A Good Week of Exercise

Three trips up Highgrade, several (almost) pain-free runs, multiple hard pool workouts and a couple of lake swims added up to a satisfyingly exhausting week of training. I actually lost a couple of pounds, and am starting to feel like I could get in decent shape with another month or two of work like that.

Unfortunately, I'm still too fat, slow, and weak to effectively compete...and I've run out of training time. The good news is that my trip preparation is going well, and my attitude remains positive. I think my foot is going to hold up, my bike is working well, and I don't expect my cruel corporate overlords to burden me with too much work pressure as racetime approaches. Sure, I'll be among the slowest bikers and runners at the race, but by golly, I'm going to have fun!



(I threw in this photo as a bonus, just in case the first one didn't fully communicate today's topic. You see, I am formally starting ending my "hard training" period, and entering the phase where I'll rest and relax to be fully recovered and strong on race day. Get it?)

On Thursday, I rode up near the top of the Highgrade switchbacks with my friend Erin. I would've gone all the way to the top except for the fact that I had an 8:00am meeting at Foothills to show them my SocSec card to prove that I am actually an American citizen and am authorized to work in this country. I'm not sure why they've been paying me for nearly 25 years without such verification...but it's all taken care of now. Anyway, it was a lovely ride.

Friday's workouts included a run and a swim, both of which were influenced by my fatigue from Thursday's ride. But they were OK.

On Saturday, I went out to Chatfield and did a nice 4-mile run before the pond opened for business. My foot hurt a little bit, but it wasn't a problem. After that, I swam about a lap and a half, and then jumped on my bike for a couple of laps around the park, which comes out to just about the 40K I'll be doing in the race.

(I do wonder how likely it is that Google's satellites would capture images of a lake when there's a race going on, or even a crowded training session. Wouldn't it be cool if this picture had hundreds of tiny swim caps visible? Or do they have something similar to their face-blurring algorithm that orders the camera to try again later if there are too many people in the pond? Hmm.)

On Sunday, I started early for another climb up Deer Creek and Highgrade. One guy blew past me early in the ride, but I didn't see anyone else on the ascent.

The schoolhouse at the top always makes me think of these guys:



Why do you suppose the drummer won't get on board with the beard thing? Is he afraid he'd get his sticks tangled in it? Or is he just asserting his independence and free spirit? (Most likely, being a drummer, he is simply oblivious to the band's brand. As with most lower primates, there is an innate instinct to bang on whatever surface happens to be handy, and that's what he does.)

Anyway, the Pleasant Park Schoolhouse at the top of Highgrade is maintained as a cyclist's refreshment stop by the Pleasant Park Grange. ZZ Topp's biggest hit was called "La Grange," which coincidentally is also about people who provide a form of refreshment. Since these are the only two uses of the word I'd ever heard, I assumed that "grange" meant something associated with cookies or fluid replacement...but it turns out that it means "a farm, with its farmhouse and nearby buildings." OK, I suppose that fits the schoolhouse well enough, but I thought the name was intended to designate a group of people (not buildings.)

It's questions like this that explain why I am confused so much of the time. When rock and roll lyricists conspire with benevolent community service organizations to usurp the definitions of rustic words, I fear that no concepts are sacred. And what relationship, exactly, does "grange" have to "grunge?" Is there some sort of Kevin Bacon relationship between Kurt Cobain and Billy Gibbons? And where does the Grinch fit into all of this?

The point is that I'll have more time to think, now that I've started my taper. (Or is it tapir?) I am hoping that the exhaustion I've been feeling really is a sign that there's a legitimate training base waiting to surface, and that I'll be bursting with power and energy when race day arrives. In the meantime, my workouts should be interesting and fun. I'm excited to get on with it. Onward, my friends -- have a great day!

I Will Gladly Pay You Tuesday...

...for a Hamilton Burger today.

I honestly don't know if Erle Stanley Gardner ever wrote about Perry Mason getting a little tipsy at a lawyer party and giving the District Attorney a load of grief over the fact that he was named after a meat sandwich. But I am pretty sure the obvious joke was never mentioned during the long run of the TV series. This shows great restraint on the part of the writers. But if Raymond Burr and company were still alive, I think I would have to insist that such an episode be made.

But speaking of TV characters...I wonder if Jason Lee would've had the same sitcom success if his show had been called "My Name is Erle."

I also wonder if that name (Earl, Erle, Errol, etc) will ever make a comeback? I know there's at least one famous guy that spells it Url...I think he has something to do with web page design.

I actually had an uncle named Earl. He was a chiropractor who raised chinchillas in his basement. A whacky nutjob weirdo by any objective standards, Uncle Earl was nonetheless the least offensive and off-putting of any of the squirrels who skittered along the branches of my family tree. But I digress...

Our purpose in being here today is to discuss the answer to yesterday's graphical puzzle. What do these folks have in common?



The answer is "Hamil."

Oddly enough, Hamil is actually an Arabic word meaning (roughly) "to carry". It is most commonly used in reference to pregnancy, but applies equally well to each of our puzzle participants.

