Delusional ideations

Macro Makes Everything Look Good

2011-04-11T20:23:00.003-04:00

How is it that the macro setting on cameras makes everything look amazing?

New Beginnings

2011-04-11T20:03:00.003-04:00

Spring has arrived in Boston, and its arrival has reinvigorated me. Being reminded that the sun's rays can indeed warm a slightly damp head of hair is a greeting of which I never tire.

With spring has sprung my desire to become more involved in my community. Admittedly, though, spring had less to do with it than the encouragement of a good friend.

This blog's focus is as blurred as a myopic man's vision in the shower. Started as a forum for the ruminations of a discontented graduate student, it gestated into an intermittent blog about training and a brief foray into triathlon training. It's blotted with two entries of the beginning of a short story that will never be finished. Though it lacks focus, I do believe a red thread prevails.

Obsessive Tracking

2010-12-15T19:50:00.001-05:00

I fell upon this interesting character while perusing slate.com. As a non-profit professional, I'm always impressed by graphic designers who can present raw data in such a visually arresting way. His graphic design skills are brought to bear on his impressive ability to track everything about his life.

Next installment

2010-05-16T20:13:00.002-04:00

A bead of sweat trickled down his brow, causing him, strangely, to shiver. He braced the auger against his hip bone and let his mind wander. What had begun as a lesson in precision surveying had quickly devolved, his earnestness succumbing to senescence.

The Beginning...

2010-05-13T07:26:00.003-04:00

"Where are they coming from?" he, exasperated, mumbled. Even four hours into the afternoon, he felt no closer. The heat had tired even the trees, draining the fuzzy chartreuse of early spring, and vanquished any prospect of finding his evasive equanimity. The humidity of the late afternoon congested his lungs and triggered a flutter of panic with each shortened breath.

"This is fucking ridiculous!" he groaned at nothing in particular.

White Mountains

2010-01-20T15:50:00.002-05:00

Saturday morning was our first Master Urban Gardening class offered by the BNAN. I know we're both going to find it extremely rewarding to take horticulture classes and leadership skill seminars with such a diverse group of people all dedicated to urban renewal and community building through community gardens. I've only recently discovered my love of working with dirt, and I'm confident that I'm following my life's natural evolution.

Immediately after the class, Victoria and I jumped into a Zipcar and headed up to Lincoln, New Hampshire where we spent the rest of the long weekend either on cross-country skis or on a couch with a book. Pictures are coming shortly, and what a great few days off of my training schedule.

Half Ironman Training Begins

2010-01-05T11:18:00.002-05:00

Last August, over some beers and nachos, two of my friends and I made a half drunken deal that we'd complete the Mooseman Half Ironman in 2010. As anything hatched over a pub table is sacrosanct, we've honored our informal agreement and begun training.

Victoria and I returned from our UK trip on Friday, and I got back into the swing of things with two 3-mile jogs through Franklin Park. The runs were incredible as there were about 20 inches of snow blanketing the park. Luckily, I found my pace behind a plow, so I was slowed down by any significant drifts.

Last night I went to my first swim workout of 2010. It marked the end of a one-month hiatus. In early December, I bruised a rib taking a somewhat tame fall while working out. It was enough to compress my chest and cause a series of audible cracks. I had a few chest X-Rays done to be sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong and received word that apart from being clumsy I was in good health. The healing process for a bruised rib is long, and strangely the third week was the most uncomfortable.

In the days and months ahead, I'll give a few training updates, but they might be few and far between between now and February 24th as Victoria and I are preparing for our wedding.

Here was the swim workout:

400 easy
4 x 100 moderate
4 x 50 fast

3 times through the following:
8 x 75 restricted breathing 3,4,5,6,3,4,5,6 on 1:15
200 IM kick
4 x 50 IM order, drill x 25 build x 25
8 x 25
odds underwater sprint kick 1/2 the length of pool EZ rest of way
evens EZ

This evening, I get a nice maintenance run in of around 3 miles. Wednesdays morning I'll do some core work in preparation for the evening's swim workout.

The fiancée has arrived!

2009-10-05T14:46:00.003-04:00

My personal life has settled down considerably since the summer drama during which I learned how to accept the absurdities of immigration law. My fiancée has arrived safely, and we're have a great time setting up the house. Fall has arrived in Boston, and my training is about to pick back up. Stay tuned.

Fall Season

2009-10-05T14:42:00.002-04:00

On Saturday, I took advantage of a flip turn clinic run by a few Harvard swim team members. Other than the huge piece of humbling pie I ate, I was able to recognize that thanks to my height I can actually start my turns earlier. Now, it remains to be seen if I can correct that.

Morning Runs

2009-08-13T21:04:00.002-04:00

I might just continue with these morning runs. I rolled out of bed at 6 to take a nice 5-mile run through Boston's arboretum, an absolutely delightful early-morning experience as I was surrounded by trees and fields with only the faint noise of Boston rush hour.

I kept my heart rate at about 70 percent, making it a nice close-to-tempo run for my gradual training ramp up before Reach the Beach.

It's been a while

2009-08-13T20:36:00.004-04:00

Here I sit drinking a glass of wine in the apartment I was supposed to be sharing with my fiancée. She isn't here yet, and the best I can do to find some cathartic release is listen to my fellow Texan group Explosions in the Sky. My mood isn't helped by a steady diet of John Updike's most recent collection of short stories that with painful accuracy dissects the anatomy of deceit, infidelity, and regret. I will not defend Updike's at times heavy-handed disdain for female characters, but I will never deny his gift of human psychology in its most raw and often ugly form.

Victoria and I had eagerly anticipated her arrival in Boston in late July, but due to recent changes in visa requirements, her initial petition was denied at the London embassy, a denial that will forever remain on her record despite its not being the result of an oversight on her part, but an administrative error by her United States employer. To her employer's credit, they are doing everything in their power to rectify the situation, but it seems as though her arrival has been pushed back until early October, a delay that neither of us had ever anticipated.

After receiving the news of the initial denial and the degree of uncertainty in the weeks following, my good intentions concerning this blog and my training faded. While I still made it to the pool at least twice a week, inertia often kept me at home, often preoccupied with concerns over which neither I nor Victoria had any control. And though I tried to accept our situation as only a small setback in a life together that will prove more rewarding than we had ever imagined, I have come away from it with a new found conviction that who we vote for matters. I've spoken with my local U.S. Representative and found his office to be more than helpful in explaining the situation. These visa rules haven't always been there; they've been carefully crafted and put in place by elected officials who've been far more concerned about the votes of a few ignorant and fearful constituents than the votes of those worldly souls who recognize the value in the diversity of the trans-national world.

My frustration wouldn't be so acute if I weren't reading reports of Americans who compare Obama to Hitler. If you are an elected official and if you do nothing to denounce such baseless accusations, you are guilty of treason. This is not dissent. You couldn't even make the argument that this is intelligent dissent. This is despotic manipulation, and you are leading an insidious propaganda campaign.

Yet, in my adult life, I have seen multiple iterations of this propaganda campaign, and it never ceases to amaze me that the hypocrisy is far outweighed by the utterly contemptible selfishness of those who refuse to give to the greater good. I will never have anything in common with them, and I'm tired of there non-existent attempts to understand and relate to my point of view.

Marathon Weekend

2009-06-29T13:08:00.003-04:00

In preparation for last weekend's training regiment, I made sure to properly stoke the competitive fire and gently warm the muscles with some arcade golf, wheat beer, and nachos on Friday evening.

I awoke early on Saturday for an IM workout that left me dazed. We didn't use intervals, but we were told to give ourselves no more than 20 seconds of rest between sets:

Warm-up (around 1,000 meters give or take few lengths)
500 Stroke/Free by 100s
4x200 IM
4x100 Stroke

400 IM
3x200 Stroke/Free by 100s
4x100 Stroke

The proposed workout was actually longer, but this was all my lane could muster in the 90 minutes the team has in the pool.

I returned home to eat a monster lunch of fresh farm share produce, homemade chapati covered with tahini sauce, silken tofu (with garlic, ginger, pearl onion tops, and toasted sesame seeds), garlic scape pesto on crusty sourdough bread fresh from the dutch oven, and two poached eggs topped with goat cheese and some arugula. I thought I had covered my nutritional needs after devouring that, but still hungry, I made myself a side of rice noodles in a spicy peanut sauce and threw down a few more chapatis before calling it a successful lunch.

Around 6, I went out on my week's long 8.6-mile run around Jamaica Plain and Brighton. From my first step, I knew that the run would be a challenge. My legs were feeling very weak from that morning's IM workout, and I couldn't get my heart rate above about 148, well below my target of 160 for my long runs. It's never a good thing to feel like one is falling asleep while running. Lesson learned-don't over train.

I was off to bed around 9 that night in preparation for Sunday morning's Walden Pond swim workout with two Reach the Beach team members whom I've convinced to train for a Half-Ironman. I tried the water without a wetsuit, and at first blush, it wasn't that bad (70 degrees), but I felt myself getting a little too cold for comfort, ran back to the car, and struggled to get a dry wetsuit on a still wet body (not easy). I think I probably logged a little over a mile in the water, but I was still feeling the effects from Saturday. The differences between swimming in a wetsuit and swimming with just a swimsuit are astounding. My shoulders felt so constricted, and I really wasn't pleased with my recovery arm angle. These are all things I'll be working on, and I need to approach open water swimming in a wetsuit with different goals.

Off to brunch with teammates (pancakes, egg sandwich, coffee, poached eggs)

I'm in the market for a road bike, and so is one of my teammates. So, after brunch we went over to Wheelworks where we spent about 4 hours test riding about $20,000 worth of equipment. Now, I'll say this: a $5,000 road bike responds amazingly well, and if I had that kind of money, I'd buy it. Sadly, I don't, and I don't think I'll ever have that kind of dough to blow on a piece of equipment.

