More About Names

1971 was a big year for people with weird names. The horribly crappy TV show "The Waltons" made its debut -- introducing us to "John Boy". And the movie "Billy Jack" premiered, introducing us to, well, Billy Jack.

They're both kinda creepy loner weirdos who live in the hills, but John Boy is a milquetoast goody two-shoes, while Billy is a martial arts expert with serious rage issues. John Boy writes poetry and collects flowers; Billy Jack hangs out with rattlesnakes and whomps on rednecks.

Guess which one I liked better?

There were already a few kung fu movies around before Billy Jack came out, but they were all made in Asia, were poorly dubbed, and had plots that made no sense to people raised in Western cultures. "Billy", on the other hand, was all about America. It chronicled the eternal struggles between The Establishment and Freedom, between cops and hippies, and between rednecks and artists. And in the early 70s, the moviegoing youth of America were firmly on the side of the hippies -- the movie made LOTS of money.

In retrospect, though, it's a terrible film. Oh sure, you have to give credit to Billy Jack for paving the way for Chuck Norris, who we all agree is one of the greatest things to ever happen to the world. But it would be hard to find another profitable film that had such egregious writing, wooden acting, and unlikeable protagonists. Today, I doubt that any of us could sit through the entire thing without needing a barf bag.

Anyway, my point is that it was about this time that my friend Rick Hall earned the nickname, "The Trucker".

Before I go into that, though, please take a moment to deduce what these guys all have in common. (Answer at the end of the post.)



This all kinda relates to my earlier blog about "Roger Roger". You see, one of the Wichita Swim Club's most unique personalities was a guy named Roger Neugent. (Yes, he IS the name behind the "Neugent Bites" phenomenon at the University of Kansas.) Neugent was a star breaststroker, and an all-around studly fellow.

So one day, when Rick Hall was raving about Billy Jack's manly prowess, and about the awesome strength possessed by the hippie karateman, I took the opportunity to point out the fact that Neugent's arms were bigger than Billy Jack's. For some reason, the group thought this was hilarious, and from then on, the words "Neugent is bigger than Billy Jack" became an oft-repeated mantra among the swimteam.

So my question for you is this: What oddball sayings became an integral part of your youth culture? I'm talking about things that would make no sense to anyone outside your circle of friends. Some other examples from my peers include "X + 2", "What's a hook?", and "Got any Seth?" But I'm sure the folks you grew up with were equally weird, right?

Right?

Anyway, I will eventually get around to telling all of those stories over on The Shy Man's Life blog. (That's my historical/autobiographical site. I haven't posted there for a long time, but there are definitely some gaps that need to be filled in.) I will also share more laughs about "The Trucker" and many other tales of Neugent's exploits, including:

• Jumping out the 4th floor window at Oliver Hall


• The hydrogen balloon bomb trick


• Street soaking sink-hose water nozzle


• Country Time cannons


• Assigning Dale Carver his nickname


• Science experiments in alcohol-enhanced athletic performance


• Lessons learned about rubbing alcohol's ignition point

Sorry I don't have time for those tales today, but they're all fascinating, I assure you. For now, though, have you had time enough to think about the "porcupine" and his friends from the photo above?

That's right -- it's "Larry". Too obvious? Yeah, I know...sorry.

What you may not know is that Larry Fine became a Stooge one night when one of Ted Healy's regular stooges was unable to make the performance. Larry was in the orchestra pit, where he was earning a living playing the violin. His unique appearance resulted in being chosen as a substitute Stooge...and the rest is history.

According to Wikipedia, Larry Jones got the nickname "Chipper" because he was so much like his dad ("chip off the old block"). Buster Crabbe, on the other hand, was actually named "Clarence" (just like Lumpy Rutherford), but was credited as "Larry Crabbe" in some of his movies. Crabbe, like Johnny Weissmuller before him, was a champion swimmer who became a movie star. (You may not have noticed this, but I'm rather partial toward swimmers. I think they're cooler than normal people, and there's plenty of evidence to support that theory.)

The last guy is Larry Welk. Most people referred to him by the more formal name "Lawrence", probably to keep him from being confused with singer Larry Hooper.

I'll leave you with a clip featuring both of those Larrys. (Watch for a special appearance by Alberto Contador toward the end of the clip.) Enjoy it, and have a great day!

Back to the Track

I'm healthy, the swim meet is over, and the weather is warm. My summer schedule is full of events that require high levels of fitness and conditioning. I have no excuses for continued slackerhood -- 'tis time to get to work.

I haven't done anything but swim (and rest) for the last 10 days or so. I desperately need to get back to pumping iron, riding bikes, and climbing stairs. And yes, running.

It's pretty obvious that I love swimming. It's hard to imagine life without it. And over the last few years, I've really had fun with the cycling, too. But running remains challenging. Really challenging. (For an assessment of my relationship with running, click here.)

Nevertheless, when my brother invites me to run sprints at the track, I know that I need to do it. So, last night I had my first "post-taper" track practice. It wasn't pretty, but I gave it a good shot. And this morning my legs are sore.

I don't think it's "hard workout" soreness -- it's more likely a mild form of "your form sucks...so you hurt yourself" injury reaction. I'll do the IcyHot thing on my legs for the next few days and see if I feel like a long run on Friday. Since I'm basically starting a new season, a "long" run will probably only be about 5 miles. Five SLOW miles.

But it should be a good weekend for our Foothills Masters Cycling group to get out for a nice ride. In the meantime, let's hope for calm winds and cooler temperatures to help Colorado's brave firefighters in dealing with the devastating infernos that are raging up in the hills.

And stay tuned for additional swimming analysis and a follow-up to our "nicknames" discussion coming soon. Have a great day!

Roger Roger

So, which camp are you in?

When you hear the word "Roger" repeated twice, do you think of Lewis Alcindor, or of JarJar Binks? Or do you think of James Bond and Harcourt Fenton Mudd? (Um, that's Roger Moore and Roger C. Carmel for those of you who didn't immediately associate the actor with the role. And OK, I'll grant you that the only "real" James Bond is Sean Connery...but you have to take some clues from the context, people. C'mon!)

Anyway, the only reason I bring up the great "Roger Roger" controversy is that it originated in a movie that plays prominently in our latest trivia challenge. It's from this scene in "Airplane", and it still makes me laugh.



So, do we have clearance, Clarence? Why yes, I believe we do.

The first frame is actor Frank Bank in his role as Clarence "Lumpy" Rutherford on "Leave it to Beaver". To the best of my knowledge, they never explained why he was Lumpy, and to the best of my knowledge he never wore green jeans. And come to think of it, I never knew exactly why Theodore was called "Beaver", either. I always assumed it was because Jerry Mathers had prominent teeth when the show premiered, but a couple of websites claim that it was supposedly how Wally mispronounced "Theodore" when he was a baby. Why no one called him "Ted" remains a mystery. (And if any Ted looked like a beaver, it would be this guy.)

(Readers who are paying attention will notice that Lumpy's dad, Fred Rutherford, appeared in a video clip posted in this blog back on March 7.)

Our second panel contains Peter Graves in his role as Clarence Oveur, aiplane pilot and enthusiastic proponent of gladiator movies. The youth of today know him more as the documentary narrator from MIB II, but he had a long and successful acting career, including a starring role in Mission Impossible. (Hmm, come to think of it, the guy who played the same role in the movies probably likes gladiator movies, too. Hmm.) His brother James (also an actor) was known primarily for playing the giant carrot monster in "The Thing", but also had the lead in "Gunsmoke", TV's longest running series prior to The Simpsons.

The bespectacled baddie in panel 3 is Kurtwood Smith, playing Clarence Boddicker in "Robocop". Kurtwood (which is a great name itself, by the way) gained larger exposure playing the lovable dad (aka, "the Howard Cunningham role") on "That 70s Show", but I am sure that he is most proud of his role as President of the United Federation of Planets in "Star Trek IV, The Voyage Home" (aka "Kirk Saves the Whales".)

