2010 movies

I've really been clinging to the past recently. I re-watched Finding Forrester, Star Trek, and have the Back to the Future trilogy all lined up as a possibility for tonight. The new ones in 2010 went like this-

1. All About Steve
2. Fired Up
3. Legion
4. Good Dick
5. Avatar
6. Hollywoodland
7. Confederate States of America
8. Singles
9. Blindside
10. The Fantastic Mr. Fox
11. It's Complicated
12. Hot Tub Time Machine
13. The Invention of Lying
14. Kick Ass
15. Bottleshock
16. King of California
17. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
18. District 9
19. Funny People
20. The Chateau
21. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
22. $9.99
23. Appaloosa
24. Paul Blart Mall Cop
25. Inception
26. Zac and Miri make a Porno
27. Bicker Schlecker's Cool Idea
28. Moon
29. Jackson Pollack
30. The Girl who Played with Fire
31. Mongol
32. Men who stare at goats
33. Malice in Wonderland
34. Visioneers
35. ???? Something with Time Travel in Vermont?
36. The Kids Are All Right
37. Piranha 3D
38. Invictus
39. The Town
40. Inglorious Basterds
41. Leap Year
42. State of Play
43. Gran Torino
44. Public Enemies
45. Iron Man 2
46. Valentine's Day
47. The Express
48. Paris je t'aime
49. I Love You Beth Cooper
50. Clash of the Titans
51. Monsoon Wedding
52. In July
53. Please Give
54.

Inception was good. Piranha 3D was everything it promised to be and gets credit for that and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was a pretty solid movie version of a good book. Good Dick was odd and uncomfortable. Public Enemies was pretty disappointing.

I miss Netflix on demand.

2010 books

For some reason I've started several books in the last week and not been able to finish them. I also launched in for a quick re-read of the last 200 pages of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. It's still a winner. Here's the ones that I got all the way through in 2010.

1. Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and sex
2. Bel Canto (re-read)
3. Up in the Air
4. Enter Jeeves: 15 Early Stories
5. Food Rules: An Eater's Manual
6. Olive Kitteridge
7. The Lost Symbol
8. The Yellow Jersey
9. My Life in France
10. The Girl Who Played with Fire
11. Never Let Go
12. Nudge
13. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
14. Ender's Game (re-read)
15. Traffic
16. An Abundance of Katherines
17. Seeing
18. Abide with Me
19. One Day
20. The Wind-up Girl
21. The Simple Truth
22. Drive
23. Getting to Yes
24. B is for Beer
25. Soon I will be invincible
26. Simple Genius
27. Click
28. The Bean Trees (re-read?)
29. Bounce

The tops: Olive Kitteridge was really well-written, but kind of depressing. My Life in France was entertaining and fun to read in France. The Girl books were suspenseful and fun. Bounce was really interesting, but odd at the beginning and the end.

The ones that disappointed: B is for Beer, Seeing, The Yellow Jersey.

I walked intro the living room this morning and saw my mom reading the news on the iPad. The paper is gone and this tablet remains. In the same moment, I glanced at the fireplace and thought of the crumpled newspapers of another era and their use as fire starters. How would we start fires now? The electrical switch on the wall should suffice. The electric fire will sizzle to life. I bet even misbehaving children will receive batteries in their stockings here.

I am hunting and pecking to make this post a reality. Very quickly I am realizing that the iPad is not a tool for use with the old ways, blogging, email,etc., but for apps that I have not yet discovered.

The speed of change is reflected in the statement above as now a generation of change takes place in a

I promised an update

Bad news. It may have been the high road. It may have been differing tastes in humor. It may have been too much other stress, but I'm afraid that my follow-up to yesterday's prank is to report that there was little reaction to our hi-jinx. I heard mumbles that "maybe someone thought taping the fridge shut went too far" and my particular scrawl was recognized, but otherwise nada.


Sorry, kids. Hopefully, Santa's next prank will go over better.

I probably won't be featured on a tv show about an office any time soon

Tomorrow is the holiday party at my office. One of my coworkers is on the planning committee. Today, before he left work, he taped the refrigerator shut and posted signs that no one was to touch the food or open the fridge. This seemed a little excessive to a few of us. I mean, he taped the fridge shut.