The sales person was a bit pushy, and it was nice to have a foil also looking for a bike because he was really pushing hard for discounts and demanded (nicely) that we be able to ride a non-carbon frame. While she was a bit pushy, she did stress that bikes in general are expensive (800 bucks is still 800 bucks) and that it's important to buy a bike that won't limit your development, frustrate you, and last only a couple of years. Needless to say, I can't afford the $2,300 Trek Madone I fell in love with. I'm not really sure where I go from here, but I did walk away from the bike shop knowing the kind of bike I'd ideally buy. I'm a bit discouraged by the costs associated with biking, and I've noticed myself being very hesitant to believe that bike shops don't make a healthy profit on the sale of a $2,500 bike. Set me straight if I'm wrong.

Track Workout

2009-06-18T19:46:00.004-04:00

Dragging my ass out of bed at 5 in the morning on Wednesday seemed like a really bad idea during the 45 minutes it took me to get to the MIT track by 6. I was buoyed by the idea of doing a track workout with two friends who'll be tackling Reach the Beach with me and who are entertaining visions of completing 70.3 in New Hampshire next June. I just can't say enough about how absolutely appalling the Green Line service is in this town. To travel something like 2.5 miles, I was on the train for 30 minutes. Unacceptable, but as I had a huge bag with dress clothes and my swimming gear, I didn't feel like walking it.

The workout went really well, and I was really interested in seeing how my legs could rebound from the 400 meter repeats we subjected them to. While the first couple of laps felt horrible, we quickly picked up the intensity and finished out the workout in just under 35 minutes.

After a generous warmup (since it was pretty cold Wednesday morning) we completed 9 400 meter laps at our 10k pace (7:15 min/miles) interspersed with 400 meter jogs. By about the sixth cycle, I was ready to close my eyes and take a nap. That was perhaps an aftershock from the several pints of beer I consumed the night before while absolutely dominating pub trivia.

I was planning on hitting up the masters swim club for the Wednesday night workout, but my work day just destroyed me, so I wisely went directly home for some much needed sleep.

I'm anxiously awaiting word whether the Charles River Swim is a go for Sunday. There is a chance if there is considerable rainfall before the weekend that the water quality will suffer and that the race officials will be forced to cancel the event. While many would balk at swimming in the Charles, I'm one to think that the more attention we bring to the quality of the urban watershed, the more the general public stands to gain. I'm just imagining the possibilities for residents to enjoy the nice cool waters of the river. I just hope that events like this swim will begin to show those in power the great resource that is now and has been off limits to swimming advocates for decades due to the mismanagement of the watershed.

Intervals

2009-06-14T18:30:00.002-04:00

Saturday morning, I woke up early and made it to the pool (long course) in time for this fantastic workout that saw me improve my freestyle technique.

1200 warm-up (including EZ, moderate, and fast efforts)

This set was repeated three times
100 @ 1:30 (threshold swim)
100 @ 2:00 (recovery)
100 @ 1:35 (threshold swim)
100 @ 1:55 (recovery)
100 @ 1:40 (threshold swim)
100 @ 1:50 (recovery)
100 @ 1:45 (threshold swim)
100 @ 1:45 (recovery)

Back in action

2009-06-12T11:01:00.004-04:00

So, I've moved into my new sublet and begun to get acclimated to a new commuting route that's added about 45 minutes to my workday. This is a temporary situation as I've secured a place with V in early August. The next two months (and the last without having V in the same country as I) will be used to build a nice base for what is a marathon training schedule and some more intense swimming workouts. I'm also about the purchase a commuting bike that will serve as a nice introduction to biking before I jump into the road bike investment pool.

Here's the (incomplete) swim workout from Wednesday (short course):

400 EZ
4 x 100 moderate
4 x 50 fast

12 x 75 (the 75s are grouped in 3s and should progress in IM stroke order)
2 (kick/drill/swim)on 1:30
1 (fly/back/breast) on 1:30

4 x 100 low stroke count free on 1:40

12 x 50
2 (kick/drill) on 1:00
1 stroke on 1:00

4 x 100 low stroke count free on 1:35

Lessons Learned

2009-05-14T11:24:00.003-04:00

My first triathlon experience was a blast. More contagious than drug-resistant TB, the triathlon circuit will find me among its ranks in the near future. A few observations I made during the event:

1. Body glide is a necessity in a wetsuit.
2. Keeping your breathing calm in cold water is important.
3. Transition areas should only have the bare essentials, not superfluous fillers like fleece socks.
4. Aerodynamic bike helmets look ridiculous, especially when you're passed by non-competitive racers.

Season Opener

2009-05-10T20:01:00.002-04:00

I woke at 5 this morning on my way to my first organized triathlon in Hopkinton State Park, in the city better known as the site of the Boston Marathon's starting line. I had recently volunteered to tackle the running leg in addition to the swimming leg after a relay team member had to drop out due to some foot pain, and the excitement of completing 2/3 of a triathlon kept me awake in bed a little longer than I would have liked Saturday night.

Upon arriving at the park, we learned that the reservoir was a nippy 60 degrees, a temperature that I knew I could potentially have issues with. In addition to those brisk water temperatures, the wind was blowing white caps on the reservoir breaking one of the buoys off of its mooring. The swim was originally slated for a quarter mile, but in the conditions, race organizers shortened it (by how much, I couldn't tell you).

I put on the wetsuit (and prescription goggles) and made my way to the water for a brief warm up. After about 10 minutes I got out only to find that my timing chip had fallen off in the water. Cold from the incessant wind, I made my way to the organizers' table where they got everything settled after a little running around.

I was put in the second to last heat because of my relay status, so I have a good bit of a wait until the in-water start. Heats left at intervals of about 4 minutes, and I was getting impatient.

I'd be lying if I wasn't sizing everyone up in the field. We were only about 20, but if swimming with Masters has taught me anything, it isn't the body type or the wetsuit that makes the swimmer. I've been proven a fool too many times. I set up a little on the outside so I could shoot a little right of the buoy all the while hoping the wind would bring me back to the right of the buoy. The gun sounded while I was pushing off the bottom for a nice start. I immediately knew that there was a lead pack that was about 4 seconds in front of me, too far for me to get any real draft on them. Some people were grabbing at my legs, and one person actually tried to swim onto my back. Once I hit my stroke, I knew I was in no-man's land, in between the main pack and the lead pack. The waves were vicious, and getting a good site line was difficult in such choppy conditions.

I rounded the buoy with no real difficulty and began making my way back to shore. It was then that I noticed that my hands were cramping up, preventing me from getting a really good pull, something I'm not sure how to deal with. As I approached the shore, I noticed the lead pack of my heat getting out of the water once I stood up, and I took off to the transition area. All in all, I don't think I spent more than 4:30 in the water.

I handed off to our team's biker, and milled around the transition area doing some stretching. After an hour or so, my teammate hadn't made it back, so I began to think that she had gotten a bad flat. It was only after another thirty minutes that I learned she'd been taken in by a volunteer because of mechanical issues. Knowing the our time would now not be official, I still strapped on the timing chip and began the run. My legs were pretty fresh, and I think I was rocking around a 7 minute/mile pace for most of the race. Finishers were cheering me on even though I looked way too fresh to have actually run the entire race. I crossed the finish line with an unofficial 22:00 for a 5K.

Hot Yoga

2009-04-28T22:42:00.003-04:00

You know, when someone told me that yoga could be done in a 90-degree room, I thought, "No big deal. It's like my childhood summers in Houston." I'd actually like to amend that thought. Yoga in a room with the heating on the day the thermometer reaches 89 in Boston is a challenge, to say the least.

Making yoga somewhat more challenging for me is my inflexibility, most noticeable in my hips. To those who have either worked hard to become flexible or for those blessed with some loose muscles, yoga is more than likely not the strength test it is for me. All of my stands involve some variation of a bent knee, meaning that my glutes and quads are constantly engaged. I walked away tonight with legs of rubber.

Now, the practice yoga is supposed to be a contemplative one, but I've found that relaxation at the end of an hour and a half session is really challenging as I feel myself gasping for breath. It's a sensation that I've experienced a billion times on a really hot and humid day, but I don't think I've actually forced myself to relax every muscle in the body. I'll try to breathe deeply, but it'll feel as if I'm breathing more water vapor than actual air.

All that being said, I've seen a profound improvement in my ITBS. The trouble was never really with my knee; it's all in the hip. I'm sure that my continued practice will help me develop a stronger kick in the pool.

Speaking of the pool, there was a workout last night, but I was so loopy and exhausted after it that I forgot to write it down. My guess is that it was around 4300 yards. It involved a very cruel inclusion of a 4 x 100 race pace stroke set at the end. Let's just say that I was pleased when I was pulling 1:12 interval for a 100 free, probably a full 15 seconds slower than my actual race pace.

Knee Treatment

2009-04-23T22:25:00.002-04:00

So, after a few weeks of treating my body to some morning yoga sessions and prompt icing after a run, I'm happy to report a steady improvement in the knee. It does hurt at the strangest moments, though, and it's not always identifiable why I'm still feeling the pain.

I'm starting a very light training schedule to get back into running shape. Today was a very easy 2-mile run during which I ran into a fellow masters teammate who has apparently just moved to the neighborhood. It's certainly a shame that I'm leaving it so soon. I had really just gotten to liking it.

I followed the run up with a great leg workout that left my glutes burning, a great sign since it means that I actually have ass muscles, something that had been questioned by many people who've witnessed my impressively long back.

Last night's swim workout left me nauseous and dizzy, never a good sign, but I think I was just getting acclimated to the environment, and I might have pushed myself a little too hard. My recent leg strengthening exercises really improved my backstroke kick, and I was happy to see that my kick had a little more power in it.

400 easy
4 x 100 moderate 1:30
4 x 50 on :30

x 2 this set
25 fly :30
50 fly/back :55
75 fly/back/breast 1:15
100 EZ
100 EZ
75 fly/back/breast 1:15
50 fly/back :55
25 fly :30

14 x 50
1 fast stroke
1 EZ
2 fast stroke
1 EZ
3 fast stroke
1 EZ
4 fast stroke
1 EZ

Inspiration

2009-04-20T23:02:00.001-04:00

You know, I never thought I'd actually say this, but running a marathon would pretty fun. The Boston Marathon experience is unique. While one can't set a world record here (because the majority of the course is downhill), it features the most elite set of qualifying runners of any marathon in North America. I was able to catch the blur of the elite men and women at mile 18, and I'll just say this: those dudes are fast. Impressively so when you're not watching from a live video feed on a moving van.

