Animals

One of the great things about being a swim coach is that I get to meet outstanding and inspirational people, and that many of those people have also become my close friends.

Yes, I know that just being a regular member of the team and participating in practices would also bring such opportunities, but I don't think it's quite the same. Other than social time before and after practice, most of the folks only talk to the few people who share their lane; but as coach, I get to talk to (and get to know) everyone across all the lanes. I also have the privilege of devising challenges for them (though some would use the word "tortures"), and seeing how they respond.

Those responses almost always inspire and delight me. One example: The Colorado Masters Swimming Association State Championship meet was held this last weekend. (Results here.) Our team didn't have a huge turnout, but everyone who showed up swam well. Doug Smith improved his times from last year, despite having had some painful elbow surgery a few months ago. The amazingly youthful Reynold Kalstrom also improved on his previous bests, and ended up scoring half our team's total points all by himself. The only negative thing was when Jim Bartuska, our speediest swimmer at the meet, showed a little too much enthusiasm on one of his turns and ended up smacking his foot on the top of the gutter. But like the animal that he is, he continued to swim fast for the rest of the meet...despite a nasty and painful bruise.

These guys are all animals, and their performances have inspired me to try harder and to set some new goals for my own performances.

And what's really cool about our team is that the studs who kick butt in the championship meets aren't the only inspirational examples for the rest of us to follow. We have our amazing Iron Man competitors, our never-give-up ultra-runners, and our certifiably crazy long-distance open water swimmers as well. I'll be saying more about these incredible athletes and their awesome exploits in future posts. But today I just want to comment on my own weekend athletic adventure, which was inspired by my buddy Kim Clemens.

Due to my recent shin injury (compounded by my general wimpiness), I haven't been running lately. But Kim talked me into going up to Red Rocks on Sunday morning to ascend the steps a few times. I figured it would be a low-impact workout since I'd be moving so slowly, and convinced myself that I could handle it. I could always just walk up the stairs, and would get a good cardio workout from that.

But Kim had other plans; and by the time we left the amphitheater to head to the pool for swim practice, I could barely stand up, much less walk with any dignity. He not only talked me into racing up the steps multiple times (making one of the trips a "two-steps-at-a-time" challenge), but he also ran snakes through every stinkin' row of the bleachers (see photo above). I followed the best that I could, but had to skip a few rows here and there to keep from being left far behind.

The good news is that it was a beautiful morning, and I survived. I even expect to be able to walk through the soreness over the next few days. The bad news is that Kim is encouraging me to continue these Red Rocks torture sessions with him throughout the summer, adding in other challenges (such as running up the south ramp, extra snakes, pushups on the bleachers, and who knows what other hideous ordeals). And though I dread the thought of my lungs burning and calves screaming, the truth is that I'll probably do it. When you have inspirational and animalistic friends who set the bar high and encourage you to go for it, well, you pretty much have to get off your duff and put forth the effort, don't you?

I'll have more to say about the particular exploits of my athletic role models as the year progresses. But I just want to take this opportunity to recognize and thank all of you whose efforts and attitudes inspire and encourage me to keep working, and keep trying. I am indeed a lucky guy to have the high-quality friends and teammates that I do.

If you're on my swim team, I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about. And if you're not...well, you should definitely join. For now, though, I'm heading to the pool. When I start the morning by working out with a bunch of animals like these folks, I can't help but have a great day!

In Like a Lion...

I'm not sure if anyone uses the expression anymore, but when I was a kid, I often heard the month of March described as follows:

In like a lion, out like a lamb.

I believe the quote was attributed to Chaucer or Shakespeare (or one of them other high-falutin' Greeks). It was supposed to mean that the month arrived all blustery and dangerous, roaring with wind and biting you with the sharp teeth of winter's bitter cold...but then became mild and fluffy as it meekly gave way to glorious April. Of course, it never quite seemed to apply in Kansas where I grew up, because April was also likely to feature carnivorous winds and flesh-ripping cold. But the people who quote dead poets to describe seasonal meteorology never seemed to care.

Anyway, I knew the wind was blowing hard when I left work, but I still thought I'd get home quicker by taking Highway 93. That decision turned out to be a poor one.

