Conservation of Effort

In the wild, creatures of all shapes and sizes look to survive while dispensing the least amount of effort or energy. Deer will find the path of least resistance through a forest and wear down obvious trails. Predators prey on the weak and young to conserve valuable energy. Fish pounce on smaller, injured specimens for quick, easy meals.

Humans are no different. In fact, most modern innovation is the result of laziness, or, as I like to call it, conservation of effort. Look at the list of 20th century innovations: microwaves, remote controls, floor-sweeping robots, bidets, etc. All are designed so we can sit on the couch longer and enjoy our bag of chips fried on partially hydrogenated oil.

I am no different and I have no right to stand on any soapbox. I am always looking for ways to conserve effort in my daily routine. Sometimes, I find answers in the most unlikely places...

I took the family to a lovely neighborhood in the Highlands the other day for an annual Santa party. While standing on the porch of the host's house, I noticed a jogger zipping down the street. He was an older man, in his sixties probably, and was absolutely flying.

Then I saw his feet. They barely moved. His arms too; they were very still. I thought about my own running, flailing and bounding down the road, arms flapping like a tom turkey strutting a hen.

It made me think, "How much energy am I wasting running like this"?

The next day I ran like the old man I saw in the highlands. Unbelievable. It made a huge difference. I had a super run with energy to spare when I finished.

Every little breakthrough is cause for celebration during this journey. Now if I can just find a way to keep my shins from cramping up...

Flush the Negative

So begins the onslaught of therapeutic wraps, pain pills, and space-age contraptions that will keep me running and training towards my ultimate goal.

"He's more machine now than man, twisted and evil".

Before my long run on Saturday, I made a trip to Walgreens to purchase some support for my ailing knee. I have patellar tendinitis and incredibly flat feet. They're so flat they almost resemble flippers. These combinations make running somewhat uncomfortable after a while.

So I bought a strap that fits under your kneecap to support the patellar tendon, and some new gel inserts for my shoes. They must have worked, because I ran/walked 2.2 miles on Saturday with no after affects.

During my run I passed the antique shop in Finchville, noticing 13 duck decoys on sale for $32.

"That's a good deal", I thought to myself.

That's me. Always looking for new and exciting ways to slaughter innocent animals for pleasure. And food.

I missed my first day working out on Sunday. I knew it would happen sooner or later. The important thing for me is to remain focused and not allow this lapse to affect my mindset at all. So I missed a day. That's okay. I also ran my longest distance on Saturday and completed that run in very good time.

Focus on the positive. Flush the negative. That's all I can do.

Do You Like Logs?

First of all, thanks to everyone who is reading this blog. I suspect my readership has increased, although you are a quiet mob. Post comments, if you can. It reminds me that people are out there reading my work, and encouraging me to continue. Better yet, subscribe. I don't know what that means, but it sounds exciting.

I love language, particularly English. It always amazes me that a patchwork quilt of grunts and clicks became such a beautiful form of expression. Language can induce laughter or tears. It can be informative or inflammatory. Needless to say, I love language.

Recently, in a effort to garner more readers of this online diary, I asked a co-worker a simple question.

"Do you like blogs?"

She looked back at me quixotically. "What are you talking about?", she asked.

"Blogs", I answered, "Do you like them?"

"Blogs...I thought you said Logs!"

The absurdity of the conversation left us both laughing hysterically at the ill communication. What a stupid question..."Do you like logs?" How would you answer that?

"I guess so, they're big, and heavy and wood."

The event lead me to think about how a simple mis-communication can lead to frivolity, arguments, break-ups, getting fired, etc. We had a good laugh at the expense of old mother language.

Song lyrics are often misunderstood and the results can be devastatingly funny. Last year, at Christmas, my wife and I hauled the kids up to New Jersey to visit the land of Herings. During the final leg of the trip, a familiar Christmas tune came on the radio, one I had known for years as a playful romp.