Marathon Monday

2009-04-20T07:18:00.003-04:00

It's Marathon Monday here in Boston, and I'm off of work. I'll be watching the elite runners around mile 18 and then at mile 20 joining my roommate at who is running the race with Team in Training. This marks the first year I've actually let the marathon craze wash over me. It feels like a party here.

Holy Moley

2009-04-18T17:21:00.006-04:00

It's been a busy few weeks. The frenetic nature of these last days has been tempered by a wonderful 10-day visit with my fiancée, the last trip to Boston before her relocation to the United States in late July. We're absolutely thrilled to start a life together.

I've fallen somewhat off of the training bandwagon for a collection of fairly good reasons. First, I was informed two weeks ago by my landlord that she would not extend the courtesy of a three-month lease extension until August 31st. I can understand her fear of having the apartment remain vacant for a year, but a September 1st rental in Cambridge, MA is anything but hard to fill. Students and young professionals flood the area, and this apartment has so many great features that I doubt it would sit on the market for that long. After all three of us had secured sublets or lease agreements, we learned that the apartment was being marketed as a September 1st rental, not as a June 1st rental. I have to admit that I feel somewhat vindicated following my continued pleas for the three-month extension and after explaining that a September 1st rental is preferable to all incoming Harvard and Tufts graduate students.

That being said, I've had to search for a summer sublet in an apartment, whose occupants won't mind Victoria's presence for the month of August while we look for a place together. It's a far from ideal situation, and I'm facing a three-month span during which I'll have to move twice.

Second, I also learned that my mother sold her house and that I'll be inheriting a good portion of the house's furniture because her new place isn't large enough to accommodate all of it. This was far from a surprise as she's been talking about her desire to move into Houston to be closer to her friends, job, and volunteering opportunities. I'm glad that my sister is there to help her look for apartments and manage the move as those things are extremely hectic. So, I've been scrambling to secure some short-term storage for the summer because my sublet just doesn't have the space. It's going to be a busy May.

Third, If you've read my entries following the New Bedford half marathon, you know that I've been recovering from a ITB syndrome. I made an appointment with the sports medicine doctor, and after my consultation with him, he assured me that I was doing a great job rehabbing and that I might benefit from a sports massage focusing on loosening up the hips. I'm also thinking about starting a steady diet of ashtanga yoga to really make sure that I'm doing all the injury prevention I can take.

I went for a short run today, making sure that I stretched before and after and iced. I felt some pain in my knee, but it wasn't as acute as a few weeks ago. I've kept up my functional exercise routine, but I could definitely feel a drop in my cardiovascular capacity. Once I get back into the pool, I'm confident I'll get that back quickly.

Sorry for the long silence. April has been a great month. I was invited to Montreal with Victoria for my first Passover Seder, and it was a great experience in a fantastic city. More to come soon!

Ear Plugs

2009-03-31T14:29:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, I've just got to put in the ear plugs to get away from the ambient and not-so-ambient noises of my everyday life. This week is just one of those weeks. I've accepted its frustrations, and I'm attacking it with some quality exercise.

I awoke this morning at 6 am to do a nice circuit of broad jumps, squats, chin ups, and BOSU pushups. The 30-minute workout left my heart pumping as fast as it does after a long sprint set in the pool. I know that I'm going to have to learn how to push my body past fatigue, as I noticed myself pausing a little too often even when my brain was telling me that I could finish out the sets. That's one of the challenges I face in the pool as well, erring on the side of conserving rather than just letting it fly.

I know I can swim a :54 100 freestyle. I just have to remain focused and controlled.

Frustrations

2009-03-30T23:35:00.007-04:00

Tonight marked my return to the pool after my half-marathon. I've been a bit conservative with my knee pain as of late, but I thought that a workout without two much butterfly snap kicking would do a lot to lift my mood. One of the most frustrating aspects of being a part of a team is the baffling navigation of group cliques. As those who know me well, I'm an introvert. I have never been one to announce my presence, but I'm always one to welcome quietly and genuinely a newcomer. I cannot shake the feeling, though, that I will always remain on the periphery of some social exchanges because of my social reticence.

Admittedly, this post would be far less condescending and bitter if I had not experienced one of the most frustrating days of work in a long time.

Here's tonight's workout:

400 easy
4 x 100 moderate
4 x 50 fast

Main Set (x3)
4 x 75 odd free/stroke/free; even stroke/free/stroke on 1:25
4 x 125 IM (double up on back and breast) on 1:55
4 x 50 fast on :50

I felt pretty good in the pool today despite the long layoff. My left knee did act up during the end of the workout, but I was able to complete this relatively short swim without having to compromise anything outside of my push-offs. I did remark, however, that the strength endurance workouts I've incorporated into my weekly routine really paid off. Fatigue was slower in coming and more easily dealt with.

Resting

2009-03-23T20:17:00.003-04:00

Well, the half marathon took a lot more out of me than I thought it would. My IT Band has been acting up in my left leg, and a steady dose of foam rolling and stretching has reduced the pain significantly. Despite my diligent work, I'm still hesitant to ramp back up to running.

I wouldn't be so gun shy if I hadn't already suffered through amazingly painful ITB Syndrome during my Reach the Beach Relay in New Hampshire this past September. I averaged an 11:30 mile while unable to bend my right leg without causing an intense pain that would shoot from my hip to my knee. I had to lay off all exercise that involved bending that leg for about three weeks, and I just don't want to deal with that frustration again.

So, tonight, I did a light functional workout that incorporated some leg exercises. The knee responded really well, so I might start to very light jogging on Wednesday afternoon and continue with the light body-weight exercises.

New Bedford Review

2009-03-16T19:21:00.006-04:00

Here I am sitting on my couch after a quiet day at the office and happy to have a glass of wine in hand. I honestly didn't think that my body would be this sore after a half marathon, but I've been careful to fuel my body with some good food and a diligent stretching routine.

After taking a look at the overall results, my competitiveness got the best of me. The minute I saw that I placed 90th out of 139 in my age group (25-29), I have to admit that I fought some phantom of disappointment. I had to remind myself though that this was an elite group of runners, logging some impressive times (the top two finished with 4:57 minute miles). Being a mere one month prior to the Boston Marathon makes this race an attractive training option for marathon qualifiers.

As a swimming specialist, I know I killed the race, and I'm happy about it.

The race was amazingly run. At every mile, there was a volunteer yelling out the splits, a luxury that I really appreciated in keeping my pace pretty even. Police officers had blocked off all intersections, and water stops were distributed pretty evenly throughout the route.

I remember being really surprised how quickly the first mile passed, and by the third mile, I had hit my pace, just behind a "Do Not Harpoon Me" t-shirt wearer (New Bedford was the center of New England's whaling industry and happens to be the city in which Moby Dick begins). That bit of humor buoyed my spirits as did the sunshine that left my face nicely sunburned. As an amateur runner, I completely overdressed for the race. I should have worn shorts and some short sleeves, but I aired on the conservative side, choosing tights and two top layers. By mile three, I was running shirtless with my gloves and power gels stuffed down my tights. There was no shame. I was doing what I had to do.

I remember being elated to hit the final hill series at mile eleven. I knew the finish line was near, and the crowd density had grown. There were kids, parents, and dogs with signs, drums, and cheers. The race featured just under 2,000 runners, and it seemed like every spectator knew the person running next to me. I drew a lot of strength from that and picked up my cadence as I rounded the last corner before the finish line. I sprinted passed the line and immediately felt how tight my hip flexors had become.

I might not tackle a marathon in my life, but I'll probably try another half sometime in the future.

1:44:10

2009-03-15T15:48:00.004-04:00

That's the unofficial time for my first 1/2 marathon. I started somewhat at the back of the pack, and I'm unsure how many seconds behind the gun I was. Official times will be posted shortly.

Swimmin' in the Charles

2009-03-12T19:34:00.001-04:00

It's official: I will be swimming in the Charles River this summer. Mark June 21st on your calendars. I might arrive at the office with a third eye on the following Monday.

Dragging

2009-03-11T22:42:00.002-04:00

I felt absolutely sluggish in the pool this evening. The minute I took my first strokes during the warm up set, I knew I was in for a really long and frustrating workout. My enervation was all the more disconcerting because I had only logged about 45 minutes of cardio this week. I'm sure this is just part of intense training, and overcoming my off-days is great mental exercise. The team has started its tapper for its upcoming meet for which I missed the damn registration deadline.

400 moderate
4 x 100 on 1:30
4 x 50 on :45

Set 1 x 4 (reverse IM order)
50 x 50 x 50 kick/drill/swim
4 x 25 on :30

Set 2
8 x 50 on 1:00 (odds=stroke; evens=EZ free)

Set 3 x 4 (keep stroke count and breathing pattern the same)
25
50
75
100
200

The last set appeared easy at the top of the workout, but I promise that maintaining a really good stroke count (I was hitting 12 for the first two times through the set) and body roll is one of the most physically taxing goals one can set in the pool. Fatigue quickly sets in, especially when one is stretching each stroke, and one's technique can simply fall apart.

One week and counting

2009-03-08T21:58:00.006-04:00

Well, I'd be lying if I said on Friday that I remembered I was running a half marathon next weekend. The google calendar reminder Saturday morning elicited a brief panic attack, but I reassured myself that my base fitness level, earned after some painful hours in the pool and excellent if infrequent runs, would allow me to finish the race in what I hope under two hours.

Over my two-week vacation in Paris and northern England, I logged about 26 miles over 4 different runs, a pretty good total given that Victoria and packed those two weeks with an incredible amount of tea drinking. I got home to a snowy Boston, and I just couldn't face the prospect another month of running in sub 32 degree weather and navigating icy patches on sidewalks.

That being said, I've ramped up to the running schedule this weekend just in time for some gorgeous weather. 60 degrees never felt this good. Running in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, I logged about 9 miles this weekend at a very comfortable pace.

