It's a girl!
My daughter, my first child, was born just a couple of days ago. I'm really excited. She's very cute, surprisingly mild-mannered, and I'm very happy she's here. She was born in the early evening, after a relatively brief (*) but intense labor. As the traditional phrasing goes, both mother and baby are doing fine.
On the very first night of her life, I found myself facing a test of character that I hadn't expected.
Let me say that my wife is a baby expert. When she babysits "difficult" babies for friends, those babies are calm. She's known how to change diapers for years. She knows what all of the little baby-related gadgets are, and why you'd want them in the first place. Up until about a week ago, I knew that the smaller holes in a diaper were for legs, and the bigger one was for the rest of the baby.
A few hours after the baby was born, about ten o'clock, we were settled in to sleep. The nurses had left the room for the first time since that morning. Our daughter was settled into her crib, snug and swaddled. My exhausted, sore wife was resting in bed. I was tired too, and ready for sleep.
I don't remember when--details from that evening are sketchy in my memory, times even more so, though there was a large glowing digital clock on the wall of the room--but not long after we had all closed our eyes, my baby girl began to fuss. I rolled out of bed, changed her diaper, calmed her, and put her back to sleep. What a great father!
The test started two hours later. More fussing. I'm almost certain I was awake the moment her fussing turned to crying. But I was so comfortable in bed, and had enjoyed my sleep so much. I realized that if I just stayed where I was, eyes closed, my wife would get out of bed and take care of our daughter. After all, she was probably hungry, and there's not much I could do about that.
The alternative was to get out of bed, make sure our little girl was really hungry (not just, say, in need of changing), and carry her over to my wife, saving her the trouble of moving her sore, tired body more than she needed to.
The test got repeated several times later that night. It might be more accurate to say that other parts of the test came early the next morning.
From the very first time I faced that test, I knew that the answer I gave would reinforce the answer I would give every time. I could choose to love and honor my wife (**), or I could choose to love myself (***). As it happens, I chose to love and honor my wife.
My little girl won't remember what happened in the first few hours of her life. She will never know exactly what went through my head as I made those choices (****). But I hope that when she is faced with tests of her character, she will choose the path that loves and honors others.
* In our pre-birth classes, we heard that the average first-time mother labors for 12-14 hours. Less than ten hours of active labor is "relatively brief".
** I don't believe our vows actually included the traditional phrase "love, honor, and cherish". Though that's a big part of what each promised the other.
*** The word "honor" was intentionally omitted. Choosing sleep over service here would be demonstrating that I give myself more honor than I give my wife, but at the same time it would be to act in such a way as to dishonor myself.
**** I don't remember exactly, so try as I might, I would not be able to tell anyone. I could give a good representation, but not an exact representation. Besides, trying to tell anyone what goes through my head is usually quite an interesting exercise...
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Why Don't I Go to Bed?
It's just after 10 PM. I know that because my computer helpfully pops up a window at 10 o'clock every night. It tells me to go to bed.
I'm sitting in the living room, wondering why I haven't gone to bed. At 9:07 tonight, I looked at the clock and thought that I could get some extra sleep tonight. The intelligent, forward-looking parts of my brain enjoyed that idea.
I haven't done anything important or productive in the past hour. But I haven't made any progress toward getting to bed.
The reason my computer helpfully pops up a window reminding me to go to bed is that I've been having trouble getting motivated to get to bed. That problem started about a month ago.
The window pops up at 10 o'clock is because that's an hour after 9 o'clock. Nine is when I want to start heading to bed. That gives me eight hours of sleep and lets me get up well before six.
There's a concept in chemistry called "activation energy". Sometimes energy needs to be added to reagents before a reaction will occur. Even reactions that produce more energy than they consume might need energy added so they can start. If you live in a wooden home, you should feel happy about that. Heat, say from a lighter or a burning bit of paper, is the activation energy added to wood and oxygen to start the burning-wood reaction. Stop me if I'm getting too technical.
I don't know why I seem to need so much activation energy to get up and brush my teeth. I've run up a pretty steep sleep deficit lately. That might be part of the reason. But with a baby due any day now, I should figure out how to put myself to bed.
That way I'll have the energy to take care of my wife and our baby. And that thought is way more energizing than sitting around not going to bed.
I'm sitting in the living room, wondering why I haven't gone to bed. At 9:07 tonight, I looked at the clock and thought that I could get some extra sleep tonight. The intelligent, forward-looking parts of my brain enjoyed that idea.
I haven't done anything important or productive in the past hour. But I haven't made any progress toward getting to bed.
The reason my computer helpfully pops up a window reminding me to go to bed is that I've been having trouble getting motivated to get to bed. That problem started about a month ago.
The window pops up at 10 o'clock is because that's an hour after 9 o'clock. Nine is when I want to start heading to bed. That gives me eight hours of sleep and lets me get up well before six.
There's a concept in chemistry called "activation energy". Sometimes energy needs to be added to reagents before a reaction will occur. Even reactions that produce more energy than they consume might need energy added so they can start. If you live in a wooden home, you should feel happy about that. Heat, say from a lighter or a burning bit of paper, is the activation energy added to wood and oxygen to start the burning-wood reaction. Stop me if I'm getting too technical.
I don't know why I seem to need so much activation energy to get up and brush my teeth. I've run up a pretty steep sleep deficit lately. That might be part of the reason. But with a baby due any day now, I should figure out how to put myself to bed.
That way I'll have the energy to take care of my wife and our baby. And that thought is way more energizing than sitting around not going to bed.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Basement Progress Update
My employer gave me July 2 and 3 off for the Independence Day holiday. Instead of trips, parties, or barbecues, I worked on my basement. I was right that the tack strips didn't take long to come off. I tried using a driveway ice scraper instead of a chisel, which was a lot faster for most of it (thanks for the suggestion, John!). The remainder was both glued and nailed, which was a pain, but it's done.
For some reason, I took a closer look at the insulation in the rim joists. Not only was there not enough of it, it was in bad shape. Some had been installed backwards (with the "interior" side facing the exterior). It was falling apart, and didn't provide any airflow protection. That's not too bad, except I found several large gaps to the outside.
A little explanation. My house is built so that the basement is only half-underground. The upstairs is attached to the foundation, but the front extends past the foundation. That makes the upstairs larger than the downstairs. That also means that a few feet of upstairs flooring are "exterior walls". The gaps I found were where the bottom plate joined the upstairs wall. Siding and trim hid the gaps from outside, but from inside, you could see daylight.
And so I added re-insulating the rim joists and caulking air gaps to my list of things that needed to get done.
But first, the electrical wiring needed some sanity. The basement, which had essentially been a single room, had receptacles on at least four different circuits. All of those circuits (except for possibly one) also powered receptacles upstairs. One of those circuits also powered the basement lighting and several lights upstairs. Awesome.
That awesomeness was partly driven by convenience. The original receptacles were mounted in boxes that were poured into the foundation, fed by wire in conduit that was also poured into the foundation. For convenience, the builders simply connected the basement receptacles to the upstairs receptacle right above.
Why, you might ask, is that more convenient than running one or two circuits for the basement? Because the basement exterior walls were never framed. The walls were drywall glued to expanded polystyrene (the white stuff) glued to concrete. Yup. So framing got added to my list of things to do.
Anyway, electrical. I spent several hours disconnecting receptacles and pulling out wiring as best I could. Except for one problem, everything is in good shape. That one problem is the basement closet, whose wiring is wedged into place and has an open splice in the subfloor (to feed a basement receptacle and the doorbell, of course). Disgusting, unreachable, and needs to change, somehow. I'll probably drill through the wedged area to free it up, then replace the wiring. I don't really want to leave it hanging.
But the wiring is nearly gone, meaning I had a blank slate to start with: bare concrete, no wiring, no insulation.
On advice from a friend (and from Reader's Digest's basement finishing guide), I bought a stack of 3/4" extruded polystyrene (the blue stuff, not the white stuff that gets used for packing material) and glued it to the foundation walls (*). Believe it or not, just having the debris out and the foam on the walls makes it look a lot more like a room.
Since I was already filling up the basement with adhesive fumes, I also went ahead and caulked the gaps I'd found to outdoors. I followed the gap-filling advice from the "Matt & Dan Show" (**), which is to "silicone the heck out of it".
Now, with the exception of insulation in the rim joists, the R-value for the basement is as high as it ever was. That'll get even better when it's framed and I add some fiberglass. I haven't decided yet whether it makes sense to go R-13 on the entire wall, or R-13 below ground level and higher R-values above ground level.
Upcoming tasks (all of which appear to be framing tasks):
* Using polystyrene-safe adhesive. Rumor has it normal construction adhesive will either melt it or not stick. I'll have to experiment on a piece of scrap.