"What are they saying?", Robin asked. "Are they saying, 'it's time to lick the donkey'?"

The song is titled "Dominic the Donkey" and is a tarantella, a type of traditional Italian folk-song. Since about fourteen Italian people live in Kentucky, the song is not popular down in these parts. But in New Jersey, where almost every last name ends in a vowel, its a Christmas tradition.

The thoughts raced through my head about strange Italian families licking donkeys as part of their holiday celebration. It was too much, and we both laughed long and hard. Now and forevermore, the song is called "Time to Lick the Donkey". At least in my household, that's what it is called.

We've established a new holiday parody.

By the way, I ran on the cross-trainer yesterday. I exorcised for about thirty minutes before callings it quits. Then I went home and had a hearty bowl of pea soup.

Collateral Affects

Today I discovered a most pleasant side affect of this running and fitness craze. My children want to participate. In particular, my daughter begged to work out with me. So, Instead of working out at the gym at work, I came home to jog with my daughter.

As I walked out the door, my son also wanted to join us. The plan was to jog the same route I ran yesterday, a little under two miles. I thought that was a bit much for a four-year old, but I told him to get his shoes on and I would pick him up when I circled back past our house.

He waited with anticipation by the door as Anja and I came closer. To my surprise, he ran very well with us, never complaining and keeping up well.

I actually felt like a runner today, as the mileage I ran felt easier than before. After my workout, I realized the profound positive influence this has on my kids, seeing their father exercise and work towards a goal.

I never really thought about it until today. Seeing them participate with me is inspiration enough to continue. I hope today was not a one time deal, but that the little ones want to help and join me in the future.

In an age when kids spend most of their time firmly poised in front of a television playing XBox or watching cartoons, watching them run freely brings a smile to my face. And their enthusiasm and joy is much appreciated and frankly, much needed.

I need all the support I can get...even from the peanut gallery.

Fantasy Running

I'm a nerd, and I proudly proclaim my nerdiness. I have three children, all of whom are little nerds and with my influence, will grow to become well-adjusted adult nerds. There's nothing wrong with being a nerd, as long as you embrace your position in life.

I really had no chance. I was part of the Star Wars generation. I can still remember the specific times I saw the original movies growing up. I remember my mother letting me stay up late on Sunday evening to watch Episode IV: A New Hope on TV. That was big deal back then, before VHS or DVD. The movie started at 9:00PM which meant it would end well past my bedtime, but my mom, knowing how ugly Star Wars mania can be, let me watch the flick.

I wish I could say my mania has subsided over the years, but that's not the case. You see, my obsession blossomed like a fine wine gaining intensity over the years. A few years back, George Lucas decided to make a new set of movies for my children's generation and that was all I needed. Now my kids love Star Wars as much as me, and I'm lost in the universe again.

Most of my nerdiness wraps around Star Wars, but I really enjoy all things nerdy such as: Tolkien, Dungeons and Dragons, Star Wars, toy soldiers, Star Wars, etc. During college I cleverly hid my nerdiness with binge drinking and managed to attract a fairly normal mate, my wife. After marriage, however, I abandoned all pretense and became nerd-tastic once again.

She doesn't understand.

This whole marathon thing is a sort of rebellion against the inner nerd. Nerds, after all, generally don't pursue anything physical but rather fantasy. Video games, role-playing games, miniatures (my passion), and card games all provide sufficient outlets for nerds to express themselves without actually being themselves. Instead of running a marathon, a true nerd would download the latest massive multiplayer online marathon running role playing game and spend eighteen hours a day "leveling up" thier marathon character. Over time, the real body would deteriorate into a pimpled, amorphous mass. But online, their character would be a running god, capable of athletic feats yet unknown in the modern world.

Unfortunately, the 1.7 miles I ran today was very real. Nothing fantasy about the burn in my legs, or the slight feeling that I was going to throw up as I circled the Ruritan Club in downtown Finchville. In the end, though, I ran well. Much better than earlier this week. I know it's only been a week, but I feel stronger already. In addition, a great sense of accomplishment swells inside you when you finish a workout.