I'm going to plug my ears and close my eyes for the next week as we have some snow and ice forecast for Monday and Tuesday. The race day temperature in New Bedford is projected to be in the 30s; that's not horrible, but if the wind is blowing, it could be a very cold 13 miles.

York, UK

2009-03-08T00:12:00.004-05:00

So, I'm finally getting around to posting a few shots from my recent trip to visit my wonderful fiancée. The trip also gave us occasion to visit her native northern England, a place I could best describe as exuding a provincial cosmopolitanism. It had a quiet, proud way about it, a collective demeanor that reminded me of the one all Texans share.

I have a crush on the town of York. I can definitely see myself walking these streets with a gin in hand in the near future.

Euphoria

2009-03-05T23:31:00.002-05:00

I just can't believe my luck these days. Things have just been falling into place without too much effort, and that has left me so relaxed and euphoric that my workouts are witness to some impressive results. Tonight was a threshold workout (75 % intensity) during which I really tried to lengthen my body by improving my body roll and working to loosen my shoulders. I was able to cut my stroke count to a consistent 14, down from 18 just six months earlier. That improvement is just amazing to me, and I attribute it to the excellent coaching I've received, the teammates who keep me motivated, and my functional shoulder exercises. I highly recommend this workout:

400 loosen
4 x 100 moderate :10 rest
4 x 50 fast :10 rest

First set (x 3; each successive repetition should be faster than the previous)
2 x 200 on 2:30
2 x 100 on 1:25
2 x 50 on :40

Second set (all sprint)
100 split at 25 with :05 rest
100 split at 50 with :10 rest
4 x 100 on 4:00 (there is lots of rest between 100s)

Cooldown

Holy Shit

2009-03-04T22:39:00.002-05:00

I've just stuffed my face after my Wednesday evening Masters workout. I like to think that this workout was a collective expression of our winter fatigue. We're just tired of the cold and the snow and the ice. The mercury will creep about 50 degrees for the first time since December, I believe. Needless to say, I'm excited.

400 easy
4 x 100 moderate on 1:50
4 x 50 strong on :45

First set (x 3)
200 IM on 3:20 (:20 under interval)
100 active recovery on 1:30

Second set (x 3)
200 IM on 3:20 (:15 under interval)
2 x 100 active recovery on 1:30

Third set (x 3)
200 IM on 3:20 (:10 under interval)
3 x 100 active recovery on 1:30

200 cool down

4800 yards later, we were all breathing hard, but our frustration with this long Boston winter was expressed in our screams under water as we were powering through the lactic acid.

Foot Pain

2009-03-03T23:15:00.002-05:00

So, since I've added running into my fitness routine, I have begun to notice a persistent soreness on the top of the little toe on my right foot. I think I'd be more concerned about it if I haven't been living with this for over two years. I always figured it was an arthritic joint. I've made an appointment with my GP to make sure it's not something that needs addressing sooner rather than later. After some poking and prodding, the foot isn't actually painful; in fact, when at rest I really have to contort my foot to feel the soreness.

In the meantime, I am getting ready for the half marathon in New Bedford in just a few weeks. I'm in a taper right now, taking care of my body with some good stretching routines and strategic icings. I suppose I'll know if my foot is mangled after I cross the finish line. Having swimming to fall back on doesn't make the possibility of a foot injury that difficult to swallow. In all honesty, running can be a drag.

Monday Night Re-Welcome

2009-03-03T11:35:00.006-05:00

Here's the insane workout whose warm-up had me breathing hard:

Loosen:
400 y loosen

Warm-up (x3 IM stroke order)
100 kick on 1:55
4 x 50 drill on :45
4 x 25 swim on :35

First Set (all in stoke of choice)
2x100 build on 1:50
8x50 descend on :45
200 active rest

Second Set
4 x 75 on 1:20
6 x 50 build series by sets of two on 1:00
200 active rest

Third Set
Split 200
4 x 75 race pace on 1:30
4 x 50 race pace on 1:00

Cool Down

I'm Back

2009-03-02T22:45:00.002-05:00

How did I manage to come back to 14 inches of snow? I thought winter was over after last week's balmy temperatures. I was already planning on starting some seeds in my seed flats. I've returned to reality and to the pool. Tonight's workout was a tough one that featured a heavy focus on backstroke. I'm actually too tired to write the workout this evening, but I'll add it tomorrow.

My trip was absolutely fantastic. I've returned from Europe with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I will update soon!

Spring Thaw

2009-02-08T21:28:00.003-05:00

In honor of the 50-degree weather we Bostonians enjoyed this afternoon, I went for a nice "threshold" run, venturing to the Mystic River trails. After the first half mile, I gave up any hope of having dry shoes as I just couldn't avoid all of the puddles, a result of melting snow and ice-logged storm drains. Splashing through some muddy puddles did wonders to relieve my winter malaise.

The past few days have just been amazing as Victoria has received a job offer in Boston, making the entire immigration issue much less stressful. I can't decide whether I'm more excited about taking off for Paris to visit her tomorrow or her move to Massachusetts in August. I feel as if I've regressed (somewhat endearingly) to the little brother stage, generally favoring a goofy disposition.

Following the 6.5-mile run this afternoon, I did the Myrtl exercises by which GW swears. I was rewarded with some incredibly sore gluteal muscles.

I'm off to pack and prepare for a two-week jaunt to Europe.

Press and Release

2009-02-05T09:40:00.003-05:00

Wednesday's workout was a lesson in streamline positions and provided an opportunity to practice the front half of my breaststroke and fly. The attention paid to engaging my core left me absolutely spent half-way through the posted workout.

400 loosen
4x100 moderate
4x50 strong

12x50

4 sets of Kick/Drill/Swim in fly/breast/or back on 1:00

12x150 (broken into 4 sets of 3x150) on 1:50

IM minus free
free (50), stroke (50), free (50)
stroke (50), free (50), stroke (50)
IM minus fly

[At this point in the workout, I was struggling to get good glide off of the wall because I just couldn't suck enough air in]

12x100 (3 sets of the following)

3x100 free
100 IM

I'm sore right now.

Parisian Trip

2009-02-03T10:25:00.002-05:00

I'll be taking off for Paris to visit my girlfriend in under a week, and I couldn't be more excited. As the city in which I've spent a good portion of my adult life, Paris just feels comfortable to me.

Because I'm training for the New Bedford, MA half marathon in March, I'll have to continue my training while away. Victoria's apartment is adjacent to Bois de Boulogne, so if I wanted to weave a 9-mile course through the crowds of prostitutes and drug users, I could. My time won't be limited to Paris, though. I'll be meeting Victoria's parents who live in Manchester, and aside from my low-grade anxiousness, I'm excited about seeing a new part of England, its topography, accents, vegetation, and food. Going for a run through the moors just sounds amazing right now, and I know the hills will be a big challenge for me.

This trip will also test the portability of my functional exercise gear that I'll be bringing along: swim trainer, jump rope, and monkey bars. I'll give a full report once I'm there.

Pool Vision

2009-02-02T23:18:00.004-05:00

This evenings workout ended with an interesting "game" that really promoted full pool awareness and encouraged strategic use of speed off of walls. I've really been seeing some improvements with my transition between butterfly kick and flutter kick as I hit the surface, and I'm working hard to "read" the approaching water surface to time the transition and carry that speed into an up-tempo stroke pattern. Since getting my swim trainer, my hand acceleration through my stroke has just exploded. For the first time, I can actually generate a nice push.

The workout began like the others with 1,000 yards broken into a 400 loosen, 4x100 moderate, and 4x50 focusing on breakouts.

I really wanted to push myself on the main set, especially after all the cheese I ate last night:

8x50 stroke/free on :45
4x75 odd fly/breast/fly (focus on extensions) 1:15
even breast/fly.breast 1:15
4x100 (1) 50 fly / 25 back / 25 breast on 1:40
(2) 25 fly / 50 back / 25 breast
(3) 25 fly / 25 back / 50 breast
(4) 100 IM
8x25 underwater dolphin kick
2x200 (1) IM
(2) Free

For Masters, that's a pretty short workout, but what followed really made me appreciate speed off of the wall. In 4 heats, we put swimmers in each lane and asked them to close their eyes. Someone would walk around and either tap a swimmer or several swimmers one, two, three, or four times. That was to be the lap they sprinted. The rest of the time, you were to set a nice pace in the pool, but you were not to sprint unless you could see someone else taking off. The practice was really more in humility than anything else.

As you've probably read, I'm pretty close to blind in the pool. My eyesight is just horrible, and I favor my left side to breathe on, really limiting my pool vision. The first round, I was tapped twice, and prepared to spring the second 25 of the 100. The five of us dove in off of the blocks and we set a nice easy pace, but as I approached the wall, I did a nice flip turn during which I crossed my legs to cause some torque immediately off of the wall flipping me on my stomach. I focused on contracting my core and really bring my hips into the dolphin. As I felt the water's surface approach, I flipped the jets of my flutter kick on and absolutely took off. What I realized, though, was that I had gained a full 3/4 body length on everyone in the pool. It's the closest I'll ever get to a Michael Phelps breakout, but I realized the advantage of powerful wall kick and strategic use of speed. The first heat was my best as the other four were spent reacting a little slowly because of my blindness and foggy goggles.

Spring!

2009-02-01T16:56:00.002-05:00

I walked out the front door for a great Sunday morning run. Before stepping out of the driveway, though, I had to shed one of my layers as the sun actually felt warm. For the first time in about two months, I wasn't chilled while running outside. There are still some substantial icy patches I had to watch for so I wasn't able to hit my stride during the entire run. A quick 5 miles felt really nice, even after my first functional exercise workout routine left me more sore than I've felt in many years.

Lactic Acid

2009-01-30T09:22:00.002-05:00

Last night's sprint workout was witness to a few small victories: keeping pace with the hot shot in the lane next to me (of course, he was doing backstroke and I freestyle, but still), having one excellent breakout where I could actually feel some acceleration, and glimpses of an efficient body roll.