And finally we have Clarence Gilyard, Jr., who played karateman James Trivette on "Walker, Texas Ranger", and helped Chuck Norris whup on any Oklahomans who tried to sneak into the Lone Star State. Before that, he spent several years helping Matlock solve any crimes that Buddy Ebsen didn't have time for. He was also in "Die Hard", and had a recurring role on "CHiPs". But unlike Kurtwood, he never quite made it into the Star Trek universe -- he was a finalist for the role of Geordi LaForge, but lost to LeVar Burton.

As always, thanks for playing. I know that this puzzle was probably too easy, so I'll see if I can come up with a tougher challenge for the next one. In the meantime, I regret to say that I have one small bit of bad news to pass on: Waterton Canyon is closed again. This completely disrupts my run training plans (at least until April 23rd), and I'm bummed. If anyone has any suggestions for similar training locations, please let me know. For now, I'll be taking it slow as I ease back into the sport after my swim meet taper.

Oh well, at least it appears that snowstorms are not a restricting factor. Wind, wildfires, and my own reluctance to lace up the sneakers remain as powerful obstacles I need to overcome, but with your support, I'm sure the spring training season will be a great success. If you see me acting like a slacker, though, please give me a nudge...and have a great day!

State Championships!

Is catching a cold a good way to taper for athletic competition? Are the side effects of ear-noise medications beneficial to swimmer performance? Can Terry still finish the 100 Freestyle in the same time he swam to earn his high school letter jacket?

Um, well...no, no, and no.

But was the Masters State Championship Swim Meet fun? And did the Foothills Masters Team kick butt? Why, yes and YES!

The meet was at a new location this year: the Veterans Memorial Aquatic Center (VMAC) in Thornton, Colorado. It's a pretty nice facility, with continuous warmup and cooldown areas, and plenty of spectator seating:



First, the disappointing news: My longtime arch rival, the notorious Jeff Magouirk, completely crushed me in the win/loss talley, defeating me by a 7-3 margin in the 10 events we swam in common. The good news is that if you add up our total swim times for those 10 events, I was a few seconds faster...so I suppose there's a small consolation there. And I did come home with one blue ribbon within my age group, whereas he had none.

Still, getting beat 7-3 is (as Apollo Creed said) "very hard for a man of my intelligence to take." Amends must be made. The gauntlet remains thrown. Next time, he's going down!

There are many other things to say about the meet, but for now I'm going to keep this short. Becca Hlad (see photo above) totally obliterated the competition in the 200 backstroke, beating the entire field by multiple body lengths. Kim Clemens (pictured here) set PRs in each of his events, and took home his first ever swimming ribbons. Cliff Crozier (aka Mr. Enthusiasm) swam very well in all of his events, too (despite having to wear a less-than-optimal mesh suit on Sunday). And FMST newcomer Steve Inman made a triumphant comeback to Championship competition after several decades of retirement.

My teammates made the entire meet incredibly fun. So even when my body was refusing to respond and the fatigue was overwhelming (I could barely pull myself out of the water after my 200 free -- even though the time was almost workout-pace slow...ugh!), I realized that I was still having a blast! I know these meets take up almost all of the weekend; but I really think everyone should do it at least once a year. Now that it's over, I feel fantastic, and will be riding the endorphin high for several days to come. Seriously, folks, you should definitely plan on doing this meet with us next year.

You can watch me get my revenge!

In the meantime, enjoy the warmth of Springtime, and have a great day!

A Bit Better

As plagues go, this one is rather mild. It's kinda like Potsie Weber -- you can still function while it's there, but it annoys the heck out of you and you wish it would just go away. My head is still a bit stuffy and there's an occasional cough...but I ought to be able to get some work done.

Speaking of Potsie, several things got me thinking about nicknames. My college roommate and best friend was in town yesterday, and I was able to briefly get together with him and our other old buddy, Steve Smith. Those were the two guys I hung out with most during my formative years, and they both figure prominently in many of the crazy tales of youth that are chronicled in my autobiography. (No, it's not finished yet. I'll let you know when it's for sale. But thanks for asking.) Anyway, we called Smith "Smitty", which makes sense, or sometimes "Winslow", which is his middle name -- so there's a certain logic to that. But my old roommate goes by Mickey (even though his name is actually "Grant"), and his nickname on our old swim team was "The Fat Man".

Obviously, some nicknames make perfect sense. For example, the fellow pictured here wore grass-colored pants so often that he eventually became known as "Mr. Green Jeans". But others aren't necessarily obvious. I have no idea where "Potsie" came from, nor why the goofy kid on "What's Happening" was called "Rerun". And in fact, the actor who portray Mr. Green Jeans had his own nickname -- his real name was Hugh Brannum, but he went by "Lumpy".

No, don't jump ahead quite yet -- the answer to today's contest has nothing to do with nicknames, or the word "lumpy". But yes, it did kinda get me thinking about this whole nickname thing. My question for you is this: What is your favorite TV or movie character nickname? Is it Doogie? Bones? Granny? What?

Anyway, as I mentioned, that whole discussion has nothing to do with this puzzle. The question here is: What do these guys have in common?



On a completely different subject--Tomorrow is the first day of the COMSA State Championship Swim meet. I sure hope I feel better by then. I'm swimming all the long events, and it wouldn't be fun to be coughing throughout the races. Ugh.

But even if I'm still not up to speed, it will be enjoyable to watch the others compete, and to support my studly teammates in their events. I'll try to take some good photos and will report the results here.

In the meantime, I hope you have avoided plagues of any type, and are feeling spectacularly healthy. Have a great day!

Collapse

I'm blaming the steroids.

After a fabulous weekend and a pretty good start to my Monday, I began to feel a little funny on Monday afternoon. The side effects listed for the ear medicine I had been taking included "suppression of the immune system", and I'm thinking that's what happened. Usually, I laugh at the common cold (ha ha HA!); my robust antibodies swarm all over invading viruses like sequins on Liberace. People sneeze right in my face and I respond by throwing on my gym shorts and going for another workout. As long as I'm not under a doctor's "care", my general health seems to make me impervious to germs.

But they gave me drugs. I took them. Now I am sick. And the worst part is that the medicine didn't even cure my phantom ear noises. Now I'm hearing things...AND spewing snot all over the place. Ugh.

I went home a little early on Monday and went straight to bed. I spent all day Tuesday moaning and groaning, and wondering how this cold would affect my ability to swim this weekend. On one hand, spending an entire day recumbent on the sofa might provide a perfect taper. On the other, having a head full of fungus doesn't generally translate into high-quality meet performance. I do feel better this morning, but will have to wait and see whether my immune system is functioning again, or if I will need additional time to recover.

Anyway, the photos at the top of this post seemed topical. The people featured were all in a television show that relates to the biggest news in Denver this week. Any guesses?

Here's another hint: The guy in this photo wrote a song about the same topic back in 1970.

And not that this has anything to do with anything, but I'm curious: Which entertainers have you seen in person the most times? I think I've seen Blue Öyster Cult live probably 6 times (including 3 concerts in a 3-day period...but that's a story for another time), Maynard Ferguson at least thrice, and Alice Cooper a couple of times. I've seen Tanner's bands probably 15 times...but they've changed names so frequently that I've probably never seen any single incarnation more than 3 times. (L.I.E., From the Mouth of Cthulhu, Wasabi in Your Neck, Dome Cube, Abstract Collective, Telescope, etc. You may want to write those names down someplace -- it'll probably be an answer to a trivia contest once he becomes really famous. You know...it's like how you're supposed to know that Lennon & McCartney were in "The Quarrymen" before they became the Beatles, and that "Soft White Underbelly" was the original name of BÖC.)