The traffic wasn't too bad, but my car was buffeted, and I don't mean that in the "Cheeseburger in Paradise" sense. I had to hold onto the steering wheel with a kung-fu grip. There was a truck tipped over on 93, but it was off on the shoulder and didn't cause a problem. But there was some serious sandblasting going on with all sorts of gritty stuff being picked up from the plains and heaved at my car with gusto. There was one stretch where I literally couldn't see more than about 30 feet. Scary.

But losing a little paint isn't nearly as frightening as what happened on C470. I was at about Alameda when I saw a big sheet of cardboard flying toward the road from the west side. It looked like it would make it to my lane just about when my car got there. I thought I had a chance to beat it if I speeded up...but then it flew even higher -- and I saw that it wasn't cardboard, but was a big honkin' sheet of plywood! It was about 4 feet by 8 feet and I realized there wasn't anything I could do but grip the wheel and hang on for impact.

The good news is that I didn't lose control of the car. But like I said, I have no idea how much damage the impact did. It hit the front of the car, and then whacked the chassis underneath as I drove over (and through) it. I don't know what happened behind me.

Ka-whump!

Got my heart pumping, that's for sure. But I'm okay, and I'm hoping that the impact I felt was a good demonstration of the superiority of steel over wood, and that the damage is all cosmetic. As far as I can tell from a visual inspection, there was a bunch of broken plastic but no harm done to the radiator or any other working parts.


I'll drive carefully for the next few days and will be alert to signs of functional distress from the vehicle. And of course, there are calls to the insurance company and body shop estimates to arrange, so I'm not through with fallout from the incident yet.

Oh, and by the way, I saw lots of smoke (and smelled it) around Hwy 6, but no flames. I have no idea how the firefighters could possible battle this one. With winds that can fling plywood hundreds of feet, well...it's just flat nasty out there. The weird thing was that the windmills along Highway 93 weren't moving at all when I drove by. I thought they were supposed to harness the wind, not ignore it. Geez. My guess is that gust of that power could tear the blades right off the tower, or get the turbines spinning so fast that the generated electricity couldn't be handled by the equipment they have. And if too much of that generated energy leaked off the system and went into the ground, well, we all know what would happen then, right? Yes, corpses from the local cemeteries would be reanimated and, presto, we got ourselves a zombie problem.

For now, though, it appears that flying debris is all we have to worry about. It's just another reminder to always watch the skies, my friends. Be careful out there, and have a great day!

Metaphor

I wish I had more time to write, so that I could professionally prepare properly poetic prose to portray the poignancy of the creativity crafted within my cranium. But alas, there are times when you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but find that a pictorial metaphor serves better than a thousand words. It's like that today.

I am the farmer. The shotgun represents my attempts to control my life by sending random bits of effort up against the unfeeling barn wall of life. The tractor represents my work obligations.

See you tomorrow, I hope. Have a great day!

Lint

As the old saying goes, "If you don't like the weather in Colorado, wait a minute." Ha ha. This is a clever way of saying that we experience high volatility in our weather patterns here. Just a few days ago, we had 75° sunshine and a snowstorm within a 24 hour stretch.

But really, we don't have a particularly wide range of weather phenomena compared to some other parts of the world. The worst we suffer are blizzards, thunderstorms, extremes of temperature, and the occasional Zardoz-level winds. As our thoughts, prayers, and donations go out to help the victims of earthquakes and tsunamis, etc, we are each probably taking a few moments to count our meteorological blessings here in the Centennial State. And sometimes, the snow makes things really really pretty.

For now, though, I'm hoping that the next few days remain storm free here in the mile-high city, simply because I'm still making the egregiously long commute each day. I don' need no stinkin' blizzard messing wif my drive. As it is, the extended work schedule has compressed my household chore-time into a weekend frenzy of domestic activities that severely eats into what should be leisure activities. Instead of playing frisbee, hiking in the foothills, and sunbathing in my Speedo, I find myself hurrying to get my laundry done.

Yes, I do my own laundry. If I were wealthy, I'd hire a valet/housekeeper...you know, like the Brady's had Alice and the Cartwrights had Hop Sing. But since I'm neither an architect nor cattle baron, I'm stuck doing it all myself.

