Product Testing

I'm still pretty sore from Saturday's race, but am pleased to say that I seem to have remained more-or-less intact. I expect to resume running in the next few days.

Yes, I do realize that it's too late to actually achieve any training effect before my upcoming triathlon, but at least I should be able to maintain my current fitness level without degradation. And along with a modest running program, I will continue to ride my bike when I can, and will stick with my normal swim schedule. I am confident that I can achieve my (revised) race goal of not being dead last in my age group.

I also plan to be more disciplined about stretching, stability work, and core strengthening over the coming month. Which brings us to today's topic question: What drug-addled pinhead decided it was a good idea to change the hot tub jets at 24-Hour Fitness?

OK, perhaps that's not the precisely correct phrasing. After all, I've been thinking for some time about suggesting a change to the jet configuration myself. But MY change would have improved the therapeutic value of the tub, rather than negating it.

I have mentioned on numerous occasions that while my skillset for mainstream employability is somewhat limited, I do possess a Rainman-like talent for discovering design flaws within the creations of others.

I guess I could be thought of as the hardware version of a literary critic. Can't build squat myself, but I can tell you a dozen different ways to improve your user interface.

For hot tub jets, the main flaw comes from the use of air to power the jets. Using tiny submerged propellers to accelerate the water would provide improved impact and reduce the cooling that comes from the air bubbles. But I do understand this one -- from an economic and design simplicity standpoint, there are clear advantages to using air.

But there is no reason on earth that you couldn't vary the depth of the jets. Some manufacturers do this, and congratulations to them...but the tubs at 24 seem to expect that all sore muscles are going to occur at the same elevation above the seat shelf. The best solution would be to have gooseneck nozzles that the user could direct to sore areas, but I would settle for a variety of nozzle placements that would allow you to move around to the spot that works best for your own particular relief and relaxation.

Step two would be to provide some sort of anchor so that your body doesn't float away while you're trying to obtain your jet massage. For arms and shoulders, this isn't a big problem, but when you lift your foot off the floor to attack a tight spot in the ankle or calf, it's pretty hard to maintain your stationary location. A series of attached loops or handles near the jets would do the trick. Or maybe seatbelts.

Despite the fact that they could be improved, the initial jet nozzles in the 24-Hr tub were at least moderately useful. But for some reason, they were suddenly changed a couple of weeks ago. Now rather than jetting straight out (as shown above) the jets have a deflector covering that blows the force straight up, right next to the wall. It is no longer possible to have a direct blast aimed at a specific therapy target. What's up with that?

The new updraft configuration does provide a rather soothing rippling of your upper back muscles in you sit right in front of it. And I can sortof see the logic in making the assumption that everyone would want an upper back massage. But why not make the change to just one or two jets, and leave the others for specific spot thumpery?

Anyway, the point is that if you're an inventor or someone responsible for your customer's experience, you should hire me to test your product before chucking it into the marketplace. In fact, I would be happy to have you install a prototype hot tub in my home for extended user feedback, and I would promise to give you all sorts of good advice on how to optimize the design. I would also be willing to test big-screen televisions, soft-serve ice cream dispensers, high-powered motorcycles, or household cleaning robots. And if you're designing new swimwear for the Swedish Bikini Team, I could offer a very reasonable rate to provide detailed up-close and personal aesthetic feedback.

Let me know how I can help. In the meantime, make the best of the whatever jets are available, and have a great day!

Wise Decisions?

"Trust in Allah...but tie up your camel" -- Sindbad

"Be prepared" -- Lord Baden Powell

"Always check your chain" -- Some guy on a motorcycle at a Sonic Drive-In

"Study the stinking race-course map" -- Terry "Sore Feet" Heggy

Several months ago (before I contracted plantar faciitis), I entered the Castle Rock Half Marathon. At the time, it seemed to fit in well with my anticipated training plan for the Triathlon Nationals in August.

My training has NOT gone according to plan. For the last two months, my inflamed foot has kept me sidelined, relegated to impact-free training on the elliptical...or sitting on the sofa. Needless to say, I am not in half-marathon shape.

