A little poetry, inspired by our resident food thief..
My feet are resting,
one on the other,
on an ottoman, and I can feel
my torso sinking into the leather chair.
In this rare moment of early afternoon peace,
I begin to unpeel a clementine, among the last in the box,
as the few that remained were growing soft
and possibly rotten.
As I eat pieces of the orange fruit, my daughter,
who is one, tramples over and blurts out a series of noises,
which I have learned to interpret that she wants my food.
But I cannot give the child pieces of clementine because
under my supervision my son nearly choked on an orange slice
when he was her age.
So, like a robin feeding its young with regurgitated worms, I set aside
pebble-sized bits of fruit that I’ve already chewed, and place them in a line
onto the arm of my chair. She stands beside me, knowing all along that I would do this,
and she happily plucks each tiny clump of food in between her increasingly sticky fingers,
satisfied for the moment that I’ve obliged her.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Genetic testing for $399
Spit into a tube, send it to a lab, and 6-8 weeks later, you get a DNA analysis that can tell you if you have an elevated risk to have some cancers, diabetes, Parkinson's, and other diseases.
As one who would like to know this sort of information - it seems unbelievable that it
is even available - this is very tempting. But suppose you get some difficult-to-take results, and then brace for a particular condition at some point in life, and then it never materializes? Tough, tough call to make. Is it better to not know? What if precautions one takes in hope of avoiding getting a disease don't work?
https://www.23andme.com/
As one who would like to know this sort of information - it seems unbelievable that it
is even available - this is very tempting. But suppose you get some difficult-to-take results, and then brace for a particular condition at some point in life, and then it never materializes? Tough, tough call to make. Is it better to not know? What if precautions one takes in hope of avoiding getting a disease don't work?
https://www.23andme.com/
No more pens from drug companies to docs
Interesting story in New York Times about many drug companies voluntarily stopping the practice of giving away to doctors trinkets and freebies, like pens and tissue boxes, with their names emblazoned across the side. Many doctors agree it had to end, but some, according to this article, will miss the goodies.
The question is: do items like this have any effect on prescribing medications? Most say no, and you have to believe them. Doctors have a greater responsibility to their patients to prescribe the right drug, or determining if their patients even need a pill.
But, does having posters of the human body in examining rooms with drug companies' names written on the bottom, magnets, pens, and pads, have perhaps a subconscious effect on doctors' decisions? Does having a likeable drug rep influence prescriptions that doctors write? Hopefully, the answer is no.
But there are some greedy doctors out there. Medicine is a business. And there are some unethical doctors - as in any line of work - who take kickbacks from drug companies, and commit fraudulent acts like misbilling insurance companies. At the same time, there are also docs who serve on advisory committees for drug companies, positions that are well paid, like consultants, and yet that's not a conflict of interest?
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/business/31drug.html?hp
The question is: do items like this have any effect on prescribing medications? Most say no, and you have to believe them. Doctors have a greater responsibility to their patients to prescribe the right drug, or determining if their patients even need a pill.
But, does having posters of the human body in examining rooms with drug companies' names written on the bottom, magnets, pens, and pads, have perhaps a subconscious effect on doctors' decisions? Does having a likeable drug rep influence prescriptions that doctors write? Hopefully, the answer is no.
But there are some greedy doctors out there. Medicine is a business. And there are some unethical doctors - as in any line of work - who take kickbacks from drug companies, and commit fraudulent acts like misbilling insurance companies. At the same time, there are also docs who serve on advisory committees for drug companies, positions that are well paid, like consultants, and yet that's not a conflict of interest?
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/31/business/31drug.html?hp
Scrubs returns!
New shows of the quirky hospital sitcom - arguably one of the best comedies on TV - will appear on ABC, beginning Jan. 6. How cool is this? Nice!
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/arts/television/30scru.html
(Too bad they couldn't have done the same with Ed a few years back.)
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/arts/television/30scru.html
(Too bad they couldn't have done the same with Ed a few years back.)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Reckless and happy vs. Conservative and dull
Sometimes, a simple observation like seeing the guy who works at the town dump smoking a cigarette and holding a Dunkin' Donuts coffee can spark a deeper question of philosophy. That is, does it pay to be excessively careful with your life and risk ever feeling contented, or is it better to live life on the edge and perhaps die early, but happy?