We considered a few revenge scenarios, including emptying the fridge and leaving a ransom note or taking a bite out of each item, but ultimately decided that hysterics and/or a heart attack were not going to feel like victory in the morning.

Instead, we broke through the tape and placed post-its with comments from Santa and friends on all of the items. Comments like:
"Ginger ale gives the elves gas."
"Where's the beef?"
"I almost named a reindeer Tiramisu."

We were as clever as we could be and we tried not to leave any item out. We then taped up the fridge and covered his note with a letter from Santa. Reactions tomorrow...

An observation or four

*I don't prepare my legs for winter like I prepare the rest of my body. When the cold comes and the wind whistles and my pants flap, my legs think, "Hmm. There should be a leg-shaped sweater."

*One of my favorite things about snow is the accompanying silence. I always thought that was somehow related to the acoustics of frozen water. Tonight as I walked to the store in biting cold it occurred to me that the silence might just come from folks staying bundled up indoors.

*I never understood how anybody could want to do things like manage or go in to business for themselves. Time passed. I can now see how either the frustration of being managed and/or the thrill and challenge of taking control could drive a person to such places.

*The Internet must be the most important place in the world; why else would I spend all of my time there?

I just felt like running

Here's the poetic version:

'Twas the night before jingling and all through the house,
my hacking cough was scaring the mouse.
Paul was recovering from an intestinal party
Amelia announced that she'd be quite tardy.

Michelle tracked down friends from her personal history
while Bill disappeared leaving only a mystery.
The maybe's had all turned to no
while the tiny drops of rain wished to be snow.

Darkness and fog were the monuments' blanket
and four of us wondered if we could tank it.
Surrounded by Santa's caps and elfish hoisery
jingle bells were scattered from shoelace to rosary.

Packed in like sardines enjoying a can,
we heard nothing but jingling and saw bouncing man.
On Katie, on Michelle, on Dave, and Paul
running a 10k for one and all.

Paul bolted early like a missile toe should,
and conquered Hain's point before the rest of us would.
Next came Dave alone, then Michelle and Katie as a duet,
all ran as quickly as their bodies would let.

The fog never lifted, but spirits were bright
those elfish legs were quite a sight.
All four finished wet and strong,
to the cheers of a jingle bell song.

And then before the risen sun,
we said "That was fun."
Oh and also,
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good run."


Results here.

Bill did join us and so we managed to place 14th as a team!

The prose version follows:
The runny nose started on Wednesday. The hamstring strain on Thursday. The ankle has been acting up for a couple of weeks and the back jumped into the mix early last week. As the nose was joined by a sore throat and a cough, I stopped pressing and started trying to heal. Cough syrup and vitamin C were in heavy rotation with sleeping.

As I went to bed last night, nursing my NyQuil, I wondered if running in the Jingle Bell 10k was wise. I still wondered at quarter to five when I woke up. I didn't want to miss the race. There was a loose team counting on me and it also happens to be the social event of my weekend. Sniffling, I borrowed a car and headed to the polo fields for the second Sunday in a row.

I arrived by 6 since I still needed to pick up my race bib. I found there are parking spaces in the middle of the night and the early morning. Under the cover of darkness and fog, I picked up my packet and bided my time, inefficiently, I might add. I spent some of the wee hour forgiving myself for taking a car to the race. Not every test of my mettle needs to test every single mettle I've got. I wasn't worried about my race performance, I knew it was going to be a rough day. My main worry was ramifications later in the week and general discomfort from cold and rain. The rain was light. At around 7, I gathered with pieces of a team and we casually made our way to the starting line. We eschewed the warm-up in favor of polite conversation.

I remained well dressed and warm up until start time. Even then, I decided to keep all my clothes on and choose comfort bordering on overheating over a swifter outlook. We missed "go" but followed the hundreds in front of us. I trudged out of the gate and Paul took off. I sped up after him, but could tell that I couldn't keep pace today. I crossed the mile in a comfortable 6:12. I passed a few more people and then found my battleground. In another 6:35, I crossed the two mile mark. Just under a third of the way through and finishing seemed possible.