Still, I didn't want the race entry to go to waste. So with my foot feeling better over the last week, I decided to show up, collect my t-shirt, and give my (hopefully) healed foot a bit of a test.

With no ambitions of finishing the race, and no expectations of any particular level of performance, I figured I could run a few miles and drop out when I started feeling tired. Figuring that I would be at the back of the pack, I expected to be able to hitch a ride with the sweeper vehicle if necessary.

The start felt good, and even with a bit of a hill to start the race, my first mile was quicker than I had expected. In fact, I felt good enough that I began to think of seeing what I could do for a 10K. If I could run 6.2 miles under an hour, I'd feel pretty good about my status for the triathlon...especially if I could stay healthy and get back to some running training for the next few weeks.

[NOTE to my runner friends: Yes, I do realize that accepted wisdom warns against increasing weekly mileage by more than 10%. Since I had run a total of 4 miles in the past two weeks, going 10K would be at least a 50% increase, and a very stupid thing to do. But if you haven't already realized that I regularly do stupid things, you haven't been paying attention.]

The good news is that I held a decent pace through the 10K, getting there in a little over 57 minutes. I am very happy with that.

I continued running up to the 7-mile marker, then began walking. I could see a school near the path, and assumed it was the same one we had passed in the second mile. By cutting through the school grounds, I would have a decent and relaxing walk back to the finish line, where I could inform the Race Director that I was a DNF.

Unfortunately, there was an uncrossable ravine between the path and the school. But I could see the 8-mile aid station in the distance, so I thought I would jog up there, get some fuel, and ask for the quickest way to get my day finished.

They had Clif Bloks at the turn-around aid station, so I stood there and consumed a packet while watching all the folks I had passed run by to start back down the path. I walked over to a police officer on a bicycle and explained that I had dropped out, and asked for directions to the finish.

Well, it turns out my sense of direction was badly misaligned. The school I had seen was not the same one as earlier, and the downtown finish line was in exactly the opposite direction than I had assumed. The cop assured me that the quickest way to the finish was to follow the race course (a fact that a post-race map check would later confirm.) It appeared that I would have to walk 5 more miles.

I did some math. Even at a walking pace, I should still be able to make it to the finish line under 3 hours. My legs were trashed, and my foot was beginning to feel inflamed.

Did I cross the finish line? Yes, yes I did.

But here's the thing: Walking takes a long time. And the sun was starting to make the day uncomfortably hot. Plus, it's not much fun to watch people run past you as you amble along.

Either way, I was going to be sore. So why not jog, and get to the finish line a little sooner? As long as I didn't actually break anything, I ought to be OK. And sure enough, I actually felt all right as I concentrated on being really smooth and not trying to push too much.

Shortly after I began jogging, a young lady passed me. She was running much faster than me, but would walk up each of the hills. I'd catch her and pass as she walked. Then she'd run by me again. We played this cat and mouse game all the way to the finish line. With about a half mile left, she pulled a significant distance ahead, and I conceded that I wouldn't catch her again. But surprisingly, she started walking again...and I ended up crossing the finish line before she did.

As soon as the race was over, I did some stretching in the grass and decided that by some miracle, I hadn't really hurt myself. We'll see what I feel like in the morning, but right after the race, I felt pretty perky for having run twice as far as I had intended.

My total half-marathon time was under 2:19, which isn't that bad considering the walking and break time. Because the race field was pretty small (fewer than 200 people total), I thought there might even be a chance that there were only three guys in my age group -- so I stuck around for the awards. Turns out that I was 10th in my age group...but at least I wasn't dead last!

What happens next? Will I be able to run next week and actually do a bit of training before the race? Or will I wake up tomorrow unable to walk? We'll see. In the meantime, thanks for stopping by, and have a great day!

Calling Major Kong

WARNING: This post contains political commentary. Reading it may render you subject to IRS audit. (Sorry about that.)

The good news is that I think my foot is getting better. I'm actually going to try to do a significant run on Saturday. And my CPT training manual arrived today, so my serious studies have begun. At the same time, I've had a couple of really good workout days, and am feeling good. Oh sure, the fridge is empty and the laundry is piling up to critical mass...but you can't have everything. Oh well.