[Side question: Can you name any other people (real or fictional) whose name consists of two verbs? I suppose "Bob" and "Hope" are technically verbs and would qualify as a technically correct answer, but I'm looking for more visually appealling actions, like hopping and singing. Let me know if you think of any. Thanks.]

Anyway, when I took my sheets out of the dryer, I noticed that there was enough fabric caught in the lint filter to make a golf-ball sized wad of fuzz. That's the typical amount I get every single time I wash and dry the linens. It made me wonder: How many times can you wash sheets before they simply vanish? I can't recall this ever happening to me, and I'd think I'd remember if I had put some very thin sheets in the dryer and opened to door to find they were gone. On the other hand, I don't recall ever throwing away sheets because they were too emaciated to serve their purpose anymore. I know that I've been through zillions of sheet sets during my lifetime, but I honestly can't remember ever discarding any. Perhaps they get thinner and thinner with each laundry cycle, and then end up disintegrating in the linen closet. They just go away, and I've never noticed.

But speaking of Lint, I realized that I completely missed noticing Ash Wednesday this year. I'm not Catholic, so it's not that surprising that I didn't have the date marked on my calendar, but in most years I'll notice some coworkers recognizing the event, or I'll hear about it through the media. I guess my fatigue from the long commute is taking its toll on my general mental faculties in general, and especially on my observational capability. I suppose the fact that I've seen Cadbury bunny commercials on TV should've given me a clue. But all those did was make me crave chocolate, and to eat more that I should.

And in addition to religious observances, time changes, and the onset of Spring, it's also time for the Colorado Masters State Championship Swim Meet. I'm not swimming this year, but will attend to do my coaching duties and to cheer on my competing teammates. Stay tuned for reports on their performances. In the meantime, enjoy our wonderful weather, and have a great day!

Red Alert

One of the side effects of my current work schedule is that I haven't had much time for seeking out alternative forms of entertainment. My relaxation/amusement mode comes mostly from watching Star Trek reruns while I eat my dinner. After that, I go straight to bed.

I do recognize that not everyone understands the appeal of Star Trek, and perhaps my continuing affection for it is merely a nostalgia-driven connection to the carefree days of youth...when our family's fancy color television received only three channels, and somebody else did all the cooking. Perhaps somewhere deep inside my psyche, there is an inner Captain Kirk trying to get out. Or maybe I just enjoy making fun of Chekov's haircut. Does it really matter?

The bottom line is that it's the only show I want to watch while I'm having my last meal of the day after the grueling hours of office work and tedious commuting. It puts me in a good mood, and helps me readjust my mental state back to one of optimism and general good will toward humanity. (And toward Vulcans and whatnot, too, I suppose.)

I am noticing things I missed in previous viewings. For one, the Prime Directive seems to only apply to humanoid cultures. There are several times where the Enterprise encounters lifeforms such as giant amoebas or sentient clouds of gas, and Kirk's immediate response is to let loose with photon torpedos. There's always anguish over interference when the aliens are Yangs, Combs, or Zeons, but if they're amorphous blobs of any type, well, I guess it's open season.

The other thing I noticed in the episode I watched yesterday is this: When Kirk orders Uhura to announce a Red Alert, she gets on the intercom and says "All Decks, Red Alert". It seems to me that the phrase "All Decks" is unnecessary. I can't really imagine any Red Alert condition that would leave some of the decks exempt. And I've never heard the Captain say "Red Alert for Decks 4 and 5, but Condition Green for all other areas." That would just be silly.

And why does Uhura have to announce it, anyway? If the red lights are going to flash and all the sirens are going to start woop-wooping, wouldn't you think people would get the idea?

Oh well, it's still fun to watch, so I guess I shouldn't complain. After all, even Spock admits that many of the crew's actions are highly illogical.

Anyway, the answer to the previously posted trivia question is this: A cab-over Pete is a Peterbilt brand semi truck with the driver's compartment located above the engine housing. A "reefer" is a refrigerated trailer; so our phrase indicates a truck like in this photo, pulling a self-cooling load. The phrase is from the song "Convoy" by C.W. McCall, who was a fictional truck driver created by a fella name of Billy Dale Fries, who also served as the mayor of Ouray, Colorado for 6 years. His singing career actually started in a series of commercials for a bread company in Nebraska.