This seems like a classic debate to me, so no right answer. But this guy today was clearly satisfied, at least at the moment. You could see it in him. Cigarettes cause cancer, and coffee, while not a hazard in and of itself, is not exactly health food. Who knows? It could have been this guy's fifth cup of the day?
There are many things that people do that aren't socially acceptable, like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or riding a motorcycle in the first place, overeating, gambling, spending too much on your credit card, whatever. Yet, these things can yield happiness to people. Critics to my theory would of course say they bring temporary happiness. But I would argue that many people are never, or possibly only occasionally, happy, and this is possibly because they live too carefully, too boringly. Most everyone lives this way, sometimes, but maybe we should be this way less often.
It seems that people either need to give in to some wicked thoughts now and then, or change their idea of happiness and maybe not kid themselves that acting politically correct all the time or eating salmon and brown rice nightly is very fun.
This seems like a classic debate to me, so no right answer. But this guy today was clearly satisfied, at least at the moment. You could see it in him. Cigarettes cause cancer, and coffee, while not a hazard in and of itself, is not exactly health food. Who knows? It could have been this guy's fifth cup of the day?
There are many things that people do that aren't socially acceptable, like riding a motorcycle without a helmet, or riding a motorcycle in the first place, overeating, gambling, spending too much on your credit card, whatever. Yet, these things can yield happiness to people. Critics to my theory would of course say they bring temporary happiness. But I would argue that many people are never, or possibly only occasionally, happy, and this is possibly because they live too carefully, too boringly. Most everyone lives this way, sometimes, but maybe we should be this way less often.
It seems that people either need to give in to some wicked thoughts now and then, or change their idea of happiness and maybe not kid themselves that acting politically correct all the time or eating salmon and brown rice nightly is very fun.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
My %$#@!% snowblower
This past weekend, we got a sizable snowstorm, about 10 inches, dumped on the area - school was cancelled on Friday, Saturday was okay, but then on Sunday we got more snow and ice and sleet and freezing rain. School was delayed on Monday.
Whenever there is more than a few inches of snow, I believe I owe it to myself to use my snowblower, a very heavy, very expensive (at one time) machine, to take care of the snow removal on my driveway, which is long, and exhausting if I'm shoveling it. My snowblower, which is only five years old, has a big engine, and is imposing, for a snowblower. It should rip through snow like a hot knife through butter.
The problem is that it doesn't do that very well.
It gets clogged whenever there is the slightest amount of wetness to the snow. That means snowblowing the end of the driveway is problematic, since the snow plows add salt and dirt to the street and then plow it at the end of my driveway.
On Friday night, another bad thing happened involving my snowblower: I pulled the cord to start the engine, and the rope broke in my hand. The remaining part of the cord snapped back into the engine, disappearing in an instant.
So then I had to use the electric start feature, which sends about 90 million volts of electricity through an extension cord to start the machine. Problem was, I couldn't find the cord that came with the snow blower. I ended up using this weak little inside extension cord for a floor lamp, probably putting my life at great risk, but it worked.
Unfortunately, the snowblower later stalled a couple of times - at the end of my driveway, because, possibly, the snowblower was clogged with wet snow and slush. So I'd have to push the snowblower back to my garage to start it again. It became a cruel cycle, one that almost caused me to lose it.
I probably need to get the snowblower serviced, which I haven't done since I've owned it. I treat the snowblower as I do with most other machines I own with engines. I pour gas into the tank, and sort of expect everything to work. I pour oil into it occasionally. I don't check the spark plug. And anything else that the engine needs to work is a mystery to me.
I am dreading the next snowstorm that brings rain or is heavy snow because my snowblower will get clogged again, likely stall, and prove to be useless. We may have to purchase some better shovels if this is the case.
Otherwise, the snow plow guys may find my snowblower during the next storm in the middle of the road, abandoned, ready to advance to the big snowblower party in the sky, where snowblowers of the past are swearing at their owners for not taking care of them the way they should have.
Whenever there is more than a few inches of snow, I believe I owe it to myself to use my snowblower, a very heavy, very expensive (at one time) machine, to take care of the snow removal on my driveway, which is long, and exhausting if I'm shoveling it. My snowblower, which is only five years old, has a big engine, and is imposing, for a snowblower. It should rip through snow like a hot knife through butter.
The problem is that it doesn't do that very well.