Frame 1 features the esteemed actor George Hamilton, shown here in his role as Bunny Wigglesworth, AKA Zorro the Gay Blade. ZGB is one of my Top Ten favorite movies, and I'd highly recommend you check it out if you haven't yet seen it. He carries a sword (or a whip) with which to fight injoostice.

Frame 2 is figure skater Dorothy Hamill, who carries an Olympic Gold medal...and the weight of a million schoolboy crushes from my generation of American males. I totally had the hots for her when I was in college -- and have to admit that I think she still looks pretty good today. I have no particular interest in meeting most celebrities, but for some reason I think it would be delightful to hook up with Dorothy someday, probably at Cinnabon for some laughs, a Dr. Pepper and a sticky bun. I bet she's pretty cool.

While Dorothy is a malt-shop poodle skirt, girl-next-door type of fantasy female, the chick in Frame 3 is more the type you'd want to have on your side when society crumbles after Hillary gets elected. Linda Hamilton not only carries some serious firepower, she also gets the award for Best Parent, Ever, since she so artfully raised and educated the fellow who led humanity to ultimately defeat the hideous robot minions of Steve Jobs.

Frame 4 features the aforementioned Hamilton Burger. He carries the distinction of being the only trial attorney to hold his job for decades without ever winning a single case. I have to say that I admire William Talman's ability to portray the character so sympathetically. Even though he sometimes acts like a bit of a jerk when he complains about Mr. Mason's cheap theatrics, you always have the feeling that he's really a pretty good guy...and is always happy to have justice done.

Frame 5 is the one who stumped the most people. Yes, that really is the guy who is most famous for making out with his sister and living in the swamp with a grammatically-challenged green muppet. Most people do think of Mark Hamill carrying a light saber and wondering why his dad wears a cape and works for a royal ugly dude, but he has actually had an enormously successful career after escaping from Lucas. (He is a BIG player in the voice-over acting world.) The picture in our puzzle is a screen-cap from "Comic Book: The Movie," which I mentioned the other day. He does a great job in that, and as I said before, if you're at all into sci-fi and cartoon type stuff, you should see it.

And by the way, if you know the first initial and middle name of the guy who is quoted at the start of this post, you'll earn 50 bonus points. Let me know.

Anyway, the more I look at the picture of Leia, the more I keep thinking about Cinnabon. Dorothy, my dear, if you happen to be reading this, please give me a call. It'll be my treat.

As for the rest of my friends, thanks for playing, and have a great day!

Unscheduled Maintenance

It would be great to have instant access to a doctor whose expertise encompassed everything from dentistry to romance -- someone who could cure anything from the common cold to a severe case of brain fever with roomatiz.

Unfortunately, I don't live in Bug Tussle...and though it's hard to believe -- the reduced copays and lowered medical costs mandated by the Affordable Care Act haven't yet trickled down to my doctor's office or insurance policies. Therefore, my primary healthcare approach is to economize by self-medicating as much as possible.

I recently procured an ACE "night splint" to help stretch things out to relieve the symptoms of my plantar fasciitis. It seems to be a pretty high-quality unit. But as with most products, I feel I could make a small suggestion or two for its improvement.

It's comfortable enough, and easy to strap on. The only problem I can see (other than an inability to adjust ankle angle...which is probably a feature on the more expensive models) is that the strap assembly on the leg part seems to have been designed without consideration for the natural shape of a human calf.

It's easy enough to strap it on high enough to achieve a good stretch on the foot...but the Velcro wrap only reaches the lower part of the calf -- which happens to taper from large to small as it descends down the back of the leg. This means that no matter how tight you cinch up the Velcro, it will eventually slide down your leg, which releases all the tension that you need to get that good stretch.

They should've made the shin piece several inches longer -- so that the straps would wrap around the top of the calf muscle, making it impossible for the unit to slide down over the bulging part of the lower leg. The bottom line is that despite the ease of use and attractive design, I have serious doubts about the actual curative effectiveness of this particular device.

I'll keep wearing it, though. It couldn't hurt. Right?

My other home remedy attempt was for the hideous knot in my right forearm. I'm pretty sure it's just tight because of the hours I spend either typing or mousing. It doesn't really bother me during work, but it severely restricts my ability to do bicep curls and pullups, and it bugs me when I swim.

I have a few Salonpas patches lying around. I got them as promotional items at various races, and though they make no claims of muscle relaxation (only pain relief), I thought I'd slap one on my arm to see what happened. Results = meh.

It did seem as if my muscle knot might have loosened a bit while the patch was on there...but it may be because I wasn't doing any typing at that point. A day later, all is as it was before.

Side effects? Well, the patch did give off a slight smell. Not particularly unpleasant, but anyone who knows me well knows that the only aromas that don't almost incapacitate me are vanilla, cinnamon, and cheesy baked goods. I did get a headache while wearing the patch, and I do attribute that to the smell. There was also a contemporary minor bit of lung congestion, but I have no idea if that was related. The bottom line is that I probably won't be using any more of those patches. Especially not on a knot.

The good news is that I swam hard at the pond last night. The bad news is that despite my effort, I couldn't keep up with my buddy Bob. Sure, I know he's a more talented swimmer than I am, and can access sprint speed that is well beyond my capacity. But I'm supposed to be a distance guy -- after 2000 yards, I should've been able to gain on him. Alas, I couldn't even hold the draft.