You may also have noticed another relationship between a couple of the guys in the top photo. This picture is the same two fellows in the identical role. Ryan and Tatum O'Neal were in the movie version of "Paper Moon", while Christopher Connelly and Jodie Foster portrayed the same characters in the TV series of the same name.

Today's totally useless trivia fact is that Christopher Connelly grew up in Wichita, KS (same as me). When I was working at Boeing, I actually sat next to the guy whose dad ran over Mr. Connelly's dog. (We shall keep his identity confidential, for obvious reasons.)

Anyway, yes, the answer to today's question is "Peyton Manning." The actors pictured at the top of the post (Mia Farrow, Ryan O'Neal, Tim O'Connor, and Christopher Connelly) were all stars of the TV Show "Peyton Place", and Alice Cooper's song "Eighteen" represents Manning's jersey number. As I'm sure you've heard in the nonstop news coverage of this "story of the century"...Frank Tripucka's jersey number had been retired by the Broncos, but has been resurrected for Mr. Manning. I am sure that the news media will be hammering on that for the next few weeks. And I guess there's some other uproar about what they'll do with the guy who was the Broncos QB until Manning arrived. I can't remember his name right off the top of my head -- Kyle Orton, maybe? Jake Plummer? Jay Cutler? Bubby Briscoe County, Jr.? Somebody like that.

Whatever. The point is that things can change in a hurry. I was feeling on top of the world on Sunday, and at the bottom of the compost heap on Tuesday. The Broncos started the season at 2-6 last year, and are now a stone-cold lock to win the SuperBowl in 2013. It boggles the mind and clogs the sinuses, it does.

I hope to be back to normal by Friday. I would really like to swim well this weekend, and I don't need no stinking cold to interfere with those plans. But we'll have to wait and see, drink plenty of fluids, etc. In the meantime, I leave you with a video clip that demonstrates a compelling argument on a key point of law. (I was looking for the "Brrrppp-Blapp!" clip from the same movie that describes how one can crash after an energetic high...but I couldn't find that one. It's OK, though -- this one still features some good food for thought.)

Enjoy it, and have a great day!

I Love Weekends!

Even though I didn't swim yesterday, I still have to log this one in the "excellent day" category. I did my grocery shopping, balanced my checkbook, finished the remaining laundry, AND went for a good bike ride up in the mountains. Oh, and let's not forget -- I also ate some delicious pizza.

Hey, it's not my fault! Team Evergreen made me do it!

You see, as part of my 2012 resolution to engage in more social activities, I had decided to go do a bike ride with some folks from the team that sponsors and organizes the Triple Bypass. They put on organized rides every Sunday during the cycling season, and this one sounded very appealing. It was the "Tour of Evergreen", which was a 31-mile ride starting at the Evergreen Lake House and bopping over several of the local peaks. It sounded challenging, but not completely insane, so I thought I'd give it a try.

I'm guessing there were 25 or 30 riders who left the parking lot together. I was tempted to try to stay with the one of the early packs, but was worried that I might be too fatigued to push that hard after Saturday's Highgrade ride. So I backed off, figuring that one of the groups behind me would suit me better. The folks in front pulled away, and were soon completely out of sight on the winding road. Shortly thereafter, I came to a fork in the road -- and had no idea which way the other bikers had gone. Since I had assumed I'd always have people to follow with a group this size, I had declined to take one of the offered maps; this left me with the option of either giving up, or hoping that someone would come along who knew where they were going.

Fortunately, the latter turned out to be the case. A charming young lass named Erin took pity on me, and kindly agreed to hold back at my pace throughout the rest of the ride. She had a map, knew the area pretty well, and was willing to patiently answer my questions about other Team Evergreen rides and local cycling opportunities. She also listened to my propaganda for the Foothills Masters Swim Team, and humored me by saying she might show up at a workout some day. So even though the wind was blowing (fiercely, in some spots) and the hills were challenging, it turned out to be a delightful ride!

At one point, though, we mistakenly followed another rider straight up the hill when (we discovered later) we should've turned. This cut several miles off the nominal route. I didn't mind, though -- we still got in a good hard ride.

At one point, we saw about 8 large elk right beside the highway. While stopped at a traffic light, I tried to take a photo, but apparently hurried too much because I knew the light would be changing. I didn't get the shot. But we turned and rode right up alongside them for a bit before the herd got spooked and ran off down the hill. (It's a good thing they didn't turn toward us, or it could've been a scary situation.)

Anyway, it was a fabulous ride, even with the blustery weather. And since the team had scheduled the post-ride get-together for Beau Jo's Pizza, I was also able to fulfill my craving for Nature's Most Perfect Food. Of course, I consumed far more calories than the ride had burned, but I'm going to rationalize that by saying that those calories went directly into building more muscles that I'll be able to use this weekend at the State Championship Swim Meet. (That sounds scientifically plausible, doesn't it?)

And speaking of my training and fitness, did any Simpsons fans recognize how this picture relates to my ongoing flexibility issues?

It's a screen capture from the episode where Bart and Lisa are exposed to radiation from a Halloween candy X-ray machine, and are transformed into superheroes Stretch Dude and Clobber Girl. I figured maybe I could use a picture of Stretch Dude to remind me to do my hamstring exercises. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Anyway, I hope to ride with Team Evergreen again, though my Sunday coaching schedule may make that difficult. In any case, though, I know how lucky I was to find another rider to shepherd me through the ride -- so next time I'll make sure to grab a map.

I hope your weekend was also productive and satisfying, and that it put you in a great mood for tackling your Monday. Have a great week!

Highgrade Road

Our Foothills Masters Cycling Team has grown to almost a dozen enthusiastic bike riders -- but none of them wanted to join me for a Saturday morning ride up Highgrade Road. Usually, such a rejection would probably result in me giving it a miss as well...but not today. I wanted to get my hill-climbing season underway, and if that meant going alone, well, so be it.

The weather forecast called for a warm, sunny day. But since I was starting just a few minutes after sunrise, I still thought it wise to wear tights, a long-sleeved shirt, and some running gloves.

Unfortunately, when I went out to my car to grab my spare tube, etc, the temperature seemed relatively comfortable. I say this was unfortunate, because my relative comfort enabled me to completely forget about the extra gloves I was planning to wear. I'll pulled out of the parking lot with only my cycling gloves, leaving my poor helpless fingers exposed.

In less than a mile, I had realized my mistake. Brrr! With no particular schedule, and no friends waiting for a rendezvous, an intelligent person would have turned around to go home for the gloves. I, on the other hand, simply told myself that I'd warm up once I started pumping hard.

The temperature was in the low 30s, there was quite a bit of wind, and I was riding into a canyon that wouldn't see any sunlight for over an hour. The occasional "hand-in-the-armpit" trick wasn't going to keep my sensitive fingertips warm at all. And all of my optimism about internal heat providing warmth to my extremities wasn't going to change the laws of physics by one iota.

Still, once an utter moron makes a firm commitment to incomprehensible idiocy, it's hard to get him to turn back. I rode onward, alternating between hands as I rode with one on the handlebars and one nestled into the folds of my shirt. I was freezing! But for some reason, I kept going.

The good news is that there's no frostbite. And as I neared the top of the climb, the combination of warming sun and madly-pumping heart muscle worked to change my status from "freezing" to merely "darn cold".

One guy passed me going up, and I saw one biker coasting down. But that was it (and they were both wearing far more clothing than I was). Apparently, the majority of the intelligent cyclists had chosen to wait until the sun was up and able to make some progress toward removing the night's chill before hitting the road. It was a fairly lonely climb.

