A Disturbance in the Force

I don't watch the news on TV.

I developed a bitter distaste for journalists while attending the William Allen White School of Journalism back at KU. I enjoy hanging out with people who focus on the positive side of life, not the guys who relish seeing buildings burn down so they can stick microphones in the faces of people who are suffering. And we've already discussed the reliability of weather reporters...so I see no reason not to avoid newscasts.

Ergo, I may not be the most well-informed person on the planet. Still, I am not completely clueless. I hear conversations in the office and at the pool, and occasionally catch snippets of news reports on the radio as I drive to and from work. As all highly-sophisticated people do, I run through the radio buttons in a continual search for BTO, Led Zeppelin, or Debby Boone...but there are times when every single station is either playing commercials or news. Therefore, I can't help but pick up some basic knowledge of current events as I go through my daily life.

I bring this up because I recently learned that Hostess is declaring bankruptcy. Of course, the reporters describe it as "The End of Twinkies", when the reality is probably somewhat less drastic. Still, it makes you think.

I never consumed a lot of Twinkies, even as a kid. (They're not coated in chocolate, so it seems rather pointless to eat one.) In fact, I honestly can't remember the last time I had one; it had to be decades ago. I was more into Hostess Cupcakes, Ding Dongs, and on rare occasions, Sno-Balls. But I've always enjoyed the idea of Twinkies, and have a great affection for the brand and its reputation for nuclear-holocaust survival capability. Therefore, I would be sad if they disappeared.

But here's my related question for you: What actors do you always associate with a single line they said one time in one movie? My example is Ernie Hudson, and the immortal words "That's a big Twinkie".

You can't use William Shatner saying "KHAAANNNN!", because he's also famous for "Beam me up," and "Well played, Naomi Price". And Jimmy Walker's "Dyn-o-mite!" doesn't count because it was repeated over and over. Same with Hervé Villechaize's "De Plane!"

And that brings up another question: Which TV series had recurring characters where it was positively baffling that no one killed them after the first episode? Tattoo is the most obvious example -- somebody would've had the fantasy of seeing Mr. Roarke feed him to fire ants early in the first season. Gilligan, Urkel, and Potsie are other no-brainers. But who else fits the category? It might be tempting to put Ted Baxter on the list, but he was amusing, and didn't ruin everyone's lives like the others I've mentioned. Darren Stevens would be a good candidate...except that there really couldn't be a show without him.

Or could there? I might've enjoyed watching Samantha boogie around as a hot single witch, without having to worry about Durwood and Larry Tate causing headaches all the time. Hmmm...maybe there's remake potential here. But please, no Nicole Kidmans. No. Christina Applegate, maybe?

Anyway, let me know who you'd put on the list, and we'll discuss it in a future post.

And please feel free to share any relevant stories you might have concerning your own personal relationship with Twinkies. How many of them do you think you've eaten in your life? Did you ever use them for any science experiments, or as a tool to illustrate magnitude of paranormal activity? I'm curious.

I'm not completely sure why I got off on Hostess news, anyway. I was planning to write about the phenomenon of Time Crunching. I want to explore how the heck it is possible that I don't have enough time in my life. I probably have the fewest responsibilities of any adult on the planet, and yet it seems I'm always in a rush. I was planning to take a deep look at how I spend my hours, and what activities I might be able to cut out...but now I think I'll defer that until tomorrow, because I've run out of time.

I was planning to use the following clip to illustrate some point I was going to make about focus and concentration, but when I started thinking about Tattoo's unrelenting obnoxiousness, it disrupted my train of thought. Perhaps my problem has something to do with the fact that I can't stay on one topic for more than a few seconds...which may explain why I harbor such animosity for a guy whose only job is to announce incoming air traffic once a week. Or maybe it's because he's French. Either way, I'd have gotten rid of him.

For now, though, I hope you enjoy the following lesson in self-discipline. Have a great day!

Investing

I promise I'll get back to talking about sports and athletics soon. The heart of the biking season is nearly upon us, and I'm getting ready by reading Chris Carmichael's book "The Time Crunched Cyclist". I'll share my assessment with you in the near future. But today I still find myself thinking about taxes, and how I'm going to invest my refund.

I know that many of you are investment gurus and stock market savants, a la Warren Buffet (pictured above). But I've never quite been able to develop a passion for such things. This may seem strange to those who know how anal I am about keeping my Quicken files up to date, or how much I enjoyed math classes in high school. Heck, I started my first savings account when I was in third grade, and have always done extensive research before making major purchases such as electric guitars or waffle irons. But when it comes to retirement planning and discussing my long-term financial security, well, my eyes tend to glaze over. If you start telling me about the difference between common stock and preferred stock, my mind will conjure up images of Max Bialystock instead. I'm hopeless.

I knew I needed professional help. So after doing some research that convinced me beyond any doubt that Edward Jones was a highly ethical and professional firm, I contacted one of their agents, a fellow named Gary Dorsheimer.

I felt comfortable with Gary right away. He's friendly and genuine, and very good at what he does. I never felt any pressure in talking with him, and felt from the start that he was more interested in keeping me as a happy long-term client than in maximizing his commissions. This has since proven to be true; his advice has encompassed my entire financial picture...not just the part that's invested with his company. His associate, Jana, is also a pleasure to work with -- so if you're looking for some investing help, give them a call at 303-932-0554.

Of course, after saying all that, you're probably expecting me to put my tax refund money into my Roth IRA account, right? Well, yeah, I probably will...but you can't blame me if I spend a few minutes thinking about what sorts of toys I could buy instead, right?

Some options are obvious -- I mean a guy could always use a few more guitars. And some non-pants-wetting snowshoes would make sense, too. Or perhaps one of those "make your own soda" machines. Or a William Shatner chia-pet.

What do you think? What would you do with a little bit of extra cash? Let's try to avoid the common responses, like stocking the garage refrigerator with a year's supply of Keystone Light, or filling your bathtub with gummi worms and root beer. Be creative! Would you commission a bronze statue of Roy Orbison? Or hire Ahmed Best to record your answering machine message? Buy a rotating disco ball to complement the BeeGees music you play while you're working out on the treadmill? Or are you one of those patriots who would insist that the IRS keep your extra money? Let me know.

In the meantime, let's hope for warmer weather...and get ready for the Grand Reopening of Waterton Canyon. Have a great day!

The Space-Time Continuum

Einstein's famous equation (E = MC Escher) explains the cosmic phenomenon of space-time compression that occurs during weekends, as well as the principle of space-time elongation that happens whenever you're in a business meeting where they didn't provide donuts.

This weekend gave me the unusual opportunity to experience both temporal shrinkage and chronological stretchosity, almost simultaneously. It was a weekend, yes, and therefore fun and quick...but I also did my taxes, which is a billion times worse than any snack-deficient business development status review. Ugh.

A quick review: Friday was excellent! After swim practice, Reynold and I strapped on our snowshoes and plowed through 5 miles of thick virgin powder around the gravel pond at Chatfield. Time flew by as he told me of his plans to imitate Leo DiCaprio by swimming in the Atlantic in April as part of a cruise to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Titanic's ill-fated voyage. His wife is the star of the show, and it sounds like a pretty cool event for history buffs. (Will they really let him dive in the ocean and swim butterfly among the icebergs? We'll have to wait and see.)

(And yes, my pants were soaking wet by the end of the hike. Why do you ask?)