I went for a short run after that swim, and ran again this morning after my plyometrics workout. I am starting to think that I could actually get in shape in another month or so. Too bad my race is only a couple of weeks away. Oh well.

Perhaps the foot splint will provide some sort of miraculous cure, combined with an inexplicable boost in my running speed. You never know. Maybe I'll have my best triathlon ever. And win the Lotto.

OK, enough whining. As I mentioned yesterday, we are overdue for a trivia contest. Here's your first hint: This quiz was prompted by something I discussed yesterday. I have a great deal of affection for each of the people pictured here; and you get bonus points if you can explain why in each case. The basic premise, though, is simple: What do each of these folks have in common? (Click to embiggen.)

Good luck, and have a great day!

Social Notworking

True confession time:

I have never been to any type of fan convention. Not Comic Con, not GalaxyQuest, not even a Star Trek convention.

I might have to correct this oversight.

Getting my office hours cut back was supposed to be a boon to my personal productivity. I was supposed to do more writing, keep the linoleum shiny, achieve Kalstrom-level fitness, and buzz through my long-overdue family photo archival project. None of these has happened. But it's not a total loss -- I have watched a lot of movies and eaten a lot of burritos.

My latest guilty-pleasure movie discovery is a documentary entitled "Comic Book: The Movie." If you have a single geeky bone in your body, you should immediately throw this gem into your Netflix queue. The inclusion of a cameo by Bruce Campbell would be enough all by itself, but you'll also see such luminaries as Ron Perlman, David Prowse, and Peter Mayhew, not to mention a host of today's biggest voice actors.

That's all I'll say, other than to say that I am now accepting applications for candidates to accompany me to a future sci-fi or comic convention of some sort. Athletic blond females will receive special consideration; fluency in Klingon is a plus.

Anyway, if you do watch that movie, pay close attention. If not, you'll miss some of the stars and visual references that make this a delightful film.

But my weekend wasn't ALL superheroes and nerdiness. I also managed to get in some pretty decent workouts.

I was scheduled to coach swim practice on Saturday, so I did a short run, swam, and then headed out to Waterton to ride my mountain bike up the canyon. (I still hadn't permanently repaired last week's flat on my road bike, so I decided to do dirt instead of pavement.)

Normally, I prefer to do all my workouts as early as I can in the morning. I tell myself that it's to get the workout done and out of the way while the weather is still cool...but I wonder if those aren't just excuses for my preference to exercise on empty roads.

Because I coached first, by the time I got to the canyon on Saturday, the great throngs of "normal" humanity had made their appearance. There were wall-to-wall people in the canyon, which meant that I had to be cautious in my biking. Unless you're David Carradine, you can't really put the hammer down when you're threading your way through a crowd. I still got a good workout, but wasn't able to blast it the way I normally would.

As a firm believer in science, I will defer to anyone who can cite a study on the subject, but my informal observation is that groups of athletes are more likely to be aware of traffic flow than are similar groups of slack-jawed land whales. I never had to stop or slow down to pass runners, but there were a couple of times where I was blocked by a cliff-to-river red-rover line of Chris Farley/John Candy look-alikes who appeared oblivious to the fact that they were stonehenging the entire road. Sigh.

Oh well -- next week I can get started at my normal 5:00 am time. At that hour, all I worry about are hungry pumas and grizzly b'ars.

On Sunday, I was able to start my ride before sunrise, so I decided to head back up Highgrade. As I did last week, I took a brief refueling pitstop at the Smokey sign. The grass seems to be thriving.



Hey, here's a question for the locals. The green-lettered placard here says that Highgrade Road begins in 2.1 miles...but I don't think I've ever seen a sign that actually verifies that such a road officially exists. The street markers seem to go from Deer Creek Road to Pleasant Park. If any part of the climb is labeled with the Highgrade nomenclature, I must not be observant enough to see it. I notice the "Drive slowly; our squirrels don't know one nut from the other" sign every time I ride by, but I've never seen a Highgrade marker.

Google Maps shows it as the segment I just refer to as "the switchbacks." (That's where I saw the red fox again this week...but his black counterpart did not make an appearance. I did see deer, but no elk this time.) I assume that Highgrade ends at the point I can shift back off of my granny chain ring.

I had an early enough start that I did not see another cyclist until I was midway through the switchbacks on the way down.



That is a fun descent. I made it back to South Valley with about a half hour of slack in my schedule. So instead of turning back into Ken Caryl, I pedaled over to Wadsworth and did an extra leg down toward the Lockheed Martin plant, which made it my longest ride so far this year. I felt like I might actually be starting to get in shape. If I had another month to train for my triathlon, I might be able to gain some confidence in my ability to compete.

But no. It's almost time to taper. I'll show up at the race as a fat, slow guy whose only advantages are abundant buoyancy and an appreciation for the extra sea-level oxygen.

Tomorrow, I'll talk about my tentative exploration of alternative forms of healthcare. I may also have a report on my last pre-taper plyometrics workout. And after watching the comic book movie, I might be tempted to offer one of our trademarked nerd trivia graphics contests. I hope you'll drop by.