Week one is over, and I see no reason to stop at this point.

On Seviche & Flan

OK, so my last post was a bit odd. As most can guess at this point, I'm not that high-brow. I think self-deprecation is healthy to some degree and freely share embarrassing tidbits about myself. I also think this blog would be pretty boring if I didn't explore different subjects. I just didn't think that one of the subjects would be gas. Oh well.

Those that know me well, find this no surprise.

Anyway, at official weigh-in yesterday I was 230 lbs exactly. If I've done my math correctly, that means I've lost 2.2 lbs! After my workout, where I ran and walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes, I weighed 229 lbs.

My training may have gotten a setback last night. We had our holiday dinner at Seviche on Bardstown Road, right here in beautiful Louisville, Kentucky. Seviche's menu is this funky nuevo latino inspired mish-mosh of stuff. In addition to the restaurant's namesake, seviche (a classic Latin-American dish of seafood cooked in lemon and lime juices) the menu also featured classic dishes from Brazil, Peru and Mexico.

We had a good time, sampling several appetizers like goat cheese and mushroom empenadas and chino latino tuna seviche. I settled on a dish called plato, which was two duck breasts cooked perfectly rare over a bed of chorizo dirty rice and some sort of smokey poblano sauce. It was delicious.

The real showpiece, though, was the desert: rum infused caramel flan. OMG!!! I love flan, but this took that love to a whole new level. I can't begin to describe the creamy texture or rich chocolate sauce delicately dribbled over this decedent culinary adventure. It came served in a generous wedge, like a piece of pie. This was truly my favorite part of the meal.

My weigh-in today may reflect the large amount of food I partook of last night. C'est la vie. It was worth it. Even so, after only a few days of consistently exercising I feel better and more energetic. I also sleep like a log at night, which is a new experience for me.

I'm beginning to feel more comfortable with my decision to run the marathon. I think the benefits of such an endeavor outweigh any hardships. Yeah, I'm sore everywhere, and finding time to exercise daily with my busy schedule is a hassle. But look at me. I'm getting in shape (slowly), and my body will thank me for it later in life.

Talk to you later.

Day Three & The Fart Heard Round the World

Today a plane was grounded due to flatulence. Here’s a link to the story: http://www.tennessean.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061205/NEWS01/612050361. Apparently, a woman (yes, a woman) was passing gas on the plane, and, embarrassed that people might discover that she is the farter, began lighting matches to cover up the smell.

Now, I have been cracking rats for 31 years, and I don’t think I’ve ever lit a match to kill the smell. Does this even work? Hey, you know what works…not farting! Or Febreeze, but that might be a little too conspicuous for the average person.

When did gas, become taboo, anyway? It’s considered rude, but it’s a totally natural function. My wife thinks I should leave the room every time I fart, which is an increasingly unrealistic expectation as the years of marriage trudge on. Remember that moment, guys, when you were comfortable enough around a girl to fart. That’s like James Bond getting his license to kill.

This story naturally made me think of my dad. He was one of the world’s great farters; a real genius. Like a flatulence virtuoso, he would grab a wiggle his cheeks when he produced a particularly robust ass bomb. It was always funny to him. In fact, he had a wonderful sense of humor, but nothing made him laugh faster than a good fart.

He was an important man, by most accounts. When I attended high school, my father was an executive on Madison Avenue. He was a leader in his industry (high-end and designer office furniture). I knew him, however, as the guy who would have fart contests with me.

My dad would have taken particular glee in this news story. This was the type of absurd crap he liked. In most ways, he was a simple man, despite his intelligence and sensitivity. No need for sophistication or wit. A good fart story will do fine.

As I continue training for the marathon, I’m tending to think on my father more and more. I know it’s only day three, but the workouts are developing into a time of reflection and meditation. Sometimes the thoughts are melancholy. At other times, though, I’m reminded of something silly or ridiculous my father said or did.