Here's the workout:
400 loosen
4x100 moderate
4x50 strong

Main Set (4x)
50 12.5 all out / EZ 37.5 (on 50 sec. interval)
50 25 all out /EZ 25
50 37.5 all out / 12.5 EZ
(From the blocks) 50 all out
400 pull

My functional gym equipment arrived, and I spent the last hours of the evening watching the instructional DVD for my hanging rings. I will post pictures of my setup this weekend.

Homemade Energy Bars

2009-01-27T21:42:00.005-05:00

After returning to Cambridge from France in June of 2008, I experienced a substantial withdrawal from the lack of quality baked goods in the States. I wasn't willing to drop 6 dollars on a loaf of bread at Hi-Rise or When Pigs Fly as I knew that flour, water, salt, and yeast couldn't be that expensive. Out of desperation and disillusion, I derived a baking mantra: I buy no bread that I can bake at home. of course, I had to figure out how to bake it, but after six months, I've discovered how to produce a delicious 100% whole wheat loaf of bread. It's amazing what vital wheat gluten can do.

That being said, I've made some recent attempts at making my own granola bars, hoping to get away from paying a dollar a bar, since I know oats and honey just don't cost that much as individual inputs. So, I've adapted (only slightly) the suggestions of a trusted friend, Alton Brown, the recipe you'll find below. It makes some pretty solid granola bars, perfect for a mid-afternoon snack or a pre-workout pick-me-up. I chowed down on one last night before my swim workout.

2 c. rolled oats
1/2 c. raw sunflower seeds or pepitas
1 c. chopped raw almonds, or walnuts, or cashews
1/2 c. wheat germ
1/2 c. honey
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. vanilla extract (or if you're looking to break the bank, the real stuff)
1 tbs. unsalted butter
2 c. chopped combination of any dried, unsulfured, and unsweetened fruit.

Butter a 9 by 9-inch glass baking dish and set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Spread the oats, sunflower seeds, almonds, and wheat germ onto a half-sheet pan. Place in a dry pan and roast them on the stove top, agitating occasionally. Listen carefully to the frequency of the popping.

In the meantime, combine the honey, brown sugar, butter, extract and salt in a medium saucepan and place over medium heat. Cook until the brown sugar has completely dissolved.

Once the oat mixture is done, remove it from the oven and reduce the heat to 300 degrees F. Immediately add the oat mixture to the liquid mixture, add the dried fruit, and stir to combine. Turn mixture out into the prepared baking dish and press down, and place in the oven to bake for 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely.

The bars, if you let them cool, have a nice chewy texture. They're nothing like the rock-like granola bars you purchase in the store. Rather, these have a subtle nutty flavor that is not overpowered by the sugar component.

Engaging Core Values

2009-01-26T22:09:00.005-05:00

I never realized how essential core strength is for balance in the water. Of the 3400 yards that were posted this evening, 2600 of them were in backstroke, giving me ample time to focus on really punching my hip through the recovery. It's only after repetition that I started to notice how to correct my often discombobulated body positioning. Towards the end of the set, I was really pushing my body until the lactic acid became too unbearable and until I was in danger of vomiting: the sign of a good workout one of my friends would say.

I did a much better job keeping myself hydrated through the workout, as I prepared a watered-down Gatorade mixture. I also was able to snack on a few home-made puffed-rice/cherry/chocolate bars (I'll post the recipe tomorrow, but they're amazing energy bars for a fraction of what Cliff bars cost).

Before going to bed, I'm going to have a nice 30-minute stretching routine, making sure to focus on my hip flexors which are bothering me a bit this evening after yesterday's 11-mile run.

Tuesdays are my off day, and it couldn't have come any sooner.

Chin Up

2009-01-25T13:58:00.008-05:00

I've successfully rigged a chin up bar to fit around my door frame and properly counter-balanced it to stay fixed without any screws through studs. I'm not convinced that there won't be any markings on the wall, but if, by chance, I rip the molding down, I'll just go to home depot and buy a few strips.

I believe this picture proves that the chin up bar can actually hold my weight without punching itself through the wall. The grimace is gratuitous, but I liked thee effect.

Here is a profile view that gives you a pretty good idea as the hardware requirements: 6 3/4" elbow connectors, 2 3/4" tees, various lengths of 3/4" nipples (this will vary from door frame to door frame), and one chin-up of the length your door can fit.

These two photos show the bracing points that keep the chin up bar in place. I've put two metal squares between the elbows above the door frame to spread the pounds per square inch, and I've wrapped the two outside poles in some basic pipe insulation and duct tape. This entire project cost me no more than 40 dollars, and I've got a platform on which I can a number of functional exercises.

I'm off for an 8 mile run this afternoon. It's hovering around 20 degrees, and I'm finding the house pleasantly warm.

Southern Ingenuity

2009-01-24T17:17:00.003-05:00

My grandfather's toughness was legendary. While tending pasture on his family's southern Kentucky farm, he had his ear ripped off by an enraged bull and sewn back on by his mother after she, paying no mind to the bull, found it in the pasture. Let's just say that the entire Tarter clan was as tough as nails. Out of necessity, they were resourceful. My grandfather was a fit man well into his 70s, having never owned a gym membership. He got his exercise tending his garden, hunting, and enjoying his woodworking hobby.

It was in tribute to that family resourcefulness that I made a trip to Home Depot in search of some 3/4" steel pipe to make an over-the-door-frame pull up bar to which I can attach any number of functional exercise pieces. Since I rent, I am not comfortable drilling any holes in the wall, and I most certainly don't feel like surrendering my security deposit when I finally decide to move. I made two measuring mistakes, so the finished product will have to wait for its official unveiling tomorrow. For those interested, I'll post pictures and a small schematic.

My Spotty History with Water

2009-01-24T13:03:00.002-05:00

I was doubled over after my swim workout this morning, more than likely due to dehydration. I tried my best to sip water throughout the morning, but I think I must have just forgotten to take sips during the rough and pretty intense main set.

I have a storied history with water, including hospitalization for water poisoning and uncontrollable dry heaving in the Arizona desert the weekend of a friend's wedding. Yes, one can say that I neglect my body sometimes, but it's when I'm really focused that I often forget to do the most obvious thing, like drinking water. My cramps are done with, and I've fueled my body with a nice lunch.

This swim workout was the most intense of my training with the Cambridge Masters. We were perhaps getting some energy from the Harvard men's team who warmed up with us at the Blodgett.

Warm-up
400 easy
4x100 moderate
4x50 fast
=1000 yards

First set (3x IM stroke order)
50 kick
50 drill
50 swim
4x75 free
=1350 yards

Second set (2x)
50 back/breast
4x75 odds fly/free/fly, evens free/drill/free
100 back/breast x 50 (10 seconds rest)
3x100 free descending (1:30 interval)
150 back/breast x 75 (10 seconds rest)
4x75 odds fly/free/fly, evens free/drill/free
200 back/breast x 100 (focus on strong stroke finish and breaststroke streamline)
300 free (4:25 interval to go directly into last 200)
200 IM fast
=3200

Cool down
3x100 kick with zoomers (focusing on engaging core)
200 easy drill (loosen the shoulder)/swim (watching body roll) x50
=500

Total=6050 yards (insane, I know)

To be honest though, I was unable to finish the last 500 of the second set's repetition. That's still 5500 yards, the most I've tackled in one workout.

Functional Exercises

2009-01-21T15:58:00.004-05:00

I just can't bring myself to get out of bed early in the morning. Such was my dilemma this morning while listening, half awake, to NPR. I've often bemoaned having to go to the gym to get a workout and have imagined the perfect world in which I have a home gym set up in my house.

I have been thinking more and more about functional exercise equipment, and I know that a few basic pieces of equipment would prove handy when the weather turns nasty in New England, and I can't be bothered to leave the house. It's with that knowledge that I ordered a balance ball, jungle gym, and swimming trainer (all available at monkeybargym.com). It's my hope that I can cut the gym membership out of my budget and use that money to purchasing a new bike.

Now, the challenge remains setting everything up in a house with narrow doorways. I'll keep you updated as to my plans. In the meantime, here's the swim workout from last night.

Warmup
400 easy
4x100 moderate
8x25 strong

Main set (2x)
100 kick
4x50 choice drill
3x100 IM (descending)
5x100 choice (building 1-3/descending 4-6)
200 IM (race pace)

Cool down
300 easy

Total=3900

Porter Square Physical Challenge

2009-01-20T19:13:00.004-05:00

My childhood was filled with Mark Summers's Double Dare and the show's always enticing physical challenges pitting contestants' will against mountains of chocolate syrup and whipped cream. My daily physical challenge at Porter Square doesn't involve the promise of diving head first into foodstuff, but it does offer me a chance to get my heart rate elevated. Instead of taking the escalator, I tackle the 199 steps that lead from the outbound platform to street level. I'm not the only one who does this, but there is only a small, dedicated group of regulars who deem this worthy of their efforts. I salute you, fellow MBTA stairmasters.

I wish I had the patience to link a few recent articles I've seen mentioning how it only takes several minutes a day of exercise to lower your risk of cardiovascular disease by a substantial percentage. Even in a city where walking is an essential part of your daily life, I find that Bostonians are all too eager to jump in a car. That's perhaps the most disheartening thing I've noticed about this city. One can claim that the MBTA isn't reliable, but I'd venture the argument that we're so quick to abandon public transportation for the convience of a car that we rarely hold public authorities accountable for shotty service. It's the plight of public educational institutions that is all too familiar to me: those who are more willing to start a new system with disponsible income than to fix the existing but faulty one. That being said, I have no patience for those who claim they don't have time to incorporate exercise into their daily routines. Once we realize that functional exercise exists, that the 90 dollar a month gym is a luxury and not a prerequisite for physical fitness, we'll begin to see the treasure, as ridiculous as it may sound, in the daily inconveniences we spend so much time and energy complaining about.

Here's to the Porter Square challenge; it's not as hard as it looks.

