Should anyone check this page (which hasn't happened a whole lot)... I've moved my blog to wordpress.com.

To quote the great Biblo Baggins... "I regret to inform you that this is the END. I'm going now.  Goodbye"

bowsniper.wordpress.com

A coworker of mine has a phrase that I have adopted as one of my favorites... "Semper Gumby".  Latin (kind of) for "Always flexible".  I've always thought of myself as adaptive, not being set in my ways-- at least not set enough so that the disruption of those ways causes undue consternation.

I have always been good at adapting to any situation in order to get something done, and I've not noticed any change there.  I have, however, noticed a recent tendency to get flustered if one of my daily routines goes caddywonky on me.  This seems to be especially true about my morning routine, especially my morning workout.

This morning, I had already had a really bad day before 0600.  I woke up too early, even for me, and could not go back to sleep.  I found out that I had left a pen in the wash, ruining 2 good work shirts and 2 out of my three favorite soccer tshirts.  I fell behind in my schedule and had to rush to the gym.  And then, when I got to the gym I realized that I had forgotten to bring my mp3 player, my heart monitor watch/receiver's battery was dead, and I also forgotten the index card which has that day's workout info.  

For some reason, these last three things threw me for a loop.  I **did not** want to do my weight workout without my music, and it affected me so that I struggled with the workout much more than I should have.  I should not have been discombobulated so much by these relatively unimportant happenstances, but I was.

And so, I have to examine myself and wonder why-- am I getting more set in my ways as I age?  Have I become so schedule-oriented and organized that I cannot handle such minor glitches in my daily life?  Is the Curmudgeon in me just around the corner of life?

I am going to enroll in a Krav Maga course soon, and one of the things that one must do in combat or martial arts is to maintain a calm, capable demeanor, ready to scan, decide and adjust to whatever threat comes along. 

I guess I better start working on doing just exactly that in my personal life and its routines....

“When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes.”
Desiderius Erasmus

I love to buy books.  When my house finally sinks into the North Texas clay, it will be from the weight of books.  Were I win the lottery, a large portion of it would go toward building a library room and filling it...  Even when I finally get a Kindle, I will never completely divest myself of good old paper books.

In the original Star Trek series, I would be the curmudgeonly lawyer who defends James Kirk in "Court Martial".  The one who lovingly keeps books around even though the entire literary compilation of humankind is contained on one of those cheesy plastic "clipboards" the buxom blonde ensigns are always carrying :)

But what I don't like is to pay full price for a book.  Books have gotten outrageously expensive, unless they are basic trade paperbacks.  And if you need any kind of specialty book, you are going to pay out the nose....

Which means that one of my absolute favorite places in the entire universe is Half-Price Books.  I can spend hours there.   I especially like the clearance sections, where I might pick up 5 or 6 good books for 5 bucks.  The problem with Half-Price, though, is that you never know what you might find when you go there.  It is not a store conducive to the search for a particular book.

And, therefore, when it happens that way, it really is a joy for a bibliophile!

I recently posted that I have begun to have a renewed interest in writing poetry, but that I wanted to write old-fashioned metrical forms rather than the free verse that I learned growing up.  I have struggled, however, to gain some traction in this endeavor.  There is a great book that I wanted that would help me with the various forms, but it is more money than I wanted to spend.

And then I found, at Half-Price, not that book, but an even better book that provides very detailed instructions and guidance on writing poetic forms, helping with the complicated matter of meter, which is what I struggle with the most.  And so I ended up getting an even better book for about 1/4 of the price of the book I was originally seeking!

For someone who loves to find book bargains, it doesn't get much better than that!

Sometimes I wonder why I started so late to really get serious about fitness.   Wouldn't it have been better to become this dedicated to it at a time of my life when I would only need to ice my knees if there was actually an injury?  Now, at age 41, I ice them as a precaution!  :)

I am glad that we work in a world where our desks are contained within our cubicles and not open to the world.  That way, no one can see the legs of my jeans pulled up over my knee and the Ziplock bag of ice ace-bandaged to said knee.  Thus, I can suffer the ravages of middle-age in quiet privacy...