** The "Matt & Dan Show" was the adventures of and commentary by my friend Dan and myself when we were paired up to do Primestar conversions to DirecTV, DirecTV installations, and other various jobs in high school and early college. Nothing was ever actually recorded, but we needed something to keep ourselves sane given some of our encounters.
For some reason, I took a closer look at the insulation in the rim joists. Not only was there not enough of it, it was in bad shape. Some had been installed backwards (with the "interior" side facing the exterior). It was falling apart, and didn't provide any airflow protection. That's not too bad, except I found several large gaps to the outside.
A little explanation. My house is built so that the basement is only half-underground. The upstairs is attached to the foundation, but the front extends past the foundation. That makes the upstairs larger than the downstairs. That also means that a few feet of upstairs flooring are "exterior walls". The gaps I found were where the bottom plate joined the upstairs wall. Siding and trim hid the gaps from outside, but from inside, you could see daylight.
And so I added re-insulating the rim joists and caulking air gaps to my list of things that needed to get done.
But first, the electrical wiring needed some sanity. The basement, which had essentially been a single room, had receptacles on at least four different circuits. All of those circuits (except for possibly one) also powered receptacles upstairs. One of those circuits also powered the basement lighting and several lights upstairs. Awesome.
That awesomeness was partly driven by convenience. The original receptacles were mounted in boxes that were poured into the foundation, fed by wire in conduit that was also poured into the foundation. For convenience, the builders simply connected the basement receptacles to the upstairs receptacle right above.
Why, you might ask, is that more convenient than running one or two circuits for the basement? Because the basement exterior walls were never framed. The walls were drywall glued to expanded polystyrene (the white stuff) glued to concrete. Yup. So framing got added to my list of things to do.
Anyway, electrical. I spent several hours disconnecting receptacles and pulling out wiring as best I could. Except for one problem, everything is in good shape. That one problem is the basement closet, whose wiring is wedged into place and has an open splice in the subfloor (to feed a basement receptacle and the doorbell, of course). Disgusting, unreachable, and needs to change, somehow. I'll probably drill through the wedged area to free it up, then replace the wiring. I don't really want to leave it hanging.
But the wiring is nearly gone, meaning I had a blank slate to start with: bare concrete, no wiring, no insulation.
On advice from a friend (and from Reader's Digest's basement finishing guide), I bought a stack of 3/4" extruded polystyrene (the blue stuff, not the white stuff that gets used for packing material) and glued it to the foundation walls (*). Believe it or not, just having the debris out and the foam on the walls makes it look a lot more like a room.
Since I was already filling up the basement with adhesive fumes, I also went ahead and caulked the gaps I'd found to outdoors. I followed the gap-filling advice from the "Matt & Dan Show" (**), which is to "silicone the heck out of it".
Now, with the exception of insulation in the rim joists, the R-value for the basement is as high as it ever was. That'll get even better when it's framed and I add some fiberglass. I haven't decided yet whether it makes sense to go R-13 on the entire wall, or R-13 below ground level and higher R-values above ground level.
Upcoming tasks (all of which appear to be framing tasks):
- Buy framing materials (2x4s, nails (for toenailing), screws (for overhead blocking and top plate), construction adhesive).
- Borrow powder-actuated nailer (to make installing the bottom plates quick, easy, and loud).
- Install overhead blocking on long wall.
- Install bottom plates on short walls. Then install top plates. Then install studs. Properly frame front windows.
- Install bottom plate on long wall. Then top plate, properly framing ductwork soffit. Then install studs. Properly frame windows.
- Consult my lovely bride on location of wall dividing office and family room. Mark location. Install bottom plate, top plate, studs, and frame door.
* Using polystyrene-safe adhesive. Rumor has it normal construction adhesive will either melt it or not stick. I'll have to experiment on a piece of scrap.
** The "Matt & Dan Show" was the adventures of and commentary by my friend Dan and myself when we were paired up to do Primestar conversions to DirecTV, DirecTV installations, and other various jobs in high school and early college. Nothing was ever actually recorded, but we needed something to keep ourselves sane given some of our encounters.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Mischief Managed
The demolition party on Saturday went amazingly well, thanks to a dozen friends who showed up with trailers, hammers, and wrecking bars and proceeded to gut my basement in record time. People showed up around 9AM. We spent a half hour carrying out some shelves and cabinets (note to self--get those posted on Craigslist), and then got to the mayhem.
According to the good folks at the landfill, we dumped 0.97 tons of debris, mostly drywall. We were done at the landfill by 12:30, and eating lunch by 1PM.
To everyone who helped, thanks! That saved me days of work.
There were three tasks remaining after the wrecking crew (suitably stuffed with food prepared by my lovely wife) headed out. Most importantly, the existing electrical equipment needed to be removed. Most stumble-inducingly, three bolts (used to anchor sole plates for walls) needed to be removed from the concrete. Most obnoxiously, the tack strips for the carpeting were glued down excessively well.
Tonight, I got those bolts removed. But I'm happiest about figuring out that a chisel will relatively easily separate the glue from the cement. Once I have some light to work by, pulling the tack strips out should take less than an hour.
Then it's just a matter of mapping out the electrical connections, yanking some wires...and unless I'm missing something (*), starting on putting everything together!
* It's a construction project. Of course I'm missing something.
According to the good folks at the landfill, we dumped 0.97 tons of debris, mostly drywall. We were done at the landfill by 12:30, and eating lunch by 1PM.
To everyone who helped, thanks! That saved me days of work.
There were three tasks remaining after the wrecking crew (suitably stuffed with food prepared by my lovely wife) headed out. Most importantly, the existing electrical equipment needed to be removed. Most stumble-inducingly, three bolts (used to anchor sole plates for walls) needed to be removed from the concrete. Most obnoxiously, the tack strips for the carpeting were glued down excessively well.
Tonight, I got those bolts removed. But I'm happiest about figuring out that a chisel will relatively easily separate the glue from the cement. Once I have some light to work by, pulling the tack strips out should take less than an hour.
Then it's just a matter of mapping out the electrical connections, yanking some wires...and unless I'm missing something (*), starting on putting everything together!
* It's a construction project. Of course I'm missing something.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Destruction! Mayhem!
With a baby due in two months and two weeks, a garden that still needs attention, and a nursery to finish outfitting, we have decided that this would be an excellent time to start a remodeling project that was deferred last summer due to the Iowa floods.
It's as simple as refinishing most of the basement. And by refinishing, I mean re-wire, re-insulate, re-drywall, re-paint, and re-floor. That's all.
This Saturday is demolition. The basement has been entirely emptied, except for the ceiling, walls, and floor. Now it's time to get rid of the drywall and insulation. The wiring can stay for now.
In the meantime, Rocky the turtle is living on our screen porch. I hope he likes it okay.
We're fortunate to have good friends who are willing to come over to our demolition party. They're volunteering their time, tools, and trailers to join in tearing apart the basement. Their help could turn two weeks' worth of work for me into a half-day's work.
I'm pretty excited about this Saturday. I get to spend it with friends. And we get to cause mayhem. What's not exciting about that?
It's as simple as refinishing most of the basement. And by refinishing, I mean re-wire, re-insulate, re-drywall, re-paint, and re-floor. That's all.
This Saturday is demolition. The basement has been entirely emptied, except for the ceiling, walls, and floor. Now it's time to get rid of the drywall and insulation. The wiring can stay for now.
In the meantime, Rocky the turtle is living on our screen porch. I hope he likes it okay.
We're fortunate to have good friends who are willing to come over to our demolition party. They're volunteering their time, tools, and trailers to join in tearing apart the basement. Their help could turn two weeks' worth of work for me into a half-day's work.
I'm pretty excited about this Saturday. I get to spend it with friends. And we get to cause mayhem. What's not exciting about that?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Don't Rush Into Anything...
Now that it's early-mid-June, it's about time to get the garden started. Yeah, that's a month late. I have a few good excuses. Unfortunately, excuses don't grow into produce. They do, however, seem to grow into weeds.
I'm sure there's some sort of spiritual application there, but I'm not heading there. I'm talking real, green, seedy, spreading weeds. I pulled the biggest ones, hand-spaded (*) part of the garden to kill or stunt the smaller ones, and got the zucchini and yellow squash planted. There's still a lot to do, but now I've got momentum on my side. I also have mulch on my side now, too (**).
Next up: carrots, beans, peas, lettuce, cucumbers, and possibly radishes. And if the tomato plants manage to start growing again (seriously, get growing!), they'll get a patch of ground too.
There is a bonus today, though. The strawberries that went rogue years ago managed to produce a bumper crop this year (at least 1 1/2 quarts), and the weeds around them kept the birds away. Add a little rhubarb, add my wife's magical skills, and we'll have a tasty strawberry-rhubarb crisp. Yum!