I was pretty tired when I woke up Saturday morning. But I enjoyed a short run and a tough swim practice before getting a massage late in the evening. The rest of the day was spent doing chores and paperwork. Again, time moved at warp speed.

But on Sunday, I was determined to make a good effort at finishing up my taxes. I had put it off for a couple of reasons: 1) Figuring out taxes always elevates my blood pressure. Not only are the forms and instructions frustratingly complex and incomprehensible, but the whole process reminds me of how stupidly our money is often spent. Seriously, how many government programs do you actually recognize as beneficial?

Interstate highways? Sure. The Marine Corps? Obviously. NASA? Of course. Area 51 and the rest of the GCCB (Giant Conspiracy Cover-up Bureau)? Well certainly.

And I suppose you could argue that International Diplomacy merits some consideration (though I'm sure we could have a lively discussion about different ways it might be handled). And I suppose you could make a case for agencies to monitor the amount of rat poison that cereal companies are allowed to inject into Froot Loops, because you know they'd do it if nobody was watching. But seriously, do we need people to tell us which light bulbs we can use, or that we need mandatory warning labels telling us not to use a sharpened pencil to clear water from our ears?

2) I also put off doing my taxes because I was afraid I'd have to come up with extra money. Changing jobs and the associated shuffling of retirement funds offered several opportunities for unanticipated tax impacts. I was afraid that my Lockheed Martin severance package was going to leave me with a hefty bill that would be due on April 16th.

On the other hand, if it turned out that I'd be getting a refund, then putting it off is just plain silly. And since my normally-cluttered social calendar had somehow opened up on Sunday, it just seemed like a good time to get it done.

I'll spare you the agony of a line-by-line description of the ordeal. It was horrid, and probably took several years off my life, but I'm happy to report that the forms have been submitted. I am also happy that I didn't need to come up with any extra cash, and will actually get a little bit of my money back. I wish I could feel grateful to Uncle Sam for holding onto it for me lo these many months...but I somehow think that the money would've been put to better use if it had been in my hands.

Yeah, I know; that's an unpatriotic attitude. According to our elected representatives, I should be wanting to give them far more than what they took already. They obviously know better places to spend it than I do.

Anyway, the point is that the hours spent filling out IRS paperwork dragged like Marty McFly behind MadDog Tannen's horse. And the hours spent swimming, running, and snowshoeing vanished like Crispin Glover's tombstone. Einstein was right. (The funky-haired dude, not the dog -- sorry to mix my metaphors.) Time is flexible.

Before I close for the day, though, I'd like to make a few other random observations.

1) Abo's Pizza at Chatfield & Kipling has closed. I hate to see any pizza place go out of business...but I especially hate it when I had plans to dine there for lunch. I have no idea how long they've been gone; which may be part of the reason they folded. If I haven't been there for months, then perhaps no one else has either. And that's not good for business. So, I do understand...but it still makes me sad. I like pizza.

The good news is that it was fairly close to Qdoba, so my immediate hunger was still satiated. But I had to make a pizza at home Saturday night to work off the specific appetite. And that has undesirable impacts on my girlish figure. Ugh.

2) Have you ever noticed that Danny DeVito almost always plays roles where he's in charge of stuff? I saw a movie called "Drowning Mona" on TV this weekend. DeVito was the sheriff in a town where everybody wanted to kill Bette Midler. I was entertained by the movie, but it did make me wonder how many real life sheriffs are his size. It seems to me that the real world tends to discriminate toward people of diminutive stature. This may have changed as the world has become more enlightened, but I remember when I first hired on with Martin Marietta, I noticed that nearly all of the managers and executives were very tall. The ones I knew were not necessarily more competent than their shorter counterparts, so it seemed to me as if there might have been some caveman hierarchy mechanisms at work. Am I wrong? And if so, why is it that DeVito has been so successful in roles as the boss?

3) About 50 years ago, pretty much everybody wore a hat. A cool hat with a full brim and carefully-shaped top...not just a ballcap. I watched an episode of "The Invisible Man" TV series the other night, and noticed that even the criminals who were climbing across the rooftops to break into the science lab were wearing fedoras. Why would you wear a fedora for performing a felony? And when did that whole idea fade away, anyhow? Nowadays, the only people with those kinds of hats are pretentious poets and Indiana Jones wannabees.

A few decades from now, some nerdish blogger will point out that everybody used to wear neckties. Or that women wore dresses. Or that people use to walk around without ear buds jammed in their sound holes.

Which reminds me -- that sloshing noise is still happening inside my head. It still doesn't hurt, but I'm considering going to the doctor just because they'll have the tools to look in there and see if it's really a drop of trapped pool water, or if part of my brain has come loose and melted.

I'll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, I hope that time flows at exactly the rate you want it to, and that any Biff you may have in your life is spending his time face-down in the manure. Have a great day!

Gym Rats

OK, here's a question for you: Would you enjoy having a job where it really didn't matter if you were right or wrong...like, say, a weatherman? On one hand, you'd be routinely criticized in public, and would be the focus of many jokes on mornings (like today) where your predicted "trace" turns out to be a "buttload".

On the other hand, since your paycheck does not depend upon your accuracy, you could show up at work each day without preparation, wave your arms at the green screen for a while, and then head for the bar as soon as the red light was turned off. It's a pretty carefree life, and probably pays better than most other "arm-waving while guessing about stuff" professions -- A fair tradeoff for occasionally being razzed at the grocery store, I'm thinking.

The wind was violently noisy last night. As I listened to the clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous caucophany, it evoked images of Kansas farmgirls whirling through the air. But I managed to fall asleep nonetheless, and this morning awakened to a much quieter world. When I looked out the window, I could see that some snow had fallen, but didn't realize how deep it was until I went out to get in the car. I'm guessing that there were about 6 inches on the ground at my place, and the roads were a bit of a challenge during my drive to the gym.

Whenever it snows, people stay home from work. Makes sense to me. Why risk your vehicle (not to mention your life) on treacherous roads when you really don't need to? And so I was expecting to see an empty parking lot at 24-Hour Fitness when I arrived at 5:15am. But nope...all the regulars seemed to be there.

I'm not sure what that says about the serious fitness crowd, but it makes me smile. After all, if you're going to have an obsession that drives you out of your comfy home on heavy snow days, it's probably good that it involves improving your health and longevity. It's somehow comforting to see the same faces grimacing and sweating on bad-weather days that I see every other morning. I don't know many of their names, but I still feel as if they're all (in some way) part of my extended family. We're all engaged in a mutually-understood pursuit, and while our personal motivations may vary in details, we all possess a similar fire within. It's kinda cool.

What other groups do you have an unspoken bond with? Are there any people in your life that you don't speak to, but would miss if you didn't see them in their regular places? Are there people who always do their grocery shopping when you do? Do you see the same folks on the running trail? The same burrito-eaters at Chipotle?

It's funny -- you don't talk to them in your daily routine, but if you saw those same folks on a ferry boat to the fjords, or in a queue at Disney World, you'd greet them like your favorite college foosball buddy, wouldn't you?

Just something to think about. As for the snow, well, enjoy its beauty and think about how much the car wash owners will appreciate it early next week. And if you see a weatherman walking down the street, just give him a tip o' the hat and your best wishes for him to have a great day!