Anyway, I'll keep this short, but I just feel compelled to share my opinion on World Cup Soccer. Here it is:

We should immediately nuke a significant portion of the Middle East.

I truly believe that it was a noble experiment to attempt to establish democracy and freedom over there. But the data is in, and it seems conclusive. Civilization is not ever going to take root among the barbaric religious tribal pinheads over there. As long as they exist, they will be a danger to the rest of the world.

Obviously, no political leader can get away with ordering Wing Attack Plan R, but perhaps there's a 2014 analog of General Ripper out there somewhere who could pull it off. That way, we could all engage in politically correct tsk-tsking, while secretly applauding the General's patriotic decisiveness, and the world would quickly find itself much nearer to solving its largest problem.

I know these views are not popular. But my record is spotless -- every single time a World Leader has followed one of my recommendations, it has turned out to be the correct course of action.

Yeah, OK -- it has been a while since that has happened. But that reminds me of one more of the rival pairs we were discussing yesterday. As much as I like James Bond (well, some incarnations, anyway), he obviously takes a distant second place behind Derek Flint.

You probably knew this already, but James Coburn studied Jeet Kune Do under Bruce Lee. And speaking of people named Lee, you might find it interesting to compare these two movies clips: Our Man Flint and The Tiger and the Dragon. (Pay particular attention to the screams.) Great art often shares common themes, doesn't it?

Oh, yeah, and soccer is...well, it's just stupid.

No political ranting tomorrow. Please drop by then. Have a great day!

Bites

Nobody wants to hear me whine about my own senility. I get that.

I'm sure most readers come here to join me in celebrating the joys of life and daily wonders that exist on the planet where William Shatner was born. So, I am not going to blame my latest oversight on age-related dementia or some sort of corporate-driven neural brownout.

I forgot to discuss yesterday's mint picture because I simply became immersed in discussing...well, whatever it was we were discussing. But I do want to express my thanks to everyone who wrote to say "Dude, what's up with the mints?"

My original thought for the blog was to discuss how there is a place in this world for the Washington Generals, and all the other denizens of the second tier on the eternal ziggurat of life. We all agree that York Peppermint Patties are the unquestioned rulers of commercial chocolate-minty confectionery; but if access to "the sensation" is unavailable, it's good to know that Pearson's has a passable product that will do in a pinch. In the same way, you know that if there's no Dr. Pepper, then you can survive for a limited time on Mr. Pibb.

It's interesting, though, that Pearson's does make the premier Salted Nut Roll on the planet, and the Coca Cola company (distributors of Pibb) makes the world's best cola drink.

Anyway, eating some mints made me think of other "Top Two" rivalries that exist in our world. Back before you were born, the prime example was the Hertz vs. Avis matchup, where Hertz was clearly number 1, and Avis bragged about being in second place. But I don't think anybody cares about that competition anymore (especially since Nordberg got arrested for all that unpleasantness back in the 90s.)

Oreo vs. Hydrox. Ricardo Montalban vs. Benedict Cumberbatch. Bruce Lee vs. Jet Li. Muhammad Ali vs. that other Muhammad that you can't draw pictures of. Blue Oyster Cult vs. The Beatles, etc. etc.

Which brings us to Wonder Woman (pictured above.) While I'm sure she is a fine human being, Lynda Carter would not have been my choice to play the Amazon princess. I might even be able to forgive her soft, non-athletic appearance if she could move convincingly. But whenever she runs, it becomes obvious that the actress does not possess any hint of the heroic physical attributes ascribed to her character.

Lucy Lawless, on the other hand, seems quite formidable. Even without the insurmountable Bruce Campbell advantage, Xena would make short work of Wonder Woman. I'm certain of that.

Anyway, I know that you are now expecting a "Kirk vs. Picard" discussion...but you're not going to get it. Today's premise is that one individual in each discussion pair is clearly superior to the other. In the case of Kirk and Picard, they are both outstanding, and arguments could be made for the ascension of either. On the other hand, Mr. Pibb might be reasonably tasty, but no one would seriously consider arguing that it's at the same level as Dr. P, just as no one could rationally argue that George Harrison plays guitar better than Buck Dharma.