* Yup, I'm a treehugging organic hippie that uses human power, compost, and patience instead of tillers, artificial fertilizers, and Miracle-Gro.
** Last fall I piled shredded leaves on half of the garden. They worked pretty well as mulch. Some of those leaves are now mulching around the summer squash. The rest of those leaves are protecting about 60% of the remaining garden. Take that, weeds!
I'm sure there's some sort of spiritual application there, but I'm not heading there. I'm talking real, green, seedy, spreading weeds. I pulled the biggest ones, hand-spaded (*) part of the garden to kill or stunt the smaller ones, and got the zucchini and yellow squash planted. There's still a lot to do, but now I've got momentum on my side. I also have mulch on my side now, too (**).
Next up: carrots, beans, peas, lettuce, cucumbers, and possibly radishes. And if the tomato plants manage to start growing again (seriously, get growing!), they'll get a patch of ground too.
There is a bonus today, though. The strawberries that went rogue years ago managed to produce a bumper crop this year (at least 1 1/2 quarts), and the weeds around them kept the birds away. Add a little rhubarb, add my wife's magical skills, and we'll have a tasty strawberry-rhubarb crisp. Yum!
* Yup, I'm a treehugging organic hippie that uses human power, compost, and patience instead of tillers, artificial fertilizers, and Miracle-Gro.
** Last fall I piled shredded leaves on half of the garden. They worked pretty well as mulch. Some of those leaves are now mulching around the summer squash. The rest of those leaves are protecting about 60% of the remaining garden. Take that, weeds!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
A Bit of Mountain Biking
My calc teacher in college--the one that taught me that math is about concepts, not symbol manipulation--had an odd catchphrase. Instead of "you bet", or "you betcha", or "yes, that is well-reasoned and correct", he would say "you bet your sweet bippy!" I always assumed that phrase was equivalent to the more colloquial "you bet your posterior region", though I never did verify that.
Today, after living in Cedar Rapids for six years plus two summers (seriously? man, so much for my two-years-in-CR-then-move-back-to-northern-Wisconsin plan), I visited the local high-quality mountain bike trail. I didn't ride for long (*), but was impressed with what I saw.
Plus, it reminded me of my calc teacher's catchphrase.
The trail is called "Sugar Bottom", which is clearly pun-equivalent to "sweet bippy". And so, as my legs got their first taste of real, hilly, off-road riding (**) in years, my inner dialogue kept coming up with variations on a theme: "Is this fun? You bet your Sugar Bottom sweet bippy is fun! Pardon? I meant, you bet your sweet bippy Sugar Bottom is fun!"
I'm not sure how often I'll get out there this summer. I have a lot planned for the summer already. I'd like to get a few good rides in this summer. And if it turns out that my family lives in the Cedar Rapids area for a few more years, the Iowa River right next to it looks like a beautiful place for some family canoeing or kayaking trips.
* As it turns out, the guys I was going to ride with didn't make it out. Because it was Mother's Day, I figured I shouldn't linger on the trails, but instead should spend time with my wife to let her know that I love her.
** When I was growing up, we just called it "riding", but now I'm in Iowa, so the hills have to be specified. And cornfields don't really count as off-road, so I feel like I need to specify that too.
Today, after living in Cedar Rapids for six years plus two summers (seriously? man, so much for my two-years-in-CR-then-move-back-to-northern-Wisconsin plan), I visited the local high-quality mountain bike trail. I didn't ride for long (*), but was impressed with what I saw.
Plus, it reminded me of my calc teacher's catchphrase.
The trail is called "Sugar Bottom", which is clearly pun-equivalent to "sweet bippy". And so, as my legs got their first taste of real, hilly, off-road riding (**) in years, my inner dialogue kept coming up with variations on a theme: "Is this fun? You bet your Sugar Bottom sweet bippy is fun! Pardon? I meant, you bet your sweet bippy Sugar Bottom is fun!"
I'm not sure how often I'll get out there this summer. I have a lot planned for the summer already. I'd like to get a few good rides in this summer. And if it turns out that my family lives in the Cedar Rapids area for a few more years, the Iowa River right next to it looks like a beautiful place for some family canoeing or kayaking trips.
* As it turns out, the guys I was going to ride with didn't make it out. Because it was Mother's Day, I figured I shouldn't linger on the trails, but instead should spend time with my wife to let her know that I love her.
** When I was growing up, we just called it "riding", but now I'm in Iowa, so the hills have to be specified. And cornfields don't really count as off-road, so I feel like I need to specify that too.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
That Wasn't So Bad...
After waiting in a long line on an unseasonably hot Friday to pick up my race packet (and my free Drake Relays Asics running socks!), my wife and I got some dinner and headed back to our hotel (*). I drank water and tried to sleep. The sleeping didn't go particularly well, but I felt pretty good Saturday morning.
After a small breakfast of orange juice and raisin bran in the hotel lobby (where a bunch of real athletes were enjoying the free waffles), we checked out and drove over to the Drake campus. We happen across a ground-level heating vent, which kept my wife warm while I jogged around campus to warm up. During my warmup jog, I ran into Ron and Matt, the guys I work with who originally decided to run the half marathon.
About ten minutes before the race, it started to rain. As I headed for the starting line, I realized I had left my baseball cap in the car. Too late now. I kissed my wife (goodbye, or for luck?), and lined up. I retied my shoes (**). One was too tight. Loosen. Re-retie. Too loose. Snug it up. Re-re-retie. That'll do. A few steps to keep warm. Bounce on the toes. Ready to go.
Bang! The starter's pistol went off. The crowd of runners tensed, and began to wait. A few seconds later, those of us at the back could see the front of the crowd starting to move. Within a minute, I was able to start walking. About the time I crossed the starting line, I was jogging lightly, trying to move up without running over the people in front of me. I saw an opening on the outside, so I moved out and began moving up on the crowd. That turned out to be good, because that was the side my friend Lisa happened to be on. "Hi Scout!" she called. I smiled, said "hi", and kept trying to move up.
I finished the first mile at just under 11:30. I was still stuck in the crowd. Mile two took about 9:30--still crowd-limited, but better. It was somewhere around mile two or three that the leaders of the 8K started to run back past us. Most of us clapped or cheered them on. As one 8Ker passed, I overheard another runner say jealously, "boy, it'd be nice to cover twelve feet with one stride."
When I passed the 8K turnaround, things opened up a lot. I picked up the pace a bit, pacing myself by a guy wearing a jersey from a triathlon in Madison. And then things started to go downhill.
Literally. It was a long, wonderful downhill through a fairly fancy neighborhood. Once I realized I was short-stepping, I shook my head and opened up my stride. No more effort, a lot more distance. And somewhere on the downhill was a guy playing the Rocky theme from a tent by the road. Loping downhill, feeling wonderful, listening to the Rocky theme may have been one of the high points of the race.
Things start to blur after that. Some young kids sprinted along with the runners for a while. A minute of rain felt nice. A church sign had an encouraging excerpt from Hebrews 12:1-2. Downhills were good. Flat stretches felt good. Uphills weren't bad. I was feeling pain in my hips, but it was tolerable (***). The sideaches that had plagued me for weeks were staying away.
Around the 11th mile, I started to lose steam. It doesn't help that the course starts working its way upward around there. My legs were losing springiness, and my knees didn't want to straighten out all the way. But I kept going. I didn't listen to the voice that told me to walk.
Mile 12. Getting close. Then the one-mile-to-go mark. So close. Legs so uncooperative. The final turn. A gal passes me, moving fast. Says something encouraging. I reply with something encouraging (****). Finish line looks so far away. Chugging along. Passed again. Several times. Deep breath. Let's go, legs. Turn it into a flat-out run. I crossed the finish line just behind the encouraging-comment gal.
It turns out 50 degrees and slightly drizzly is pretty good weather for a 13.109 mile run. 2:05:20 from the starting gun to crossing the finish line. Ten minutes behind Matt, and about three behind Ron. Not bad for my first half-marathon, and my second "competitive" race ever.
I'd consider doing it again. But I think I'd do it barefoot. Just not barefoot and in a kilt, like one guy that ran it.
* For the record, the Merle Hay EconoLodge is pretty decent for the money. Just be warned that the free wireless internet might not work at the ends of the building.
** I'd decided to switch shoes just before leaving for the race. I suspected that the cushy shoes I'd been running in were probably partly responsible for my sore hips. The thing I was most worried about was the shoes I was switching to rubbing on the top of my foot like they had on my Jones Park run.