In honor of Don Knotts, let's all shout "Atta boy, Luther!" and have a great day!

I was Saying Boo-urns...

Because I coach a Masters Swim Team, people often assume that I must be fabulously wealthy. And admittedly, most people who have my combination of Stephen Tobolowski good looks, superb haiku-writing talent, and Nimoy-esque singing voice ARE highly compensated for their gifts, the truth is that I have not quite achieved financial independence. In fact, I barely make enough money to fund my Del Taco habit...and I certainly can't afford the Gibson 57 Archtop that would so nicely complement my smooth jazz guitar stylings. I am a little bit jealous of my friends who have the resources to take spur-of-the-moment vacations to Siam, or buy Ferraris that used to belong to Robin Masters, etc...but I also understand that they have such resources because they worked hard and haven't spent their lives making poor fiscal decisions the way I have. Oh well.

In other words:

Interpretation
Of debt to income ratios
Means ramen noodles

Some of my recent expenditures could probably be considered "investments," such as the money spent on my materials for my Personal Trainer Certification. And others, such as my race entry fees for the USAT Nationals, fall into the category of "rare opportunities you really shouldn't pass up". Still others, such as blister-causing shoes and that big bag of nasty day-old faux-cheese bagels, could probably be considered counterproductive.

The point is that I'm trying to be a little wiser with my money lately. When it came time to buy a new bike lock, I decided to shop carefully.

I made the decision to drive to Milwaukee primarily because it would be such a royal pain to get my bike to the race otherwise. I don't have a travel case, nor do I want to buy one. I also didn't want to grapple with such an object at the airport, nor deal with the associated rental car hassles. And because I have a two-bike rack on my Honda, I offered to transport my friend Carrie's bike as well as my own.

My Kuat rack came with a locking cable that is probably secure enough to deter bike thieves...but if I'm going to be responsible for somebody else's expensive racing machine as well as my own, I thought I ought to add another layer of protection onto what came with the rack.

I went with the OnGuard Pitbull model (pictured above.) They had another product with a higher security rating, but it was quit a bit more expensive, and didn't look as easy to use. This model has a braided cable, where the other used a thick chain.

Here's a hint for you -- if you ever want to experience buyer's remorse, go pick up a 2nd-tier product at the store...and then watch the company's YouTube video about their top-of-the-line offering. I now have blowtorch envy.



As for the bad parenting discussion, I won't bore you with too many specific details, but the bottom line is that if I had done a better job raising my son, he might have been able to pay for his own plane tickets to Milwaukee. As it is, though, I am delighted to make the purchase -- because it means that I'll have at least one person cheering for me at the race.

Well, OK...that's probably not realistic. The race starts at about 7am. He'll still be in bed. But at least it'll be nice to have his company in the car during the drive back to Denver. That is what I'm most looking forward to about the entire trip. We haven't decided which tourist destinations to hit yet, but there's bound to be some exciting and wonderful stuff to see in the journey across Nebraska.

Right?

Um, yeah. Well, if any of you have any suggestions for what we should visit during this trip, let me know. Anything that is generally on the way between Milwaukee and Denver is fair game; the more outlandish, the better.

Carhenge, Sturgis, and Devil's Tower are under consideration. Though we've both been to Rushmore and Crazy Horse, those would be fun to revisit, too. Any other suggestions?

OK, that's all I have time for today. Gotta go buy a Lotto ticket.

Have a great day!

An Occurence in Deer Creek Canyon

There's nothing quite like an early morning bike ride up the side of a mountain, is there?

A few years ago, I actually got in pretty good shape for cycling...but I couldn't have done it without constant prodding and encouragement from my animalistic friends. This year, all those folks have been pursuing larger goals, and haven't been available to prevent me from becoming a sedentary land whale. I have especially missed training with my buddy Kim Clemens, who not only rides at my speed, but always provides good conversation and a positive attitude as well.

Last Sunday, Kim invited me to ride up Highgrade Road with him. It would only be my second ascent of the summer (yeah, I know -- that is totally lame), so I had no ambitions of speed. It would just be a good 30-mile warmup ride before I had to be back at the pool to coach swim practice. We started well before 5:30am, which meant that we didn't expect to see too many other cyclists until we came back down.

The First Law of Cycling was in effect: "No matter which direction you go, the wind will be in your face." But otherwise, it was a pleasant morning in Deer Creek Canyon. At least it was...until a crazy redneck douchebag coming down the hill drove his truck across the center line and blared on his horn as he passed us.

I do understand why people who live along this road might not appreciate bicyclists. Most riders stay along the shoulder and don't make much noise, but there are a few who ride three abreast and blabber away without regard for traffic, or for the folks who might be sleeping inside their mountain homes. And I can understand that if you have to drive that route every day, you'd become tired of having to pay strict attention to your driving and be aware of all the riders who share the road. What I don't understand is what you think you could gain by harassing a couple of innocent athletes who are abiding by all applicable laws as they quietly pump their pedals to get up the hill.