Today, I did roughly 1/3 of the distances I need to do to for a sprint triathlon, although I did it backwards LOL.   At my gym, it makes more logistical sense to do the treadmill and bicycle first, and then the swimming just prior to getting ready for work.  Still, I power-walked for a mile, biked for 4.5 miles, and then swam 300 meters.  Sometimes I catch myself thinking that it doesn't feel like I'm doing that much, but then I realized this morning that it was 1/3 of my triathlon, and I realized I am making progress.

Of course, I'd really rather run the mile on the treadmill, but I'm approaching that with caution to take care of those knees.. :(

I'm looking forward to advancing to the next stage of my fitness regimens.  It's time to kick it up a notch and really shed these pounds that have been holding me back!

Lately, I have gotten a serious bug to get back into writing poetry.  I was a fairly serious poet in high school (Thank you, Mr. Joseph Wilson, Creative Writing/Humanities teacher my senior year), and even served as the editor of the Senior poetry publication for my school. 

In the intervening years between those heady days and the encroachment of middle-age, however, the poems have been rather sparsely scattered.  The last poem of any real work and revision came at the time of my engagement to my beautiful wife-- I wrote a rather long ballad poem that for the proposal, and it ended up being set to music by her brother and sung at the reception.

With that exception and the occasional haiku jotted in the journal, one can pretty much sum up my life poetic as pathetic.

Time to change that.

As the Muse sticks her cattle prod into my hindquarters, though, there has been one rather interesting twist:  I matriculated into poetry in a world of free verse and blank verse... it is rather the dominant form over the last century.  It is certainly what I know the most, and is by far the most popular in the current day.

So, of course, what do I do?  I want to go back to some traditional forms.  Maybe it's the Tolkien lover in me... all of his 'rhyming' poetry embedded in his works.  Maybe it's the budding musician in me, desiring to write poetry within the constraints of rhyme, rhythm and meter, or maybe it's just me wanting to be different.   Any of the reasons works as far as I'm concerned.

There is one small problem, though... I'm not terribly versed on the canon of traditional forms other than the haiku, which we Westerners really only attempt facsimiles of anyway, since English is not Japanese.

So, as I endeavor to embark on this trek through Thumb-my-nose-at-the-rest-of-the-world-Land, I have hit the library and gathered a pile of books to learn about traditional forms.  I'm very excited about this process.  It's going to be fun.

But don't expect to see much of the efforts on this blog... I don't expect to make the results available to many besides myself.  At this stage in my life, doing this is for my soul and spirit, not for reading at poetry slams or cafes or attempts at publishing.

Some rebel, huh?  Go against the grain but never let anyone see the results!   LOL

Some random thoughts from the gym this morning:

• I get tickled at myself when I solve one of life's little riddles, especially if it's one that should not have been such a poser to my silly self.  At my gym, there is a steam room in the pool area.  There are glass windows, but you can't see through them into the room (wouldn't be much of steam room if you could).  Well, I have wondered many times why some people, prior to entering the steam room, go and get 2-3 of the foam kickboards from the pool area.  It's been something I've idly wondered many times, but never put much thought into-- and then the answer hit me this morning.. they are lying down on the boards in there and using the foam kickboards as a pillow.  DUH
• One of the great things about being someone who really doesn't care too terribly much about what everyone else thinks is that you can do things that might mortify more intrepid souls...and things that may have *never* been done before at a particular place!   This morning, I forgot to grab one of my magazines that I read while I work out on the treadmill and bicycle, so once I arrived, I grabbed my ASL textbook from the book bag.  I wonder if anyone has ever been seen before, at that particular gym in that particular city, signing to himself as he walked off the pounds  :)
• I had forgotten what fantastic exercise rowing is... I used to own a Concept 2 rowing machine, but sold it at one point because I needed the money back.  My gym has two of them though, and I've incorporated it back into my cardio routines.  It is an absolute beating.. 10 minutes of it, and I'm wiped out....
• Unlike some guys, I'm a big fan of the shower "skooshie" when using the liquid soap they provide.  Much better suds that way.  Which makes it irritating when said skooshie goes AWOL from the gym bag.  It's even more irritating when I discover later that I put the skooshie in the wrong pocket of the bag and it was there all along!
• I think I'm finally starting to turn the corner on the exercise thing again.  It's becoming habit.  I hope it stays that way... I like the way I feel in terms of energy and self-confidence when I workout on a regular basis!