The jingle bells were louder this year. Perhaps they echoed off the fog on the Potomac. Or maybe my breathing wasn't quite as heavy. There were good moments where I felt strong and fast and bad moments where I felt sickly. For a while "here comes Santa Claus" played on repeat in my head. I crossed the 5k just a hair under 20 minutes, my optimism was intact but fading. I chased some nice looking elf legs and traded places with several challengers in a see-saw battle.

I tried to recall the quote I'd sent out to the team- "It's
very hard to understand in the beginning that the whole idea is not to
beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is
against the little voice inside you that wants to quit." ~Dr. George
Sheehan. I never came up with it directly, but I felt it most of the way as I battled myself above all others.

I passed mile 5 right at 33 minutes. A sub 40 minute 10k still seemed possible, but it wasn't. I struggled mightily during the last mile and then closed as hard as I could. I finished in 40:53 in 108th place. I was nearly 4 minutes slower than last year, but I was ahead of some of my challengers of this day and behind some others.

Knowing that I'd been sick and unsure of whether I'd even run, I remembered that running fast isn't the only reason I run. Having a sense of purpose, a reason to wake up before the sun and be excited is a reason. So is meeting people and sharing an experience. So is competition which occurs just as vigorously at 6:35 per mile as it does anywhere else. I didn't feel wacky out in the rain. I just felt alive. It's hard to ask for more than that, especially before 9 AM on a Sunday.

Bike sharing

On the surface there seems no reason why I'd need to participate in a bike sharing program in my own town. I've had some success sharing abroad, but a year or two ago when Smartbikes came to DC, I had no use for them. I've got a bike (or two) that I can ride, so I couldn't justify becoming a member of the bike sharing community. The model Smartbikes was using didn't make sense to me either. They wanted a membership fee like Zipcar uses so they could issue a card for using their bikes. I understand why a person can't just walk up, swipe a credit card, and drive, but the same logic doesn't apply for a bike.

Recently, Capital Bikeshare has come to town. They've come to town in a big way, too. While I've only seen two Smartbike locations, I can rattle off at least five Capital Bikeshare racks. Capital Bikeshare has a member fee too, but they get it right because they also have a 24-membership fee of $5. Tourists and those as indecisive as me can take advantage without commitment. Grabbing a bike to get to and from a location in trips of less than 30 minutes keeps that fee at $5. That's more than a bus ride, but getting pretty close to a Metro ride. A little extra time costs more money, but it's a reasonable amount. These bikes aren't meant for all day touring, but they are great for short jaunts.

I chose to test them out because I didn't want to leave my bike locked out in the open all day this past Saturday. I had to be at CUA before the Metro was running. I had limited options, so it seemed like a good excuse for a test. The bikes have three speeds and for city riding third gear was passable. There were a few flat spots on the Metropolitan Branch Trail where I could have used a bigger gear, but it wasn't bad. The seat is oddly lumpy, but not as uncomfortable as it looks. I missed my toe clips a bit, but I suspect I'm in the minority on that. The system is simple to use. The charges are reasonable and now I'm considering adding a bike share membership for the year to my legion of transportation options.

Ah, big city life.

Subs, you say?
For the first time that I can recall, I stood on the sidelines with CUA teams and wondered what to do with all of the subs. The open team had 18 players at CUFF this weekend while the women ran with 11 or 12. I spent most of Saturday with the women. They continue to improve and traded points early with Georgetown, took half, but fell 9-7. They played down to Towson B in a sloppy game and managed to win 9-7. They then took on a fiery Salisbury team and again took half. It was 9-9 as the play-makers for both teams were making plays on offense and defense. Salisbury eventually pulled away to win 11-9, but it all seemed so close. The final game of the day was against powerhouse Maryland and after the tough loss, the egg would not get cracked.