Fortunately, we were able to continue without further hostility that might be festering among inbred microcephalic hill people with low self-esteem. But even before we got to the Smokey Bear sign, my energy level had faded to an alarming extent. Kim was kind enough to wait while I snarfed down some gels and an energy bar -- and after that, I felt much better.

In fact, I felt darn good. I was still at least one gear below what I should be able to do on that climb, but I kept the cadence fairly steady.

After the first couple of switchbacks on Highgrade, we spotted a handsome red fox trotting down the road (finally explaining the photo at the top of the post), carrying something in his mouth. It didn't appear to be a mouse or a squirrel or anything -- it looked like he was chomping transversewise on two bun-length hot dogs. He didn't seem to be concerned about bikers; he just trotted along with his prize.

Not more than 200 yards later, I saw a long-legged black fox heading in the other direction! Kim later said that he had seen a baby-sized black fox...so there must've been an entire family out for their morning stroll.

Ten minutes later, Kim spotted a large bull elk standing alone in the meadow. It was quite the morning for wildlife viewing, I guess.

The rest of the ride to the Grange schoolhouse was smooth enough; just a few minor adjustments to avoid the muddy deltas that had washed onto the road in the previous night's thunderstorm deluge. We made our donations and helped ourselves to some Gatorade...but were too early for any cookies. Kim was riding back across CityView, but I calculated that I didn't quite have enough time to make it to swim practice if I did that.

I turned and headed back down Highgrade, while Kim left in the opposite direction for the more challenging route. It turned out that I had made a good decision, timewise.

If the descent was typical, I could be home with 20 minutes to spare before I needed to leave for the Ridge. I started thinking about what segments I could add to the ride to use up that extra time. Maybe I could continue on Deer Creek down to Wadsworth and make a loop past the Chatfield entrance. Or perhaps I could climb the South Valley hill up to the Lockheed Martin guard shack once or twice.

Such speculation was moot, though. As usualy I was enjoying the exhilaration of the descent, trying not to inhale any bugs as I flew down the road with gravity's mighty assistance. I was a tad more cautious than usual because of the rainstorm debris on the road...but was still flying. As I approached the entrance to Deer Creek Canyon park, I felt a large bump under the back wheel, and noticed that the sound of the bike had changed.

Though the road had looked clear, it felt like I had hit something. And the bike was no longer humming -- it now sounded more swishy. I hit the brakes and slowed to a stop. Because I had been doing about 30 mph, I was long past where the bump had been felt, and couldn't even see that far back up to the road to identify what I might have hit.

My eyesight sucks.

I looked at the rear wheel and saw nothing amiss...so I remounted and rotated the pedals. It still didn't feel right. I completely dismounted and gave the wheel a closer inspection.

The tire was flatter than Ben Stein's inflection. There was a squished night crawler mashed across a section of the tire, but otherwise, the rubber appeared undamaged. But the air was certainly gone.

(Later in the day, I had a chance to find the hole in the tube. It was a clean slit, about a quarter of an inch long, and parallel to the centerline of the wheel -- though not exactly along the equator. I cannot imagine that an earthworm's teeth did the damage, but I am unable to envision exactly what did do it. It was definitely a slice rather than a puncture, and because it was not on the seam, didn't appear to be a structural failure. Some invisible ground hoodlum shivved me; perhaps one of the Chuds. I may never know for sure.)

Fortunately, I did have my kit, and was able to swap out the tube and inflate the new one with CO₂. I do want to thank all the kind bikers who asked if I needed help as they rode up the hill past my makeshift repair depot. If I hadn't been prepared, I wouldn't have had to wait more than a few minutes for the required assistance.

Even though mechanical tasks do not come easy for me, I was able to complete the repair quickly enough that I was able to make it to swim practice on time. I wish I could say that the rest period needed for the repair was enough to restore my energy for a good effort in the pool...but it did not. I was a comatose manatee throughout the practice. Being the only male in the workout with a bunch of girls, you'd think I could have kept up with somebody on a set or two, but...no. They were apparently unaware that they're supposed to be the weaker sex. Oh well.

Anyway, that was my Highgrade adventure for this week. Other than the flat, I'd have to say that the day was a success, and the new week has gotten off to a great start. I realize that I still owe you the discussion that involves bad parenting and a blowtorch, but I'm not going to have time today. It will also encompass the topics of fiscal irresponsibility and Chipotle scavenger obesity, so please drop by again tomorrow.

As always, thanks for reading, and have a great day!

Anatomically Correct

Obviously, the career I am most suited for would be "Absolute Supreme Dictator and Ruler of the World."

At this point, I suspect that's not going to happen. Yes, it is an epic tragedy that my wisdom and benevolence cannot be harnessed to bring peace and tranquility to the Body, but it is that same wisdom and benevolence that leave me ill-suited for a career in politics. I am truly sorry about that.

My second most obvious career aptitude would seem to be replacing Harrison Ford as America's most beloved action hero movie star...but it seems that Shia LeBeouf has preempted me there. Sigh.

But I do think there are still opportunities for me to find gainful employment as a product tester and suggester of design improvements. For example, my advice to cell phone companies would be to "make call quality suck less," and my advice to William Shatner would be to "keep up the good work, dude!"