*** The ibuprofen I'd taken prophylactically to prevent swelling probably helped a lot with this.
**** I can't, for the life of me, remember what either comment was.
After a small breakfast of orange juice and raisin bran in the hotel lobby (where a bunch of real athletes were enjoying the free waffles), we checked out and drove over to the Drake campus. We happen across a ground-level heating vent, which kept my wife warm while I jogged around campus to warm up. During my warmup jog, I ran into Ron and Matt, the guys I work with who originally decided to run the half marathon.
About ten minutes before the race, it started to rain. As I headed for the starting line, I realized I had left my baseball cap in the car. Too late now. I kissed my wife (goodbye, or for luck?), and lined up. I retied my shoes (**). One was too tight. Loosen. Re-retie. Too loose. Snug it up. Re-re-retie. That'll do. A few steps to keep warm. Bounce on the toes. Ready to go.
Bang! The starter's pistol went off. The crowd of runners tensed, and began to wait. A few seconds later, those of us at the back could see the front of the crowd starting to move. Within a minute, I was able to start walking. About the time I crossed the starting line, I was jogging lightly, trying to move up without running over the people in front of me. I saw an opening on the outside, so I moved out and began moving up on the crowd. That turned out to be good, because that was the side my friend Lisa happened to be on. "Hi Scout!" she called. I smiled, said "hi", and kept trying to move up.
I finished the first mile at just under 11:30. I was still stuck in the crowd. Mile two took about 9:30--still crowd-limited, but better. It was somewhere around mile two or three that the leaders of the 8K started to run back past us. Most of us clapped or cheered them on. As one 8Ker passed, I overheard another runner say jealously, "boy, it'd be nice to cover twelve feet with one stride."
When I passed the 8K turnaround, things opened up a lot. I picked up the pace a bit, pacing myself by a guy wearing a jersey from a triathlon in Madison. And then things started to go downhill.
Literally. It was a long, wonderful downhill through a fairly fancy neighborhood. Once I realized I was short-stepping, I shook my head and opened up my stride. No more effort, a lot more distance. And somewhere on the downhill was a guy playing the Rocky theme from a tent by the road. Loping downhill, feeling wonderful, listening to the Rocky theme may have been one of the high points of the race.
Things start to blur after that. Some young kids sprinted along with the runners for a while. A minute of rain felt nice. A church sign had an encouraging excerpt from Hebrews 12:1-2. Downhills were good. Flat stretches felt good. Uphills weren't bad. I was feeling pain in my hips, but it was tolerable (***). The sideaches that had plagued me for weeks were staying away.
Around the 11th mile, I started to lose steam. It doesn't help that the course starts working its way upward around there. My legs were losing springiness, and my knees didn't want to straighten out all the way. But I kept going. I didn't listen to the voice that told me to walk.
Mile 12. Getting close. Then the one-mile-to-go mark. So close. Legs so uncooperative. The final turn. A gal passes me, moving fast. Says something encouraging. I reply with something encouraging (****). Finish line looks so far away. Chugging along. Passed again. Several times. Deep breath. Let's go, legs. Turn it into a flat-out run. I crossed the finish line just behind the encouraging-comment gal.
It turns out 50 degrees and slightly drizzly is pretty good weather for a 13.109 mile run. 2:05:20 from the starting gun to crossing the finish line. Ten minutes behind Matt, and about three behind Ron. Not bad for my first half-marathon, and my second "competitive" race ever.
I'd consider doing it again. But I think I'd do it barefoot. Just not barefoot and in a kilt, like one guy that ran it.
* For the record, the Merle Hay EconoLodge is pretty decent for the money. Just be warned that the free wireless internet might not work at the ends of the building.
** I'd decided to switch shoes just before leaving for the race. I suspected that the cushy shoes I'd been running in were probably partly responsible for my sore hips. The thing I was most worried about was the shoes I was switching to rubbing on the top of my foot like they had on my Jones Park run.
*** The ibuprofen I'd taken prophylactically to prevent swelling probably helped a lot with this.
**** I can't, for the life of me, remember what either comment was.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Iowa Marriage Kerfuffle
Last week, the Iowa Supreme Court decided unanimously that the state law prohibiting same-sex civil marriage violated the Iowa constitution. This decision predictably has gay rights activists celebrating, and advocates of "traditional marriage" disappointed or downright angry.
I agree with the decision, even though I am a Bible-believing follower of Christ.
"Marriage" is a word that is loaded with meanings. To Christians, it's a sacred state that is blessed by God (*). To society, it's an institution for two people who either love each other very much, or who gain some advantage from participating in that institution. To the human race, it is a means of providing security for raising children. To the government, it is a slew of tax, inheritance, power-of-attorney, and other implications.
I can't say I'm surprised that a word with so many meanings and emotional shades lends itself to confusion (**).
The Bible is clear that (Christian) marriage was created by God and consists of one man and one woman. It is also clear that (Christian) marriage is neither temporary (***) nor to be entered into lightly (****). I would protest just as strenuously if my church were to support casual divorce as I would if it were to solemnize same-sex weddings.
Iowa law is clear that (IA civil) marriage is a "civil contract". That contract is governed by state law and agreed upon by the two parties to the contract. I do not have any problem with casual dissolution of civil contracts according to the terms of said contracts, just as I do not have any problem with individuals of any sex entering into civil contracts (*****).
It should be obvious that Christian (******) marriage and civil marriage are entirely different things, but may exist together. For example, my wife and I have an Iowa marriage certificate, which was signed at the conclusion of a wedding officiated by our pastor (*******). We're (Christian) married. We're also (civil) married.
No wonder people get confused!
To the Christian world: You view (Christian) marriage as something sacred, something from God. You're absolutely right. But stop putting your hope in laws and legal rulings and constitutional amendments. Go and share Christ's love, the love that saved you from death. Show God's grace even to unrepentant sinners (********).
Furthermore, the U.S. Constitution is clear, and the Iowa Constitution is in agreement, that the state and federal governments are to keep their collective noses out of religious practices. That means (as noted by the court's opinion) that the State of Iowa may not require any church to (Christian or civil) marry any couple, opposite- or same-sex.
To the gay-rights world: You view (civil) marriage as a civil rights issue, a privilege the government has been withholding. You're absolutely right. But please realize there are people who think something very different when you say "marriage", and they are horrified at what you are suggesting. You may not believe in the God they believe in, but please understand that they do.
To everyone on both sides: Let's get some different words, so we can talk about (Christian) marriage and (civil) marriage and not get confused. I would be perfectly willing to change the term we use for (Christian) marriage. It might be better to change both terms, so that the word "marriage" would become a vague archaism. Anyone out there want to neologize?
I might be wrong. If I am, please tell me. But when you do, please tell me what premise or reasoning of mine is wrong. If you think the Iowa Supreme Court is wrong, please tell me what premise or reasoning of theirs is wrong. Especially read section "I" of the opinion (and please cite section and page numbers; it'll help me to see where I failed to catch a flaw in reasoning).
* Divorce, infidelity, and other expressions of sin by imperfect humans notwithstanding.
** Therefore, I will try to be clear which sort of marriage I am talking about.
*** Extraordinary situations such as abuse or infidelity call for wisdom. The common knee-jerk red herring argument that this would demand that a spouse stay in a dangerous situation is superficial and offensive.
**** The church I attend gives enormous attention to premarital counseling. This has been very helpful to me, personally, as well as being generally laudable.
***** With the caveat, of course, that the contracts should be legal, equitable, and entered into without duress.
****** Other religions may view marriage in much the same way. Substitute as appropriate.
******* Pastor and friend, as a matter of fact. Also, my wife and I care rather more about the vows we made to each other before God and God's work in joining us together than about the legal document.
******** This doesn't mean never sharing God's truth. But it means not trying to force people to look like you before you'll love them. It also means sharing God's truth in the hope of seeing repentance, not an eagerness for destruction.
I agree with the decision, even though I am a Bible-believing follower of Christ.
"Marriage" is a word that is loaded with meanings. To Christians, it's a sacred state that is blessed by God (*). To society, it's an institution for two people who either love each other very much, or who gain some advantage from participating in that institution. To the human race, it is a means of providing security for raising children. To the government, it is a slew of tax, inheritance, power-of-attorney, and other implications.
I can't say I'm surprised that a word with so many meanings and emotional shades lends itself to confusion (**).
The Bible is clear that (Christian) marriage was created by God and consists of one man and one woman. It is also clear that (Christian) marriage is neither temporary (***) nor to be entered into lightly (****). I would protest just as strenuously if my church were to support casual divorce as I would if it were to solemnize same-sex weddings.
Iowa law is clear that (IA civil) marriage is a "civil contract". That contract is governed by state law and agreed upon by the two parties to the contract. I do not have any problem with casual dissolution of civil contracts according to the terms of said contracts, just as I do not have any problem with individuals of any sex entering into civil contracts (*****).