The women’s team is captained by two seniors, both handle well and both claim they’d rather cut, despite their general effectiveness as handlers. I believe the rest of the team, except for one grad student who pops in and out, is sophomores or freshmen, so there’s lots of hope for the future. We’ve got two handlers in training who seem to be improving in those roles, but aren’t quite comfortable yet. There are three sophomores cutting who played at Sectionals last year and they have strong cuts and good hands. All three make a pretty big impact on both sides of the disc, but one in particular has really started to read the disc and catch well above her head. When her hands go up and she starts to extend, 8 times out of 10 she’s been coming down with the disc. This makes her highly effective on offense and a solid deep-deep in the zone on defense. Of the new players, we have a couple speedy receivers who have decent hands and are working on their throws. We have one who quietly goes about her business and I need to watch more closely, but I think she also quietly shuts down her opponents. They just don’t touch the disc. She also came up with one big D on Saturday on a deep put that floated. There are a few others with promise as well. There’s a lot to be excited about, as they notched a hard-cap victory over Messiah and two close losses, one to ?, and one to conference (rival of the future) St. Mary’s. Habit ended up 16th overall, dropping in seed a few notches, but I think they’ll come back stronger.

I spent less time with the men, but got to witness the highlight of the weekend on Saturday. After going 2-1 in pool play, Habit faced off against Salisbury for the right to enter the championship bracket. The basic game plan was to keep our go-to guys in the game until they needed rest. This was 2 cutters and 1 handler. We then rotated 4 handlers around the other 2 handler spots, trying to keep them fresh and focusing on offense or defense where we could. The other 2 cutters were rotated between offense and defense, some occasionally going both ways, but usually between 3 players on either side. Using those 13 players, we still had 5 in reserve on the sidelines. Salisbury felt the full force of this plan as Habit was tearing it up with those 13. It was 4-0 before they knew what hit them. It was 7-2 at half and 13-3 by game’s end. The lengthy defenders gave them fits and the speedy cutters did the same. It was a thing of beauty. It was hard for me to leave 5 people standing on the sidelines, but they all said they understood and if they truly did, I have high hopes for the future.

When we tried the same mix again against Delaware on Sunday, we found out that Delaware was not as impressed. We fought hard, but Delaware was much stronger and dispatched Habit 13-5 (I think). From there, our legs started to give. We gave Rutgers an early fight, but made some costly mistakes and seemed to lose interest in defense so we fell behind 7-3, before opening up the rotation and losing 13-4 (I think). It was a similar story with Towson, particularly because they made sure to keep the disc out of the right hands making our offense sputter. That too was made worse by some ill-timed (or well-forced) mistakes. We didn’t open that one up for rotating in subs, and soon fell 13-4 (or 5). I didn’t watch the game for 15th place, but with an open rotation and our captains on the sidelines, we fell hard again. We all checked our egos as best we could and hope that we’ll build character from this experience. I have high hopes for the team this year. They look as strong as ever and we have some depth to go with the talent. We’re going to have to more fully form into a team, but I think we took a step in the right direction as we move toward the vision of DIII Nationals. I don’t think it will be an easy road, but with some time together and some good luck, I think it’s a very real possibility. That’s pretty exciting. And subs are pretty exciting too!

The ghost of an omelet

The manufactured screams from across the street had mostly died down. Only the fog machine and the flashing lights continued. The bewitching hour for small children had passed. The little super heroes had left the streets and taken plastic pumpkins full of candy with them. The night was not quiet yet, but activity was on the decline. I settled in to watch television.

The THWACK of my second floor apartment living room window reminded me that Halloween was not yet over. I didn't even have time to turn before egg was streaming down the window like the unfertilized chicken goo it had become. Glancing out the window I saw the teens who weren't even amused by their violent act. Letting out a yelp, I dashed to the fridge. I swung open the door like it belonged to a saloon and prepared to retaliate. The carton was my holster, and I drew my guns. I ran to the window with the logic of the King of Babylon swirling in my subconscious. An egg for an egg. It seemed just, but I fumbled too long and the teens soon were well out of range.

Still, I stood with egg in hand, waiting. I considered leaving the egg out at the ready in case I faced another attack, but thought better of it. Instead, I opened the window and cleaned the mess. As I hung out on the ledge wiping away the goo, my only defense was a shake of my fist at "those darn kids."

Yes
I just want to let out a guttural roar of satisfaction. It wasn't always beautiful, but my Ultimate team came to play today. That's what I wanted. We ran some good warm-up drills put on by our leaders and the wind helped reinforce our strategy. It was a back and forth battle for the first half and then we mostly cruised in the second half. I'm still struggling with my handler role. I got point-blocked and I made a few ugly throws, but I feel like there was some good work too. We all still made some mistakes, but we were making them at full speed and that meant we also made some great plays. There were some big throws, big catches, and bid d. Yes. Thank you, team. I hope we can keep that rolling.