A Long Day

Regular readers know that I believe in Capitalism. I think that people who work for a living are engaged in a much more noble pursuit than, say, bank robbers or politicians. I believe that the free market works, and that providing a product or service of value to others in exchange for remuneration is a dandy way of satisfying a society's needs. I am quite happy to be employed, and am proud of the contributions my company is making to the world.

Unfortunately, my genetic makeup doesn't seem to be well-suited to the workaday world. Oh sure, I possess skills and talents that my employer values, and I think I effectively apply them toward achieving the company's goals. But if I took an aptitude test to determine what sort of position I am ideally suited for, the results would probably indicate something more along the lines of "sitting in a hot tub", or "taste testing fried cheese products".

The other problem is that my brainpower fades as the day goes on. So when I ended up staying at the office until 7:00 on Monday night, I was pretty much a zombie by the time I did finally get home.

So what does this have to do with the picture at the top of the post? Well...absolutely nothing. I was doing a search for a graphic to represent the plight of the common wage earner, and through the various linkages and cognitive connections provided by the Internet, I ended up on a page that talked about the Monopoly Guy (aka "Rich Uncle Pennybags"). You know the guy I mean -- he shows up on Community Chest cards, flaunting his wealth by wearing a top hat and growing a Jamie Hyneman mustache. Anyway, some creative Photoshopist had Pennybagged Picard...and seeing it made me laugh. So I decided to share the image with you.

You're welcome.

The downside of this little diversion is that it completely derailed what was intended to be a serious discussion of the character-building properties of honest labor, and of the motivations that cause a natural-born slacker such as myself to burn the midnight oil (so to speak) in service of his employer. I seem to have forgotten all the pithy points I had planned to present, and no longer have the desire to discuss the topic. I will say this, though -- the complexity of designing advertising materials grows by the square of the number of people involved. The old standard about a camel being a horse that was designed by a committee...well, it absolutely rings true.

The good news is that the project was completed. The required agreements and buyoffs were obtained. Deadlines were met (pretty much), and all participants were still speaking to each other. (And it goes without saying that passive voice sentence quotas were satisfied.) If I were the kind of guy who could tolerate staying up later at night, there might have been an appropriate moment to say "It's Miller Time,"...but it was all I could do to insert my depleted carcass between the sheets for the night.

If I do manage to get more rest and find that I'm fully recovered from this late-night labor, perhaps I'll make another attempt at a philosophical discussion. In the meantime, I'll just continue to laugh at Riker's reaction, and will go back to the office to see what other tasks are in store for me. Wish me luck, and have a great day!

Watch Me Pull a Rabbit Out of My Hat

Happy President's Day!

I guess some people get the day off. Not me, though; I'm a Type-A Workaholic, and would be at my desk even if the Apolcalypse was scheduled to commence at noon.

Well, OK, perhaps that's a slight exaggeration. I could probably be convinced to take a day off every now and then, if I was forced to. But even though I do like and respect a couple of the Presidents, this particular holiday will find me sitting in from of my laptop as usual, pounding out prose to please my corporate overlords.

So who is your favorite President? I have no particular reason for it, but I would probably answer "Chester A. Arthur", just because I like his name. Of course, Honest Abe gets extra points for appearing in both the original Star Trek and "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure". Party on, dudes!

Lincoln is also mentioned at about 2:12 in this clip (which also demonstrates some advanced techiques in structuring logic for a persuasive debate.)



Everybody knew the answer to yesterday's graphical quiz: Frank "The Riddler" Gorshin. He played the other half-black, half-white guy, but was obviously superior because he was black on the right side. I'm sure that episode was trying to make some sort of point regarding morality, but it was a little bit too subtle for me to figure it out. Oh well.

As for "eeny meenie", well, here you go:



There's no need to fear, Underdog is here! As this canine fights crime, he converses in rhyme. He cares not for the plot, cuz Sweet Polly is hot. (Ooo, wah-ooo, etc.)



Shoeshine/U-Dog was voiced by Wally Cox, who also played the world's greatest birdwatcher, P. Casper Biddle, on the Beverly Hillbillies. Miss Jane had a crush on him, but later decided to run for Congress and become a champion for gay rights.

And not that Super Chicken had anything to do with anything, but I just thought I'd share a link to his show's theme song, which I really enjoy. I love the line "Fred, if you're afraid, you'll have to overlook it; besides, you knew the job was dangerous when you took it." (I also love the cameo by Frankenstein.)



And finally, the last name in the sequence "Davy, Peter, Mike, and..." is obviously "Spam". It's a delicious addition to any collection, and I'd recommend that you eat something made from Spam to help you celebrate our long history of having Presidents.

I will also give credit to anyone who answered "Mickey". My college roommate and best friend is named Mickey, and he always makes me laugh...so I kinda like the name. It's rather a shame we've never had a President Mickey, but I guess we have had a Herbert, which is close enough. Anyway, the other famous non-rodent (and non-Rooney) Mickey you were probably thinking about is featured here, complete with some screamin' trumpets toward the end. Check it out, and have a great day!

Morality

I had another memorable dream last night.

Right before I went to bed, I had watched the Star Trek episode about the planet that waged war by computer. The machines told them which people were calculated to be casualties, and then the guys in the funny hats fed those folks to the disintegrators. Of course, any time a planet relies on a computer in any significant way, Cap'n Kirk inevitably blasts it to atoms.

The fellow in this photo is David Opatoshu. He was in pretty much every TV show in the 60s and 70s, though I'm sure his Star Trek appearance was the highlight of his long career. He was also one of those guys (like Ricardo Montalban) who played aliens, Asians, or Mexicans -- whatever the role required. The plots rarely ended in his favor, but he just kept showing up.

Anyway, I had been talking to one of my science geek friends about growing up Trekkie, and it got me thinking about my first exposure to the Enterprise and her crew. And that's what I dreamed about. The weird thing about the dream was that it took place back in my teaching days. I was standing up in front of a filled lecture hall, and was using all of my Professional Public Speaker tricks to dazzle the audience with my riveting tale of that first childhood visit to where no man had gone before. I won't attempt to be as eloquent here as I was in my dream; I'll just provide the basic facts about that event that happened so many years ago.

Shortly after supper one night, the phone rang. It was my best friend Herbie. (His nickname later became "Herbert the Pervert", but that's a story for another time.) Herbie was excited and wanted me to immediately turn the TV over to Channel 12. There was a short debate with my siblings, but Herb's urgency won the day, and the channel was changed.

And there was the Gorn.

I have to admit that "Arena" (aka "Kirk vs. Scaly Green Dude") is not one of my favorite episodes in retrospect. But the first time I saw it, I was riveted. The story of a lone human, hopelessly outmatched by the alien's brute strength and ferocity, using his science knowledge to win the battle -- it fascinated me. Within about 10 seconds, I had morphed from someone who had never heard of Star Trek...into a lifelong fan.

And yes, the Gorn costume looks laughable by today's FX standards. But the appeal of the show was always about morality, not about costuming. For example, "Arena" explores the definition of "civilization" while it ponders the place of humanity within the Universe. Almost every episode deals with topics of timeless importance, which stimulates thought about values, relationships, and character. I would guess that Star Trek fans have spent more time examining their own belief systems and conscience than fans of, say, Dukes of Hazzard or My Mother the Car.

So even after all these years, I still dream about lessons learned from Kirk and his shipmates. And I still enjoy shows with dudes in funny costumes.

With that in mind, here are a couple of questions for you. The first is graphical, and is directly related to the riddles posed by morality questions. The rest, well...no. They're just trivia questions I felt like asking. Enjoy!