The dude who passed me was still at the schoolhouse when I pulled in at the top of the road. We chatted briefly over Gatorade and cookies, and I debated with myself as to the wisdom of heading toward CityView. I concluded that such a strategy was completely unwise, and that my best bet was to get down the hill and back home as quickly as I could. (A warm bathtub can have tremendous appeal at times like these.)

It's a shame to ignore the beauty of the descent. I know from previous rides that it's a gorgeous and impressive aesthetic experience...but this time it was just about somehow keeping the hands warm enough to work the brakes. The chattering of my teeth was frightening the local livestock and wildlife, I'm sure, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Gravity applied its relentless pull, and with great determination, I was barely able to wrangle the bike through the twists and turn of the descent.

Obviously, I made it home alive, and I was able to partake of that highly-anticipated soak in the tub. My fingers and toes seem to be none the worse for wear at this point; and I'm still planning to do a hard ride with Team Evergreen tomorrow. But even if it's 80° at the condo when I begin the trip, I'm taking my gloves! I may be slow, but I do sometimes learn a lesson or two.

Stay warm and cozy my friends, and have a great day!

No Friday Long Run

I was planning to do a long run today, but without somebody pushing me to do it, I'm wimping out.

Er, I mean, I'm opting to use this as a recovery day. Yeah, that's what I meant.

As I may have mentioned before, I've had some chronic hamstring issues. Sometimes it's a minor irritation, sometimes I just feel tight, and sometimes it hitches up as if something's getting snagged as the leg moves. If I were bionic, I'm sure it would indicate than I need to lube the cables...but as a human, the answer always seems to come down to stretching.

Why is stretching so stinking hard to do? It really wouldn't take that much time out of my day. It's not that painful...in fact, it probably hurts less than running does. I have no problem torturing myself during a workout; so why is it so difficult to make myself bend over to touch my toes a few times a day?

Probably the same reason it's so difficult to avoid pizza. The little devil who sits on my shoulder is always more persuasive than the little angel guy. (Probably because he looks more like Darth Maul.)

Other than eating too much and not doing my stretching, though, I'm living a mostly angelic life these days. I'm planning to do a couple of good bike rides over the weekend, and I'm sure I'll find time to do all the laundry and housekeeping that's been piling up. I'll make sure all my bills are paid, and that all the junk mail gets properly recycled. I plan to make my recovery/taper time as productive as possible -- After all, next weekend will be entirely eaten up by the swim meet, so I can't leave anything to be done during those 3 days. (Especially if I decide to take the time to shave down for the competition. Haven't made up my mind on that yet. What do you think? Darth Maul has a shaved head, and he competed really well (up until that little bifurcation problem, anyway.)

We'll see how it goes. The good news is that the hamstring seems to have benefitted from my decision to eschew running. It's too early to tell if that means it's healing, or if it's just being quiet...biding its time. I'll have to let you know about that later. In the meantime, I think I will try to do a few toe touches.

Wish me luck, and have a great day!

PS. Does anybody know how the Lucy Lawless picture at the top of the page relates to this topic?

People

First, let me wish my brother a very Happy Birthday! And if you see Pat today, please give him a high-five, or offer to buy him a McMuffin or something.

Hmm. I just realized that I've never really written very much about my younger sibling, even though he has obviously been an important part of my life. There are many good stories I could share: swimming, marching band, karate, baseball, running, and countless hours of philosophizing. And of course, there's so much I could say about how proud I am of his honorable service to our country during his years in the Marine Corps. But I'm going to save those tales for another time. For now, I'll just say "Happy Birthday, Dude!"

But that does kinda provide a lead-in to my main topic of the day:

I get to hang out with some really cool people!

If I had to choose one person (other than my parents) who deserves credit for starting me moving toward the fortunate position in which I find myself, it would probably be Herbert Everett Bevan III. Herbie is the guy who talked me into joining the Harvest Park swim team when I was 9 years old. And it was while I was wearing the green and white stripes of the HP swimteam that I met Mickey Canaday, who swam for our dreaded rivals, the red-and-white-striped Westlink team. Despite the mutual animosity among our teams, Mickey and I somehow became friends. A couple of years later, he convinced me to join the Wichita Swim Club. And it was the wonderful people at WSC that made swimming such an enjoyable and indispensable part of my life that I ended up becoming a Masters coach, which is where I've met many of the amazing folks who make my life so enjoyable every single day.

I could go on and on (and undoubtedly will, at some point) about my team members who invigorate and motivate me on a daily basis. These poolmates, biking pals, and local running role models don't get a lot of attention for their consistently positive attitudes and awesome abilities to inspire me to be my best...and they won't today, either; I want to talk about celebrities!

This is the first time one of my swim practices has been attended by TWO swimmers who will very likely represent the US at the Olympics this summer.

The smiling woman pictured here is Ryan McLean: charismatic swim coach, writer, science teacher...and holder of multiple American Records. She considers backstroke and breaststroke to be her best strokes, but has also gone out and set a record in the 1500 freestyle, just for the heck of it. You can read about her Paralympic journey at http://ryanistryin.blogspot.com/. (Be sure to click on the "Donate" button on the right side of the screen where you can contribute to her training fund.) We're hoping that Ryan decides to train with Foothills Masters regularly, but since her first workout with us was on a day when I was coaching, chances are probably slim. Sigh.

A few lanes over from Ryan, we also welcomed back the multitalented Sammy Achterberg, who is on the US Pentathlon Team. Sammy swims with us whenever she's in the neighborhood (I've written about her before), and has just returned from a World Cup competition. Since Pentathlon involves the the dangerous skills needed to be a military commando (eg shooting and swordfighting), one of the guys in the locker room commented that we had all better be extremely nice to her. You can read Sammy's training blog here.

---

I mean, seriously, how cool is my life? Not only do I have awesome friends and inspirational workout buddies who brighten my life every single day, but I occasionally get to share lanes with elite athletes like Sammy and Ryan. Oh yeah, I know it's not hip to be a name dropper like this, but I have no shame... and it's just so cool!

Man, I love being a swimmer. I owe you one, Herbie!

Slept Like a Rock!

No insomnia last night. I fell asleep somewhere between peeling back the covers and reaching over to set my alarm clock. (Fortunately, I woke before the designated-but-unset alarm time. Apparently, I have successfully adjusted to DST.)

But the night's slumber was as solid as Gibralter, uninterrupted by memorable dreams, philosophical meanderings, or questions about the meaning of the Universe. I slept like a rock.

Hmmm. Come to think of it, I do many things in rocklike fashion. I run like a rock. I have the wit and charm of a rock. And my intellectual processes certainly move at geologic speeds. (Fortunately, I swim slightly better than a rock; otherwise my racing career would've been extremely short.)

I suppose, though, that I'm more like a sedimentary rock than an igneous one. I am made up of many layers, some of which probably contain fossilized trilobites and coelacanths. Other layers consist of decomposing VHS tapes, discarded 1920s theramin components, and smelly sweatsocks. But I'd rather be layered rock than something all mushy and formless, like Rosie O'Donnell.

Of course, there are many kinds of rock beyond the stuff they used to build Stonehenge. There's Rock and Roll, Rock Hudson, and Dash Riprock. You could have a bad day at Black Rock, enjoy the Colorado Rockies, or even partake of some rock lobster. And if that's not enough, there is also a gigantic mythological bird known as a Roc (see video below.)

None of those have anything to do with sleeping well, though, so I guess I'll just drop the subject and move on. I expect to sleep well again tonight, and perhaps get enough rest so that I'll have something interesting to say tomorrow.

Or not. Either way, have a great day (and a great night!)

Insomnia

I saw the ear doctor on Saturday. They looked inside my head and found nothing.

But apparently I'm not the only person who has ever complained of campfire noises in his head when no visible signs of infection (or infestation) exist. In the absence of evidence, the recommended course of action is to prescribe some caustic chemical and hope for the best. So guess what they gave me?