But I do think we should explore more of the Kirk/Picard-type discussions in the future. It might be fun to compare the best of different eras -- for example, is Doogie Howser better than Leonard "Bones" McCoy? Is Mary Tyler Moore better than Tina Fey? Karl Marx...or Groucho? Mickey Mantle or Justin Morneau? Tough questions, I know...but probably worth exploring.

Let me know your thoughts on the subject. In the meantime, I will leave you with one last item of recently-acquired wisdom: This morning at swim practice, I learned a simple and effective method for getting people to hate you. Here's how: Just make them do a hard set of sprint 100s, and then follow it up with a timed 500 off the blocks! Guaranteed to generate animosity! I can't wait to suggest it to my fellow coaches. Bwahh haaa haa ha!

With that, I shall sign off. Have a great day!

String Theory

"Consistency is the hallmark of a worthy blogger." -- Mark Twain

"Boil the kettle, Mother." -- The Id

Obviously, I am neither consistent, nor boiling the kettle. You would think that with my reduced work schedule, I'd have boo-coo (that's French for "lots of") time for intellectual pursuits such as bloggery and philosophicating. But no. Just as there is no excuse for French people inserting unnecessary and unpronounced letters into their words, I am afraid that I have no legitimate excuse for my recent sloth.

Perhaps I'm somehow metaphysically conjoined with the Colorado Rockies. Or perhaps my mental impotence is somehow a reflection of what's going on in Washington DC these days. Or maybe it's some sort of cosmic seasonal slump brought on by the configuration of the Earth's magnetic field during the Solstice.

It certainly can't be laziness. Can it?

Anyway, about a bazillion fascinating things have happened since I last posted. I would love to share them all with you -- but time constraints and senility make that impossible. Ergo, we shall merely brush by a few highlights.

Let us begin with something really cool. I earned my certification as a Level 3 USMS Certified Swim Coach. Whoo hoo!



Because I have been validated by an official Governing Body, it will now cost you 3 times as much to receive my expert coaching advice. So the next time I tell you to work harder and stop being such a slacker, well, brother -- you'd better do it! I have a certification!

In truth, the USMS training classes were pretty good, and I did pick up some good tips from the instructors...and from the other coaches. It also reminded me of the many reasons I enjoy coaching so much. I'm a very lucky guy to be able to get paid to do this, and to hang around with all the outstanding athletes and upstanding human beings that make up the Foothills Masters Swim Team.

And yes, we will be getting new team t-shirts soon. Awesome!

One thing that's worth mentioning: The current official USMS euphemism for "old farts" is now "seasoned athletes." I'll probably have trouble remembering that one, so you may have to remind me that it is also supposed to replace "geezers," "fossils," and "dinosaurs" in the swim coach's vocabulary.

The good news is that anyone who is older than me is SOOOO "seasoned" that they probably can't remember what I called them, anyway. I shall try to be politically correct, but will hope you'll forgive me for the occasional slip-up. (I'm trying to remember not to call chicks "broads," too, but that's gonna be a struggle as well. Sigh.)

Anyway, on a related topic, I also decided to pursue certification as a personal trainer. I have plunked down a couple months' salary on training materials from the National Academy of Sports Medicine, which is reputed to be one of the most respected certifying agencies. From the materials I've studied so far, I'd have to say that I think it's going to be a great program. It's been a long time since I've studied hard for anything, but I think this will be worth it.

Here's a strange side note: My memories from college consist mostly of recollections of pranks, yelling matches with the dorm across the street, and unrequited lust for the hot girls who strolled braless across the campus. It's really tough to summon up any memories of studying, being engaged in classes, or, in fact, learning of any kind. Hmmm.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I learned a LOT about old movies, dubbed Japanese TV programs, and the emotional struggles of Kwai Chang Caine. And I memorized hundreds of pages of Star Trek and Beverly Hillbillies dialog. Education WAS taking place...it just probably wasn't the kind the University thought it was giving me.