Hi, Grandma

As I flip the channels and find Dancing with Stars and a musical called Glee, I can't help but think of my grandma. She watched Lawrence Welk, owned about two VHS tapes, Gigi and My Fair Lady, both gifts and always said, "They just don't make 'em like they used to."

That's probably still true, but the singing and dancing seem like they'd be right up Grandma's alley. Well, at least the dancing.

Apparent tragedy and the Internet

I have a friend whose significant other is apparently lost in the woods. He went on a solo hike some days ago, didn't show up at the appointed hour, and hasn't been heard from since. The search teams have been called off after several days of searching. Everything I know about these events I've heard from the Internet. The initial message that he was late was a Facebook status update. The outpouring of prayer and support were comments and wall posts. The updates were links to local news reports. I've followed along with a clump of fear in my throat and a mind filled with hope.

I'm trying to imagine the emotions my friend must be feeling, but my attempts at empathy are impotent. I can't face my fears, let alone hers. This may be a personal failing or it may be the only way I can continue to function. The only emotion that I can get a grip on is hope. I have hope that somehow the searches missed him and hope that he'll appear. I have hope that everyone involved has the strength to deal with these events and hope that if I'm ever faced with something so serious that I have the support and strength to do the same. I also have hope that my examination of my feelings on this issue in a public forum isn't inappropriate. I'm plowing forward because I have something to say. Is that enough? Several comments on the news sites seem to suggest it is.

I wouldn't usually take my lead from Internet commenters, but I feel an urge to defend a man I don't know. Some commenters, armed only with the knowledge of a few lines in a news report, are prepared to say that he was unprepared for this hike. I can't defend his hiking abilities, but I staunchly defend his right to go on this hike alone and off the grid. I have to believe that what these commenters are really saying is that they have hope. They are grappling with the decisions they make in their lives and on their hikes and they see something familiar in this situation. Recognizing themselves, they can only manage to express their hope in a twisted way. They have hope that if they find themselves in a dangerous or potentially tragic situation they will be able to find a way to survive. I think we all have that hope or we would never leave our homes.

I wish for courage and peace for all involved.

Trust on the Ultimate field

As I had previously recounted, the lowlight of my trip to Mixed Sectionals in September wasn't that we lost all of our games. It was a great day of Ultimate, but for the very end. In a tie game at the end of a long day, I tried to do too much. I was focused down field because I lost trust that my other handlers could move the disc. I stopped picking my spots and played a desperate brand of Ultimate that ended up costing us the game when my hucks went to no one. I mention this moment, because recently trust has caught my attention again.

My league team seems to have abandoned trust of each other. We aren't making dump throws. Handlers aren't waiting to set up their dump cuts, they are just charging in and putting themselves in a poor position. Markers aren't letting downfield defenders do their work, instead they are overplaying fakes which allows easy break throws. Throwers aren't moving the disc, they are looking for the big strike. We can attribute a variety of causes to these behaviors, but I think it boils down mainly to trust.

I've identified the issue, but I don't know how to remedy the problem. How do we get trust back? It's simple to say do the right thing, but how do we get to a point of believing it? How many players have to believe?

I sometimes wonder if I have a tendency to over-think, but in Ultimate that's usually not my problem. Something must be done. I've turned to the written word as my first attempt and thought I would share it here.

Dear Team,

I’m going to trot out a sports quote out for you.

“It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game.”

I’ve seen you at your best. I know the sort of high-flying, hard-charging, crisp-throwing Ultimate players that you can be. I know that together we can play a beautiful game of Ultimate. We’ve spent the last few years battling it out with very talented teams and often we’ve come out on the losing end. There were days when I wished for more depth on our sidelines, but I’ve always been proud of our efforts. I’ve seen nearly every one of you fighting tooth and nail to get open on a cut, to make a D, to put yourself to the test against some of the area’s finest players. I have always been pleased to be a part of Team and it’s with that in mind that I write this note and ask this of you.