It gets clogged whenever there is the slightest amount of wetness to the snow. That means snowblowing the end of the driveway is problematic, since the snow plows add salt and dirt to the street and then plow it at the end of my driveway.
On Friday night, another bad thing happened involving my snowblower: I pulled the cord to start the engine, and the rope broke in my hand. The remaining part of the cord snapped back into the engine, disappearing in an instant.
So then I had to use the electric start feature, which sends about 90 million volts of electricity through an extension cord to start the machine. Problem was, I couldn't find the cord that came with the snow blower. I ended up using this weak little inside extension cord for a floor lamp, probably putting my life at great risk, but it worked.
Unfortunately, the snowblower later stalled a couple of times - at the end of my driveway, because, possibly, the snowblower was clogged with wet snow and slush. So I'd have to push the snowblower back to my garage to start it again. It became a cruel cycle, one that almost caused me to lose it.
I probably need to get the snowblower serviced, which I haven't done since I've owned it. I treat the snowblower as I do with most other machines I own with engines. I pour gas into the tank, and sort of expect everything to work. I pour oil into it occasionally. I don't check the spark plug. And anything else that the engine needs to work is a mystery to me.
I am dreading the next snowstorm that brings rain or is heavy snow because my snowblower will get clogged again, likely stall, and prove to be useless. We may have to purchase some better shovels if this is the case.
Otherwise, the snow plow guys may find my snowblower during the next storm in the middle of the road, abandoned, ready to advance to the big snowblower party in the sky, where snowblowers of the past are swearing at their owners for not taking care of them the way they should have.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Christmas shopping: Men vs. Women
A piece rejected by the USA Today, New York Times, Boston Globe, and Hartford Courant...
Of all the amazing differences between genders, how each handles the task of holiday shopping is one that ranks among the most remarkable.
Many women get excited about Christmas shopping; many men, if I can speak for an entire gender here, fear it. I will generalize and this will surely lead me into some trouble, but women are just more skilled than men are at shopping, period, which surprises me that Santa Claus is a male. Santa, if he is like most guys, would prefer to remain at home, in the bowels of his basement workshop, hammering things, or counting his screwdrivers or throwing drill bits into the loose insulation dangling from the ceiling. Even I, who am rather limited with tools, would find something to saw or bore a hole into rather than fight mall traffic at Christmastime.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that guys lose it in Christmas traffic; it goes against everything that evolution has taught them.
But the thing that truly baffles me personally each year at Christmas is profoundly simple – that is, knowing what to buy for people. Typically, I go out on Dec. 23, or perhaps Christmas Eve, aiming to buy a trunkful of gifts without having prepared a list of any kind, or even having a clear idea of what stores I’m going to. Interestingly, I just allow my car to lead me in a direction, which is usually a shopping mall in one of two directions within 20 minutes of my house, and then, when I get close to extensive commercial development and buildings that have banners which read SALE, I turn into a parking lot, often at the last second, and it might be because I have a green arrow for a left turn as opposed to taking a right turn into a parking lot and having to wait in a long line.
Idling in a line of shoppers seeking the perfect parking space, I’ve found, is not a good time to develop patience.
There is no strategy, really; there is no rhyme or reason for where I end up. But once I’m inside a retail business, whether by accident or through a set of variables that I can’t even explain here, the real cluelessness begins. I ask myself things like, “What am I doing here?”, “Whom do I have to buy for?”, “Did I remember to bring my wallet?”, and “Did I get them gloves last year?”
This is when I wish I had the functionality of a woman’s brain, at least for this one day.
As a man, this is confusing territory. I mean, there are only so many gifts one can buy that are generic enough to give to people whose Christmas list you forgot. This is another critical difference between men and women. Men don’t remember what people ever say they want, despite how many times someone might repeat it. This shortcoming definitely has to do with the ability to listen, which guys are notoriously bad at.
In my experience, women are quite good at this. They can remember what someone may have whispered to them during a Fourth of July fireworks finale, when it’s impossible to hear anything but loud explosives. Many women have a keen ability to screen out all distractions when another person mentions something they want. Somehow, they are able to say to themselves, “I have to remember to get them that for Christmas”, whereas men are thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if those fireworks shot off sideways and blew up an entire building?”
Perhaps if shopping malls shot off fireworks around the holidays, it would motivate more men to get there, much like the strobe lights that car dealers and movie theaters flash across the night sky to attract people. I am always a sucker for wondering where those lights are coming from.