My favorite memory concerning C.W. McCall comes from the time I was a disc jockey at KICT, Stereo 95 Country in Wichita, Kansas. I had a midnight to 6am shift, and every Sunday morning at about 4am, I'd get a phone call from a local farmer named Milton, who would request that I play some CW for him to listen to while he milked the cows.

Of course I obliged—Anybody who's working at 4am deserves to hear some rousing milkin' music. But it does make me wonder if the Prime Directive applies to cows. What sort of culture would the bovine population have if humanity hadn't interfered? And is a loud "moo" simply their equivalent of issuing a Red Alert? I stay awake at night pondering questions like these.

I'll let you know if I find the answers. In the meantime, enjoy CW's commercial, and have a great day!

Cultural Temptations

I'm currently working a job where I have an 80-mile commute each day. On some mornings when the traffic's not too bad, I can take the scenic route through the lovely town of Golden and north along Highway 93 -- which offers some appealing views of both the mountains and the plains. This route takes me past the remnants of the old nuclear facility and the county dump, as well as a farm that grows giant windmills. But coming home that way at night is a risky proposition indeed. Not only is the traffic worse in the evenings, but so is my eyesight...and since sunset is the time when Bambi and his dimwit cousins come down from the hillsides to frolic in the traffic.

[Why did the deer cross the road? Because he wanted to play chicken! Get it?]

You know, if PETA really cared about animals, they'd set up educational seminars in the forest, complete with dramatic presentations showing the dangers of highways crossings. "This is your brain. This is your brain embedded in the grill of a Peterbilt." -- that sort of thing.

[Two-part trivia question: Do you know what the phrase "Cab-over Pete with a reefer on" means? And, do you know where it comes from? Answer in the next post. Bonus points if you know which small Colorado town's former mayor is involved in the answer.]

Anyway, the point is that I've been taking the city route home. Rather than risking wildlife encounters on Hwy 93, I have chosen to drive straight south on Wadsworth Blvd each evening. Yes, it does mean a lot of stop 'n go, tons of brake lights, and plenty of opportunities to listen to 200-decibel rap music from low-rider Chevies while waiting at traffic lights. It also provides plenty of good bumper sticker reading ("My Smith & Wesson is smarter than your honor student", "Don't blame me -- I voted for Pat Paulsen", "You can't hug a child with nuclear arms, unless you're Radioactive Man", etc.)

But the main non-safety-related benefit of taking the city route home is the opportunity to see the local culture along the way. Oh sure, most of it is the same stuff you see everywhere: golden arches, banks, Wal- and various other types of Marts, Geico billboards, and auto parts stores. But the interesting stuff comes in the form of the local restaurants and pawn shops. Not only are the buildings themselves often interesting, but so is the signage. "Casa de Flema!" "Cash for Unicycles!" "Jewelry -- Cremation -- Ice Cream!"

I wish I had time to stop to visit some of these unique businesses, but by the time I get out of the office there's only enough time to drive home, grab a quick bite and go to bed. My schedule is too tightly packed for tourism and absorption of Wheat Ridgian cultures; much less daily blogging, laundry, and personal hygiene. Oh well, this particular assignment won't go on much longer, so I'm hoping to be able to spend more time exploring this city (and others) and chronicling my adventures thereof.

I'm actually expecting to be able to take a vacation in the next month or so, and I hope to resume regular postings soon as well. I really do appreciate your continued patronage, and hope to provide some enlightening travelogues in the near future. In the meantime, watch out for critters on the roadways, and have a great day!

Pet Peeves

One of my pet peeves is that I seem to run out of time in the mornings when I want to write my blogs. This has happened again today.

But I'll leave you with a question: Are there other kinds of peeves? Are there "wild" peeves, as opposed to pets? Generic peeves? Africanized Killer Peeves?

I guess I don't know. I don't think I've ever heard the word used without "pet" in front of it. And of course, THAT word makes me want to go off on my whole "cats vs. dogs" discussion, and to contemplate just exactly what niche in the animal kingdom is supposed to be filled by hamsters. But those topics will wait -- I'm late for swim practice.

Have a great day!