It should be obvious that Christian (******) marriage and civil marriage are entirely different things, but may exist together. For example, my wife and I have an Iowa marriage certificate, which was signed at the conclusion of a wedding officiated by our pastor (*******). We're (Christian) married. We're also (civil) married.
No wonder people get confused!
To the Christian world: You view (Christian) marriage as something sacred, something from God. You're absolutely right. But stop putting your hope in laws and legal rulings and constitutional amendments. Go and share Christ's love, the love that saved you from death. Show God's grace even to unrepentant sinners (********).
Furthermore, the U.S. Constitution is clear, and the Iowa Constitution is in agreement, that the state and federal governments are to keep their collective noses out of religious practices. That means (as noted by the court's opinion) that the State of Iowa may not require any church to (Christian or civil) marry any couple, opposite- or same-sex.
To the gay-rights world: You view (civil) marriage as a civil rights issue, a privilege the government has been withholding. You're absolutely right. But please realize there are people who think something very different when you say "marriage", and they are horrified at what you are suggesting. You may not believe in the God they believe in, but please understand that they do.
To everyone on both sides: Let's get some different words, so we can talk about (Christian) marriage and (civil) marriage and not get confused. I would be perfectly willing to change the term we use for (Christian) marriage. It might be better to change both terms, so that the word "marriage" would become a vague archaism. Anyone out there want to neologize?
I might be wrong. If I am, please tell me. But when you do, please tell me what premise or reasoning of mine is wrong. If you think the Iowa Supreme Court is wrong, please tell me what premise or reasoning of theirs is wrong. Especially read section "I" of the opinion (and please cite section and page numbers; it'll help me to see where I failed to catch a flaw in reasoning).
* Divorce, infidelity, and other expressions of sin by imperfect humans notwithstanding.
** Therefore, I will try to be clear which sort of marriage I am talking about.
*** Extraordinary situations such as abuse or infidelity call for wisdom. The common knee-jerk red herring argument that this would demand that a spouse stay in a dangerous situation is superficial and offensive.
**** The church I attend gives enormous attention to premarital counseling. This has been very helpful to me, personally, as well as being generally laudable.
***** With the caveat, of course, that the contracts should be legal, equitable, and entered into without duress.
****** Other religions may view marriage in much the same way. Substitute as appropriate.
******* Pastor and friend, as a matter of fact. Also, my wife and I care rather more about the vows we made to each other before God and God's work in joining us together than about the legal document.
******** This doesn't mean never sharing God's truth. But it means not trying to force people to look like you before you'll love them. It also means sharing God's truth in the hope of seeing repentance, not an eagerness for destruction.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Cranking Out the Miles
Nineteen days left until I run my half marathon. It's been ten days since I've run at all.
Ten days ago I did thirteen miles in about two hours, but my hip didn't feel--and hasn't felt--right at all. I diagnosed myself as broken, and decided to try resting it. Without trying it out, it's tough to tell how it's really doing, but it feels better.
So how's a guy supposed to train for a half-marathon while resting his hip?
Well, I have one free weekend between now and race day. ("Free", of course, means that there are three hours that have not yet been claimed.) So my plan is to do a five- to six-mile run in the next day or two. I'll follow that up with thirteen miles on Saturday morning. Then a game of Ultimate ("cross-training") Monday, six miles on Tuesday or Wednesday, and a final thirteen miles on Thursday. The weekend before race day will be mostly stretching, possibly with walks and a short sprint or two.
The Monday of race week is a little more Ultimate (cross-training). The rest of the week is resting and walking to the Tastee-Freez (actually, Parlor City because TF corporate pulled the franchise because this shop used non-corporate mix that was tastier).
Then it's race day. And if my hip behaves itself, go me!
Ten days ago I did thirteen miles in about two hours, but my hip didn't feel--and hasn't felt--right at all. I diagnosed myself as broken, and decided to try resting it. Without trying it out, it's tough to tell how it's really doing, but it feels better.
So how's a guy supposed to train for a half-marathon while resting his hip?
Well, I have one free weekend between now and race day. ("Free", of course, means that there are three hours that have not yet been claimed.) So my plan is to do a five- to six-mile run in the next day or two. I'll follow that up with thirteen miles on Saturday morning. Then a game of Ultimate ("cross-training") Monday, six miles on Tuesday or Wednesday, and a final thirteen miles on Thursday. The weekend before race day will be mostly stretching, possibly with walks and a short sprint or two.
The Monday of race week is a little more Ultimate (cross-training). The rest of the week is resting and walking to the Tastee-Freez (actually, Parlor City because TF corporate pulled the franchise because this shop used non-corporate mix that was tastier).
Then it's race day. And if my hip behaves itself, go me!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Good Start. Lousy Finish.
I try to be an efficient kind of guy. So when it got nice out a couple weeks ago, I decided it would be a splendid idea to combine two errands.
My first errand was checking the condition of the field where we play Ultimate during the summer. Warmth plus light equals Ultimate, if the field is in good shape.
The other errand was training for my half marathon.
We play Ultimate at Jones Park, which is a shade less than 8 miles from my house by bicycle. A half marathon is a shade over thirteen miles. So really, on a beautiful Saturday, is there any reason not to make Jones Park the halfway point of my training run?
I left the house a little before noon, and told my wife that if I wasn't home by 3, she might want to start worrying. I got the sense she thought my plan was, well, stupid, but she was kind enough not to say it.
The run out was great. The only hitch on the first leg came about five miles in. I was feeling bored or tired, and my leg was starting to feel funny, but I kept going, managing to forget about (and not see) a raised section of sidewalk. Of course, I tripped and nearly fell, but I realized as I kept running that the adrenaline and the sudden stretch had cured both the boredom and the leg problem.
The run back got progressively more difficult. I kept needing to stop and stretch. My hip started to hurt, and my shoe rubbed a sore spot into the opposite foot. I dropped to a walk for a block. Then I made myself a deal. I would run (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) to the 13 mile mark or until I'd been running for two hours and fifteen minutes, whichever came first. I made it, barely, and dropped onto a bench to rest and stretch.
Only three more miles to go.
I walked almost the entire three miles. I "ran" about a half-mile stretch, and my foot/hip told me that was all I was allowed. Meanwhile, my watch told me it was almost 3PM. So I walked as fast as I could. I thought I was keeping up a decent walking pace, until I got passed by a woman out for a stroll. "Oh," I thought, "apparently I'm not doing so well. Gee, my shoe must need to be tied."
It was nearly 3:30 when I limped into the house. My wife was kind enough to stretch my cramping hamstrings and rub my numb calves, all the while telling the story of the hunky trainer that had induced virtually her entire varsity cross-country squad to feign leg cramps at every opportunity.
I didn't run the full 16 miles. But I did discover that I'm capable of (doing something resembling) running 13 miles. Sweet.
And to my dear sweet wife? Yeah, it was a stupid idea. But look how efficient it was!
My first errand was checking the condition of the field where we play Ultimate during the summer. Warmth plus light equals Ultimate, if the field is in good shape.
The other errand was training for my half marathon.
We play Ultimate at Jones Park, which is a shade less than 8 miles from my house by bicycle. A half marathon is a shade over thirteen miles. So really, on a beautiful Saturday, is there any reason not to make Jones Park the halfway point of my training run?
I left the house a little before noon, and told my wife that if I wasn't home by 3, she might want to start worrying. I got the sense she thought my plan was, well, stupid, but she was kind enough not to say it.
The run out was great. The only hitch on the first leg came about five miles in. I was feeling bored or tired, and my leg was starting to feel funny, but I kept going, managing to forget about (and not see) a raised section of sidewalk. Of course, I tripped and nearly fell, but I realized as I kept running that the adrenaline and the sudden stretch had cured both the boredom and the leg problem.
The run back got progressively more difficult. I kept needing to stop and stretch. My hip started to hurt, and my shoe rubbed a sore spot into the opposite foot. I dropped to a walk for a block. Then I made myself a deal. I would run (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) to the 13 mile mark or until I'd been running for two hours and fifteen minutes, whichever came first. I made it, barely, and dropped onto a bench to rest and stretch.
Only three more miles to go.
I walked almost the entire three miles. I "ran" about a half-mile stretch, and my foot/hip told me that was all I was allowed. Meanwhile, my watch told me it was almost 3PM. So I walked as fast as I could. I thought I was keeping up a decent walking pace, until I got passed by a woman out for a stroll. "Oh," I thought, "apparently I'm not doing so well. Gee, my shoe must need to be tied."