Of all the amazing differences between genders, how each handles the task of holiday shopping is one that ranks among the most remarkable.
Many women get excited about Christmas shopping; many men, if I can speak for an entire gender here, fear it. I will generalize and this will surely lead me into some trouble, but women are just more skilled than men are at shopping, period, which surprises me that Santa Claus is a male. Santa, if he is like most guys, would prefer to remain at home, in the bowels of his basement workshop, hammering things, or counting his screwdrivers or throwing drill bits into the loose insulation dangling from the ceiling. Even I, who am rather limited with tools, would find something to saw or bore a hole into rather than fight mall traffic at Christmastime.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that guys lose it in Christmas traffic; it goes against everything that evolution has taught them.
But the thing that truly baffles me personally each year at Christmas is profoundly simple – that is, knowing what to buy for people. Typically, I go out on Dec. 23, or perhaps Christmas Eve, aiming to buy a trunkful of gifts without having prepared a list of any kind, or even having a clear idea of what stores I’m going to. Interestingly, I just allow my car to lead me in a direction, which is usually a shopping mall in one of two directions within 20 minutes of my house, and then, when I get close to extensive commercial development and buildings that have banners which read SALE, I turn into a parking lot, often at the last second, and it might be because I have a green arrow for a left turn as opposed to taking a right turn into a parking lot and having to wait in a long line.
Idling in a line of shoppers seeking the perfect parking space, I’ve found, is not a good time to develop patience.
There is no strategy, really; there is no rhyme or reason for where I end up. But once I’m inside a retail business, whether by accident or through a set of variables that I can’t even explain here, the real cluelessness begins. I ask myself things like, “What am I doing here?”, “Whom do I have to buy for?”, “Did I remember to bring my wallet?”, and “Did I get them gloves last year?”
This is when I wish I had the functionality of a woman’s brain, at least for this one day.
As a man, this is confusing territory. I mean, there are only so many gifts one can buy that are generic enough to give to people whose Christmas list you forgot. This is another critical difference between men and women. Men don’t remember what people ever say they want, despite how many times someone might repeat it. This shortcoming definitely has to do with the ability to listen, which guys are notoriously bad at.
In my experience, women are quite good at this. They can remember what someone may have whispered to them during a Fourth of July fireworks finale, when it’s impossible to hear anything but loud explosives. Many women have a keen ability to screen out all distractions when another person mentions something they want. Somehow, they are able to say to themselves, “I have to remember to get them that for Christmas”, whereas men are thinking, “Wouldn’t it be cool if those fireworks shot off sideways and blew up an entire building?”
Perhaps if shopping malls shot off fireworks around the holidays, it would motivate more men to get there, much like the strobe lights that car dealers and movie theaters flash across the night sky to attract people. I am always a sucker for wondering where those lights are coming from.
Monday, December 15, 2008
NYC observations
It was good to see, during a recent trip to The City, that newspaper journalism appears to be flourishing there -a hopeful sign for the dying industry. A lot of people still read papers there.
Despite the fact that that newspapers - which are struggling to get advertisers and are losing circulation to the web, TV, and because of the slumping economy - are gasping for breath, the giant recycle bins were filling up at Grand Central Station. After their Metro-North train ride, passengers dumped their Wall Street Journals, New York Timeses and New York Posts into a tall metal cylinder. Many were commuters from Stamford, Greenwich, and surrounding towns like Darien. who probably read for financial information. But, nonetheless, readers are readers. While papers like the Hartford Courant fail to understand how to adapt to the changing times (terrible redesign and format!), others still survive, and seem to be doing it fairly well.
Great headline: The day after an Iraqi journalist threw his shoes at President Bush during a press conference (Bush ducked out of the way), the New York Post runs "Lame Duck" on its front page.
Other things I noticed during our family trip to NYC:
There doesn't seem to be an identifiable middle class in the City. You're either barely making it or you're Upper West Side affluent. Not a lot in between. Maybe it's me. People barely making it are doing the service jobs, and somehow affording to live in or near one of the most expensive real estate markets in the country. The affluent control the country's financial industry or are independently wealthy enough to hang around, wearing expensive clothes, putz around bountique stores, and eat at great restaurants.
New Yorkers seem to not get fat because they walk so much. We walked more than 50 blocks total! My feet are killing me!