This morning, as I was leaving my gym, I passed a lady who was on her way in, and was struck at how less-than-happy she looked.  She wasn't angry, or sad, or obviously rushed... she just wasn't smiling.  At that exact moment of time, she couldn't have been aware that I was observing her, so her look could not have been one of feminine defense against advancement.  She just looked... dour.

As I reflected on this, I thought back on all the people I had seen that morning, and even accounting for the effects that having to exercise might have had on one's countenance, I remembered frowns, and strained faces, and very little laughter and smiles.  As I broadened the sweep of my musings, I began to think about all the people that I encounter on a daily basis, and I wondered when I last met someone out in the daily world who walked in joy.

I could recall some at church, but even some people there seem to be infected... and I wonder at where we are-- as a people, as a country, and human brothers and sisters.

As a Christian, I know the source of true joy, and yet I often find myself struggling to laugh and enjoy this beautiful world around us.  I have been recently struggling with a very serious case of the down-in-the-dumps myself.

One would be tempted to place the blame squarely on the sagging shoulders of the economy, but I believe it goes deeper than that.  I certainly recall having noticed these same strains among people further back than the collapse of the US home market.  Regardless of the current fiscal state of the union, I have begun to think that we just simply don't take the time to relax, to share good time with people we love, and to fill our souls with the things that speak to our hearts and enrich us.

The other day, I had lunch at an out-of-the-way German restaurant, a wonderful little place that turned out to be a local foci for peoples of German origin here in the DFW area.  On their menu, they had a delightful little statement about their what they desired to bring out in their patron's lives.  It said, in effect, that if one was looking for a fast restaurant to get in and out of rapidly as possible, then they were not the place... but if you wanted to learn to slow down, and dine and converse with companions, then the true German spirit would be conveyed along with the meal.

It was a statement to take to heart, and I wish I had written it down.  (It would not be unusual for me to pull out my moleskine and do exactly that!)  As I rush from housework to yardwork to studying to violin practice to work to church to soccer... I, too, need to remember to slow down, and sit around the table of life with good friends, and some "Jäger Schnitzel mit Spätzle und gemischtem Salat", and stimulating conversation...  and allow these wonderful things to bring some balance back in my life.   May my fellow race-runners find such a respite too!

This past Saturday I participated in my first 5k.  The race was hosted in Plano, TX, by the Heroes for Children organization.  This wonderful cause was created by two ladies who lost kids to childhood cancers, and the organization provides assistance to families who are enduring similar troubles in their life.   I am very proud and honored to have run my first-ever 5k (and first ever athletic event of any kind) in support of this organization.

I did pretty good on the 5k, considering that I had never done one before and am nursing a balky knee.  I am not quite far enough along in my training regimen to run 3 miles yet, so I walked about half of it and ran what I could.  I did finish on a run, though, and logged a "chip time" of 40:41.   I'm quite pleased with that, as my only goals for this were to finish and attempt to finish in less than 45 minutes.  I was just below the average for runners in my age/gender division.  

Some random thoughts from the events of the day:

1.  I was saddened that my family was not able to attend the event and watch me run.  The vagaries of the fall soccer season for my boys prevented that... but I know my lovely wife and handsome boys were cheering me on in spirit.

2.  Some guys would scoff at this, but I could have sworn some moisture from Hurricane Ike got in my eyes during the pre-race ceremonies as we heard the tale of the founders' kiddoes that died from cancer, and were introduced to children who are currently fighting the greatest fight of their young lives.   Somehow the moisture got there about an hour before it started raining.  Go figure.

3.  A young man named Carson, who is battling cancer, has a LOT of people who love him.  They were all there, in powder-blue tshirts emlazoned with "Carson's Crusaders" on it.   I think I counted at least 30 or more.   My prayers are with that young man... he is looking great right now, and I hope that he continues to kick his adversary right in the teeth.