Can we be the beautiful Team next week and beyond?

The Team I know and love gets down on the pull. We play hard defense. We trust our mark, our throwers, and our dump. We make easy throws when we can and we find ways to make plays when we need to. Can we be that team? I think we can. How? I think the first step is in our approach to the game. We need to look at the players we are facing and see them as REAL threats, because they are. Then we need to shut them down. We do that individually and we do that as part of a team. It takes both pieces in that equation for us to succeed- individually and as part of a team.

Maybe you’re thinking, “We’ve won almost all of our games, right?” We have, but I need us to be better. I want to be a part of something special. I think that something special is an Ultimate team that’s playing to its potential, an Ultimate team that is BETTER than its individual players. That’s what I want. Can you help me get there?

Thanks and glug,
Dave

Honestly, I thought you were a liar

I must have some verbal tick that annoys those who listen. I suspect it's the way I finish sentences with an inflection that indicates that I have more to say. I shouldn't complain, but I sit on my glass recliner in my glass apartment and prepare my stones for throwing.

I thought we'd passed this point, DC people. It seemed we'd moved on to a more truthful age. A truthful age where statements no longer needed to be held up by the word "honestly". Honestly is creeping back in to the vernacular or it's creeping back under my skin. If a speaker tends to lie, then perhaps the use of honestly is appropriate. It must act as a signal that while other statments are lies, this one is truth. It's a beacon, but how can I be sure that even the use of honestly is not a lie? I cannot.

My preference would be for speakers to make honest statements and leave the honestlies at home buried in the back of the closet. I'll agree to believe it, if speakers would just agree to let me try.

It all works out

The following anecdotes are connected, but I cannot prove it. That sounds far more compelling than it is. There aren't many moments when I wish I had a car, but Saturday I had one of those moments. Arriving by Metro at a Virginia high school, I discovered that I was actually supposed to be playing Ultimate at a Maryland middle school. Without a car, I had no hope of switching states to make even part of the game. I was stranded without Ultimate. Also, I forgot my public transit reading material. All of this, to quote some surfer dude, bummed me out.

In order to make up for missed Ultimate, I began to search for a suitable running replacement on Sunday morning. I found one, not too far away, but decided that the price and the early schedule did not suit me well, so I went about my normal schedule. As I awaited Sunday scrimmage with Habit, a sign went up on the wall behind me. It was a sign for a 5k. It was a sign for a 5k that started in 20 minutes. This late advertisement was perfect for me, but did suggest some level of disorganization.

Scrimmage time and race time supposedly coincided. I stood around waiting for players for the scrimmage and then decided that I could run a 5k and probably be ready for scrimmage when warm-ups concluded. My guess turned out to be a little off, but I went to enter the race. I expected a $5 race and was instead told that the entry fee was $25. Whoa, I said with a $10 bill in my hand. I don't need to race that much I thought as I backed up from the table. With a look to the left and right, the official decided that $10 were better than $0 and I was entered in the race. I was then asked if I'd be in the under 15, 15-21, or 21 and above category. I looked at the choices on the page and asked, "Do you want my age?"

"No, your time," was the reply

I'm no slouch when it comes to a 5k, but if anybody showed up on this Sunday morning to run under 15 minutes, they should really consider a return to division one college athletics. I picked the middle category and began to wonder what I was getting in to. I was getting in to laps on the track. That was ok, at least it was until they said that we'd be running 14 laps. I did some calculating in my head. I admit it wasn't sophisticated, but 5k is 5000 meters. It's an actual distance not a cute name for a run. The 14 laps on a track would each be 400 meters long. That would yield 5600 meters. This was no 5k. Still ok, but a little annoying since the track was probably marked with a 5k starting mark, it being a track and all.

We lined up on the starting line. No one was interested in lane 1, so I took it figuring that I wouldn't be too far off the lead. I tried to determine if passing slower runners should occur on the inside or the outside, but the race "official" could only tell me to use good running etiquette. That was really no help at all.