I have also wondered why there are two poorly-positioned detent positions on car doors; one of them is too narrow to allow egress, and is so wide that it guarantees impact with the car in the adjacent space. There should either be more detent positions, or have one of them measured to be consistent with real-life parking lot activities.

Anyway, the point of today's post is to give additional kudos to the Altra Zero Drop shoe company. If you look at the footprint picture above, you may notice that the Altra shoe pictured here shows a pretty good shape correlation with an actual human foot. It has room for all of the runner's toes.

This shoe, on the other hand, operates on the principle that squished toes will somehow enhance the user experience.

I find this not to be the case.

Don't get me wrong, the Hoka One One shoe is a wonderful piece of footwear engineering, and I do not regret my purchase. (More about that in a minute.) It's just that the shoe could be improved immensely by imitating the Altra's generous and well-designed toe box.

I apologize to those who are already familiar with my running history, but I think a little background will provide perspective. Here goes:

I rarely wore shoes in my youth. It wasn't that our family couldn't afford them; it was just that I saw no need for them. I was perfectly comfortable going barefoot, and thanks to the adaptability Mother Nature provides, the act of eschewing shoes resulted in impenetrable calluses protecting the bottoms of my feet. I could walk on dirt, gravel, and even hot asphalt on most days without once thinking I needed to go put on my Keds.

In college, my roommate and I both did our swim team's 3-mile runs barefoot, played racquetball barefoot, and went on dates barefoot.

Well, OK, neither of us ever actually went on a date...but if we did, we'd have probably done it barefoot. (Come to think of it, this may begin to explain why we couldn't get dates. Hmm.)

Mickey even did barefoot water skiing. (I tried, and my leatherlike feet could certainly handle it -- but I just didn't have Mickey's natural athletic ability. I had to be content with just being smarter, better looking, and less flatulent.)

I never suffered a running-related injury until I started wearing shoes. To be honest, I had no desire to attempt to run more than 3 miles barefoot -- you never know when there might be broken glass or cockleburs out on the course -- so when I began to train for my first marathon, I purchased some real running shoes. Training went well, but somewhere around mile 20 during the actual race, I got a stress fracture in my foot.

[I should probably write a separate post about that race; it was an interesting experience. An intelligent person would have dropped out after the bone cracked...but it was my first marathon and I didn't want to be a wimp.]

Over the next 30-some years, I have tried a zillion different shoes, several different prescription orthotics, and more than a handful of "technique of the week" running styles. Breaking my ankle at Water World probably contributed to my running woes, too...but during most of that time, I had various knee, hamstring, and motivation problems.

Then I tried the Altras. Admittedly, my ankle-rehab physical therapy happened concurrently with my transition to zero-drop running, but I really do think the shoes had a lot to do with the fact that I've had no knee or leg problems of any sort while wearing Altras.

Alas, though -- I did eventually end up with plantar fasciitis. I don't know if the shoes were to blame, but I do know that my feet hurt now when I run in them. Normally, I would have no issue with taking time off from running (and in fact, I have done exactly that for a couple of months), but with USAT Nationals coming up in just a few weeks, I really need to be pounding the pavement.

That's where the Hokas come in. These very expensive shoes have a reputation for superior shock absorption and comfort, and have been recommended by several of my running friends. I tried them on at the store, and sure enough, they felt very cushy. I figured they would cushion my fasciitis feet just enough to get me through the miles I needed to ensure that I could finish the Milwaukee race.

The good news is that I was able to run in the Hokas without any heel pain. They're not zero drop, but the heel-toe difference is minimal; so I didn't notice a great change in my stride. But the bad news is that I got a hideous pinkie-toe blister from the cramped toe box.

Oh well. I can deal with that, and I'm pretty sure that I'll be able to get in several more spongy runs before I taper for the race. But I just wonder why they didn't make the darn things foot-shaped in the first place? It doesn't seem like a difficult concept.

Anyway, the point is that I had a good...nay, an excellent weekend. Despite spending a month's salary on shoes and other sundries, I feel like I was able to make progress toward having a satisfying trip to Milwaukee. I'll provide the details behind that statement in tomorrow's blog. That discussion will include multiple colors of wildlife, blowtorch demonstrations, explosive decompression, psychotic rednecks, and the consequences of bad parenting, among other things. (It was a full weekend, after all.) I hope you'll drop by.

Have a great day!

Transporter Malfunction

William Shatner is comfortable displaying multiple personalities.

He can play Good Kirk, Evil Kirk, Kirok, Janice Lester, or even T.J. Hooker...and come out of it feeling fine.

But when I find myself behaving differently on different days, well, it bothers me. I'm just not sure what to do about it.

In the old days, there was a condition they called "manic-depressive." Nowadays, I believe they refer to it as being "bipolar," which is NOT an improvement in terminology, if you ask me. They also labeled people as having a "split personality," or being "schizo." If you were really fragmented, they called you "Sally Field."

I am not suffering from any of those conditions. In fact, I'm not really suffering at all. It's just that I am experiencing a bit of productivity oscillation; some days I accomplish a lot...and some days I'm pretty much a slug. This isn't too troubling as long as the vast majority of the days are solidly on the side of achievement. But unfortunately, my inner slug has recently elevated his on-base percentage.