1. Who is the gentleman who has been cropped from these two photos?

2. What is the correct end to the phrase "Eeny meenie, chili beanie..."?
  A. What do you want for nothing? A rubber biscuit?
  B. The spirits are about to speak.
  C. I want an Oscar Meyer weenie.
  D. Yo quiero Taco Bell.

3. What is the correct end to the phrase "There's no need to fear..."?
  A. Super Chicken is here.
  B. Batman and Catwoman are here.
  C. UNderdog is here.
  D. Dude, I need a beer.

4. What is the correct end to the phrase "Davy, Peter, Mike, and..."
  A. Bozo.
  B. Spam.
  C. Ringo.
  D. Mickey.

That's all I have for the weekend. Sleep well, tonight, and have a great day tomorrow!

Phantom Liquids

Every swimmer gets water in the ears at some point. (They're also likely to be required at some point to battle rampaging octopi, distorted sharks, and Bluto-esque Communists, too, but I'll save that for another discussion.)

The common solutions include vigorous head shaking, strategic pinkie insertion, and application of commercial ear-drying fluids. Some folks will even plunge Q-tips deep inside their heads in direct contradiction to the warning labels on the package. One or more of these tactics is usually pretty effective.

But for almost a week now, I've been plagued by sloshing sounds from within my cranium. At first I assumed it was ordinary ear water, and was confident that I could purge it by using the common remedies. But none of them has worked. I've even spent extra time on the inversion table, tried sleeping on one side all night long, and done some enthusiastic aerobic exercise. But I'm still hearing sloshing sounds from inside my head.

One weird thing is that it comes and goes. My hearing will work normally for hours at a time, but then I'll have an interlude in which every motion of my head results in an intracranial splish-splash. Each noise is exactly like the ones I experience with normal ear-flooding...but this problem must be rooted in deeper, since I can't shake it out.

The other weird thing is that it hasn't escalated. I'd expect that after a week of walking around waterlogged, I'd start to feel some pain. Water in the ear generally leads to infection...or at least causes some sort of inflammation. But nope, I feel fine. It seems to me that if it is benign, my body should've figured out some way to absorb it by now -- after all, we've all been told that our composition is 90% water anyhow...why doesn't the excess ear water just work its way into the bloodstream or peestream or whatever?

Life is full of mysteries, isn't it? Oh well. If you have any ideas about what I should do, please let me know. (Just make sure you're talking into my left ear, OK?) Thanks, and have a great day!

Night of the Lepus

What do you call a supernatural force that levitates chickens?

A poultry-geist. Ar ar.

I am happy to report that nothing out of the ordinary occurred at my home on Tuesday night. The shower curtain remained securely in place after being rehung, and the garlic and wolfbane I've hung around the entrances were once again effective in deterring visitations by the undead.

Which reminds me, the picture at the top of yesterday's post was actress Dawnn Lewis in her role as the hero's love interest in "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka." If you haven't seen this film, you should -- it was the Best Picture of 1988. (No, it didn't win the Oscar, but it should have. It was WAY better than Rainman.)

I do find it interesting, though, that I didn't recall any dreams from the previous night, when you'd think the adrenaline rush of things crashing in the dark, along with the associated fears of invasions by Gozer, et al, would have sparked a flurry of subconscious activity resulting in significant memories upon awakening. But it didn't happen.

But when I woke up this morning, I had a very clear recollection of my final dream of the night. I had been attempting to sneak into a restricted area of Mesa Verde National Park with Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza. That in itself was odd, because I am usually pretty good at distinguishing actors from their roles...but this was not Jason Alexander; it was George. Anyway, we had climbed over a fence and were trying to gain access to one of those Park Service outhouses, but it was guarded by a bunny rabbit wearing a glow-in-the-dark safety vest. It was a rather small bunny, and he seemed more interested in sniffing around for tasty greenery than in preventing outhouse access, but we were careful to avoid letting him see us.

Do you remember odd details from your dreams? I usually do not, but in this one, I distinctly remember noting that the rabbit's vest was not merely reflective, but was actually glowing, due to several phosphorescent lightsticks pinned to it. He was very easy to see as he sniffled around on the other side of the structure, and fortunately George managed to keep his mouth shut long enough for us to get right up next to the building.

Despite our stealth, though, we never made it inside. We were so busy watching the rabbit that we didn't notice the distant approach of Paul Blart, Mall Cop, until he had almost arrived. We decided to abort the mission (whatever it was), and we scampered back to the safety of some nearby rock formations. And that's when I woke up.

I have no idea how Freud would interpret that, nor do I plan to spend any time looking up dream analysis tools on the Internet. I think it was just pretty silly.

But it did remind me of another movie that everyone should see if at all possible. It's called "Night of the Lepus", and stars DeForest Kelley. This clip shows what might be the best "cop" speech in the history of cinema:



That's all I have for today. May your dreams tonight be absolutely free of rabbits, outhouses, and sitcoms stars...and have a great day!

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope everyone has remembered to shower affection upon your loved ones today. Of course, it's important to tell those you care about how much they mean to you more than just once a year -- in fact, we should really share those thoughts and feelings every single day. But today is a good day to do something extra-special to demonstrate your caring and adoration to those you love the most.

It is also a good day for manufacturers and distributors of chocolate products. And it's probably a big day for the people who make heart-shaped boxes, too (though they probably don't get the same recognition as the chocolatiers.)

As you know, chocolate is Nature's Most Perfect Food; it provides many health and fitness benefits. The problem is that chocolate often surrounds substances that are NOT quite so good for us, and when we consume entire boxes of Valentine candies in a single sitting, we are probably tipping the scales toward the negative side of the health and weight-loss equation. This is sad, because I really do like to indulge in the occasional dark-coated confection. There were years in the past where I would storm the groceries stores on February 15th to pick up entire buggies full of half-price chockies, consuming them in short order thereafter.

But alas, that was when my metabolism was set to "hummingbird". Nowadays, each 1-ounce candy seems to defy the laws of mass conservation—it somehow converts itself into an entire pound of additional ballast around my midsection. And since I'm attempting to do what it takes to become a better runner, excess mass is something I'm trying to avoid. Therefore, I shall eschew tomorrow's sale merchandise and will instead consume my normal daily fuels such as oatmeal, bananas, and salad greens.

Sigh.

Anyway, if you're ever in Canton, Ohio, be sure to stop by Heggy's Candy store. They also ship during the winter, so check out the website at www.heggys.com. It's an ugly website, but amazingly good chocolate.

So, did you recognize the photo at the top of this post? Can you tell me what movie it's from?

(No, it's not from the "Thriller" music video, though that's a good guess.)

I chose that graphic because it represents the concept of "scary", which relates to today's main topic. You see, I was shocked out of a sound sleep last night by two separate loud noises. The first one woke me up, and the second came about 1 second later. Of course, one's first thought in such circumstances is always "Omigod, it's JarJar Binks coming to get his revenge!" But then you remember that JarJar was convicted and justifiably executed a long time ago in a galaxy far far away...so it couldn't be him. Does that mean, then, that it's really Florence Henderson on another goulish rampage?