That’s the good stuff. The good times we shared. The laughter stays with you for years and years.

Some day in the future, when the shadows on my own life have grown long, I’ll look forward to a time when I can meet my father again. I’ll embrace him, and we’ll laugh together for days of Earthly time. But it will only be moment in heaven.

Just a blink.

Day Two...

At official weigh-in today, I busted the scales at 232.2 lbs. No wonder my legs feel severely punished after my "run" from yesterday. Despite the pain, I stuck with the program and worked out during my lunch hour at work. This time, however, I ran a cross-training program for 30 minutes on the eliptical machine. The machine provides a truly low-impact workout and it gave my body a rest from itself.

Losing weight is the goal for this month. I beleive the long runs will be much easier in January if I can drop a significant amount of wieght.

Honestly, I'm surprised by the positive response from everyone I've told about this endeavor. Not a single person has discouraged me or told me that this goal is impossible. It really flabbergasts me. It's as if they see me and say, "so what if he's a big, fat guy. He can run 26.2 miles". The people I talk to seem more diluted than I am. I'm not complaining though. I need all the positive energy I can muster.

I try not to look at my odometer anymore. Everytime I clock mileage I cry a little inside. To put things in prespective, I drive 17 miles to work every day. That means I could run to work and I'd still have 9.2 miles to go.

A good friend of mine, whose husband runs marathons says its not the 26 miles that get you, its the .2 at the end. Well, right now the .2 at the beginning winds me and makes me feel physically ill. With preperation, though, I'm sure that will all change.

I'll talk to you tomorrow...

More Inspiration

"So where does the power come from to see the race to the end? From within."

Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire (1981)

Day One...

I glanced down at the ringing phone in my office to scan the caller ID. A 212 area code, it must be my sister. Quickly I snatched up the phone to catch up. Being 750 miles away from New Jersey, I try to create as much time as possible to connect with my family over the telephone. The conversation was fairly typical for my sister and I until she posed a fateful question.

"The New York marathon is running on Dad's birthday this year. Do you want to run it with me?"

What? I calmly explained to Kim that I can't run 100 yards without feeling faint and throwing up. Needless to say, I have let myself go a bit since high school. Now, at age 31, I am a portly 230+ lbs, hardly a long-distance runner.

In fact, I've always hated running. Even when I played soccer in high school we would run several miles for practice and found it brutal. Now my sister was asking my to run 26.2 miles with her to honor my father.

But it's more complicated than that, really. Dad is in the late stages of Alzheimer's disease. This run would be a testament to the power of the human spirit and a small sacrifice for a man that devoted his life to his family and children especially. Surely I could do this, if not for myself, than for him.

But doubts still lingered in my mind. Could I do it? Would I be committed enough to train sufficiently to perform such a grueling and demanding physical tasks. I needed a plan, if I was to do this. In all fairness Kim did not expect an answer right away.

"Think about it and let me know", she said calmly.

I immediately began researching running and racing. Specifically, I examined training programs and requirements. I finally found a program that fit my lifestyle and goals and the timeframe worked out perfectly. All the planets aligned and I decided to give this a go.

I called Kim the next day. "I'm in", I said immediately when she answered the phone, and thus began my commitment to completing this challenge.

This morning, Dec 4th, I started my training by running/walking for about 20-25 minutes. It was awful. The temperature outside peaked at around 20 degrees. I felt tight and tired. Every breath was cold and labored. I jogged and walked one mile in about 22 minutes. Pretty pathetic. But I've resigned that this is a long process. Slow and steady will win this race.

When I got home after my first workout I felt nauseated, which I expected. My legs burned and itched from the cold air. But after the ill effects wore off, I felt energized and ready for my day. "I can do this", I muttered to myself. Over and over again.

Day one is over.

Isaiah 40:31

But those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.