[Side question: Is it still considered a "slump" if a team loses something like 13 out of 16 games? Or do they just suck? How many seasons below .500 do you need before you're considered a perennial loser? How bad is a team when any victory is considered a fluke?]

I wonder if it's due to the summer heat? I'm quite certain that my plantar fasciitis is a contributor; if my foot felt great, I'd be far more tempted to be outside doing stuff. But maybe it is a general performance plague that has spread from Coors Field out into the suburbs. Or maybe I just shouldn't eat so much peanut butter at this time of year.

It would be good to have more days on the upside, that's all I'm saying. Oh sure, I have seen a couple of good movies on TV while I've been glued to the couch, and I've been reading a bit more, too. But summer is supposed to be a time of adventure -- a time to conquer mountains and swim across oceans! A time to try new things, to challenge boundaries, and to seek enlightenment through travel and exploration!

The good news is that I have some excellent workouts planned for the remainder of the week. I'm enjoying my CPT studies, and am looking forward to my upcoming trip to Milwaukee. Perhaps my slump is already over, and today will be an early member of a long string of highly productive days. You never know...it could happen.

Right now, though, I'm really sleepy. I think I'll go take a nap.

After that, though -- it's GO time. I'll tell you of my epic adventures (assuming I have them) in upcoming posts. Have a great day!

Hot Stuff

I hope everyone had a delightful 4th of July!

It's been a few years since I have personally set off any fireworks to celebrate, but I love the tradition -- and when the right opportunity arises on future Fourths, I look forward to once again waving sparklers about and hurling Black Cats at inattentive relatives, etc. Despite Washington's recent opinions and efforts to the contrary, I still think the US Constitution got it right...and that because it did, our country continues to be unchallenged as the greatest nation that ever existed.

Of course, I do realize that this blog resides on the Internet, which means that I may have readers who live in any number of snail-eating, soccer-playing, phlegm-based-language countries who may not have celebrated Independence Day this weekend. Heck, there is also a huge population of pinko hippie hacky-sackers in this country who would ban fireworks celebrations because of the carbon footprint and because the displays so dramatically represent the odious concept of freedom. To all of those people, I say "Hey, get a haircut!"

Even though I didn't ignite a single black snake or roman polanski, I did thoroughly enjoy the weekend. I finally rode my bike up Highgrade Road for the first time this year, had a couple of good swims, and made some progress on both my CPT studies and my photo-scanning project. (I'll post some of those scans later in the week.) I even managed to catch a few episodes of "Green Acres" and a movie that featured Shemp Howard as a henchman. I enjoyed the time I spent with my friends, and found an online bargain on multiple pairs of Injinji toe socks. Life is good.

The only bad news is that I finally had to turn on the A/C in my condo. It's pretty amazing that I was able to make it past July 4th without flipping the thermostat to "cool," but I do live on the bottom floor of the building, and my unit is always in the shade. Even so, the remorseless heat of Mother Nature's cruelty has finally forced me to resort to technology to ensure my household comfort.

Yes, I do realize that I should look at the heat as a good training opportunity for my race next month. It'll be hot out on the bike and run courses, and I should be adapting my body to handle the extreme conditions. But that wouldn't be much fun, would it?

OK, if you want to try to talk me into running or riding with you during the heat of the day, go for it. With enough peer pressure, even a slacker like me might actually do something productive. But if I have to rely on self-motivation, well...then the only people who are likely to see me are the good folks over at Baskin Robbins.

Stay cool, my friends, and have a great day!

Backronym

Because I have not yet mastered Facebook or Twitter, it is not surprising that I do not keep up on all of the latest trends, gossip, and hipster dialect. I tend to live in the past -- If I learned that Jack Benny was indeed the Secretary of the Treasury, I would simply shrug and accept it.

Though I hear the term rather frequently, I honestly have no idea what a kardasian is (though I would guess it's some sort of Israeli firearm.) And while I do know that Justin Bieber is supposedly this generation's version of Paul McCartney, I haven't the foggiest idea which of the Olsen twins he sleeps with, or whether or not he passionately hates the Red Sox like all good Americans do.

Even so, I generally expect myself to have a reasonable grasp of non-social-media terminology. Therefore, I was surprised when I ran across a perfectly cromulent word I had not heard before. The meaning was obvious in a way that seems rare...but when I heard "backronym," I knew precisely what it was. And I thought, "what a great word!"

I've used many backronyms throughout my career, and have probably even invented one or two. Heck, we have all done it at one time or another -- invented a sequence of words to represent an existing word that fits our naming needs. If there weren't already other teams who had done it, we could call our Masters team "Foothills Aquatics Swim Team" so we could be FAST.

Or Fiercely Intimidating Submersible Humans.

Well, OK...sometimes people try a little too hard to shoehorn words into a backronym. But the concept itself is legit.

Acronyms and abbreviations can make life easier, but some professions take it to the extreme. Once, after having a conversation that was more than 50% shortcuts, one of my Martin Marietta colleagues asked me how many acronyms and abbreviations I knew. I figured I might know a few hundred...but when I started making a list (purely from memory), I realized that my estimate was WAY low. I probably know thousands.