That's right...more steroids.

I'm pretty good about taking my vitamins every night, but these pills had a different schedule; somehow I got confused and missed my noon appointment. I got home last night and realized that I was a dose behind. The medication instructions were quite explicit about the importance of adhering to the timetable. The best I could do would be to down the pills right after supper.

Aye, but here's the rub -- the instructions also note IN CAPITAL LETTERS that this stuff is NOT to be taken in the evening. May cause insomnia.

I took 'em anyway, and then hopped in the sack. And guess what? I couldn't sleep.

I'm reasonably sure I was primarily suffering from a placebo effect, since I felt no other symptoms beside the inability to snooze. I would expect drug-induced sleeplessness to be accompanied by jitters, hallucinations, or night sweats...something. But no, I was quite comfortable, and my thoughts churned around perfectly normal topics. As I waited for the nightime seconds to agonizingly tick by, I pondered such things as the following:

• Are there any side effects from ear medications that would be, like, totally awesome? Something like a temporary Frank Zappa mustache, or Rainman toothpick counting skills?


• Do the French enjoy Clouseau movies? Or is it just Jerry Lewis? And was Jerry Lewis related to Jerry Lee Lewis? And does having Lee as a middle name (and using it with your other names) automatically make you seem like a redneck?


• If you regularly put Valium in his food, would a badger be a good housepet?


• And of course, the eternal question every man asks of himself -- Would I be more popular with the ladies if I talked like Patrick Stewart? "Make it so!"

At some point, I did fall asleep. But by the time I woke up, it was too late to get to the gym for a workout. That's OK, I guess; I had a tough track practice with my brother last night, and can make up for it later in the week. I plan to work really hard this weekend so I can completely appreciate the coming taper.

And I only have a few of these pills left, so I ought to be able to stick to the prescribed schedule for the remainder of medication regimen. And by the way -- the phantom ear noises do seem to have abated. I expect to sleep well tonight.

I'll let you know. In the meantime, have a great day!

Endorphins

What a fabulous weekend! Not only did we get to Spring Forward, but the weather cooperated to allow for some wonderful workouts.

Some people may derive their greatest pleasure from disco dancing to BeeGees tunes, or from planting seeds to watch the sprouts shoosting up from the ground -- but for me, there's nothing quite like the satisfaction of collapsing in a heap at the end of a great weekend of exercise. And that's exactly what I did.

I rode my bike both Saturday and Sunday, and threw in some swimming and running as well. It's a little strange to be snowed on while on the steps at Red Rocks, and then be riding in shorts in the same location a few hours later. As usual, the companionship of inspirational friends made all of those activities challenging and fun at the same time.

But as you probably deduced from the photo above, I'm planning to start resting up for the State Championship swim meet in about a week. There are still a few more days to pound myself, but then I'm going to back off during the final 6 days before the swim competition. Since I'm starting the meet off by swimming both the 1000 and the 1650 Friday night, I'll still be pretty whupped going into the shorter events on Saturday and Sunday...but I'm hoping to not be completely spent. We'll see.

Anyway, let's talk about our little freedom puzzle. Everyone I heard from got it right -- the keyword that ties them all together is indeed "Borg".



The first fellow is Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor who put the faces on Mt. Rushmore. The first freedom connection is obvious; the fellows he carved into the mountain were all notorious for advancing the cause of liberty. But what you may not know is that Gutzon himself was also a walking example of the First Amendment in action. His father's religion allowed polygamy -- so little "Gutz" had multiple moms while he was growing up. How this influenced his lifelong desire to carve up rocks, I do not know. But I think it's safe to say that he cherished the things that America stands for.

The distinguished gentleman in the second frame is Victor Borge. He is most known for his humorous antics at the piano, but he was also an outspoken opponent of the Nazis (who were not particularly known for embracing freedom). He escaped to America as Hitler's troops were invading his native Denmark, and ended up being invited to the White House on multiple occasions. (He also made several appearances with the Muppets, who are well-known advocates of diversity themselves.)

The third guy is the infamous Locutus of Borg, who initially demanded the assimilation of humanity into the collective (which is pretty much the polar opposite of freedom)...but then after being deprogrammed by a coalition of human and android freedom fighters, resumed his identity as Jean Luc Picard, defender of the Prime Directive and staunch promoter of Truth, Justice, and the American Way. (Yes, the poor guy also had to overcome his Frenchness to be an effective leader, but that's a story for another time.)

And finally we have Bjorn Borg. His contribution to freedom was to promote the inalienable right to use two incompatible consonants to begin your name, whether it's pronouncable or not.

As always, thanks for playing. It's now time to get back into the workweek, but I'm already looking forward to another endorphin-filled weekend coming up. I hope you have the opportunity to do whatever it is that makes you feel good, too. Enjoy the process, my friends, and have a great day!

Resistance is Futile

Friday featured another excellent day in Waterton Canyon. Reynold and I ran 10 miles, which was the longest run of 2012 for each of us. My left hamstring is still tight, and I continue to run like the Terminator after the fuel truck blew up...but I also feel that progress is being made. And now that we're approaching the equinox, I'm optimistic about being able to log more mileage outdoors. Life is good, my friends.

And speaking of the celebration of life, the photos above each make strong points about freedom, which I'll talk about later. And even though I am totally disgusted by smelly stinking worthless hippies (panel 4), I shall always defend their rights to eschew accepted conventions of good grooming.

But that's not the connection that caused me to choose these particular photos -- this one is much simpler than that. I'm pretty sure everyone will recognize the one syllable that each image has in common.

When I put this puzzle together, I'm pretty sure I had a long political rant in mind, but by the time I sat down to write, the topic had escaped me. (Too much LDS in the 60s, I suppose.) Anyway, I shall return with reports of other weekend workouts along with my normal astute political observations over the next few days. So get out and enjoy the sunshine, my friends, and have a great day!

Corrections and Perspectives

My friend Joe pointed out that Dirty Harry didn't say "Do ya feel lucky?" He said "You've got to ask yourself one question; do I feel lucky?"

Sorry about that.

Speaking of feeling lucky...my friend (and former boss) Alan seems to be on a roll. He left Lockheed at the same time I did, and hasn't wasted any time in adapting to an entirely new life. Within the last few months, he has met a wonderfully compatible woman who lives in Florida, and has decided to move there. He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with his current home in the mountains, but then some unexpected renters fortuitously showed up and agreed to pay more than he had originally expected. Since he retired, he has published one book and has another poised for publication soon. The dude is definitely on a roll.

Perhaps it's not luck. The ancient Roman philosopher Seneca said "Luck happens when preparation meets opportunity." (Well, OK, that's a translation -- he actually said it in whatever language the Romans spoke.) I'm wondering what sort of preparation I should be doing to position myself for upcoming opportunities.

A couple of things are obvious. For one, I need to stay in shape -- so I renewed my membership to 24-Hour Fitness, and I decided to donate the Girl Scout cookies rather than eating them. I'm planning to swim, run, and ride a lot over the weekend. I'm also going to see an ear doctor and find out for sure what's making those noises inside my head. (Don't worry, I'm not hearing voices...just random scratches and sloshes.)

Otherwise, I'm going to keep my eyes open for other chances to improve my luck. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

And one more thing: As I thought about the times I wanted to enter for the State Championship meet, I began to wonder if there's a specific pattern to the way my meet performances have declined since I set my all-time PRs.

First, I had to mentally deal with the fact that I probably won't have any more PRs in swimming. Ever. That was actually a tough concept to get my head around. But unless they make up some new events that I've never swum before, I'm afraid that my best races are all in the past. Sigh.

Anyway, I made a groovy spreadsheet to calculate the total decline, as well as the percentage decline per year. Unfortunately, I haven't quite finished the data input, so I can't yet share the results with you. But if the data proves to indicate a linear progression, there will be no need to enter any more swim meets...I could just calculate what my times would be and post those numbers as actuals.