4.  I saw one of the Geico cavemen there.  I kid you not, there was one guy in the crowd with quite a beard and hairdo.....

5.  And then there was the guy in the kilt... and he ran the 5k.  I passed him at one point.  Fortunately, the tropical storm winds had not arrived yet... I had no desire to see how authentic his mode of dress was.....

6.  In mile 3 of the run, I figured out that I was a "pacer".  I powerwalked most of the third mile before running the final 1/8 or so to the finish.  However, when I powerwalk, I am really booking it.  Consequently, I would pass people all the time who had dropped to a walk as well.  I would get a ways ahead of them and then they would run again, just a little bit past me, then drop to a walk again... and I would pass them again in short order.    I began to get the sense that they would say  "Hey!  the fat guy is passing me again... I gotta run!"  :-)

7.  Doing athletic things makes you appreciate food afterwards.   The body has a sense that you've earned it to some degree.   A sausage biscuit with egg NEVER tasted so good as it did Saturday morning.

8.  Finally.... my feelings about my first 5k are in no way reflected by my spot in the final rankings.  I knew I was not ready to 'compete' in any fashion.   But this 5k is the first milestone that I can point to in my quest to live a more active, healthy life.  I entered a running competition and I finished, and finished on my terms with a good run.  It is something that I am extremely proud for having done, and I can't wait to do another one.... and to someday do one after having climbed off my bike, 2/3 of the way through a triathlon!

But the swimming is finally getting better!  I finally have figured out how all the parts work, and now I'm swimming pretty consistently.  There is still a lot of refining to do, and I keep a constant eye on my mechanics, but now the basic stroke is built, and I'm toodling down the pool in good fashion.

The key was the breathing.  I finally settled on a "2" breathing pattern.  (Breathing on the same side, every time that arm comes up out of the water over your head).   The trick to it was learning to take smaller breaths, rather than gulping a big lungful, which is what I was doing before.  This didn't work because I didn't have time to exhale it before it was time to breathe again, and you need to have it timed where you have exhaled it all through your nose and are ready to inhale as soon as your head comes out of the water.  Once I learned to "half-breathe", it all started to fall into place.

I'm no speed demon, but I was surprised at how quickly I can get down the pool now that I have the basic stroke down.  Feels pretty good, actually.  Now, I can really start to train for this portion of the triathlon, working on refining the mechanics and stretching my endurance.  

I still have a long way to go, but now I can really get started on the journey.

Yesterday, I watched with pride as my son Matthew finally got to experience a day he has anticipated for the better part of three years.  In the second half of his first soccer game of the season, my son pulled on a keeper's jersey, put on his gloves, and played his first game as a goalkeeper.

As I said earlier, he has wanted this for years.  He fell in love with the defensive aspects of soccer as soon as he was old enough to appreciate the game.  However, the recreational soccer organization in our city does not use GK's until the boys reach the U9 stage.  For awhile now, my son has played sweeper, and has been the last line of defense for his team despite the fact that he could not use his hands.    In the last couple of years, the team has played on a much larger field, with a 6'x12' goal... and no keeper.  We have seen **a lot*** of goals scored from the midline or worse.

And so, I've watched him as he tried to defend this huge goal without being able to use his hands.

That changed yesterday, and it was a joy to see one of my sons get to fulfill a dream.  Granted, he's young, and it's not quite the equivalent of starting in goal for ManU, but it's still his dream.. and he had waited almost half his lifetime to see it realized.

In order to make his debut the best we could for him, we sent him to a top-notch goalkeeping camp this summer, and have arranged for him to get keeper training from specialized coaches throughout the season.  He threw himself into the training with gusto, and it showed as he stepped into his goal.   He walked like a keeper, stalked like a keeper, and played like a keeper.  He had just a touch of that attitude-- "this is MY goal, and you stay out".