And now with "LOL' and its brethren entering the lexicon, I'm guessing that ALL of us know a bazillion forms of brevity. I am tempted to grab my English teacher soapbox and preach about the value of linguistic purity...but in reality, I guess I'm OK with the practice. I mean, what evil megalomaniac would want to have to describe their weapon as "Light Amplification through Stimulated Emission of Radiation"?

Anyway, I will end this discussion with a small bit of trivia. The boxy truck thing in the photo above is the Autonomous Land Vehicle (ALV), which was a project that Martin Marietta was involved in during the 1980s. I briefly helped with some of the documentation, and thought it was a pretty cool gadget. Sure, it was slow and clunky...but it turned out to be one of the grandparents of the Google self-driving car (as well as the Roomba and the Mars rovers, etc), and as such, deserves our acclaim and gratitude. Even if it didn't have a cool backronymish name.

That's all I have to say for now. Thanks for dropping by, and have a great day!

IMDB

Today's incoherent rambling stems from a question I was asked the other day: "Are you a Trekkie?"

This may surprise you, but I don't really think I am.

Oh sure, I am a fan of Star Trek, and I recognize how much it has meant to me personally, and to the world in general. I greatly admire the talents that brought the United Federation of Planets into being.

However -- I have never attended a convention, nor undergone surgery to attach Vulcan ears to my head. I have not attempted to learn Klingon (though I did take a stab at Esperanto once), nor have I searched eBay to find one of those techno-lute thingies that Spock played when he jammed with the space hippies.

But despite my denial of Trekkiehood, the question made me think. I have since spent a few moments pondering the path that brought me to the point where I feel compelled to pontificate on the Internet about TV, movies, science, space travel, and aliens, etc.

The first book I remember as an influence was called "Harold and His Purple Crayon." It was about a kid who drew things that would become capable of interaction. His activities foreshadowed the invention of the virtual world of computers and the Internet.

As all kids do, I went through the "dinosaur obsession" phase. But for me, this happened concurrently with John Glenn orbiting the Earth -- which created an eternal fascination with both space travel and monstrous creatures. My afternoons featured the Major Astro television program, which covered those topics, and added the appeal of animation, as well.

And then came Star Trek.

My relationship with television was firmly established. But it wasn't until I got to college that the final element fell into place. My best friend and I were roommates in the dorm. Mickey brought his TV with him, and it became the centerpiece of our collegiate experience.

Mickey was a movie enthusiast. Though he was a shallow and simple fellow in most ways, Mickey surprised me with the depth of his understanding and enthusiasm for the cinematic arts -- which included the ability to enjoy and appreciate films from every era. I learned to do the same. And that's when I came up with the idea for IMDB.

Every time I watched a movie, I would write down the title, year, director, actors, and a synopsis. Because this was before personal computers, I was forced to write my "database" onto 3 x 5 cards, which made information retrieval somewhat less than instantaneous. But I had the data, and could begin to see patterns of relationships that would eventually result in the invention of Kevin Bacon.

Unfortunately, I can't sue the IMDB guys...because I never told anyone about my database, and never recognized the potential the Internet offered. I'm sure a zillion other guys had the same idea. And IMDB got it right. My hat is off to them.

So here is the epilog: Last night, I made my first official contribution to IMDB. I was channel surfing, and noticed a guy on "I Dream of Jeannie" that I should know. He was in a million shows in the 60s, and I knew I knew him. (No, it was NOT the guy pictured here -- that's obviously Lon Chaney, Jr. Everybody knows him. I just thought his photo provided a good representation of the wonders of IMDB.)

A few years ago, my mind would've instantly retrieved the correct name. But last night, I struggled. John Froome? No. He was a newscaster on KAKE TV in Wichita, Kansas. Ethan Frome? No, I think he was a Jedi Knight or something. But I knew I was close enough -- IMDB could provide the complete answer.

I located the "Jeannie" episode...but it didn't show a credit for the guy I had recognized. Hmm. Time for Google.

Ah! Milton Frome.

He played a lot of salesman or government official types, usually to comic effect. I was surprised that his IMDB bio didn't mention the "Jeannie" episode. Well, that's why they have the "submit changes" button, isn't it?

So...I sent the suggested addition to the IMDB staff for review. I have no idea how they perform such a review, unless they have rooms full of actor trivia geeks where they walk in and say "Hey! Does anybody remember if Milton Frome played a produce clerk on the 'My Incredible Shrinking Master' episode of 'I Dream of Jeannie'?" That would actually surprise me less than learning that they had access to every movie and TV episode and could go right to the source.

Or maybe they just receive such updates and recognize that Terry's profile suggests that he's enough of a trivia geek to be trusted with such pronouncements. It's certainly plausible -- given the timeframe and Frome's career arc. Anyway, I intend to check IMDB in a couple of days to see if they actually added the listing. I'll let you know.

Anyway, I'd be interested in hearing if you have ever identified the influences that led to your current personality. Who were your Harold, John Glenn, Major Astro, and Mickey Canaday? And where, exactly, does the threshold lie between being a Trekkie vs. just being a dork? Let me know, and have a great day!