Of course, that takes the fun out of it, doesn't it? It also removes the whole "chlorine-scented" skin condition that the chicks dig so much. Oh, I'll do the calculations, all right -- but I'll keep swimming, too.

OK, back to the data input. I hope you're doing something equally fun, my friends. Keep at it, and have a great day!

Do Ya Feel Lucky?

Well, do ya punk?

That's right -- these guys are Dirty Harry villains.

The scary fellow on the left is Andrew Robinson, shown here in his role as Garak, the Cardassian tailor, on Deep Space 9. He played the part of "Scorpio", the psycho-freak bad guy in the original "Dirty Harry." Talk about versatility -- Robinson was also great in his roles as Charley Varrick's dimwitted assistant, and as President John F. Kennedy in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

(By the way, "Charley Varrick" is one of those unheralded cinematic gems. I think the film's poster tagline was one of the best ever: "When he runs out of dumb luck, he always has genius to fall back on." And the movie also contains my favorite line about the art of persuasion.)

The other guys are all villains from the second Dirty Harry movie, "Magnum Force." Tim Matheson (shown here as Otter in "Animal House"), Hal Holbrook, and David Soul (shown here with Starsky) were some of the rogue cops who were assassinating scumbags without getting Clint's permission first. If you think Andrew Robinson is scary, though, I dare you to watch this.

(I thought about including Sondra Locke in this collection, but then remembered that people might read this blog while eating...and I didn't want to be responsible for anyone losing their lunch.)

So I guess that gives it away on the other puzzle, right?



Yep. These folks are Dirty Harry's partners.

First is Reni Santoni, who helped Harry in the Scorpio case. He's shown here in his role as "Poppy" on Seinfeld. (We'll talk more about him later.)

The guy lurking in the background of the second frame is Felton Perry, who was Harry's partner (Early Smith) in "Magnum Force". Unfortunately, he got blown up opening a mailbox. We'll talk more about him later, too.

Next is Tyne Daly, shown here as Cagney. (Or Lacey. I don't know, and frankly, don't care. I never watched the show...because T. J. Hooker was on at the same time.) She was Harry's partner in "The Enforcer". (He didn't really want to work with a chick, but he did the politically correct thing and went along with the idea. It didn't work out all that well for her, though.)

The last guy is Evan Kim, who is probably best known for "A Fistful of Yen", which we discussed briefly in our February 29th post. He was Al Quan, Dirty Harry's partner in "The Dead Pool."

So there you have all of our Dirty Harry connections for the day. All that remains is to explore a couple of other surprising relationships among these folks.

The first things I wanted to mention are the rest of the Star Trek connections. Besides Garak on DS9, several of these other folks have ties to the Roddenberry universe. The guy pictured here (with his lovely android companion) is none other than James Daly, who happens to be Tyne's father. (In the interest of time, we shall postpone the discussion of why someone would name their child after the pointy part of a fork. If I had to choose between being named Tyne or, say, Dweezil--I think I'd opt for being a Zappa.) Anyway, in Daly's Trek episode, the girl turned out to be part computer, so of course Kirk had to destroy her. We would expect nothing less.

You may have noticed that the puzzle picture of Felton Perry is from the movie "Robocop", which starred Ronny Cox, who has also appeared in a Federation uniform. And there we have our connection to the Banjo Boy I mentioned yesterday, since it was none other than Mr. Cox who strummed along with our genetically-challenged backwoods musician.

Anyway, the dude standing in front of Perry in the Robocop photo above is a guy named Miguel Ferrer -- which is what makes the whole Kevin Bacon thing really cook here. You see, he is not only a fine actor himself (and has appeared in a Star Trek movie), but he also happens to be the son of Mr. José Ferrer.

You may know José from the classic "Cyrano de Bergerac". (I'm talking about the 1950 version, not the abomination with Gerard Depardieu. Next to Tattoo, Depardieu is probably the Frenchman with the most talent for ruining any project with which he is associated. He's the European version of Matthew McConaughey.)

Even if you haven't seen "Cyrano", you're probably familiar with the plot, since it was remade as "Roxanne" with Steve Martin and Fred Willard (the guy who narrates the current crop of Old Navy commercials.) "Roxanne" isn't bad.

Anyway, the Ferrers provide the connection we were looking for. Felton Perry (DH's second partner) was in Robocop with Miguel Ferrer, whose dad (José) played the theatrical director in the hilarious movie "Enter Laughing", which also starred -- you guessed it -- Reni Santoni (DH's first partner)! Wake up and smell the bacon, my friends! (And if you look closely at the picture above, you'll also notice Fred Rutherford/Mel Cooley, who doesn't have any Star Trek connection that I know of, but is always good for a laugh.)

Here's a clip from "Enter Laughing". If you have time, you might want to rewind it to the start, where you'll see a very young Rob Reiner as one of other the auditioners. But I hope you'll at least take the time to enjoy the part it's queued up to.

Anyway, thanks again for playing. And have a great day!

Health and Fitness Update

I've been taking pretty good care of myself lately.

I've been eating fruits and vegetables, avoiding pizza (within reason), and getting a decent amount of sleep. I hang around with inspiring people who talk me into doing swim meets, stair climbing, and bike rides in Oz-level winds. I've been taking all the vitamins my doctor recommends, and I don't ever watch Meryl Streep movies. The result is that I'm feeling great!

(OK, my hamstrings are a little tight, and I find myself wishing that my employer provided free massages during the workday...but overall, I'm in pretty good shape for a guy who is over 30.)

The only bad news is that the steroids didn't work.

I finished off the entire prescription, and found myself remaining in Bill Bixby mode. This was not a surprise (at least after I had done research on the medicine), but I was still hopeful that the funny noises in my head would vanish. I was optimistic on Sunday afternoon when I realized that I hadn't heard any of the mysterious sloshing noises for most of the day. But alas, when I woke up Monday morning, the sounds had returned. Certain movements of my head result make me hear the ocean, even though it's a million miles away. (Or is it a thousand? I'm not that good with geography. Sorry.)

I didn't want to pay for another trip to the doctor. But I didn't have to; he had told me he'd send me to a specialist if the drugs didn't work. (Side note: I really don't understand why the politicians haven't yet delivered on their promises to make health care totally free. All they have to do is pass a law that forces doctors to work for no pay...which I think is part of their Hippopotomic Oath, anyway. There is no downside to this that I can see. Heck, while they're at it, Congress should make 20% annual raises mandatory, too. But I digress.)

So I made the phone call, and will soon have an appointment with an otolaryngologist. I am hopeful that they'll be able to figure out what's going on. My guess is that they'll stick some sort of miniature camera inside my head and then tell me that my skull is simply too small for my giant brain. Every time I learn something new, the cerebral expansion exerts more pressure on the backside of my eardrums, which causes the phantom noises. The solution is to either replace my skullbones with some sort of expandable rubber compound, or to snip out brain tissue until my IQ has been reduced to Oklahoman levels.

I'll let you know how that goes. For today, though, my primary health concerns are to 1) recover from last night's sprint workout, and 2) resist eating too many cookies.

The first challenge shouldn't be too bad. My brother and I did run at the track last night, and we worked hard. But we didn't go all that far. Other than the aforementioned hamstring tightness, I seem to have emerged from the workout without creating any new problems.

The second challenge, though, might be a bit tougher. Tonight after work, I'm meeting with some of my former co-workers for Happy Hour. My friend Russ will be there with cookies -- He has a daughter in the Girl Scouts; and in a moment of weakness I agreed to purchase a couple boxes of Trefoils. It's not like I have a craving for these things...but they do just kindof melt in your mouth. And once I get started eating them, it's not always easy to stop. I must exert self-discipline, but that is not one of my strengths...especially when my brain is under such pressure.