And he played very well in his debut.  He allowed three goals, but saved many more, proving to be quite fearless the whole time.  After only one game, his teammates dubbed him "Brick Wall".  Even the opposing coach, whose team is one of the best in the whole association, took time in the congratulatory handshake line to compliment him on his play.

Needless to say, I was brimming with pride.  But even more than pride... I was filled with satisfaction.  Pride comes hand-in-hand with the dangerous train of thought that I am watching, in my son, the future keeper for the US national team, or maybe Chelsea or Real Madrid, etc, etc.

But the satisfaction was for him, and the joy I could tell that he was feeling.  My son realized a dream yesterday, and it was everything he had ever hoped it would be, and he had fun doing it... and it showed.

It doesn't get much better than that for a Dad!

About a month ago, I decided that just losing weight and getting into better shape was no longer good enough.   In a moment of contemplation and thinking about my personal goals and life-dreams, I had a temporary lapse of sanity and decided that I was going to train for a...... triathlon.

Yes, you read right.  A triathlon.

Now, before you go off looking for a burial plot for me, understand that I have no pretensions about doing an "Ironman".  That is the one that most people think of when they think "triathlon".   2.25 mile swim, 113 mile bike ride, and 26 mile marathon.

I don't think so, scooter.

Nope, I'm shooting for a "sprint" triathlon, something a little more in the realm of us mere mortals.  1/2 mile swim, 13 mile bike ride, 3 mile run.  Much more doable.  Really.  Surely.   Just...... too bad the swimming comes first!   Ah, swimming- that glorious realm of the "I could swim to save my life if I needed to, but I don't really want to admit that if I fell off a boat, I would probably freak and drown in plain site of the life ring floating next to my head"

The swimming is the only portion of the triathlon that gives me the sweats.  The portion that sometimes makes me think-- "what on earth am I doing?!?"   I can ride a bicycle.  I may come in last over 13 miles, but I know how to ride a bike.  I can run... and if I'm tired, I can walk.  Been doing that for 38-some odd years or so.  But swimming-- ah, therein lies the rub.

And so... now I'm training to be a competitive swimmer.  Now I need to get ready for an 800m swim.  That's 8 laps in an Olympic-length pool.   16 laps at the pool in the 24-hour Fitness gym I frequent.  And I have found out that competitive swimming is HARD.  15 minutes in the pool is far more exhausting than 45 on the treadmill.  Hands down.

My coach (my beautiful wife, a former Water Safety Instructor), is teaching me, helping me develop a better crawl technique.   My previous crawl (read:  flopping thrash) would be the equivalent of a Picasso... all the parts are in unexpected places.  So now, I'm trying to work on bettering 15 million parts of a swimming crawl stroke, and put them all together sometime soon enough to actually start swimming using this new-fangled crawl and build up my endurance for the triathlon.  Somewhat like this:

1. Head down
2. Left arm back, elbow tight to the body, rotating the upper torso.
3. Left elbow out of water, bent above line of spine and head.
4. Left arm enters the water, hand at an angle, directly on the centerline of my spine just in front of my head
5. Left hand turns slightly, catches the water, as I pull back.
6. Meanwhile, the right arm is already pulling back, elbow in, ready to come out of the water.
7. Oh yeah... I'm supposed to be kicking.  Divert mental resources to the legs, ah, there they go... they are moving again, participating in this madness rather than acting as a sea anchor
8. Right arm forward, centerline, catch....
9. Left arm back, elbow in, up, centerline, catch....
10. Right arm forward, centerline, catch....
11. Still kicking?  Yes, good!  I'm forgetting something... what the heck is it?  Oh yeah... I NEED TO BREATHE!
12. Ship a mouth full of water and stop the lap, gasping.....

Happens all too often, unfortunately....

sigh

I'll get there.  I've given myself a lot of time to do this, and I've got determination like you wouldn't believe.   This triathlon goal means a lot to me, maybe more than any goal I've ever set for myself.   And, if nothing else, I have a new found respect-- above and beyond what I already possessed-- for the men, women, boys, and girls who do this *swimming* thing for competition.

I may not be Michael Phelps, but suddenly he seems even a little bit more like a Swimming Superman.