It was nearly 3:30 when I limped into the house. My wife was kind enough to stretch my cramping hamstrings and rub my numb calves, all the while telling the story of the hunky trainer that had induced virtually her entire varsity cross-country squad to feign leg cramps at every opportunity.
I didn't run the full 16 miles. But I did discover that I'm capable of (doing something resembling) running 13 miles. Sweet.
And to my dear sweet wife? Yeah, it was a stupid idea. But look how efficient it was!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Thirteen Miles
In grade school, I was taught to recognize peer pressure. I was also taught that peer pressure is bad. "Don't give in to peer pressure," I was told.
A month or two ago, I gave in to peer pressure. Sure, it was something I'd considered doing. And yes, the "cool kids" were doing it. And so, in a team meeting, when someone asked "anyone else?" I joined up.
On April 25th, I'll be running the Drake Relays half marathon. I've never run competitively until this year. After I decided to run the half marathon, I ran a 5k to get a feel for this competitive running thing.
Until this year, I'd never run more than five miles at a stretch. On April 25th, just over a month away, I'm going to run thirteen miles. And two other guys from my team at work will be running. We might not run together, but I suspect it'll still be a fun experience to share.
A month or two ago, I gave in to peer pressure. Sure, it was something I'd considered doing. And yes, the "cool kids" were doing it. And so, in a team meeting, when someone asked "anyone else?" I joined up.
On April 25th, I'll be running the Drake Relays half marathon. I've never run competitively until this year. After I decided to run the half marathon, I ran a 5k to get a feel for this competitive running thing.
Until this year, I'd never run more than five miles at a stretch. On April 25th, just over a month away, I'm going to run thirteen miles. And two other guys from my team at work will be running. We might not run together, but I suspect it'll still be a fun experience to share.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Really Doing Big Stuff
It's funny, the things you realize as you grow up.
I've had a lot going on lately. So much going on, in fact, that I don't have the time to mentally process everything. Events and thoughts get tossed on a pile in the corner of my brain, and when I get a chance, I'll dust them off, try to figure out what they are, and do something appropriate with them.
The interesting thing is that when certain events and thoughts get piled on each other, they combine and merge and turn into something that lurks in the pile until I come by to toss more on it. Then they leap out and grab me and insist that I notice. That's what happened over the past day or so.
Lately, at work, I've been thinking about procedures and processes that keep mistakes out of the final product. Things like reviews, tests, and traceability give everyone a safety net. That safety net is comforting at times, even if it does occasionally get all tangled up and slow things down.
The thing that jumped out of that pile and grabbed me was the realization that there really isn't a safety net. Not at work; not outside of work.
That means that the things I do matter. The things I do can affect the world.
No, seriously, that was my big realization.
The illusion of the safety net at work means that the things I do don't really matter. If I make a mistake, someone else will catch it so it can be fixed. If I don't work fast enough, someone else will pick up the slack. The work will get done, slowly but surely. So whether I work hard and well, or whether I read Slashdot all day, the effect is the same.
I think some of the incredibly productive people that have had a real effect on the world have not had a safety net separating themselves from affecting the world. People like Linus Torvalds or Warren Buffett or Ben Franklin did real things. They may not have intended to change the world, but they didn't wait for permission to do things. They did things.
The things I do matter. I can affect the world. But I can only do things that matter if I let myself. If I separate myself from the world by a mental safety net, I won't do things. If I ask permission from myself or from others to do things, I won't actually do things.
I'm off to bed now. But it's time to put this realization into action so that I don't have to change the name of this blog to "Eat, Sleep, and No Stuff".
I've had a lot going on lately. So much going on, in fact, that I don't have the time to mentally process everything. Events and thoughts get tossed on a pile in the corner of my brain, and when I get a chance, I'll dust them off, try to figure out what they are, and do something appropriate with them.
The interesting thing is that when certain events and thoughts get piled on each other, they combine and merge and turn into something that lurks in the pile until I come by to toss more on it. Then they leap out and grab me and insist that I notice. That's what happened over the past day or so.
Lately, at work, I've been thinking about procedures and processes that keep mistakes out of the final product. Things like reviews, tests, and traceability give everyone a safety net. That safety net is comforting at times, even if it does occasionally get all tangled up and slow things down.
The thing that jumped out of that pile and grabbed me was the realization that there really isn't a safety net. Not at work; not outside of work.
That means that the things I do matter. The things I do can affect the world.
No, seriously, that was my big realization.
The illusion of the safety net at work means that the things I do don't really matter. If I make a mistake, someone else will catch it so it can be fixed. If I don't work fast enough, someone else will pick up the slack. The work will get done, slowly but surely. So whether I work hard and well, or whether I read Slashdot all day, the effect is the same.
I think some of the incredibly productive people that have had a real effect on the world have not had a safety net separating themselves from affecting the world. People like Linus Torvalds or Warren Buffett or Ben Franklin did real things. They may not have intended to change the world, but they didn't wait for permission to do things. They did things.
The things I do matter. I can affect the world. But I can only do things that matter if I let myself. If I separate myself from the world by a mental safety net, I won't do things. If I ask permission from myself or from others to do things, I won't actually do things.
I'm off to bed now. But it's time to put this realization into action so that I don't have to change the name of this blog to "Eat, Sleep, and No Stuff".
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Deep Thought about Plumbing
I have a dripping faucet that needs a new washer. Unfortunately, there is no shut-off for the sink. That means I need to shut off water to the whole house to change the washer. And that leads to today's plumbing tip:
Plan whole-house waters shut-offs for before or after doing laundry, not during.
Plan whole-house waters shut-offs for before or after doing laundry, not during.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Hitting the Slopes
For the last three years I have been lucky enough to be a chaperone for the annual ski trip that the middle school my wife teaches at takes. It works out great all around. I get to spend time with my wife, spend most of a weekday skiing, take a day off from work, and I don't have to drive myself home tired from a day of skiing. In exchange, I keep an eye on the kids, retrieve gear that got lost uphill, and try to help them out when they need it.
So I spent a day at Chestnut Mountain. It was almost a perfect day for skiing: about 20F, cloudy in the morning and sunny in the afternoon, nicely groomed runs. The only drawback was a stiff wind blowing up the slopes. There were times I felt like I needed to tuck just to keep moving.
My big accomplishment for today is doing something I have rarely done on skis in quite a few years. I fell, several times. Two were big, entertaining falls. Two were possibly entertaining, but without an outside perspective, I don't know.
Three of my falls came when I decided to check out the terrain park. I've never been much of a terrain park guy, but today it just seemed like a good idea. I had a few pretty good runs and was starting to get confident. Then I hit a jump, caught some nice air, and landed just about perfectly. And then I flinched, or overcorrected, or something, because I was suddenly sprawled on my side, sliding down the hill. I remember thinking "It's a good thing I'm still holding onto my poles" just as my slide turned into a half-roll and then a stop.
My next two falls were probably less dramatic. There's...I'd call it a tabletop, though I'm not sure that's the right term. Remember what I said about not really being a terrain park kind of guy? Anyway, there's a ramp up, a flat (ish) section (where, given the angles and surroundings, you almost have to land), and then a slope to let you get down. Having enough speed is important. If your speed is too low, too much of your forward momentum gets absorbed by your legs, while the rest is turned into vertical momentum by the ramp. Newton's laws being what they are, you'll end up slowly rotating, and your tips just might stick into the top of the table. Your bindings might pop, and you might drop on your face.
And if you made the same mistake a second time, you might get the same results a second time.
I actually didn't leave the terrain park because my legs were getting tired, or because of the falls. I was overheating. The terrain park was on the lee side of the mountain, and the shorter lift ride meant less heat loss. Going back to the regular runs seemed like less work than readjusting my gear, so I did.
Warpath is probably the second most difficult run at Chestnut. It's a fairly standard black-because-it's-steep run. If the snow is good, it's easy enough to manage. A few years ago, it was icy, and that was not fun at all. Earlier in the day, I had discovered that the snow was great on Warpath, making it a very enjoyable run. And so, right after leaving the terrain park and skating my way uphill into the wind on my jump-tired legs, I gave Warpath another whirl. It was a great run.
So I did it again.
The top half (*) was great. But then, somewhere near the middle of the crossover area, I must have crossed my tips or caught an edge badly. I don't remember exactly what caused the fall, but I do remember that I was suddenly sliding on my back.
I will pause at this point to mention that there is a chairlift that loads at the bottom of Warpath and unloads at the top of Warpath. Obviously, all of Warpath can be seen from that lift.
As I slid, I ran through a quick mental status check. Everything intact? Yup. Chances of stopping? Not going to happen; I'm going too fast and the hill gets steep quick. Where's down? Towards my head.