Oh well. I know that every Scout-supporting calorie I absorb will just provide extra incentive for my friends to invent torturous new workouts for me. You guys are great, and as always, I thank you for your support and encouragement. Have a great day!

Mmmm...Bacon

You know what keeps me awake at night?

Well, nothing, really; I usually fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. (Yeah, I know everyone has heard the stories about the all-night parties with the Swedish Bikini Team, and about the 2am phone calls from the President requesting advice on National Security -- but those things really don't happen very often.) So perhaps I should rephrase my question: "Do you know what I sometimes think about between brushing my teeth and putting on my pajamas?"

That's correct: It's Kevin Bacon again.

Not the actor, but the process. The connections between things that make me wonder if perhaps R. Daneel Olivaw isn't manipulating the Universe after all. I see those connections and I think about how cool it is that everything is separated by so few degrees.

Last night, for example, I was thinking about these guys:



What do they all have in common? (Um, please ignore Verna Bloom and Paul Michael Glaser; they're not part of it. Thanks.)

If you get that one, then seeing the connection between the guys in the next panel should be pretty easy. After all, their relationship is from the same universe as the grouping above, and they are in the correct order. (I did throw in a couple of extra characters to add a small challenge; the question is only about one person in each frame. Click on the picture if you need to see it more clearly.)



And here's the part that really brings the bacon (so to speak) -- there's an additional extra-bonus relationship between the folks in frames 1 and 2 that connects them with the musician who appears at the very top of this post. I don't know about you, but I find that sort of thing to be very exciting!

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll list a few other random (very random) thoughts I've had:

• After all the running and riding I did this weekend, I'm surprised to find out that my shoulders are more sore than my legs.


• One of the retro TV stations had a Monkees Marathon over the weekend. Despite my affection for the group, my tolerance for back-to-back episodes of their TV show is fairly thin. And though I appreciate the artistic intentions behind their experimental film "Head", the fact remains that it's a really really terrible movie. You could tell they were trying for something along the lines of "Help" mashed up with "2001", but it might as well have been called "Huh?"


• I saw many ads for Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax" over the weekend. I had been pretty sure I'd read every Dr. Seuss book, but I honestly have no connection whatsoever to these previews. I'm not sure if I never read it, or if I have suppressed it, or if the movie is simply not faithful to the book. In any case, it certainly didn't have the same impact as "Bartholomew Cubbins" or "Green Eggs and Ham".


• Seriously, how would you like to live your known only as the "Deliverance Banjo Boy"? According to Wikipedia, the fellow has spent some of his adult life in the restaurant business, but I'm not sure I'd want him cooking for me any more than any other hillbilly musician.

That's it for now. Have a great day!

Full Weekend

In college, we were all exposed -- perhaps not by name, but at least by experience --to LeFrancois's Second Law, which states "A bad morning is NOT too high a price to pay for a good evening."

I believe there is a corollary for active adults: "Complete exhaustion on Sunday afternoon is not too high a price to pay for a kick-ass weekend!"

It's immensely satisfying to know that you have pushed yourself. There's a feeling of pride and pleasure associated with each sore muscle -- a perverse joy in being so tired that it's a chore to stand up. You may be beat up, but you face the end of the day knowing that you'll sleep well...and will honestly deserve every blissful moment of your nighttime.

Most of the folks who read this blog know exactly what I'm talking about. But I wonder about the others; is there anything in a couch potato's life that gives them the same feeling? Oh, I can see that perhaps a musician might feel something similar when they whip off a nice improv riff, or maybe an artist would sleep particularly well after adding that final brush stroke to a heartfelt painting. But does a corporate middle manager feel that way after completing a challenging performance review? Or does an accountant have the same endorphin high after getting the last column of numbers to add up?

Maybe. But I still feel sorry for anyone who hasn't had a weekend like I just had. I'm completely pooped, my arms and legs are jello, and I probably don't have the energy to open a jelly jar. But I feel wonderful!

After Friday's most excellent run, my Saturday began with some reasonably tired legs. But I had 5 events to swim at the Highlands Ranch meet, and I was looking forward to finding out what I could achieve in the pool. My first event was the 500 free, in which I've struggled a bit over the last several meets. After that, I was swimming the 100s of each of the four strokes...and I couldn't even remember the last time I had done that. I'm not a sprinter, and 100s are always painful; I'd rather do a 1000 than a 100 any day.

I am pleased to announce that I took first place in my age group in each one of those five events! Yea!

(Of course, taking first place isn't that difficult when nobody else from your age group signs up for any of those events. But still, I had to at least swim them legally, right? It's still somewhat of an accomplishment, isn't it? Isn't it?)

I'd say I had mixed results. I haven't seen my splits for the 500 yet, but I'm pretty sure they were all over the place. I started out OK, faded badly in the middle, but finished fairly strong. I'm not sure why I'm having so much trouble in the middle of the race these days, but it's obvious I need more race-pace training at that distance. The 100 back was OK, and I'm not horribly disappointed in the 100 free -- even though I can no longer even hit the times I could hit at the end of my sophomore year in high school. Ugh.

I still think I should be able to break a minute in the freestyle on a good day. The question is whether I want to swim the event again to accomplish that. I probably need to do it at some point...but I'll have to give that some thought.

One word describes my 100 butterfly: egregious. I went a 1:19, which I should be able to do without even breaking a sweat. And yet was it oh so painful. This one, I am totally blaming on Reynold for making me run so hard on Friday. I got no help from my legs at all, and you know when the legs are dragging, the arms are definitely going to suffer. Baby, let me tell you -- I suffered.

So I guess there's another event I'll need to do again fairly soon. It was an embarrassing performance, and I feel obligated to redeem myself. I guess I'll swim the fly at State (though I know I'll be tired by the time I get to that event). If I can't hit a 1:15 there, then I'll have to enter another meet where I won't swim anything before that race.

It wasn't all bad, though -- In the 100 breaststroke, I had the good fortune of being next to a guy who was just exactly the right distance in front of me going into the last 25. Nothing seems to inspire me more than pulling up on a guy as we make the final turn, and it always helps me put the hammer down. I finished strong, went past him, and had a surprising 1:22 finish. I wasn't even expecting to hit 1:25, so I was pleased with that. The stroke felt pretty good, too.

That's the one thing I really appreciate about your pure sprinters; if they're not more than a little bit ahead at the end, there's always a chance to take them at the end. (Of course, most of them are SO far ahead at that point that I don't even see their feet, but we distance guys have to have something to strive for -- so when they do happen to stay close, it gets to be fun.)

I was buttered toast by the end of the meet, but was glad I had done it. My teammates Seth and Becca totally kicked butt -- they didn't have to rely on age-group no-shows to win their events. And yes, I did sit in the hot tub for quite a while after my last event. That was nice. And I slept well Saturday night.

The plan for Sunday morning was to run steps at Red Rocks, do our regular swim practice, and then go for a bike ride. I wasn't sure about any of it other than the swim; the wind was blowing, and it wasn't exactly warm outside. I didn't know how much snow there would be at Red Rocks, and wasn't at all sure I wanted to ride my bike if the wind was strong. Still, since Kim and Reynold were going to be there, I threw the bike in the car and drove up to the amphitheater.

Peer pressure is an amazing thing, and in the world of sports, it is a true blessing. I wouldn't have gone up there without knowing that the guys would be there...and I wouldn't have pushed nearly as hard if it weren't for their smiling faces and churning legs cranking up the pace. We did a few trips up the stairs, one snake up the bleachers, once up climbing the planters, and a couple of loops around a section of the road. It was a great workout!

(One side comment; if you really must take your dog up there, the least you could do is pick up the poop they leave on the bleachers. Several people hadn't done that, and it's really disgusting. C'mon, people, show some minor courtesy, OK?)