We heard go and we ran. For the first 400-800 meters, I led and tried to control my pace to be right at 6 minutes per mile. I heard footsteps and wondered how long they would be present. Soon they died off as I held my pace. It was almost right at 6 minutes at the mile. I was responsibly counting my laps which turned out to be fortunate when the "official" asked me what lap I was on. I focused harder on not losing track of my laps after that. I kept clicking through at slightly under 6 minutes per mile pace and as I felt comfortable began to speed up a bit. Round and round and round I went. I kicked it in as best I could the last two laps, ran 20:15, shook a couple of hands, and then walked away to be present at Ultimate practice. It was strangely disconnected and satisfying.

As I was leaving, someone called out to me, "Come get your prize." They seemed unsure about something, so I assumed it was a joke, but no, there was a prize. Someday soon, I'll bowl for free. The spoils. The spoils.

Cars are hard and I am soft

As the temperature hovers around perfect while the sun shines just enough to warm skin, the bike lanes fill up like lemonade glasses. Biking in the city has been an ongoing challenge. It's a push and pull of safety, expediency, mob mentality, and fear. My principles are tested and reformed daily. I've nearly settled on a few to guide me, but even those tend to favor the familiar routes. I've started to realize the places where it's better if I turn right on red so I can cross lanes to make a left in the next block. Illegal? After 7 AM it is, but if I don't jump the light I get angry drivers bearing down on me. I've started to realize where I can time the lights and keep my momentum and where I might as well just follow behind a car because it's not going to change my ability to get to my destination any faster. With fuller bike lanes, the laws of traffic and sharing space within the bike lane become more challenging, but the laws of the road are still important to keep close to the gear shift.

Yesterday as I was skirting around a line of cars on the right who were stopped at a stoplight that would soon turn green, I rediscovered a little something about cars. They are hard. There was no bike lane, so I was riding in the space between car and curb. Should I have been there? It's where I'd be if traffic was moving, so I think yes. I passed two cars as the light was turning green. The third car, the one in front at the light, chose that moment to turn right just as I pulled up next to it. I felt it happening and managed to turn right as well. My turn wasn't sharp enough and my arm slapped against the side mirror. As I was pushed farther to my right, the side mirror made a satisfying BOING back into place. I circled quickly on to the sidewalk in shock. I hadn't fallen and I had nothing more than a racing heart and a light scratch on my arm.

I took some deep breaths as the driver and I apologized to one another. I don't think it was either person's fault. She should have had her turn signal on and I should have been more careful shooting that gap. Ok, but rattled, I did what the old adage says to and got back on my horse. I was a little jumpy, but pretty alert. I rode to work, out to dinner, home, and I'm headed out again today.

I'm taking my chances and I'm hoping that all my collisions are as mild because cars are huge and can crush me and the not-so-gentle reminder of that was a bit harrowing. Back to the streets...

My beard is not velcro
What I want to describe is not a highlight in the typical sense. I had my share of highlights in the zero win and four loss day at mixed sectionals. It was nice to get a layout D, a point block (although the ricochet was caught), to knock away a hammer, and to stymie some cuts and win at least one battle in the air. On offense it was nice to get off hucks, both flick and backhand that flew almost as I’d intended. I was particularly pleased with 2 of my 4 hammers that were pinpoint accurate, one on a quick strike at the endzone (although it was dropped) and one that flew 40 yards and opened up the zone a bit. At this tournament with a group of CUA alums, students, and a couple of friends, I had as many touches as ever before. I can’t recall a time where I’ve handled so much in a tournament. I only remember one disc on offense that hit my hand that I didn’t catch. That was on a layout bid for an up-the-line cut. I pulled a fair amount and those weren’t too bad either, but with all the touches, I also had my share of lowlights. I threw ill-advised hucks, two that really sting in the final point of a close loss in the final game. I wasted a hammer when another throw would have been more responsible in that game too. I got whipped on a couple deep cuts and I bit too hard on some fakes. I got jumped over and on and I came up short, really almost embarrassingly short, on a few bids.

The highs far outweighed the lows, and as promised I wasn’t measuring success in wins. I was proud of the team’s improvement and I’m optimistic for the college team’s future.