Mental Focus with No Glasses

2009-01-19T17:50:00.006-05:00

I wear glasses, and I have no prescription goggles. This poses a problem at times as the white board upon which my Masters coach posts the workout appears as a white blob most of the time. He usually goes through the workout orally before we begin, but without some sort of visual back-up, I'm hopeless. I've also found that carrying on conversations without glasses can be challenging, as I have to depend entirely on my ears. I never realized just how important sight is to me in understanding conversation in particularly noisy environments.

This evening's workout begins in about an hour, and I'll be posting what will assuredly be an insane workout online after getting back.

I'm back from the IM workout. I worked hard on my backstroke technique, making sure while finishing the stroke to rotate my hips, keeping my body from snaking too much in the water. I've improved immensely, but my breaststroke is atrocious. I have a substantial amount of work getting my recovery and kick timing down.

Warmup
400 loosen
4x100 IMs (2:00 interval)
8x25 choice (:30 interval)
=1000 yards

Main set
4x100 fly/back x 50 (1:40 interval)
8x50 fly/back (:45 interval)
4x100 backstroke 25 underwater kick / 75 swim(1:40 interval)
8x50 backstroke (:40 interval)
300 pull (free/back/free)
4x100 breast 25 2 kick 1 stroke / 75 swim (1:45 interval)
8x50 breast/free (:50 interval)
200 IM (race pace)
=2900 yards

Cool down
300 easy

Total= 4200 yards

Re-Direction

2009-01-19T12:21:00.011-05:00

So, in June 2008, I decided to leave academia to pursue a career in the non-profit sector. After a month spent with my family in Maine and a short job search (for which I am very grateful), I started working in the development office of a Boston non-profit organization, and I've found myself happier than I ever was during my graduate student career. A good portion of my happiness can be attributed to the aforementioned changes in my lifestyle and to the wonderful people by whom I've been lucky enough to be surrounded. I do not think I could have gotten to where I am without my wonderful girlfriend, the most loving and supportive partner I could have ever hoped for.

Upon the advice of a close college friend, I will use this blog as a platform on which I'll post updates on my new interests, as disparate as they might appear: triathlon training and my attempts to avoid all industrially processed foods. To anyone who asks how those two interests are related, I'd reply that they are both derivatives of my profound respect for the human body and my conscious revolt against a market that unapologetically packages and successfully markets products with questionable ingredients to the detriment of our nation's health.

A year ago, I gave up eating convenience vegetarian foods and soft drinks and in three months' time found myself almost 50 pounds lighter, tipping the scales at about 150 pounds. I had successfully brought my blood pressure down from 140/90 to 130/75 and was boasting more energy that ever before. I've continued my efforts to avoid convenience foods in favor of home-cooked meals and to eat seasonally as best as I possibly can. I don't claim to have given up all convenience foods (I still eat the occasional Gu or Cliff Bar), and I don't claim to eat only in-season fruits and vegetables, but I've made considerable efforts to become familiar with my food chain. All of these decisions have added time to my schedule, but I have integrated these new efforts in my daily routine. If I'm going to push my body to its limits, I feel much more comfortable knowing exactly what goes into my bread or soup or beans.

As for my workouts, I have no problem motivating myself to push my body to its limits, and while I've never been very athletic, I have always enjoyed sports. I'm far from an elite athlete, and I'm not training to be one. I'm the equivalent of a bench player on a baseball team, an Eric Bruntlett or a Bill Spiers (all former Astros players). There was always a quiet quality to Spiers (who admittedly was more than a mere bench player as he platooned at third in the late 90s), making the most of the skills he was given. I'm playing the cards I've been dealt, and so far, I'm having a blast.

I'd be lying if I said that my father's sudden death five years ago had nothing to do with this. I remembered how my father's physical exertions had become more labored after his first two heart attacks in his late 40s, and I often wonder if my father, like some stricken with a disease for which they were genetically predisposed, ever felt as if he had suffered a grave injustice. I now recognize that these feelings of victimization are counter-productive, and since his death, I've fought hard to avoid the specters of defeatism and bitterness that have marked my protracted grieving process. So, this blog will celebrate the good health I've been afforded and the small victories I've overlooked.

In the months ahead, I will be posting my training schedules and vegetarian cooking experiments as I work towards my first triathlon season. It will be a wonderful experience, and I look forward to sharing with anyone interested.

Fleet Street Barber

2008-07-01T10:33:00.003-04:00

After some deliberation, I finally decided to invest in a straight razor, strop, and sharpening stone, convinced that irritating razor burn is an abject thing of the past. From an aesthetic standpoint, I don't think there is anything more "American Apparel"-looking than a few strokes to the face with a straight razor. However, since shaving with a tool that only needs inattention to become a deadly weapon will be a solitary experience, I didn't really consider the aesthetics of the art of shaving. Rather, I did a few budgetary calculations to convince myself that after one year, I'd actually be saving money with my new shaving regime compared to my now defunct shaving method. From an ecological standpoint, I also won't be filling landfills with stainless steel blades for the next 60 years. Hell, the blade, stone, and strop will probably outlive me if properly cared for.

Return to Boston

2008-07-01T10:31:00.001-04:00

I have finally returned to Boston after my academic year in Paris and a month of vacation in Maine. Things remain somewhat unsettled as of this morning, but I am excited about the rest of the summer.

The Good Things

2008-05-22T03:52:00.001-04:00

1. French baguettes
2. Hummus
3. Swimming

French Television

2008-05-15T06:41:00.002-04:00

I had a chance to flip on the television this morning while eating some muesli. I was met with a pseudo-intellectual interview that the producers thought better shown in multiple and often askew camera angles. The cuts were far too abrupt, and the over-production seemed to scream of an content-based inadequacy complex. After five minutes of the drivel, I decided to complete my most recent book, Washington Square, which was made more interesting by a certain infatuation with the dynamics of theatricality seen in the early nineteenth-century French novel. My next challenge is Faulkner's Light in August.

Why must I footnote?

2008-05-02T13:33:00.004-04:00

Recently, I've been giving considerable thought the craft of writing. After receiving some preliminary comments back from my thesis advisors, I was disappointed to find my most carefully crafted sentences to be the first on the metaphoric dissection table. At first, I thought the sentences might just be part of a disjunctive paragraph, a common quality of most of my early drafts. However, in rereading the entire prospectus and adding a few transitions where direction was greatly needed, I baulked at rewording the sentences that gave my advisors the most difficulty. It's not that I didn't agree with them that the use of language might have been a little too lax, that my imagery was far too amalgamated to allow for a fluid reading. I'm the first to admit that my writing isn't always the clearest, but there's just one problem: I've fallen in love with it, as flawed as it may be.

I suppose one could say that a writer unwilling to adapt is a failed writer. A musician who refuses to adjust phrasing is inviting criticisms of stubborn pedantism. So in order to qualify my hesitancy, I suppose I felt a bit disappointed that they did not appreciate my imaginative use of figurative language. Nonetheless, the writer I aspire to be has an implicit contract with his readers. He must write clearly, but I believe those in academia and those who choose to write in any other professional universe write with different goals in mind. I might just be better suited for a different style of writing, one that isn't beholden to the idea of scholarly heritage, one that allows for imaginative verbal flourishes that evoke more than explain.

While reading Henry James's Washington Square, I found myself analyzing his sentence structure, not interested in the historical accuracy of his narrative asides (which are quite frequent) or the veracity of his often opaque or vague geographical references. I'm interested in the form of his craft, not the content. If he were writing for three thesis advisors, every aside would have to be referenced as coming from a source, which would, much to my chagrin, take the magic out of prose writing.

Prospectus Bliss

2008-04-14T05:51:00.002-04:00

My room has been turned topsy-turvy since I began writing my dissertation prospectus. I've abandoned the basic cleaning complexes I'm well known for in Cambridge. I'm putting the final touches on my first draft to be sent shortly. However, I think I'm more excited about actually sleeping on clean sheets as I'm about to wash what feels like my entire wardrobe.

Culinary Bliss

2008-04-13T08:30:00.003-04:00

I love hummus, versatility being its most attractive quality. I can throw a spoon full on top of a tossed salad. I've been known to spread it on bread to be accompanied with sprouts or sliced cucumber. I've even dipped tortilla chips, pita bread wedges, and cut vegetables into this paste-like ambrosia. However, I've found that store-bought hummus doesn't have the most appealing texture or flavor. Sometimes too salty, sometimes too creamy, store-bought hummus can be amazingly unpalatible. From one quick glance at the ingredient list, you'll notice the completely superfluous anti-caking additives or color fixers once thought to be only in the realm of Little Debbie Snack Cakes.

Anything outside of chickpeas, tahini paste, lemon juice, salt, and any desired spices or herbs has absolutely no place in hummus. For the already initiated, making hummus can be an exciting and rewarding experience, yielding a slightly different, but always delicious, product in every batch. For the uninitiated, I tell you that the ingredients of hummus are the most forgiving collection of edibles in the kitchen. If you taste as you go, you can always make minor (or even major) adjustments with no ill-effects, aside from the growing volume present in your food processor.

Unfortunately, I knew that my living situation would preclude me from making any hummus while here, but before arriving in France, I thought Paris would be saturated with delicious and authentic hummus due to its sizable North African and Middle Eastern populations. If nice hummus can be found at Star Market in Cambridge, then I could surely find excellent hummus at Champion, right? As a vegetarian, I was relieved to think that any restaurant would offer a nice hummus option among its fleshy options. After all, doesn't even Starbucks sell a hummus wrap?

Sadly, if you asked a Frenchman, you'd hear that my American optimism bordered on delusional hope. Not only is hummus impossible to find in any restaurant outside of the Marais or a small Lebanese restaurant, it almost always comes with cream in it. Listed as the third most prevalent ingredient is often fromage blanc, an unwelcome violator of the sanctity of what is traditionally a vegan option. I also noticed that the store-prepared hummus in France is not kosher, and there's a chance that it might not even be vegetarian. Unbelievably, hummus in France might contain traces of fish and crustaceans! Say what?! I even found that most sports drinks, similar to Gatorade, can contain traces of fish, crustaceans, soy, and peanuts. If they added some strawberry powder, they'd have a nice pile of allergens waiting to attack anyone who does give the benefit of the doubt to the corporate food industry.