Once I'd taken that split second to figure out what was going on, I managed to rearrange the universe so that down was toward my feet (**). Having my skis down gave me a chance to try to get back up as I slid. It didn't work. Not even the third time I tried. Fortunately, trying to get myself back on my feet had slowed me down enough that I was no longer approximately frictionless. Within 50 feet of my third attempt, I finally stopped. Once the cloud of snow around me cleared, I realized that I had slid at least a quarter of the entire run. And as I pointed out earlier, this was in full view of the lift. Boy, was I thankful I still had my skis and poles attached--I hopped up and headed right for the lift, and then over to a different run, full of people who probably hadn't seen my slide (***).
I can tell I'll be a bit sore tomorrow. But I feel great. I pushed myself today. The falls show that. Nothing got injured. I probably learned something or got a little bit better at skiing.
All to help out those middle school students. Ah, what a great day it was.
* At least for the Midwest ski hills I've visited, with a vertical drop in the 400-500 foot range, the runs tend to cross into each other about halfway up. The crossover/junction area tends to be less steep than the runs that it's joining.
** The fact that my feet are still the lowest (i.e. "most down") part of my body should provide ample refutation to anyone who might suggest that I simply rearranged my body with reference to the hill.
*** I really was not too embarassed. Glad I didn't slide into someone and hurt them, certainly. But falls happen, and the sliding was pretty fun.
So I spent a day at Chestnut Mountain. It was almost a perfect day for skiing: about 20F, cloudy in the morning and sunny in the afternoon, nicely groomed runs. The only drawback was a stiff wind blowing up the slopes. There were times I felt like I needed to tuck just to keep moving.
My big accomplishment for today is doing something I have rarely done on skis in quite a few years. I fell, several times. Two were big, entertaining falls. Two were possibly entertaining, but without an outside perspective, I don't know.
Three of my falls came when I decided to check out the terrain park. I've never been much of a terrain park guy, but today it just seemed like a good idea. I had a few pretty good runs and was starting to get confident. Then I hit a jump, caught some nice air, and landed just about perfectly. And then I flinched, or overcorrected, or something, because I was suddenly sprawled on my side, sliding down the hill. I remember thinking "It's a good thing I'm still holding onto my poles" just as my slide turned into a half-roll and then a stop.
My next two falls were probably less dramatic. There's...I'd call it a tabletop, though I'm not sure that's the right term. Remember what I said about not really being a terrain park kind of guy? Anyway, there's a ramp up, a flat (ish) section (where, given the angles and surroundings, you almost have to land), and then a slope to let you get down. Having enough speed is important. If your speed is too low, too much of your forward momentum gets absorbed by your legs, while the rest is turned into vertical momentum by the ramp. Newton's laws being what they are, you'll end up slowly rotating, and your tips just might stick into the top of the table. Your bindings might pop, and you might drop on your face.
And if you made the same mistake a second time, you might get the same results a second time.
I actually didn't leave the terrain park because my legs were getting tired, or because of the falls. I was overheating. The terrain park was on the lee side of the mountain, and the shorter lift ride meant less heat loss. Going back to the regular runs seemed like less work than readjusting my gear, so I did.
Warpath is probably the second most difficult run at Chestnut. It's a fairly standard black-because-it's-steep run. If the snow is good, it's easy enough to manage. A few years ago, it was icy, and that was not fun at all. Earlier in the day, I had discovered that the snow was great on Warpath, making it a very enjoyable run. And so, right after leaving the terrain park and skating my way uphill into the wind on my jump-tired legs, I gave Warpath another whirl. It was a great run.
So I did it again.
The top half (*) was great. But then, somewhere near the middle of the crossover area, I must have crossed my tips or caught an edge badly. I don't remember exactly what caused the fall, but I do remember that I was suddenly sliding on my back.
I will pause at this point to mention that there is a chairlift that loads at the bottom of Warpath and unloads at the top of Warpath. Obviously, all of Warpath can be seen from that lift.
As I slid, I ran through a quick mental status check. Everything intact? Yup. Chances of stopping? Not going to happen; I'm going too fast and the hill gets steep quick. Where's down? Towards my head.
Once I'd taken that split second to figure out what was going on, I managed to rearrange the universe so that down was toward my feet (**). Having my skis down gave me a chance to try to get back up as I slid. It didn't work. Not even the third time I tried. Fortunately, trying to get myself back on my feet had slowed me down enough that I was no longer approximately frictionless. Within 50 feet of my third attempt, I finally stopped. Once the cloud of snow around me cleared, I realized that I had slid at least a quarter of the entire run. And as I pointed out earlier, this was in full view of the lift. Boy, was I thankful I still had my skis and poles attached--I hopped up and headed right for the lift, and then over to a different run, full of people who probably hadn't seen my slide (***).
I can tell I'll be a bit sore tomorrow. But I feel great. I pushed myself today. The falls show that. Nothing got injured. I probably learned something or got a little bit better at skiing.
All to help out those middle school students. Ah, what a great day it was.
* At least for the Midwest ski hills I've visited, with a vertical drop in the 400-500 foot range, the runs tend to cross into each other about halfway up. The crossover/junction area tends to be less steep than the runs that it's joining.
** The fact that my feet are still the lowest (i.e. "most down") part of my body should provide ample refutation to anyone who might suggest that I simply rearranged my body with reference to the hill.
*** I really was not too embarassed. Glad I didn't slide into someone and hurt them, certainly. But falls happen, and the sliding was pretty fun.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
A Detour Getting to GTD
Until today, my Getting to "Getting Things Done" plan had been working remarkably well. I was actually way ahead of schedule. I finished reading the substantial part of the book on Wednesday. Then I found time to finish the last few chapters on Thursday. That left Friday free to help a friend put up some drywall--after all, I was ahead of schedule!
The plan for Saturday (today) was to write a one-page summary of my personal implementation of the system. That didn't happen. I woke up to six inches of snow on the ground, with snow still falling. I ran the dishwasher, made breakfast, ate, wasted some time catching up on the Internet's latest, and noticed it had stopped snowing. After shoveling six inches of snow off the driveway, I headed back in. An emptied dishwasher and a few dozen wasted minutes later, I noticed the snowplow clearing the street. Back out the door to clear the snowplow leavings. Back indoors, shower, start laundry, make lunch, wash non-dishwasher dishes, get Christmas-stuff boxes, put away groceries, periodically check my eBay auctions ending today while folding laundry, out to dinner, back home, finish laundry, sore back from shoveling, feeling tired, brush teeth. End of day.
One positive aspect of this is that I took some good notes while reading the book. And I think the concept clicks more than the last time I read the book. I still want to implement the system, and I think the physical space-sweep and the mind-sweep are important starting points.
So what's my next observable physical action toward implementing a GTD system? I think it is still to write a one-page summary of my planned system. And I think I can plan next Friday or Saturday for beginning the space- and mind-sweeps.
I'm disappointed that I didn't make progress today, especially after being ahead of schedule. But right now I'm so physically worn out that I'm done for the day.
The plan for Saturday (today) was to write a one-page summary of my personal implementation of the system. That didn't happen. I woke up to six inches of snow on the ground, with snow still falling. I ran the dishwasher, made breakfast, ate, wasted some time catching up on the Internet's latest, and noticed it had stopped snowing. After shoveling six inches of snow off the driveway, I headed back in. An emptied dishwasher and a few dozen wasted minutes later, I noticed the snowplow clearing the street. Back out the door to clear the snowplow leavings. Back indoors, shower, start laundry, make lunch, wash non-dishwasher dishes, get Christmas-stuff boxes, put away groceries, periodically check my eBay auctions ending today while folding laundry, out to dinner, back home, finish laundry, sore back from shoveling, feeling tired, brush teeth. End of day.
One positive aspect of this is that I took some good notes while reading the book. And I think the concept clicks more than the last time I read the book. I still want to implement the system, and I think the physical space-sweep and the mind-sweep are important starting points.
So what's my next observable physical action toward implementing a GTD system? I think it is still to write a one-page summary of my planned system. And I think I can plan next Friday or Saturday for beginning the space- and mind-sweeps.
I'm disappointed that I didn't make progress today, especially after being ahead of schedule. But right now I'm so physically worn out that I'm done for the day.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Getting to "Getting Things Done"
I think this is going to be a busy month for me. I have at least two big "projects" coming up in the non-work realm. There's some exciting news in the personal realm, that's going to require an unknown amount of projects to be started and finished. And there are going to be a lot of general little things that need to be done.
Besides that, there are a few personal projects I want to start. Some of those have been bouncing around my head for months.
On top of that, I'm kicking around the idea of trying to get my M.S. in computer science (MSCS, not to be confused with MCS) while I'm still working.