As you know, I majored in Journalism, with an emphasis in Radio/TV/Film -- so my hours spent in front of the TV set were a fine and complementary supplement to the time spent in the classroom. Because I intended to be a Media Mogul, I paid special attention to the folks who worked in the broadcast arts. I soon learned that the profession might not be populated with the best and brightest...at least not on the Kansas City area's UHF stations.

"Dialing for Dollars" was a feature that took place during breaks in the afternoon movie. For a short time, the host was a young blond gal whose intelligence and eloquence hinted strongly that she got her job by leveraging romance with studio executives rather than by talent and skill. My favorite moment on the show was when she asked a caller to answer which Wizard of Oz character was portrayed by Ray Bolger. The guy on the phone answered quickly, "The Scarecrow." The bimbo hostess looked at her answer card, and told the caller "No, I'm sorry...it was the Straw Man," and hung up.

This was not an Alex Trebekian need for precision in the response. The obvious fact was that this broad, er, I'm sorry...this chick did not have a clue that scarecrows could be made of straw. I suspect she was one of those people who never made it past the first appearance of Margaret Hamilton, and was also convinced that Munchkins were real.

Ahh. There were indeed moments where I enjoyed being in college.

But being an independent adult means that these days, I have to do productive stuff every now and then. Clean house. Get organized. Etc.

This weekend's project was to finally figure out how to store my mountain bike so that it wasn't just shoe-horned into the guest bathroom of my apartment. The solution was a freestanding bike rack I picked up at REI. It was easy to assemble, holds two bikes with ease, and doesn't take up much space at all. Of course, my road bike will spend most of its condo-time mounted on my fluid trainer, but I had to throw it up there for the photo.

It was a good weekend. I had an enjoyable swim at the pond, and a fun bike ride around Chatfield. My foot still hurts when I run, but I have already paid for a Milwaukee hotel room, so I am committed to competing in the National Championship Olympic Triathlon, even if I only complete the first two legs.

My final comment for the day has nothing to do with anything, but I found it interesting enough to share.

Well, I dunno, perhaps it does have something to do with my college major, since I did consider becoming an actor (until it became obvious that I had no talent). Anyway, the point is that I saw the fellow pictured here, and it made me think about ambitions, career choices, and lifetime legacies.

This guy got his picture on a shooting target poster. He may or may not be a model or actor who will occasionally show up as an extra on The Big Bang Theory or something. My guess is that he's a guy who works for a target manufacturer. Either way, though, he is now immortalized as a guy that gun enthusiasts across the country enjoy plugging full of holes. I found myself wondering about the impact that this poster has had on his life. Is he proud of it, keeping copies hung in every room of his home? Or is he afraid to walk into a liquor store for fear that the skittish owner won't be able to control his habituated firing reflex?

This is the kind of stuff I think about. I suppose it's no wonder that time gets away from me.

In many ways, I envy all of you normal people. At the same time, I think that life would be pretty dull if it weren't for the guys who are willing to proudly display their pudgy bald malevolence for all to see.

In any case, I do plan to get back to posting regularly. As always, thank you for dropping by. Have a great day!

(Oh, yeah, and work harder, and stop being a slacker!)

Una Tortuga

In Larry Niven's engaging detective novella "ARM", the mystery revolves around a device that projects a field that nullifies inertia, allowing items within the field to move at incredible speeds. I really need one of those for my apartment.

How long does it take you to get out the door in the morning?

I'm pretty slow. I would say I move at turtle speed, but a couple of our swim coaches are from the Turtle family, and they are blazing fast, so I hesitate to use the comparison. But the fact is that it takes me nearly an hour from the time I wake up until I'm ready to leave my apartment. And that's on the days when I don't have anything extra on my morning agenda. That just seems...wrong.

[By the way, whenever there's an underscored hyperlink embedded in this blog, I would recommend that you click on it. It may help illustrate a concept I'm trying to communicate...or it may just be something amusing that relates to the topic in some way. My hope is that you'll get something out of them, whether it be education or entertainment. It's also my way of exploring relationships between topics; I can't just think of one turtle without thinking of others, too.]