Needless to say, the French's claim to culinary excellence has proven itself to be a somewhat stultifying specter. France's administrative and educational rigidity is reflected in the culinary preferences of its citizens. Grocery stores sport aisles of dairy products with little to no vegetarian cheeses (not using animal-derived rennet); leafy greens are almost impossible to locate outside of the Asian markets; grains outside of pasta (quinoa, spelt, barley) just don't find there way onto your local store's shelves. The meals I've seen prepared by my French colleagues always include butter, cream, crème fraîche, or cheese. Sometimes, I'm convinced the French's claim to allowing the fresh ingredients to play first fiddle is a patent lie. They more than likely have no idea what Swiss Chard tastes like, preferring to throw a few strips into some crème fraîche. In claiming kitchen supremacy, the French have made culinary innovation almost impossible. Instead of specializing in regional delicacies, local restaurants should just say they are the proprietors of carnal milk bars like out of Clockwork Orange.

Needless to say, I want my hummus to come without cow juice, please. Don't mock me when I ask for vegetarian cheeses. I haven't been looked at like that since I was 10 and completely naïve and mentioned the term "hand job" in front of my parents, thinking that it was something akin to a "high five."

The Customer is always Wrong

2008-04-08T13:03:00.006-04:00

While entertaining some visitors to Paris in early March, I jokingly said that the unspoken mantra of the French purveyor is, "The customer is always wrong." It was only after reading one of the most frequently e-mailed New York Times articles, in which I read said mantra, that I began to take seriously my initial and undoubtedly surely reaction.

I was given the task just yesterday of getting a pair of keys copied. Already certain that I'd be met with more closed doors than open (seeing as it was Monday), I began my quest for a serrurier who'd be willing to offer a quick turn-around for the copies. I was lucky enough to find a very bored looking man just a few years my senior on just my second try. He was sporting a impressive collection of tattoos, but despite his rather insousciant appearance and his general slacker quality, he seemed quite disappointed that I wasn't a cute woman. Taking notice of the lack of customers, he agreed to quickly make my key copies. We exchanged twenty euros, and I was on my way with two new skeleton keys keeping my pocket warm.

My satisfaction was soon tempered when I discovered that one of the two new keys did not work correctly in the locking mechanism. I could lock the door from the inside, but I was unable to lock the door from the outside. I returned to the same store practicing the French situational dialogue.

I walked inside to find the proprietor shamelessly hitting on a female customer, and he proceeded to ignore my presence for the next few minutes. When he asked me what he could do for me, I told him my dilemma. It was after insisting that he finally took a look at the key to see where it obviously met the mechanical impediment. He quickly ran over to the polisher, handed it back to me and quickly resumed his slobber fest. I took a quick look at the key and noticed that the key would still not work in the lock, and I politely asked the man to look at the original key to see better what I was concerned about. He looked at me and said, "I can't do anything about it. The machine cuts the way it wants to cut. If that doesn't work, that key can't be copied." I tried to reason with the man, telling him that I was in a rush and wouldn't be able to come back today if it didn't work. He replied, "That's not my concern." Feeling my blood boil with a feeling of injustice, I looked at him and said, "If this doesn't work, I'm coming back."

Out on the street, I could only laugh at how ridiculous that transaction was. I paid a purveyor twenty euros for a service which he was reluctantly offering, and he made me feel as if he'd claim ignorance if I were to return asking for a refund. There was something about his body language and intonation that made me feel like he was taking my concern as a personal affront. As if I was blaming him for negligence. Claiming the futility of an adjustment only makes look incompetent and petty, bud.

As a post-scriptum, the key did end up work only after a few adjustments I made with some sandpaper and repeated jammings into the door.

Internet Police

2008-04-04T10:48:00.000-04:00

I have read quite a bit about Comcast's attempts to limit the internet use of its subscribers. Apparently, more than a few customers have received warnings from Comcast threatening to block access if they do not limit bandwidth use. I don't necessarily see it as a problem to enact reasonable bandwidth limits in particular geographic areas that boast a large percentage of customers unsatisfied with download speeds, but I just see something profoundly disturbing about Comcast's attempts to police networks and cut off access to the internet arbitrarily. I say arbitrarily because there is no officially stated limit to the amount of traffic allowed. These draconian measures are being enacted without the customer knowing how "egregious" his/her violation is. Despite repeated attempts to force Comcast to communicate a specific number of gigabytes, there has been no response by the company's directors.

That being said, I received an e-mail in my ENS inbox about my bandwidth use. I was surprised to say the least that a French institution would monitor my internet use, and slightly perturbed that in a country that scoffs at our Department of Homeland Security that allowed illegal wiretaps and that extols the virtues of the individual and his/her freedom of choice I would receive word that 13 gigabytes of traffic in a 24-hour period was deemed excessive. Granted, I'll be sure to curb my use since the network isn't the best to begin with, but I don't find 13 gigabytes to be an excessive amount of space. Computers routinely come with hard drives of 250 gigabytes. The universal presence of digital cameras has pixilated our lenses and facilitated the exchange of photos over the internet. Multiple companies allow for off-site storage on their servers. Apple computers come with built in video cameras. Needless to say, technological advances and norms are putting incredible stress on network infrastructures, and legislation is seemingly becoming more inflexible.

I'm not going to begin to enumerate how distinctly un-modern or pre-modern ENS is. I will offer this, though: the library only this past February computerized their circulation records. That is, before, the librarian wrote down the titles and author in a ledger before I was allowed to take it out. My high school library was better equipped than that. I will be sure to spread my use of the internet out, perhaps taking advantage of the late-night lull. Either way, I find it absurd that I'm being felt guilty for my completely and partially legal use of the internet.

Baseball Fever

2008-03-31T10:42:00.001-04:00

Mediocre baseball teams that relentlessly bludgeon the possibility (gasping as it may be) of something other than an aesthetic victory boast a mottled landscape of fans entertaining liqueur-induced delusions and a strange mixture of belligerent resignation, geographically loyal citizens who consider retrospective (and perhaps retroactive) affection to be the purest form of love, and the lonely masses who never consciously advertise their team's colors unlike those college students more interested in the retro rainbow color scheme of the 1978 Houston Astros or the slurry brown combination of the 1984 San Diego Padres.

They are generally happily unhappy, taking solace in their status as middling and imperfect martyrs, always refusing to admit that the current season's cloud has no silver lining. They hate bandwagon fans who jump on and off like the ideologically myopic tramps populating a Kerouac novel. They are disciplined and loyal, sometimes cussing loudly, sometimes pulling their hair, sometimes mockingly praising a purgatory-like poor pitching performance similar to Woody Williams's 2008 spring training.

I perhaps fit in the second grouping of fans, grasping at my allegiance for Houston, Texas from thousands of miles away, first while in Minnesota (home of another mediocre club that has known glory through blue collar sweat), then in Boston, Massachusetts (a city with an annoyingly large diaspora of luke-warm fans following a team with an absurdly huge payroll and only a small nucleus of rabid fans), and now in Paris, France, where the most popular sport is monotonously mono-skilled. You run and kick. Football is undoubtedly a pretty sport, but it doesn't require the skills set of a center fielder or a shortstop. Many would argue with me, but it still won't make me not wake at 4 am to watch Michael Bourn leadoff for the Astros in San Diego in the inaugural game of the 2008 season.

Peaks-to-Portland

2008-03-28T18:12:00.000-04:00

Open water swimming is the supreme challenge for endurance swimmers. Plunging into the cold and dark ocean waters can be disorientating, and any encounter with this sort of sublime immensity can bring one to the realization of one's supreme insignificance. This largely unexplored earthly element only occasionally reveals its secrets. Most of its topography can only be traced by sonar-rendered images, culled only thanks to the technological acumen of humans. Undertows can be unpredictable, changing on a daily basis. Water temperature spikes arrive on notoriously unreliable cycles. The ocean's depths might as well be an imaginary purgatory populated by giant squid, flesh-easting worms, and infernal steam vents. In fact, thanks to remotely-controlled submersible vessels, the imagined ocean geography propagated by our own insecurities and fears speaks more than a few truths.

For a species that is comprised of some 60 percent water, one would think we'd be at home in the water. If my recent trips to the pool are any indication, I can safely say that men and women are not born swimmers. We flop, gasp, sink. Most people appear to fight the water, punching the surface with partially clenched fists. I've seen people violently wrench their heads to the left or right only to inhale a wake of water, leaving them coughing. I've seen fit people unable to complete a 25 meter continuous swim. I've seen people who think partially floating constitutes an aerobic workout. Indeed, it is a rare joy to see a high elbow recovery or fully-rotated hips or a relaxed and controlled two-kick flutter. Those bring a smile to my face.

Elite swimmers don't fight the water. One only has to seek Youtube videos of Olympic swimmers to see what perfect form looks like, how beautiful it can be. However, we're not elite swimmers. Only a few worldwide can call themselves one, and I don't count myself as one. I do, though, consider myself a philosopher of swimming aesthetics. I appreciate the sport and those who take it seriously. I have immense respect for those swimmers who can do 1,000 meters of stroke drills as a warm-up. Like a professional musician who can spend an entire practice session on a minor scale, listening for pitch and tonality, working on breath or bow control, a swimmer can spend a workout perfecting a breaststroke kick or a flip turn or a torso rotation. All of these tools don't make him or her the perfect athlete, but any additional tool can mean a faster split time or improved pacing.

It is safe to say that humankind's fragility is on full display in any meeting with either the 82-degree water of a neighborhood pool or the water-lapped horizon of a large body of water. Without the aid of goggles, my eyes would burn after only 25 meters in a chlorinated pool. Without wetsuits, divers, swimmers, and surfers would either expire due to exposure or simply forgo the dangers of hypothermia, deciding to stick to land or air-based endeavors. Where is the fun in that? Haven't we made a name for ourselves by pushing ourselves beyond precedence? The fact that we were born with an insatiable desire for empire building and ten distinct fingers should tell us that the water is, despite its unforgiving nature, our home. It's the place of ultimate victory; it's the place where survival means everything; its the place where any success is a total success.