Frankly, even without trying for the master's, I think the load is going to get crazy. And without going into detail--because I finish my Christmas vacation and go back to work tomorrow and I really should already be asleep--some of the load is because of poor organization and time-management on my part.
My plan to deal with this meta-problem of time management is to implement a "Getting Things Done" system. Sounds simple enough, but I still need to re-read the book and plan out the system. That's a task that could easily get lost in the shuffle of going back to work, then forgotten for weeks.
So here's my plan:
So by next Tuesday, I should be running my life through GTD. Sweet planned-out goodness.
Besides that, there are a few personal projects I want to start. Some of those have been bouncing around my head for months.
On top of that, I'm kicking around the idea of trying to get my M.S. in computer science (MSCS, not to be confused with MCS) while I'm still working.
Frankly, even without trying for the master's, I think the load is going to get crazy. And without going into detail--because I finish my Christmas vacation and go back to work tomorrow and I really should already be asleep--some of the load is because of poor organization and time-management on my part.
My plan to deal with this meta-problem of time management is to implement a "Getting Things Done" system. Sounds simple enough, but I still need to re-read the book and plan out the system. That's a task that could easily get lost in the shuffle of going back to work, then forgotten for weeks.
So here's my plan:
- Tomorrow night I'll un-bury the book from my desk. I'll pre-skim it (look at the table of contents, skim a chapter or three to refresh my memory). I will find a notebook and a pen, and put them with the book where I will see them.
- Tuesday, if I am feeling ambitious, I will skim a few chapters (Tuesday nights tend to be busy).
- Wednesday, I will read the first half of the book. As I read, I will jot down notes relevant to implementing and running a GTD system.
- Thursday will be a busy night.
- Friday I will read the second half of the book. Like on Wednesday, I will jot down notes relevant to implementing and running a GTD system.
- Saturday I will write myself a one-page high level summary of the operation, reviews, and checks on the system. Then I will read the chapter on starting a GTD system. Then I will take a deep breath.
So by next Tuesday, I should be running my life through GTD. Sweet planned-out goodness.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Why I'm Glad Christmas Season is Over
Another Christmas season is over. The gifts have been unwrapped, the cookies have been (mostly) eaten, the visits have been made, the carols have been sung, and the Advent series has been preached.
I'm very glad it's over.
I enjoy Christmas season. I like the snow, the cold, the vacation, the gifts, the cookies, seeing family and friends, the celebration of Christ's birth. Frankly, though, I'm not so keen on many of the carols, and definitely not keen on the "standard" Advent series.
The carols and the "standard" Advent series focus on the events leading up to the birth of Christ. In a nutshell, God sent an angel to tell Mary she was going to have a baby. She submitted to God and said "I'm a virgin, but okay." Joseph was righteous and was going to send Mary away quietly to avoid disgrace, but God told Joseph to marry Mary. They went to Bethlehem because of the census, Mary gave birth to Jesus in a stable, and the shepherds and the wise men gathered 'round and praised God.
All of that is important. It's the fulfillment of prophecy and the forcible entry of God into our world for our sake. Without God becoming human, we would still be alienated from God by the wrong things we do because of our addiction to ourselves.
But the baby, Jesus, "whose birth the angels sing", did not save anyone (*). Both Joseph and Mary submitted to God, and we would do well to follow their examples. But there are many other individuals throughout the Bible that submitted to God. Why these two young people? Why this baby, divine though he was?
Why does Christmas get a month of lead-up, celebration, preaching, caroling, and TV specials? Why do Christian artists put out Christmas CDs, but not Easter CDs?
My untestable hypothesis is that Christians like Christmas more than Easter for two reasons. First, because celebrating birth is easier for us than celebrating death. Second, because we are uncomfortable with the supernatural. Babies being born is normal and commonplace (**). Jesus, for all of his divine nature, was still a baby, presumably cute, sleepy, and drooly. That's easy to smile at and celebrate. Much easier than, say, God's only son being nailed to a cross (***), physically dying, then coming back to life and claiming his resurrection meant we should listen to him (****).
The second reason, that the supernatural is uncomfortable and that we are even more uncomfortable with God taking a personal interest in us, is the more important of the two.
The birth of the Son of God to Mary should be celebrated. But when celebrating that birth, we need to remember why. We need to sing the sixth verse of The First Noel. When all ye faithful come, all ye should adore not just the newborn King, but the risen King.
To put it another way, the events recorded in chapters 1 and 2 of Matthew and Luke are far too important for a twelfth of the year to be spent studying them. Jesus came to change us. He came not simply to be an object of adoration, but to be a teacher, a Savior, and Lord of the Universe.
That's why I'm glad the Christmas season is over. I'm ready to be done simply celebrating a birth, and ready to continue celebrating Christ.
* A brief sketch of the argument for this: If God is good, and would spare his son any suffering that is not required to redeem humanity, God would allow Jesus to redeem us as early as possible. Jesus underwent trials (e.g. temptation in the desert) during his life on earth. God did not spare Jesus that suffering, so by the initial postulate, that suffering was necessary. Therefore, God's redemptive work was not finished with Jesus's birth, nor would it have been successfully finished had Jesus died for humanity as a baby.
** Yes, the creation of a new life is still amazing and miraculous. But I don't think you can argue that something that's happened more than six billion times is uncomfortably rare.
*** Ironically enough, for upsetting the established order of God's people and making them uncomfortable.
**** If nothing else, we know how to celebrate a baby's birth. Emily Post doesn't have anything that describes proper behavior at a crucifixion/death/resurrection party.
I'm very glad it's over.
I enjoy Christmas season. I like the snow, the cold, the vacation, the gifts, the cookies, seeing family and friends, the celebration of Christ's birth. Frankly, though, I'm not so keen on many of the carols, and definitely not keen on the "standard" Advent series.
The carols and the "standard" Advent series focus on the events leading up to the birth of Christ. In a nutshell, God sent an angel to tell Mary she was going to have a baby. She submitted to God and said "I'm a virgin, but okay." Joseph was righteous and was going to send Mary away quietly to avoid disgrace, but God told Joseph to marry Mary. They went to Bethlehem because of the census, Mary gave birth to Jesus in a stable, and the shepherds and the wise men gathered 'round and praised God.
All of that is important. It's the fulfillment of prophecy and the forcible entry of God into our world for our sake. Without God becoming human, we would still be alienated from God by the wrong things we do because of our addiction to ourselves.
But the baby, Jesus, "whose birth the angels sing", did not save anyone (*). Both Joseph and Mary submitted to God, and we would do well to follow their examples. But there are many other individuals throughout the Bible that submitted to God. Why these two young people? Why this baby, divine though he was?
Why does Christmas get a month of lead-up, celebration, preaching, caroling, and TV specials? Why do Christian artists put out Christmas CDs, but not Easter CDs?
My untestable hypothesis is that Christians like Christmas more than Easter for two reasons. First, because celebrating birth is easier for us than celebrating death. Second, because we are uncomfortable with the supernatural. Babies being born is normal and commonplace (**). Jesus, for all of his divine nature, was still a baby, presumably cute, sleepy, and drooly. That's easy to smile at and celebrate. Much easier than, say, God's only son being nailed to a cross (***), physically dying, then coming back to life and claiming his resurrection meant we should listen to him (****).
The second reason, that the supernatural is uncomfortable and that we are even more uncomfortable with God taking a personal interest in us, is the more important of the two.
The birth of the Son of God to Mary should be celebrated. But when celebrating that birth, we need to remember why. We need to sing the sixth verse of The First Noel. When all ye faithful come, all ye should adore not just the newborn King, but the risen King.
To put it another way, the events recorded in chapters 1 and 2 of Matthew and Luke are far too important for a twelfth of the year to be spent studying them. Jesus came to change us. He came not simply to be an object of adoration, but to be a teacher, a Savior, and Lord of the Universe.
That's why I'm glad the Christmas season is over. I'm ready to be done simply celebrating a birth, and ready to continue celebrating Christ.
* A brief sketch of the argument for this: If God is good, and would spare his son any suffering that is not required to redeem humanity, God would allow Jesus to redeem us as early as possible. Jesus underwent trials (e.g. temptation in the desert) during his life on earth. God did not spare Jesus that suffering, so by the initial postulate, that suffering was necessary. Therefore, God's redemptive work was not finished with Jesus's birth, nor would it have been successfully finished had Jesus died for humanity as a baby.
** Yes, the creation of a new life is still amazing and miraculous. But I don't think you can argue that something that's happened more than six billion times is uncomfortably rare.
*** Ironically enough, for upsetting the established order of God's people and making them uncomfortable.
**** If nothing else, we know how to celebrate a baby's birth. Emily Post doesn't have anything that describes proper behavior at a crucifixion/death/resurrection party.
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