If you don't know where you're going in an unfamiliar city, you get stuck eating lunch at restaurants like Mars 2112, which is where we ate. Oh, man. The place was underground, dark, with red lights, and decorated like Mars, the planet, which apparently has a temperature of -85 degrees Fahrenheit. The food was very, very bad. But we did take a picture of a guy dressed as an alien who was greeting people sitting at their tables, which isn't something you see everyday.
The Abercrombie and Fitch, unlike the mall stores every place else which have mannequin half-naked people, had real half-naked people standing just inside the door greeting people.
Metro-North RR is a great thing. I wish we had commuter service around here, or high speed train capability from Hartford to NYC or Boston or Providence. We met some cool, friendly people on board, and it was nice to not have to drive into New York. We took the train from Stamford, and it was a fun time.
Despite the fact that that newspapers - which are struggling to get advertisers and are losing circulation to the web, TV, and because of the slumping economy - are gasping for breath, the giant recycle bins were filling up at Grand Central Station. After their Metro-North train ride, passengers dumped their Wall Street Journals, New York Timeses and New York Posts into a tall metal cylinder. Many were commuters from Stamford, Greenwich, and surrounding towns like Darien. who probably read for financial information. But, nonetheless, readers are readers. While papers like the Hartford Courant fail to understand how to adapt to the changing times (terrible redesign and format!), others still survive, and seem to be doing it fairly well.
Great headline: The day after an Iraqi journalist threw his shoes at President Bush during a press conference (Bush ducked out of the way), the New York Post runs "Lame Duck" on its front page.
Other things I noticed during our family trip to NYC:
There doesn't seem to be an identifiable middle class in the City. You're either barely making it or you're Upper West Side affluent. Not a lot in between. Maybe it's me. People barely making it are doing the service jobs, and somehow affording to live in or near one of the most expensive real estate markets in the country. The affluent control the country's financial industry or are independently wealthy enough to hang around, wearing expensive clothes, putz around bountique stores, and eat at great restaurants.
New Yorkers seem to not get fat because they walk so much. We walked more than 50 blocks total! My feet are killing me!
If you don't know where you're going in an unfamiliar city, you get stuck eating lunch at restaurants like Mars 2112, which is where we ate. Oh, man. The place was underground, dark, with red lights, and decorated like Mars, the planet, which apparently has a temperature of -85 degrees Fahrenheit. The food was very, very bad. But we did take a picture of a guy dressed as an alien who was greeting people sitting at their tables, which isn't something you see everyday.
The Abercrombie and Fitch, unlike the mall stores every place else which have mannequin half-naked people, had real half-naked people standing just inside the door greeting people.
Metro-North RR is a great thing. I wish we had commuter service around here, or high speed train capability from Hartford to NYC or Boston or Providence. We met some cool, friendly people on board, and it was nice to not have to drive into New York. We took the train from Stamford, and it was a fun time.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Jimmy V
I tuned into a college basketball game tonight (Davidson vs. West Virginia - great game), and, as it happens each year, turned out to be watching the Jimmy V Classic, the memorial tournament held at Madison Sqaure Garden in honor of the former North Carolina State coach who died of cancer in the mid-1990s.
I watched the end of the first game and then, as usual, ESPN showed Valvano's acceptance speech for receiving the Arthur Ashe award for courage in 1993. The speech is one you can't turn off. I remember watching it live, and now, I watch it every year. (It is re-shown during the intermission between the 7 and 9 o'clock games.) Valvano was, and still is, an inspiration. His messages are important. He says to spend some time every day doing three things: laugh; spend time in thought; and be emotional. When he gave the speech, he had cancerous tumors throughout his body, so his message was profound, coming from someone who knew his time was limited.
But what amazed me tonight, beyond his message, was thinking about the amount of money raised for cancer research. The Jimmy V Foundation claims to donate 100 percent of its donations directly to cancer research, and over the last 15 years, it has raised $80 million. I'm not sure what exactly that has helped to fund, but you hope it's being used intelligently and in a useful way.
I thought that it is unfortunate in a way that a private organization has to raise money for a deadly disease, to help seek a cure or at least better treatments. I turned to my wife and said, "Man, why can't the federal government fund cancer research better?"
And she made a good point: the federal government is busy bailing out banks and car makers.
I'm not sure we have our priorities straight on this.