Hmm. The noises were crashing sounds, as if a chair had tipped over, twice. Nothing tinkly like breaking glass or dishes, just ker-whunk type sounds. Seemed to come from the bathroom. As the adrenaline kicked my brain into gear, I assessed the rational possibilities. An intruder? Not likely, since an intruder probably wouldn't be tossing furniture in my bathroom. Some cacauphonous event occuring in the adjacent apartment? Perhaps, since I can't help but occasionally overhear that they subscribe to the "volume is more effective than reason" philosophy of conflict resolution. In any case, an investigation would be required before I'd be able to go back to sleep.

I am pleased to report that it was not a rabid badger, nor was it a spherical sparking time portal delivering a naked Michael Biehn. It was not Satan, nor his twin minions Rosie O'Donnell and Roseann Barr. It was not an old girlfriend, nor any of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders violating their restraining orders. It was not spontaneous combustion of Nyquil that was 4 years past its expiration date, nor was it Nikita Kruschev misunderstanding the proper use of footwear. It was merely the combined effects of entropy and gravity.

My shower curtain rod had fallen. It appeared that the initial unfastening dropped it to the point of momentary entanglement in the flexible hose attached to the showerhead, which then gave way to complete the tumble to the tub floor. The curtain ended up in a semi-Hitchcockian array, draped across the edge of the tub and onto the linoleum. It was really rather artistic. I briefly considered attempting a repair, but quickly decided that it could wait. Thus satisfied that there had been no security breach and that no personal harm was imminent, I went back to bed.

Surprisingly, I don't recall any dreams from the remainder of the night. I woke up refreshed and alert, ready for a good workout. I suppose that there's some unwritten homeowner rule that one should check the integrity of shower curtain rods each time you replace the batteries in the smoke detectors, but I had never seen the need to do so...until now. But you may rest assured that I'll verify that it's firmly affixed to the wall before I retire tonight.

In any case, I hope that you celebrate your VD (Valentine's Day...probably not the world's most appropriate event for conversion to an acronym, is it?) in a most romantic and delightful way, and that your sleep tonight is uninterrupted and restful. Have a great day!

Swim Meet at Carmody

I really enjoy these dual meets with the Dawgs. The food is great, the people are friendly, the competition is low key, and I get to do some really fun events. Plus, the food is great! (Did I mention that already?)

I swam 10 events in about a 2-hour span, and was feeling pretty much exhausted after the first 50 of the first event. It was a 200 butterfly, and I took it out too fast. Had to catch my breath on the walls, and it was pretty slow. But hey...nobody else there did a 200 fly, so I guess you could say I won the event, right?

I also swam a 50 Taz (didn't even break a minute--ugh!), 50 sidestroke, and 100 elementary backstroke. Then there were a few standard races, like the 100 and 200 IM, and the 500 free. I can't say there was much speed exhibited in any of those events, but I tried.

So, just like Friday's run, I'm going to say that it was a positive training experience. If all you did was look at my times, you could justifiably make the assumption that I pretty much stunk it up...and I could not argue with you. But if you consider the effort I put in, and the race-environment experience, well -- then you could easily conclude that I achieved some sort of valuable training.

Of course, much of that was counteracted by pigging out at the potluck lunch after the meet. There was this killer coffeecake, you see, deeply encrusted with cinnamon/sugar and full of fresh blueberries bursting with flavor. Mmmm. A single slice would've provided adequate calories for the day, but I was unable to stop there. I pretty much ate the whole thing.

Oh well, the good news is that I'm very proud of the other Foothills participants. I know that Kim (pictured above) set a couple of PRs, and new team members Steve and Seth were impressive in their Foothills debut, as well. It was a solid performance all around, including some excellent swims by Cliff's kids and Doug's daughter Megan, and the expected solid performances from Cliff and Doug themselves, as well as by the always-impressive Mr. Kalstrom.

And we owe special thanks to Desmond Ford for showing up and supporting us with his mad stopwatch skillz.

The only disappointment was that none of the Foothills women showed up. It seems odd -- because as impressive as our male swimmers are, the females in the group make us guys look like a bunch of dandelions. They often outnumber us at practice, work harder than we do, and complain less. Yet when it's time to show up and represent the team, they vanish like Saddam's WMDs. It's a mystery to me.

But I do have another positive item to share. I learned how to make Yam Chips! I had read a recipe in one of those doctor's office magazines, along with a pitch for how healthy and delicious they were. So I picked up a couple of the big orange 'taters at the store and spent a good chunk of Saturday afternoon trying to slice them as thin as I could. This is not easy, since I don't have a slicing machine, and am not generally permitted to handle sharp cutting tools. But despite some inconsistencies in thickness, I somehow managed to get a couple of them completely chopped into wafers, and all without losing any fingers or thumbs.

I sprayed them with a light coating of oil, sprinkled on some seasoning salt, and tossed them in the oven. The good news is that they went over pretty well at the potluck...not a single one was left for me to bring home. The bad news is that it took forever to bake them to the desired crispness. In fact, I gave up when it was time to go to bed or they might have been even crisper. But without more oil, higher heat, or perhaps even a deep fryer, it is not a quick process to chippify moist spuds. They were pretty tasty, but I think next time I'll just go down to the healthfood store and buy some instead of spending my entire day in the kitchen for what amounted to about a half bag of goodies.

Anyway, it was a fun meet, and a good way to finish off the weekend. Yes, I know I said I would probably try to finish my taxes, but c'mon...I was tired when I got home. Mebee next weekend. Still, I enjoyed myself, and as always, was happy to spend some time with my friends on the Dawgs. (Swimmers are great people, in case you haven't noticed...even if they are on the other team.) But I did make this minor observation: when the meet was over, all the adults stood around talking with each other. The kids, well--not so much.

What this means for the future of our society, I do not know. But I'm just glad they showed up to swim with us. Even if they are totally absorbed by smart phone technology, at least they're swimmers, and are therefore good-hearted and intelligent human beings. I suspect that the future will be in good hands, despite the distractions of iPhones.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who participated, and thanks to Jim Murphy and his crew for putting on another great event. I'm looking forward to the next one, and I hope you are, too. In the meantime, I'll see you at the pool--Have a great day!

Midseason Fatigue

OK, I didn't mean to offend any of you by leaving out your favorite "Oz" people. There were a couple of folks who thought the Bosleys should be included (both Tom and that creepy assistant guy from Charley's Angels), but a lot more were in favor of the Osmonds -- Ken (pictured here) and, of course, Donny.

I'm sure no one would argue with the idea that Donny Osmond is one of the greatest performers of all time. But when I was in college, I got into an argument with my roommate over whether Donny was better than Michael Jackson. Mickey was convinced that Michael would have the more successful career, while I argued that Donny would be popular long after Michael had faded from the spotlight. I think we all know how that turned out.

I think Mickey owes me an apology. Donny totally rocks, man!

Anyway, I had a busy Friday morning. It started with a pretty good swim practice. We did a broken 825 (half a 1650), and I felt pretty good and worked it hard -- finishing in 10:20. We also did a bunch of sprinting with fins on...which I came to regret shortly thereafter.

Well, actually, I'm not sure it was the fin work that did it. But after swim practice, Reynold and I went out for a run. There were quite a few spots where the snow and ice made the footing treacherous, and due to my poor balance and lack of coordination, I'm extremely cautious over such sections. But even on the dry sidewalks, I was struggling. I tried to relax and think "chi running", but my legs were having none of it. Each footstep felt like an earthquake, and my cadence was positively glacial.