All that said and I still haven’t described the feeling, the events that were neither highlight nor lowlight. It may not even have been noticeable to the sidelines. It tended to come later in the day, when my hydration was waning and my muscles were tiring. I was cramping slightly, but not enough to call for an injury sub or stop the game. It happened when I made sudden bursts or changes of direction. I’d go for a disc, often on defense, but sometimes on offense. It wouldn’t always be a layout bid, but it did usually involve falling to the ground. Earlier in the day, I might have recovered and stayed on my feet, but now I found myself hitting the grass with my calf muscles in spasm. They’d stop their spasms as I hit the ground and I’d feel the pull of the game. It was still moving even if I shouldn’t have been. I had to get up, preferably quickly, but I was slowed by the remnants of cramp and the full day of play behind me. I couldn’t spring up like I wanted to, but I needed to keep playing. I’d rise up in a way that felt slow, at least slow in comparison to what I wanted it. I wanted to be a jack-in-the-box and instead I was a rusty hinge. As I used my arms to push myself up, I had to pry my face off the ground, my beard scraping against the grass. It happened more than once. I can recall at least four occurrences. My beard and the grass acted like Velcro in every way but the satisfying sound. I’d stagger up and move on as quickly as I could. I always felt a little dazed and a little grateful. It was pleasing that I hadn’t had to stay on the ground writhing in pain.

Neither high nor low, and yet my slow rise back up felt like a tribute to the game of Ultimate. The game continued on without me for those few long seconds that I struggled. As soon as I could return to the action after spending valuable seconds on the ground, I did. It was a triumph, regardless of the result. It hurt, but I was happy that I could still be part of it.

The gamble
The revolver was a controller held in hand
The hammer cocked when the Xbox orb glowed green
The spinning cylinder replaced by scrolling films
The genre Like: Martin Chuzzlewit an open chamber
Click.
The genre Independent a loaded round
Click. click. click.
Moon starring Sam Rockwell the bullet
Play, the trigger
BANG.
Entertainment/death?
Netflix Roulette

Ditching 50 and goodbye Hard Rock Cafe

Inspired by the idea of having less stuff, I decided that I needed to get rid of fifty things. Even before I was planning to move, I was already starting on this quest. Now that I've nearly moved, I realize that getting rid of fifty things is easy, but when I started it was quite difficult. I need to get rid of about 50 more since I still have too much stuff, but I did shake the following:

1. Nikon Cookpix 4800 manual and bag
2. Nikon battery charger
3. Garmin Forerunner 101
4. Ultimate 101 DVD
5. Quidditch World Cup (Gamecube)
6. drumsticks
7. chrome towel bar
8. short sleeve dress shirt
9. pair used Asics
10 pair dress shoes
11. laundry bag
12. Gel Fusion bicycle seat cover
13. Aiwa headphones
14. miniature frog figurine
15. Portageuse/English Dictionary
16. Page Proofs- The Ten Roads to Riches
17-22. metal hangers
23. black pleather vest
24. purple pleather pants
25. The Jerk with the Cell Phone
26. The Woods
27. Micromessaging
28. The Science of Self-Realization
29. Box of magazines (including 3 SI Swimsuit issues, 2 Runner's World, 1 Ultimate News, 1 Cosmopolitan, 1 Vogue, 1 Psychology Today, 3 Mental Floss, 8 Bitch, 1 Washingtonian)
30. Graduation calling cards (high school)
31. A Man, A Can, A Plan
32. Heart-shaped ash tray
33. ying-yang watch
34. 43things.com
35. Bad Habit Hoodie
36. vest
37. bed risers
38. Spam bag
39. AARP bag
40. I run, therefore I am T-shirt
41-50+. Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts

After years of collecting Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts, I finally decided the cost was too great and the closet space was too valuable. I didn't get rid of all of these, but parted with the vast majority for $12 in a garage sale. The final tally included the following Hard Rock locations:

Salt Lake City
Memphis
Cleveland
Indianapolis
Boston
Aspen
New York City
St. Louis
Houston
Nashville
Phoenix
Maui
Honolulu
New Orleans
Los Angeles
Las Vegas
Baltimore
Denver
Toronto
Myrtle Beach
Austin
San Francisco
Atlanta
Newport Beach
Washington DC
Niagra Falls (Canada)
Niagra Falls (US)
London*

*Did not visit Hard Rock Cafe London. This was a gift. I never wore it or took the tag off out of principle.