The Jimmy V Classic is an important fundraiser, and Jimmy V has inspired millions to give money to help this cause. More people should spend time in deep thought, particularly lawmakers and government officials, to figure out ways in which public money can be used to fund new treatments and research, without having to rely on private funds.
But as I was telling my wife - perhaps the government isn't doing enough about chronic and fatal diseases like cancer because, if cancer was wiped out, there wouldn't be a need for as many cancer doctors, and ultimately the health care system would suffer the effects of this lack of treatment, from body scans to chemotherapy. I'm sure hospitals make a lot of their money because of the disease itself. Take it away, and it's a huge financial loss.
I watched the end of the first game and then, as usual, ESPN showed Valvano's acceptance speech for receiving the Arthur Ashe award for courage in 1993. The speech is one you can't turn off. I remember watching it live, and now, I watch it every year. (It is re-shown during the intermission between the 7 and 9 o'clock games.) Valvano was, and still is, an inspiration. His messages are important. He says to spend some time every day doing three things: laugh; spend time in thought; and be emotional. When he gave the speech, he had cancerous tumors throughout his body, so his message was profound, coming from someone who knew his time was limited.
But what amazed me tonight, beyond his message, was thinking about the amount of money raised for cancer research. The Jimmy V Foundation claims to donate 100 percent of its donations directly to cancer research, and over the last 15 years, it has raised $80 million. I'm not sure what exactly that has helped to fund, but you hope it's being used intelligently and in a useful way.
I thought that it is unfortunate in a way that a private organization has to raise money for a deadly disease, to help seek a cure or at least better treatments. I turned to my wife and said, "Man, why can't the federal government fund cancer research better?"
And she made a good point: the federal government is busy bailing out banks and car makers.
I'm not sure we have our priorities straight on this.
The Jimmy V Classic is an important fundraiser, and Jimmy V has inspired millions to give money to help this cause. More people should spend time in deep thought, particularly lawmakers and government officials, to figure out ways in which public money can be used to fund new treatments and research, without having to rely on private funds.
But as I was telling my wife - perhaps the government isn't doing enough about chronic and fatal diseases like cancer because, if cancer was wiped out, there wouldn't be a need for as many cancer doctors, and ultimately the health care system would suffer the effects of this lack of treatment, from body scans to chemotherapy. I'm sure hospitals make a lot of their money because of the disease itself. Take it away, and it's a huge financial loss.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Santa's Run
Today, I ran in my first official "race", the 3.5 mile Santa's Run in Glastonbury, amid flurries, 32-degree breezes, worthy of stinging my ears and hands, and 1200 other runners, some of whom were dressed up in holiday garb, including more than a few Santas.
I finished at 29:50-something (only about 12 minutes off the winning time!). I was sprinting toward the finish line and didn't look up at the clock to see the exact time I finished. But I was pretty satisfied with my performance, given that I hadn't ever run in a race before, and on Thursday, during a practice run, finished the course in 31:34. I set a goal for myself of finishing under 30 minutes, and achieved it, so that was cool.
Running is hard. Especially running beyond a mile, for me. The first mile, which I completed in 7:46, wasn't bad. The second mile was tough, as the course meandered through some neighborhoods with slight hills that weren't as gentle as they appeared. I finished the first two miles in 16:30. The last mile and a half were, interestingly, not as difficult as the second mile, or so it seemed. I attempted to sprint for short stretches, as someone suggested, and perhaps that helped my pace, I don't know. Every time I sprinted I felt like I went a lot slower than I had run before the sprint.
Many, many people beat me, which of course I knew would happen. But many people ran faster than me who I wouldn't have thought would beat me. You can't base someone's running time on appearance, but there were people one a half times my age or older who passed me without great effort. I suppose they practice. You have to give older runners a lot of credit, regardless of where they finish.
I now know that I should have worn gloves on such a cold day. And a better hat - not a baseball cap. My mp3 player was missing an earplug so that wasn't ideal. I had to hold the thing in my hand. My shoelaces came untied once, so I had to stop and tie my sneakers, which took off about 10 seconds, possibly. I probably should, if I ever run again, invest in running shoes and not run in my cross trainers.
I did make a special playlist on my mp3 specifically for the run. Strangely, the songs repeated themselves instead of moving to the next one, which could have been the mp3 player resetting because of the bouncing or perhaps I hit the back button without knowing it. For the record, though, here's the music mix I made for the run. As always a lot of pride went into making this.