My arms and legs were tired for swim practice, but I still worked pretty hard. And then it was time to make a decision about the bike ride.

It had warmed up a bit, though the wind was still blowing. I'd have probably scrubbed the idea if it wasn't for Kim's enthusiasm about the ride. But as he always does, he got me inspired, and we headed out to face the elements.

We did drop the original idea of riding back up to Red Rocks. We just did 14.2 miles (the loop from Wal-Mart through Bear Creek Lake park and back.) But it was a tough 14 -- the wind was howling for the majority of the ride.

Kim has a triathlon in Hawaii in a few weeks. The winds are supposed to be strong there, so he really wanted to get in some wind training before he heads to the islands. Well, he got what he wanted, that's for sure. There were times where we felt in danger of being blown over, and going straight into the face of the wind was no picnic, either. Still, we somehow managed to climb both the dam and Mt. Carbon...and survive to make it back to our vehicles.

The good news is that I got a little bit of saddle time, and didn't feel too much buttockular fatigue. After all, it's not just the legs that need to be trained for the Triple Bypass; we gotta get the sittin' muscles in shape, too. This short Bear Creek ride doesn't come close to proving that I'm ready for a half-day trek over the mountains, but at least it's a start.

What about the rest of the day, you ask? Well, there's laundry, dishwashing, and...oh yeah, a hot epsom salt bath. Will I work out on Monday morning? Too soon to tell -- I'm going to play that by ear. But right now, I feel drained, spent, crushed, and utterly exhausted.

And extraordinarily happy.

I hope you had a great weekend, too!

Waterton Canyon!

Waterton Canyon is open again!

Reynold and I went out there Friday morning after swim practice and ran up to the bridge and back. It was wonderful!

The road was smooth and (mostly) dry. The equipment was gone. We weren't attacked by any sheep, bears, or pumas...and no other runners overtook us from behind. The wind made things a bit chilly when we started, but we got a boost from it on the return trip. We felt good enough to sprint the last mile.

And the really good news is that I completed my longest run of 2012 without a single injury or complaint!



The bad news is that I now no longer have an excuse to avoid long runs. (OK, none of my other excuses were anything but lame...but I kept saying "I'll start when Waterton reopens." Well, here we go. It is a great place to run, and I have to say that I'm actually looking forward to bumping up the mileage. (You may have to remind me that I said that.)

Next up: Highlands Ranch Swim Meet, and a possible triple-prong workout on Sunday. Have a great day!

Names

Have you ever wanted to change your name?

Unlike David Bowie, I have not been forced to assume a different professional name due to a pre-existing Monkee, but I've occasionally wondered if my career would've been accelerated by having a more dynamic handle. "Terry" is a decent enough name, I suppose. It could've been worse; it's certainly better than, say, Pauly, Bjorn, or Herbert. But it's not a name designed to inspire awe among the masses, or to invoke terror within your competitors. There's probably a good reason that Terry Bollea achieved more in his wrestling career once he changed his name to Hulk Hogan.

A few of my friends still call me by my old swim team nickname "Speed", and I kinda like that--but people who don't know the story behind the name tend to view it with suspicion since my athletic performances aren't remotely compatible with the word. Oh well.

Through my genealogy research, I found that "Heggy" is actually a derivative of the proud Scottish name "Heggie", with its origins rooted in the region of Scotland known as "Fife". That's not exactly a macho name for a county, either, but I'd still like to visit there someday. (More info about my family origins can be found here.)

Anyway, if Davy hadn't become a Monkee, then the disturbing story of Major Tom might have been recounted by a fellow named David Jones, and that guy's son (Duncan Jones) would not be touring under the memorable name of "Zowie Bowie".

As for the others in the list, well...I mentioned David Gilmour because I'm reading a book called "The Education of Millionaires" by Michael Ellsberg, in which Gilmour's success story is used to illustrate the author's premise that spending a boatload of money on college doesn't necessarily enhance a person's career in today's economy. Plus, I love the way Gilmour evokes so much beauty and emotion from so few notes. It's almost as if he's the anti-VanHalen.

Freddie Mercury changed his name from Farrokh Bulsara. Nuff sed.

Frank Zappa's real name is, well, Frank Zappa. His kids are the ones with the interesting names: Moon Unit, Dweezil, Ahmet Emuukha Rodan and Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen. Thanks to people like Frank, I'm beginning to really appreciate "Terry". And not that it has anything to do with anything, but Zappa fans might enjoy this (which features Dweezil on guitar).

As for Sting (aka Gordon Sumner), he recently came in second in a national poll to determine the most overrated rock artist (though he was FAR behind the winners--U2.)

Darth Vader, on the other hand, is widely revered...and rightly so. I think he made the correct choice in sticking with the more formal "James Earl", just as I think Davy Jones was cooler as "Davy" than if he'd have insisted upon "David". James Earl Jones is a name with a bit of class, and it fits the man's voice and persona. If he'd have called himself "Jimmy", well, people would've thought he was a dingus peanut farmer or something, and he'd never have been invited to be hang out with the Galactic Emperor.

Enough about that. My next post will feature a report on the reopening of Waterton Canyon. In the meantime, please enjoy this classic James Earl Jones clip, and have a great day!

RIP, Davy Jones

I was a pretty big Monkees fan. I will miss Davy Jones.

In my youth, I thought that the Monkees TV show was brilliant, and I'm sure I've seen every episode. I saw the group perform live (well, the sans-Michael Monkees, anyway) at Red Rocks with Weird Al back in the 80s -- talk about a Dream Team concert! And I was always jealous of the way Marcia Brady looked at Davy, and I wished that I could be as cool and hip as he was.

I tried the long-hair thing for a while. It didn't take. Too much trouble to deal with the stuff; to this day I have no idea how women (and hippies) can stand it. It really surprised me that the Persis Khambatta movement never caught on.

I did notice that many of the news stories described Davy as being the "lead singer" of the Monkees (aka "The Prefab Four"). This is probably because he played the tambourine, which is usually an indicator that you can't play a real instrument, and therefore must be a singer. But I always think of Mickey as the primary singer and foundation of the group, while Davy was just the guy who got all the girls because he could make his eyes sparkle at will.

My sister has a copy of Davy's pre-Monkees album. I listened to it many times as a kid; the guy was a talented singer before he became a TV star. Since it was recorded in England for an English audience, some of the song lyrics made no sense to me as an American kid. But that didn't keep me from enjoying the music.

I wonder if that album is rare enough to be worth some good money at this point? She won it from a KLEO radio contest. As I remember it, they were basically purging their studio of promo copies of records they no longer wanted in their library, and pretty much anybody who called in won something. My prize was a 45rpm single by Ronnie Dove -- I no longer recall the song title. I probably listened to it a handful of times before using it as a backyard frisbee until it broke. Ronnie Dove isn't exactly a household name, and the quality of the record I won didn't make much of a case for changing that. But the Davy Jones album was actually good.

When I first heard the term "Davey Jones' Locker", I assumed that someone had built a shrine around where Davy had stored his books in Junior High School. It wasn't until much later that I realized it was a nautical term that pre-dated the Monkeemobile by a century. But you know me -- I'm always happy to learn new facts.

So here's one you might not know: There was another David Jones trying to become a star around the same time as our intrepid tambourinist. But because Monkee Davy achieved notoriety first, the other guy was forced to adopt a different moniker. Which of the following fellows was that second David Jones?

A. David Gilmour
B. David Bowie
C. James Earl Jones
D. Freddie Mercury
E. Frank Zappa
F. Sting

OK, that's all for now. I'm sure the oldies stations will be playing more Monkees tunes than usual, so please take some time to enjoy some of Davy's contributions to our culture, and have a great day!