But that's the nice thing about exercise; even when you have a bad workout...you've still had a workout. It feels good to finish, and even if you're slow and clumsy, you still get some sort of training benefit.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

Anyway, after the run, I went to the doctor to get my stitches out. Quick and painless; and the result of the incision is nearly invisible. So for now, other than slow legs and mildly elevated cholesterol, I have a clean bill of health.

So here's my theory: My slow run is a symptom of midseason fatigue. In other words, I've finally been working out enough to be a bit broken down. This hasn't happened for a while, since over the past few years I've been in the habit of taking some time off whenever I get too tired. But right now, I'm trying to stick to a regular workout schedule, even if I don't feel too zippy.

My hope is that this fatigue is indicative of a training state similar to what I experienced during midseason training as a youth...and that I'll suddenly feel a burst of speed when I taper (like I did back then.) Of course, the additional decades of wear and tear may lead to slightly different results than when I was a schoolboy...but we'll just have to wait and see. Right?

I'm swimming in a meet on Sunday. I'm not tapering for it, so it'll be interesting to see how fast I can go.

Oh, let's be real -- I'm just going to the meet so I can pig out at the potluck afterwards. I'll do the best I can in the 50 Taz, but the rest of the events will be strictly for fun. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, keep up your training, and have a great day!

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Here's a graphic that should instantly reveal the answer to yesterday's puzzle.



That's right; the answer is "Oz".

Let's begin by quickly going through the pictures above. The first frame is from the Wizard of Oz, of course. This figure is not really a wizard...merely an effective stage prop to help the man behind the curtain maintain the dominance he exerts over his kingdom. The story doesn't bear close analysis; somehow a balloonist's navigational incompetence bestows upon him absolute monarchy over a land full of talking trees, flying monkeys, and delightfully limber dancing scarecrows. Heck, Gilligan's Island makes more sense. But there's some decent music, so I guess we can cut 'em some slack.

The second frame features the world's premier muppeteer, and the creative force behind Yoda and Miss Piggy -- Mr. Frank Oz. Coincidentally, the tales of Oz were written by a guy named L. Frank Baum, which may be what Ma and Pa Oz were thinking about when they named their little boy.

The wisecracking bear in the third frame (who happens to wear a hat similar to Yogi, as I mentioned yesterday) is named Fozzie Bear, and is also given life by the skills of Mr. Oz. In fact, he is named after his creator: F. Oz. Foz...Fozzie, get it?

I apologize for the disturbing image in the final frame. I know it looks like the guy from "My Name is Earl," but it's not. I doubt that anybody wanted to blow it up enough to clearly identify the actor with the ponytail...but if you did, you would recognize Mr. Sean Connery, costumed for his role in the film "Zardoz". I would apologize for the upcoming spoiler, but at this point I'm sure nobody cares: But "Zardoz" is PA (Post-Apocalyptic) sci-fi about a nation whose government is modeled after the teachings of the aforementioned wizard. Wi-ZARD of OZ. See?

I'm not recommending the movie, though. If you want vintage Connery, you should choose "Diamonds Are Forever", instead.

OK, so back to our original graphic:



The leftmost frame features former football player Brian Bosworth, aka "The Boz". The second frame is William Henry Cosby, aka "The Coz". Frame three is Jimmy Durante, aka "The Schnoz". So far, so good; I'm sure everybody recognized those guys right away.

The fellow on the far right is probably not instantly recognizable to most of us -- at least not his face. But I bet even today, most Americans would recognize his voice; that why I gave you the hint of him hanging out with Huckleberry Hound and Yogi Bear. Yes, that's right; he's Daws (Doz) Butler, the voice of virtually all of the classic Hanna Barbera characters.

So how does the sitcom "Friends" factor into this discussion?

No... it's not because David Schwimmer is pozitively terrible (though that's not a bad guess). It's because Matthew Perry (aka Chandler) appears in the movie "The Whole Nine Yards" as a character named Nicholas "Oz" Oseransky.

OK, that's it for today. As Fozzie Bear would say, "Wokka wokka!" Have a great day!

Contemplation

I am happy to report that I did not dream about the Brady Bunch last night. The bad news is that despite that particular blessing, I didn't get nearly enough rest. I got cold during the night, woke up chilled, and had trouble warming up and going back to sleep.

Maybe I just have a lot on my mind. Perhaps I was thinking too much about the Colorado Caucuses, and was distressed at how few people voted for Ted Nugent. Or I might have been subconsciously worrying about what sort of swim workout would be appropriate if the pool stinks too much from having the ventilation system broken. Or maybe I was thinking about how silly it is to go back to the doctor's office on Friday and pay to get my stitches removed when I could probably do it myself with an X-Acto knife and a pair of tweezers.

(By the way, the lab results came back and there was no sign of skin cancer. Yea!)

Anyway, whatever the cause, the night was not a particularly restful one. I'll try to get to bed earlier tonight, and will endeavor not to let my concerns for the world at large impinge on my REM time. I know I'll have a busy day at the office; finishing a proposal draft, writing a press release, and working on posters for a trade show booth -- exciting stuff. The time will pass quickly, and I'm certain that my brain will be fully capable of shutting down completely by the time I crawl under the blankets this evening.

But that won't stop me from attempting to keep YOU up late at night. Today's challenge is to figure out the puzzle at the top of this page. Can you deduce what made me think that these four guys belonged together?

By the way, the Yogi Bear toy in the final frame isn't quite like the one I had as a kid, but it's close. It was probably toxic (and may have had something to do with the fact that my brain works in the erratic way it does), but I loved to inhale the unique smell of Yogi's permanently-smiling rubber face. I was a little freaked out when his hat came off and I realized that his head had a mutant cylindrical plateau on top (so the hat would fit snugly), but a little bit of Elmer's Glue took care of that. The hat didn't come off again.

You'll see a similar hat on a different type of bear in tomorrow's quiz explanation. (Is that a hint? Perhaps. After all, how many bears do you know who wear hats?)

Anyway, I look forward to hearing your answers. (Extra credit if you can also explain which "Friends" cast member could have been included in this puzzle.) Give it some thought, but try not to let it keep you up all night, OK? Thanks, and have a great day!

Nightmares

The photo collection above ties together both of the panels from yesterday's quiz. I thought about including it yesterday, but decided that the frame on the far right might be a little too obscure. (Click on the picture to see a larger version.) But you do get extra bonus points if you can follow the logic on this one. And double extra bonus points if you see the connection between the second panel and the fourth. (Answers below.)

While you're thinking about that, let me share another photo from Sunday's hike. Kim took this one, and it does a much better job of showing how my snowshoes flip snow up onto my pants.

I suppose this does render me somewhat camouflaged from the waist down, so these shoes would probably be a good choice for a hunter...or for an illegal alien trying to sneak across the Canadian border. In fact, if I run in these snowshoes, the spray pattern covers my entire back and sometimes even puts snow down the back of my collar, which I have to confess I don't enjoy all that much. If cammo was my main objective, though, I think I'd be better off buying a white nylon ski suit. In any case, if I'm going to stick with these snowshoes, I definitely need to get some less-wettable pants.

Anyway, I must've been thinking about yesterday's quiz when I went to bed last night, because I woke up from a related nightmare this morning. I was on a vacation in Australia and had met a nice Aussie girl on the beach, and was attempting some awkward flirtation. It was going well up until I realized that I was actually part of a Brady Bunch Travel Special. My flirtation was interrupted by Greg and Bobby running up to breathlessly ask if I had seen the mystic Aboriginal talisman they had taken from the local medicine man. That in itself wasn't all that disturbing, but a moment later, Florence Henderson showed up...and I woke up screaming.