Times Like These - Foo Fighters
Training Montage - Rocky IV
Superman Kryptonite - Three Doors Down
I am the Highway - Audioslave
Dreams - Van Halen
Right Now - Van Halen
Baba O'Riley = The Who
Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
Burning Heart = Survivor
Streetcorner Symphpony - Rob Thomas
Everlong - Foo Fighters
Everybody's Changing - Keane
You're the Best (Around) - from the Karate Kid
Supernatural Superserious - REM
Tom Sawyer - Rush
515o - Van Halen
Mean Street - Van Halen
Running, I can tell, can be addictive, particularly if you get caught up in wanting to beat your previous time, or placing in the top 10 in your age category. It's interesting, in that obviously people have physical limitations, and here are thousands of people, millions nationally, who push their limits, despite headaches, sore feet, a dry mouth, cramps in their ribs, sore legs, and general exhaustion. That, I think, is what's cool about it. Bunches of people showing up to do something that they know won't be easy, yet they do it, anyway.
I hope to run more next year, in a few 5k type events, anyway. Although I can't see myself running for serious competition, I liked the scene of the race and the feeling of accomplishment I had when I finished it.
I finished at 29:50-something (only about 12 minutes off the winning time!). I was sprinting toward the finish line and didn't look up at the clock to see the exact time I finished. But I was pretty satisfied with my performance, given that I hadn't ever run in a race before, and on Thursday, during a practice run, finished the course in 31:34. I set a goal for myself of finishing under 30 minutes, and achieved it, so that was cool.
Running is hard. Especially running beyond a mile, for me. The first mile, which I completed in 7:46, wasn't bad. The second mile was tough, as the course meandered through some neighborhoods with slight hills that weren't as gentle as they appeared. I finished the first two miles in 16:30. The last mile and a half were, interestingly, not as difficult as the second mile, or so it seemed. I attempted to sprint for short stretches, as someone suggested, and perhaps that helped my pace, I don't know. Every time I sprinted I felt like I went a lot slower than I had run before the sprint.
Many, many people beat me, which of course I knew would happen. But many people ran faster than me who I wouldn't have thought would beat me. You can't base someone's running time on appearance, but there were people one a half times my age or older who passed me without great effort. I suppose they practice. You have to give older runners a lot of credit, regardless of where they finish.
I now know that I should have worn gloves on such a cold day. And a better hat - not a baseball cap. My mp3 player was missing an earplug so that wasn't ideal. I had to hold the thing in my hand. My shoelaces came untied once, so I had to stop and tie my sneakers, which took off about 10 seconds, possibly. I probably should, if I ever run again, invest in running shoes and not run in my cross trainers.
I did make a special playlist on my mp3 specifically for the run. Strangely, the songs repeated themselves instead of moving to the next one, which could have been the mp3 player resetting because of the bouncing or perhaps I hit the back button without knowing it. For the record, though, here's the music mix I made for the run. As always a lot of pride went into making this.
Times Like These - Foo Fighters
Training Montage - Rocky IV
Superman Kryptonite - Three Doors Down
I am the Highway - Audioslave
Dreams - Van Halen
Right Now - Van Halen
Baba O'Riley = The Who
Learn to Fly - Foo Fighters
Burning Heart = Survivor
Streetcorner Symphpony - Rob Thomas
Everlong - Foo Fighters
Everybody's Changing - Keane
You're the Best (Around) - from the Karate Kid
Supernatural Superserious - REM
Tom Sawyer - Rush
515o - Van Halen
Mean Street - Van Halen
Running, I can tell, can be addictive, particularly if you get caught up in wanting to beat your previous time, or placing in the top 10 in your age category. It's interesting, in that obviously people have physical limitations, and here are thousands of people, millions nationally, who push their limits, despite headaches, sore feet, a dry mouth, cramps in their ribs, sore legs, and general exhaustion. That, I think, is what's cool about it. Bunches of people showing up to do something that they know won't be easy, yet they do it, anyway.
I hope to run more next year, in a few 5k type events, anyway. Although I can't see myself running for serious competition, I liked the scene of the race and the feeling of accomplishment I had when I finished it.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Christmas trees and buying cars
You might not think that purchasing a Christmas tree has much to do with buying a car, but, I'm telling you, they are more similar than you might think.
True, my Christmas tree that I bought today cost $40. The average price of a new car is between $25,000 and $30,000.