I have decided to train for Peaks-to-Portland, an annual 2.4 mile open-water swim in Portland, Maine. I'll test my mental acuity and my physical limits. I claim not to be ambitious, but the possibility of completing the event has gotten me excited. I now have a training goal, and I can entertain fantasies of Olympic grandeur.

Musical chairs

2008-03-24T13:01:00.001-04:00

Have you ever listened to the same CD track for a day? I have.

Bill Renfro

2008-03-17T16:43:00.000-04:00

It has been almost five year since I last spoke with my father, Bill Renfro. I was able to catch him for a brief conversation on Thanksgiving weekend 2003, just a few days before he died on December 3, 2003. It is rare that I go a week without conjuring up a moment I spent with him, and I occasionally listen to his mild East Texas accent I recorded with my digital camera just months before his death. A friend and I were laughing at how serendipity can often feed reminiscence.

Only yesterday, my sister pointed out that she had found two photos in which she saw a resemblance between father and son. Before this time, I had almost exclusively been told that I resembled my mother, not my father. I've decided to post my father's image in an effort to bring him a little closer to my everyday life. I also can't help but think that any 21st century hipster would love my father's t-shirt that reads "Trees are renewable." While he probably wasn't wearing it ironically in 1975, I would like to think he was far more prescient than anyone could have imagined.

I miss him greatly.

I am drunk

2008-03-17T16:20:00.000-04:00

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! I may or may not be absolutely sober. I've decantered a bottle of Côte du Rhone only to find that telling myself not to drink the entire bottle is much easier imagined than actually said.

I've found myself in recent days extremely agitated when in public. I'm not sure if I find Paris to be far too crowded for my disposition or far too noisy and inconsiderate for my sensibilities. While the following criticism can be applied to Americans, I feel that inconsiderate behavior is far more prevalent in Paris than in Boston. I am ready to concede that it's impossible in Paris to afford every individual in public the area of personal space that is often afforded Americans while standing in line at the bank, grocery store, or ticket counter, but I can't help but think that standing right behind someone while he or she is paying a cashier is not only an invasion of privacy (if he or she is handling large amounts of money) but also a tacit critique on how slow that individual is. If there is any population that should be the least pressed for time, it's the French. They work a 35 hour work week and are guaranteed at least four weeks of vacation a year. They have absolutely no right to rush me while standing in line.

I submit this next anecdote for proof of an innate sense of entitlement that I have detected in a large number of individuals. I use the word entitlement to signify the ever pervasive demeanor of those who feel that their agenda's importance far out-weighs that of any other individual. As a result, you find people refusing to give up seats to pregnant women or older citizens. You find people neglecting to look behind them while exiting through heavy doors. You see people unwilling to come to the aid of an individual who has dropped a wallet, keys, or change. I had just come through the metal detector at the BNF when I noticed the line that had formed at the vestiaire. I slowly made my way to the end while having to juggle two bags that had been unzipped by security. Not one but two middle-aged French men scampered past me when I was within ten feet of the last person in line. I just didn't understand why these two gentlemen were so keen on cutting in front of me when it didn't really expedite their entry into the research section. I was still able to arrange my documents in time to beat them through the turnstiles.

Granted, I grew up with lots of personal space. I'm a Texan, and I enjoy boundaries, hygiene, and courtesy, the tenets of which are categorically neglected in France
.

Bad decision maker

2008-03-11T19:09:00.001-04:00

I remember one particular evening in early 2002 very clearly. I had just returned to the third floor garret in Hill House when aptly named Garret, my roommate, asked me if would mind taking part in his psychology lab. The specific details of the conversation escape me at this moment, but Garret's conclusion still rings in my head: I am a "poor" decision maker.

Supplied with any sort of prescriptive description of a "good" decision maker, I'm sure we would all be considered rash decision makers. While I might have been a bit perturbed at Garret's findings, I couldn't help but feel as if my identity as an charmingly odd, intelligent student was only being bolstered by a certain genetic weakness. While I study literature, I have great difficulty in focusing for long periods of time. While rash in my decision making, I pour more dedication into my chosen activities than most. While deliberate planning benefits some, I prefer not to plan.

All of these considerations are beginning to surface as I embark on my dissertation project, still in it's rough genesis. The project's immense dimensions just don't seem to fit in any schema that I have had to erect in the past. I almost feel as if my "genius" should come in spurts, as if to say that I fear the deliberate planning would stifle my creative voice. Why can't my learning style be considered legitimate? Why am I surrounded by people who write lists and plan a year in advance? Am I a dying breed? Am I the last surviving person of my psychological species? Can't an academic be a little flexible, dare I say a little rash?

Springtime Visits

2008-03-09T11:32:00.000-04:00

Garret and Amanda have arrived and left, leaving in their wake a collection of wonderfully poignant memories from which I will undoubtedly draw in years to come. Garret and I were college roommates for all four years at Carleton College, and there is not a person in the world who knows me better than he.

Spring Arrivals

2008-03-09T11:12:00.000-04:00

Spring has arrived in Paris. One would think that color contrasts would become far more striking to the eye after enduring the arduous trudge through the gray months of a Parisian winter, but the pyschological drain of the monotony of gray skies and the parade of black clothing desensitizes my eye to the swath of colors that Nature does offer us if we have the time to enjoy them.

While strolling back from the Piscine Roger le Gall in the 12th arrondissement, I noticed what I thought to be confetti littering the sidewalk next to the small park carrying the name of Georges Méliès, France's first science fiction film maker. Upon closer inspection, I find that the specs of white that have mottled the slightly damp black asphalt of the pavement are not man-made but vestiges of an vegetal earnestness. I train my eyes skyward to find five trees in full bloom, their white flowers gently swaying in the breeze.

Thinking my mind was playing a cruel trick on me, I scan the horizon only to find other flowers happily dancing in the cool air of an early March afternoon, avariciously soaking the rays of sun that have only occasionally stroked the manufactured landscape of this metropolis.

I can't really explain how much that sight lifted my spirits, how it reminded me of the wonders of green space. I was not born in the country, but I always did appreciate its vegetal variety, its variegated odors, and the fractured sunlight that would be diffused by slight atmospheric mists or pollens. It's really no wonder that Parisian officials have dedicated so much space to touch gardens to be used by the national education center. Have we come to the point where convenience is the only think keeping us in cities? At what expense are we making communication, transportation, and consumption convenient? I fear that the vegetal deficit we are running as a modern society is growing as fast as that of the United States.

Everybody needs some help sometime

2008-02-29T11:04:00.000-05:00

Thus echo the prophetic lyrics of Adem on his self-engineered album, Homesongs. The reason why I started my first entry in six months with a thinly-veiled depressive thought is far more obvious than I ought to admit...

I can almost imagine Paul Auster beginning his next novel with those lines. It has occurred to me during this ten-month sojourn in Paris that I can stop this quest of a Ph.D. at any moment. I can change directions at the drop of a hat, but I've got to know what I really want. There are days when working with soil and feeling sweat trickle through my hair lull me into a sort of meditative non-être in which I just don't think.

I use the verb "to think" to refer to that nefariously obsessive list-writing urge that I do feel on a regular basis. My mind races to lay the foundation of a future whose real structure shifts as my ruminations percolate.

It was only recently that I truly understood Rousseau's being drawn to the lapping water of large, secluded bodies of water. He attributed to water a sort of transcendent quality that allowed for and promoted geographical and even temporal peregrinations. I always thought it was an innate spiritual quality of water that gave birth to this liminal experience. It was on a recent train trip that I lost myself in the blurred whirl of landscape. It was only upon waking from an open-eyed dream that I realized that I had, indeed, refused to process the vegetation passing before my eyes, and much like the clean outline of a trunk melted into the tilted fence posts, temporal realms seemed much closer to each other, and I revisited a past that had not felt that poignant in years. It was almost as if I was stuck physically present. All of this was made possible by, excuse the mixed metaphor, the white noise of the slashing paint brushes wielded by the steel, aluminum, and diesel of the locomotive.

Perhaps Rousseau could not have presaged the analogons of his metaphysical inquiries, but while sitting at the water's edge, he did not close his eyes as Descartes did to find truth. Rousseau went beyond the Cartesian insularity, left his eyes open, and let the variegated angles of light offer a paradoxically constant canvas upon which to project his reminiscences.

I mention all of this because I don't feel as closing one's eyes offers much relief. It's as if the creative impulse present when the conscious mind is slumbering cannot be recreated by the simple physical response of closing one's eyes. It's not simply a poor substitute. It isn't one. There has to be, strangely, visual stimuli that anesthetizes part of the mind, thus silencing the obsessive "presentness" of thoughts.

Nothing to do

2007-06-06T10:13:00.001-04:00

Since arriving in Chicago to visit my girlfriend, I've been filling my day with DVD marathons of Gilmore Girls and feasts of peanut butter cookies. I completed my first three years of my graduate program about two weeks ago, and I'm so exhausted that I can barely bring myself to pick up a book. After completing my first year of teaching, my last required course, and the written and oral components of my qualifying exams, I merely have a dissertation subject to articulate, research, and then write for my Ph.D.

Without the structure of the academic schedule, though, I find myself unmotivated. Perhaps my apathy is only a symptom of my exhaustion, though. I spent the last year reading about eight hours daily with only a few days off. Weekends didn't exist, and holidays seemed only a cruel guilt-inducing cultural assumption. Friday and Saturday night parties appeared as an unwanted invasion of the only days when I didn't have to teach on campus. I didn't want to become a recluse, but I suppose the only thing assuring my sanity was a self-imposed insularity.

Camus can do, but Sartre is smartre...

2007-05-22T09:11:00.000-04:00

For the love of God, get me out of the library. I'm tired of this paper-writing bullshit.

A day in the life...

2007-05-09T18:16:00.000-04:00

I've finally succumbed to the gravitational pull of the rootless 'blog.' From time to time, I'll add my thoughts all the while flexing my atrophied English prose. I've yet to decide the nature of this forum, but I'll probably include a healthy mixture of rants and narcissistic identifications.