I don't think I perform an unusual number of tasks each morning. Hey -- We all have to at least get a drink, use the bathroom, and throw on some clothing before we step outside, right? And I'm guessing that most people eat a little bit of breakfast, too. Though I'm not a coffee drinker myself, I have many friends who include a cuppa joe within their primary morning rituals.

The only complications in my rituals arise from the fact that I need to make a lunch, take my vitamins, bag my work clothes (since I'm wearing my gym outfit), and floss after breakfast. And because I am such a burly macho manly man, it does take a while to shave my overnight caveman beard. Sometimes I am also tempted to pick up my guitar and strum the opening bars to "Don't Fear the Reaper," just because every day starts better with a little BOC.

I suppose my biggest time sink is when I stop to look at email. Most people don't go to bed as early as I do, so I often receive correspondence long after I have retired. Sometimes, I feel obligated to reply before heading out the door. And since I refuse to use Gen-X shorthand (ie, LOL, IMHO, TTYL, etc.), I may take longer to do that than is strictly necessary. BYCSJR (Before you can say Jack Robinson), I find that I'm leaving later than I intended.

And guess what? Now I'm out of time for writing. I couldn't find the clip I was looking for to illustrate "late for work," so I'll leave you with another scene from the same movie. (I suppose you could consider it a suggestion on saving commuting time.) Enjoy the ride, and have a great day!

The Squirrel of Gothos

I had a great weekend, which included a fun swim at the pond, a decent bike ride, and a day of volunteer triathlete wrangling at the Foothills Feat. I'm tired, and don't have much time to write, so I won't share all those details right now. I'll just give the answers to our quiz, and then try to expand on the larger aspects of life in the big city in my next post. As always, I appreciate your patience.

Spiderman	Star Trek
Dr. Curt Connors Norman Osborne Quentin Beck Flint Marko Peter Parker	Tholian Gorn Trelane Horta Marta

The fellow pictured at the top of the post is the ebullient actor William Campbell, shown in both of his Star Trek TOS roles. On the left, he's a Klingon, and on the right, he is the polite (but annoying) prankster Trelane.

The Spiderman character that Trelane most closely resembles is Quentin Beck, AKA "Mysterio." They both perform what appear to be supernatural (magical) stunts, but are revealed to be using advanced technology to accomplish the illusions.



Dr. Curt Connors is one of Peter Parker's teachers. He had lost an arm, and started doing research into reptilian regeneration...and as you would expect, accidentally turned himself into a bad-tempered lizard. Therefore, he is obviously Spidey's incarnation of the Gorn.

Marta (played by the delightful Yvonne Craig...who was also Commissioner Gordon's daughter, who got her kicks by riding a motorcycle and fighting crime as Batgirl.) On Star Trek, Ms. Craig was green, and is therefore our puzzle's match for Norman Osborne, AKA the Green Goblin. While I'll admit that you could make the case that The Lizard is also green, you'd also have to consider that Osborne and Marta also share the personality trait of being functional psychotics.

I do have some questions about the way Roddenberry handled Marta's species, though. While the series is overwhelmingly on the side of tolerance and diversity, I do find it strange that Marta and her relatives are known as "Green Orion Slave Girls." I was never sure if all Orion women (regardless of hue) were slaves, and the Greens were just the most alluring of the group...or if the Federation was making the point that skin color was precisely what determined one's destiny to be considered property. Hmmm.



Flint Marko is the fellow who mutated into the Sandman. Being made of sand, he is obviously a silicon-based life form...as was the Horta.

So that leaves only Peter Parker to be paired up with the Tholians. This one should have been the most obvious, since they are both notorious web-slingers.



So that's it for that little quiz. Sorry it was so simple; I'll try to make the next one more challenging. In the meantime, though, I'm really going to make an effort to avoid any Star Trek references for a day or two. It's time to start talking seriously about my triathlon training.

Thanks for playing, and thanks for dropping by today. All of a sudden, it's June, and the solstice is mere weeks away. It's time to get outdoors, enjoy the sunshine, and have a great day!