I don't know why that woman gives me the heebie jeebies, but she does. I have always thought that she was the creepiest female this side of pea-soup-mode Linda Blair.

Anyway, if you haven't figured it out already, the theme for the first set of photos is "Brady".



The first guy is Tom Brady, who is obviously a football player of some kind. The second panel is Robert Reed, who played the evil stepfather on "The Brady Bunch". I'd be really interested to know if anyone recognized the people in the third frame -- you'd probably have to be older than me to get that one. The finger-pointin' feller is a cowpoke named Leonard Slye (better known as Roy Rogers), and he's sitting next to his wife and singing partner, Ms. Dale Evans. But the driver of the jeep is the key to this frame; his name is Pat Brady, Roy's longtime comic-relief sidekick.

Just out of curiosity, have you ever given a name to the vehicle you drive? I doubt that I've ever told anyone this, but I called my Ford Pinto "Bucky, Jr.", and my Yamaha 750 "Rocky". I've grown up now, and have less attachment to mechanical devices, so you'll be happy to know that my Subaru station wagon remains nameless.

Anyway, the last guy in the panel is Wayne Brady, host of several lame shows, er, I mean game shows. (Or do I?) He was very funny on "Whose Line Is It, Anyway?", but didn't quite achieve the Ryan Secrest magic he was hoping for in his emcee career.

The next puzzle was a little tougher because they don't all have the same name. But they start with the same syllable, which is "Man".



The first is Eli Manning, son of legendary Saints quarterback Archie Manning. The second panel features Mike Connors in his role as Joe Mannix. This was one of my favorite detective shows growing up -- until the episode where he got thrown in the bay and they showed him trying to swim. It was pitiful, and I lost all respect for him.

(As a point of reference, Magnum PI is actually a pretty good swimmer. And Dirty Harry? Well, Clint Eastwood was a lifeguard before he met Sergio Leone, so he's OK, too.)

But don't get me wrong: I don't have anything against people who don't swim well...in fact, I love to try to help them improve their strokes. But I figure if you're gonna be a detective in a town next to a bay, you gotta figure you'll be dumped in the drink at some point, so fergawhsakes, dude, take a lesson or two!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Mighty Manfred, the Wonder Dog. He was the dim-witted sidekick of a poorly drawn cartoon hero named "Tom Terrific", who for reasons that were never adequately explained, wore a funnel on his head and a ribbon around his neck. The cartoon was a feature on Captain Kangaroo's show, and I enjoyed Manfred's dry wit so much that Santa brought me a stuffed dog for Christmas one year and I promptly named him Manfred. (He was replaced as my favorite plush toy when I got a stuffed Yogi Bear to play with, but we had a good run.)

The last panel features Carl Lumbly in his role as "MANTIS". It wasn't a great show and didn't last very long, but I watched every episode. Lumbly not only has a great name, but also a distinctive voice, and I'm pretty much a sucker for any show that has a guy using technology to turn himself into a crimefighting bug. I may be mistaken about this, but I also think it was the first primetime show to feature an African-American superhero. MANTIS was an acronym for "Mechanically Automated Neuro Transmitter Interactive System", which is another reason the nerd in me was attracted to the program.

Anyway, the panel at the top of this post relates our previous two puzzles together via a name-similarity progression. On the left we have quarterback Brady Quinn, who may end up starting for the Broncos next year if Tebow doesn't improve his passing over the summer. The second frame features Denzel Washington in his role as "The Mighty Quinn", which was a movie about a cop in some swampy place. (He did not get thrown in the water, though, so I have no idea if Mr. Washington can swim or not.) The third picture is obviously our friend Mighty Manfred again. And the admittedly obscure final frame features Manfred Mann's Earth Band, which gives us a double dose of our "Man" syllable to finish off the connection between our two Super Bowl puzzles. Ties it up neatly, doesn't it?

But here's the double extra bonus points connection: Manfred Mann's second most lucrative tune was "Quinn the Eskimo", which was written by none other than Bob Dylan and has lyrics that make absolutely no sense. The phrase "You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn" incorporates a double negative, which makes it mean "You will see something like the mighty Quinn,"...but it still makes no sense. Anyway, the other Mann song you'll recognize is Bruce Springsteen's "Blinded by the Light", which makes even less sense than "Quinn". But both tunes were big hits, and you've probably sung along with "Wrapped up like a deuce, you know the runner in the night" without ever giving any thought to how incomprehensibly stupid the song is.

Anyway, now that you know what Manfred Mann looks like, you'll probably feel the same way about him as I do about Mannix. I apologize if I've shattered any of your illusions, but the truth must come out eventually.

As for me, well, I'm going to try to put all of this out of my mind. If I do manage to dream about vacations and beaches again tonight, I want no Bradys, Quinns, or Mantises sneaking in there to wake me up. Wish me luck, and have a great day!

Super Sunday

My doctor told me not to get in the water until 3pm on Sunday, so that my incision could heal. But swim practice was at 9am, and after missing workouts on Friday and Saturday, I really wanted to swim. What was I to do?

Duct tape, of course.

I had no assurances that it would keep my wound completely dry during swim practice, and I looked like a dork with a big stripe of silver tape swathed across my neck. But since I always look like a dork, and also have substantial faith in the marvels of modern industrial adhesives, I decided to take my chances.

It was a good swim practice. Of course since my new neck accessory was hard to miss, I had to explain my stitches, which led to the longer story of my history of benign skin cancer from all those years as a sun worshiper...but those explanatory interludes did not detract from a pretty decent workout. I swam 1000 yards past what I needed for my "Go the Distance" swimcap freebie, and I got out of the pool feeling appropriately beat.

But if you've followed this blog for a while, then you know that for many of my friends, one workout in a day is simply not enough. My buddies Kim and Reynold would have run steps at Red Rocks before swim practice -- if the park weren't under a couple of feet of snow. But because of the conditions, they decided that we should all do some snowshoeing after swimming instead.

So, in addition to antibiotics and duct tape, I brought long underwear, extra shirt layers, gloves, a selection of hats & earmuffs, and of course, my hiking boots and snowshoes.

It turns out that none of that extra cold-weather gear was necessary. It was an absolutely gorgeous sunny day; a light cap and fleece jacket provided all the warmth I would need.

We went to Roxborough Park, and were pleased to see that the roads were easily passable (unlike the last time I was out there). We weren't alone...and in fact, the trails had already been beaten down pretty well. Snowshoes probably weren't strictly necessary, but they weren't a handicap, either.

I learned something about snowshoes on this hike, and may have to consider replacing the ones I have. Look at the photo above, and notice how Reynold's heel is up, but the snowshoe remains flat -- this allowed him to walk normally without flipping snow up onto the back of his pants. My snowshoes, on the other hand, are spring loaded to flip the tail up with each stride, flinging snow onto the back of my pants. In the photo below, you can see how this resulted in me having soaking wet jeans, almost from the very start of the hike. Fortunately, it was warm enough that being wet wasn't a problem for my comfort and enjoyment of the hike. It's just a little embarrassing to look like the only guy in the group who pees his pants. Oh well.



