddy was rearing to go. The road was packed and my buddy tripped and fell. It was snowing. Buddy picked herself up and wiped away the pain and made her way on. There was lots to complain about- snow, cold, puddles, crowds, falling, but I tried to keep it positive. I offered to sing songs, but for some reason buddy wasn't buying it. She struggled a bit, but kept after it and finished in about 40 minutes. I think she was a little disappointed, but mostly proud as were her classmates. They had a lot to be proud of. It's a big deal to run that long at that age. I might consider returning in the spring, but probably only for the same buddy. I think it's a great program, but the race and be done involvement is likely not as rewarding as seeing the girls become runners. On the flip side, I feel great about my 5 hours of community service.
Symphony
I probably should have napped after the run, but instead I went to the Symphony to support a friend and her viola. The snow continued. I felt so cultured, warm, and sleepy.
Dance party
I've lost track of the days, but I'm pretty sure that some time after the Symphony I ended up at a dance party. It's well told that I enjoy dancing, but I'm primarily a wedding dancer. Club dancing to me is a bit like ice dancing to a figure skater. Maybe it was the size of the group I was in or the thump-thump-thump of the music hit me just right, but I awoke from my club dancing stupor and got into it. I wasn't as into it as the chubby guys GETTING DOWN to "All the single ladies," but I was into it. I've got moves. I'm pretty sure my moves are all about enthusiasm, but it seems to fool most people. I wonder where else that would work.
I didn't quite get through the blogging month, but I'm pleased with what I did get through. I found a few things out. When I work at it my interests do still extend slightly beyond running, Ultimate, and working out. I also found that writing every day made me more observant. In the last few weeks as I've fallen out of the habit of posting, days sometimes go by both instantly and terribly slowly. All of this can't be attributed to blogging, but I think blogging takes my awareness of interaction and purpose up a notch.
I can't decide if the daily writing also loosened up some other creativity inside of me. I had a quick spell where I was feeling all kinds of creative. I came up with projects for myself. I hardly ever do that.
I haven't meant to stop blogging completely, although the thought did cross my mind, but somehow each day has managed to get away. I'd like to tackle a few of the items in brief for my memoirs before moving into this weekend and adding a few more.
Hiking on Thanksgiving
For the second year in a row I was in the Smokey Mountains with C's family and we did a little hiking on Thanksgiving. The fresh air and the sense of completing a hike pre-turkey is extremely satisfying for me. It's all made possible by the fine cooks who stay behind, but it certainly gives me something to be thankful for. I don't know if two years are enough to make a tradition, but tradition or not, it's a great way to enjoy Thanksgiving.
Roller Derby Fan Club
Friends gathered together to cheer on LBJ in her first full bout. We brought signs. I had my face painted. When I sat down, I forgot that most of my face is covered in beard, but the artist did well to work around it. As a fan, I had a terrible time sitting still. I paced. I worried that LBJ wouldn't get playing time. I worried about how she'd do. I worried about her getting hurt because she seems to think that injury is a foregone conclusion. She played. Her team had a stirring come from behind victory. She had some nice hits and either hunger or nerves left a curious feeling in my tummy.
Girls on the Run
I don't even remember how I got roped into this one, but somewhere along the line I signed up to be a "buddy" for a fifth grade girl. I didn't know what to expect, but I was told that I'd been placed with the fast girl. Running a 5k at that age is impressive, but what's fast? I didn't have a clue. Up at 5:30 AM and riding with a stranger, I soon was on a bus full of young girls and their buddies (mostly moms and teachers). The girls seemed excited. They'd been working for several months building up to this distance. The chaos had only just begun. About 6,000 girls and their buddies later, we were crossing the starting line in waves and my buddy was rearing to go. The road was packed and my buddy tripped and fell. It was snowing. Buddy picked herself up and wiped away the pain and made her way on. There was lots to complain about- snow, cold, puddles, crowds, falling, but I tried to keep it positive. I offered to sing songs, but for some reason buddy wasn't buying it. She struggled a bit, but kept after it and finished in about 40 minutes. I think she was a little disappointed, but mostly proud as were her classmates. They had a lot to be proud of. It's a big deal to run that long at that age. I might consider returning in the spring, but probably only for the same buddy. I think it's a great program, but the race and be done involvement is likely not as rewarding as seeing the girls become runners. On the flip side, I feel great about my 5 hours of community service.
Symphony
I probably should have napped after the run, but instead I went to the Symphony to support a friend and her viola. The snow continued. I felt so cultured, warm, and sleepy.
Dance party
I've lost track of the days, but I'm pretty sure that some time after the Symphony I ended up at a dance party. It's well told that I enjoy dancing, but I'm primarily a wedding dancer. Club dancing to me is a bit like ice dancing to a figure skater. Maybe it was the size of the group I was in or the thump-thump-thump of the music hit me just right, but I awoke from my club dancing stupor and got into it. I wasn't as into it as the chubby guys GETTING DOWN to "All the single ladies," but I was into it. I've got moves. I'm pretty sure my moves are all about enthusiasm, but it seems to fool most people. I wonder where else that would work.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 23, 2009
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.
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, November 22, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 16, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)