But what I have found is that you approach the purchases the same way - wanting to get the best possible product, and spending some time to get it. Buying a car takes research - test driving, comparing prices, maybe even going to Consumer Reports to see their recommendations.
Buying a tree involves a lot of observing, picturing these trees in your house. Will they be too wide, too tall? What about that gaping hole in the back? Some needles might be dying already. The tree could be growing crookedly.
And then, after a lot of wandering around a tree farm in the cold - equivalent to weeks of visiting car dealers and tolerating their salesmen - you grow tired of the process. It gets late, you grow irritable, and then you end up cutting down a tree that you walked by four times. But now, you're impatient about the whole thing, and the tree suddenly looks good. If you had chopped it down in the first place, you could have saved an hour of your December afternoon.
Same thing happens with buying cars. You start off very excited about the prospect of a new car. But after weeks of searching for the right car at the right price, you're pretty satisfied with your old car.
I guess it's this way with any purchase. Or maybe some people can actually make up their minds relatively quickly and move on.
True, my Christmas tree that I bought today cost $40. The average price of a new car is between $25,000 and $30,000.
But what I have found is that you approach the purchases the same way - wanting to get the best possible product, and spending some time to get it. Buying a car takes research - test driving, comparing prices, maybe even going to Consumer Reports to see their recommendations.
Buying a tree involves a lot of observing, picturing these trees in your house. Will they be too wide, too tall? What about that gaping hole in the back? Some needles might be dying already. The tree could be growing crookedly.
And then, after a lot of wandering around a tree farm in the cold - equivalent to weeks of visiting car dealers and tolerating their salesmen - you grow tired of the process. It gets late, you grow irritable, and then you end up cutting down a tree that you walked by four times. But now, you're impatient about the whole thing, and the tree suddenly looks good. If you had chopped it down in the first place, you could have saved an hour of your December afternoon.
Same thing happens with buying cars. You start off very excited about the prospect of a new car. But after weeks of searching for the right car at the right price, you're pretty satisfied with your old car.
I guess it's this way with any purchase. Or maybe some people can actually make up their minds relatively quickly and move on.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Laundry baskets
We have a number of laundry baskets in our house - I think it's about four. Most of them are up in our bedroom, on the floor, full of clothes. But, increasingly, it is getting harder and harder to determine if the clothes are clean or dirty.
This happens because Alison, our 15 month old, likes to pull clothes out of the baskets onto the floor. She loves emptying her dresser drawers, her brother's dresser drawers, and taking the pots and pans out of the cabinets in the kitchen.
We keep a laundry basket in our bedroom for dirty clothes. And sometimes, there are two laundry baskets full of clean clothes, waiting to be put away. The laundry problem wouldn't exist if we were better at doing this. But this takes time, even if it's a few extra minutes, and often, just bringing clean laundry upstairs is an accomplishment. Putting the clothes away is just another thing that we don't feel like doing.
We've certainly rewashed clothes that have been clean that we have thought we dirty, and we've also probably worn dirty clothes. The other day, I was trying to figure out if a shirt was clean, so I smelled it. Deodorant smell is an obvious give-away, but sometimes it isn't that easy.
The shirt I was holding didn't smell, nor did the others around it, so I wore it. It may have been dirty, who knows.
I wonder if anyone else lives like this, or are we truly slobs? Perhaps I don't want to know the answer.
This happens because Alison, our 15 month old, likes to pull clothes out of the baskets onto the floor. She loves emptying her dresser drawers, her brother's dresser drawers, and taking the pots and pans out of the cabinets in the kitchen.
We keep a laundry basket in our bedroom for dirty clothes. And sometimes, there are two laundry baskets full of clean clothes, waiting to be put away. The laundry problem wouldn't exist if we were better at doing this. But this takes time, even if it's a few extra minutes, and often, just bringing clean laundry upstairs is an accomplishment. Putting the clothes away is just another thing that we don't feel like doing.
We've certainly rewashed clothes that have been clean that we have thought we dirty, and we've also probably worn dirty clothes. The other day, I was trying to figure out if a shirt was clean, so I smelled it. Deodorant smell is an obvious give-away, but sometimes it isn't that easy.
The shirt I was holding didn't smell, nor did the others around it, so I wore it. It may have been dirty, who knows.
I wonder if anyone else lives like this, or are we truly slobs? Perhaps I don't want to know the answer.
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