What a fabulous day, though! The red rocks and white snow provided beautiful vistas in all directions. The other hikers were unfailingly friendly, and we even heard the gobble of a wild turkey from somewhere off in the woods. We didn't go all that far--just a couple of miles--but we still felt like we got some good exercise. One of the scenic-view lookout point trails was closed, which was a bit disappointing -- but there was no lack of spectacular scenery to enjoy.

Even the trail itself was pretty; the snow sparkled with reflected sunlight, and the tracks from skis, boots, and snowshoes provided an eclectic mix of trail textures. There were places where we each went off into deeper snow (just because), and places where the rising slope made us work and breathe a bit harder. It wasn't really a workout, but it was a heck of a nice way to burn a few extra calories and enjoy the beauty of nature and the company of good friends. An excellent way to finish off the weekend!

I hope your weekend had its highlights as well. I'll leave you with two minor puzzles as my acknowledgement of the end of the football season. What's the link between the 4 pictures in these two panels? (And in a peripherally-related question, who's the moron that chooses the halftime acts for Super Bowls? I mean, really? Madonna? C'mon! Didn't they know that Blue Öyster Cult was available? Geez.)

Anyway, good luck, and have a great day!

When Can I Get My New Swim Cap?

I'm not a tough guy.

Ask anyone who knows me; they'll confirm my wimpiness. I've never bungee jumped off the Space Needle, gotten a tattoo, or eaten a puffer fish. I cry like a schoolgirl whenever I get a hangnail, and I fear doing the laundry as if Hannibal Lecter were lurking among the dirty towels. Why, back when I was in the motorcycle gang, I didn't even wear a leather jacket or carry any beatin' chains. Sarah Connor, I am not.

But as wimpy as I am, I am still more than willing to try to make it to the pool on a mildly snowy day. But, no...we've become such a nation of milquetoasts that we shut everything down at the first sign of panic from the local newscasters.

You may not know this (and I'm somewhat ashamed to admit it), but I went to Journalism school. I hung out with people just like the ones you see on TV and listen to on the radio. And believe me, folks, the fact is that newscasters take great delight in blowing things out of proportion. I'd go so far as to say that most journalists (including weather reporters) feel that the truth is merely the first scoop in their double-decker triple-fudge sundae with sprinkles. In other words, it IS going to snow, and it might even come down all day long...but it doesn't necessarily mean that the APOCALYPSE has arrived. They make it sound that way, but this is Colorado, people. We all have 4WD, and the snowplow crews know what they're doing. We can make it to swim practice.

My point is that they closed the Ridge on Friday, so we couldn't swim. Back when I was a kid, we'd walk uphill to school, barefoot, through 40 miles of snow while fighting off hordes of rabid wolves and commie ninjas. We thought nothing of it; it's just what you did. But now, as soon as the reporters start ululating and flailing their arms about, administrators everywhere immediately pop the panic button.

Sigh.

You may wonder why I'm upset enough to rant about this. Well, here's why: I have a mere 4000 yards to go to get my free swim cap from the USMS "Go the Distance" program. You get the free cap for swimming a total of 50 miles since January 1, and I'm just one good workout away from it. I was planning to achieve that milestone with our "Fun Friday" practice. But no, it snowed.

I don't really care about getting a cap -- I've already got one, you see. But I had hoped I could hit the 50-mile goal by right around Groundhog's Day...and now it's going to extend beyond that. I'll admit that it's silly to be bummed out about being delayed by supervisory overreactions to a little bit of flaky precipitation, but I am anyway. I was hoping to get my last 4K on Friday morning, because now I'll have to sit out the next couple of days to recover from getting some skin sliced off at the doctor's office. (Just a little bump on my neck...no big deal. But they want me to stay out of the pool to let the stitches do their work.)

If I run out of other stuff to talk about, maybe I'll post of couple of blogs about snowstorms from the past -- back when it really WAS necessary to close down businesses. The best one was probably the time that me and my brother and Herbert the Pervert went over to Harvest Park and jumped off the 3-meter diving board into the snow that had filled the pool's deep end. That was fun!*

*Except for the wolves and ninjas, of course.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll hit the 50-mile mark early next week, and will have the cap before you know it. I'll be sure to post photos when it arrives. In the meantime, I'll do my best to stay dry and warm. I hope you will, too. Have a great day!

Track

My legs are still sore from doing steps and a bleacher snake at Red Rocks with Kim and Reynold on Sunday. And they were sore from the Yeti Chase before that. So when my brother suggested that we do a track workout on Tuesday, I wasn't sure how much zip I'd have in my legs.

But zippy or not, I decided to give it a try. For the last decade or so, I have listened to my body and have taken rest days when the aches, pains, and resting heart rate have told me to. Under this philosophy, I've continued to suffer injuries and have watched my performance slowly decline. So at least for the time being, I'm going to revert to the old "summers with Wichita Swim Club" philosophy and continue working out even when I'm dreadfully beat up -- in the hopes of seeing a performance payoff when I taper.

It's called mid-season fatigue, and I'm definitely feeling it right now. I'm consistently sluggish, sleepy, and stiff all over. But I hope to relish every moment of those beat-up feelings, because they remind me that I'm slowly climbing out of my slacker-habit comfort hole. I'm increasing the duration and intensity of my workouts, and trying to be a bit tougher. If my ancient bones and ligaments can take it, I'm confident that by working through the fatigue I'll eventually gain enough strength to avoid additional embarrassments like my Yeti Chase slowdown.

So even though my calves were yelping with each footstep, I participated in the track workout. We ran a couple of laps for warmup, did some short "near-sprints" to stimulate the muscles, and then moved on to the main set: a timed 3000-meter run.

The good news is that Pat didn't quite lap me. The bad news is that the tightness in my legs kept me from attaining the stride length and turnover rate I would've liked...but it was still a better run than I was expecting. My total time is stored in my Timex GPS watch, but I turned it off before I remembered to look at exactly what it was. (I think the 3K was somewhere just under 17 minutes. Not great, but I'll take it at this point in the season.)

I hope to run more this week, and possibly even do a longer run on the weekend. (Another 10K or more would be good.) Don't worry; I'm still being careful to avoid injury, but can appreciate any additional effort that I can throw onto these tired old legs. I'll let you know how it goes.

One other observation: I love the fact that I can download photos of the track I run on, or the house I grew up in, or any location I happen to think of. I'm starting to believe that Google Maps might be one of the 10 greatest inventions in the history of mankind. What's on your list?

Of course, Google Maps wouldn't be possible without the advances made by the US Space Program. Oh, I suppose you could make the argument that those advances were partially driven by the fact that the Commies are always up to no good and need to be watched, but I'll stop short of thanking Kruschev, et al, if you don't mind. It's good ol' American ingenuity at work, it is -- and it makes me sad to think how many people don't recognize the tremendous benefits that come from space and science research. We need to do more, explore more, go higher and farther and faster. You may not think the Borg are coming, but what if you're wrong? What if you're wrong?

Anyway, the point is that Bear Creek High School has a nice track, and I enjoy running there, even when I'm tired. I hope we can keep doing these practices throughout the month. There's supposed to be another snowstorm moving in, though, so we'll have to see how that affects things. If there's enough snow, well, I'd bet that a good snowshoe run would make an excellent contribution to my mid-season base. I've got my fingers crossed.

In the meantime, thank you for all the kind words of encouragement as I try to ramp up this running thing. I do appreciate the support. Keep in mind that I'll always be happy to give you the same encouragement if you want to ramp up your swimming, too. Just let me know, and have a great day!