This past Saturday, my family and I went to Six Flags over Texas in Arlington.   Yes, for those of you familiar with an August day in Texas... we are insane.   Actually, the reality is that we try to live within our means, and we had some free tickets.   Normally, Six Flags is a significant expenditure for us, as a family of five.   Two of our boys are already over the 48" line, even though they are only 8 and 7, so they are full price.  If we just drove up to the park, and walked up to pay.... it would cost us about $250 US just to get in!   

However, on this day we had 3 free tickets thanks to their summer reading program, and we had to use them by August 9th.  So here we are on 9 August (naturally), getting our trip to Six Flags in before the tickets expired.   In 100 degree heat.  In August.  And the place is packed.   So what are the lessons from Six Flags?

First, all of this hard work I've been doing to lose weight and get in shape is paying off dividends when I least expect it.  Had I done this exact same outing last summer, I would have bonked by mid-afternoon, and would have been suffering.  I probably would not have left, so that my kids could continue to enjoy it, but I would have been miserable.

And I was not.  I did not hit my wall until after 9:00 PM, as we were wrapping up and heading home.   That was such a blessing to have the energy and stamina to enjoy this day with my family, no matter what the temperature.  On a further note... we were going out to our car to have our picnic lunch, and my wife and kids were sagging a little from hunger, so I offered to double-time it back to the car and have all the sandwiches and drinks ready when they got there.   My wife eagerly agreed  (of course!), and so I power-walked to the far end of the parking lot in the hottest part of the day, threw all the stuff from the Jeep into the shady tree area, and started making sandwiches.  As I sat there... I realized I wasn't even winded... and that felt really good :-)

On a totally different note.. I really want to know where my 8-yr old got his daredevil gene.  He just loves any activity that is dangerous... rock-climbing, roller coasters, you name it.. he wants to try it.

So what's the problem?   Well, Daddy is not really a roller coaster guy.  :-|  Never have been.  It's just not my thing.   As it turns out, one of the few top-notch roller coasters that Matthew can ride at Six Flags is.... the Texas Giant.   Yes, he's too short for the Titan and the Batman and the Mr. Freeze, etc.  But he's tall enough for the Texas Giant.

And of course... he wants to ride it.  You can tell it's the highlight of his day at Six Flags.   Mommy has ridden it before and refuses to do so again.  He's too young to stand in line and ride it by himself.  And he's looking at me with those big brown eyes, and paternal pride is on the line.

All I can say is... thank goodness for martial-arts-style mental focusing techniques.  Whoever designed that roller coaster needs to be institutionalized.  Or tarred and feathered, then deported.  Excommunicated.   Something.   Because he is one sick, sadistic, warped person  :-D

But I did it.  I guess that makes me a hero in Matthew's eyes, at least for one day.  I could see it, and he was so happy that he got to ride it.  The things we fathers do for our children!

Random thoughts for the day:
1.  Watching Olympics until after midnight combined with getting up at 0445 to go to the gym combined with being 40 years old?  That's some bad juju, very bad juju.
2.  I have my permanent call sign from the FCC now!  My amateur radio operating license is KA5RWW.  Now I just need to scrape up enough money for a radio :(
3.  Went to put my sunglasses up in the holder in the van this morning, and they came apart in my hands.  Somehow the frame broke right above the bridge.  Bummer.   I only wear cheap sunglasses (I am too rough on them), but I had really liked this pair, and they had lasted 6 months or so.  Oh well.

Last night I did one of my favorite activities as a father.  I got home from work, and sat down in my recliner with my canvas library bag.  My boys came running up, full of excitement, as I began to dole out the books and audio book cd's they had 'ordered' with me a few nights before.    Daddy had helped them search for books they wanted, and we put them on hold.   They were so excited to get their books... within minutes they were curled up on the couch or some other place to sit, reading their books.

My wife and I must be doing at least one thing right.  I'm raising a passel of boys who are readers in a non-reading age.  Rene Descartes once said "Reading good books is like having a conversation with the most distinguished men of past ages".    Literature is a powerful thread that bonds humans throughout the centuries.  It is a unique gift from our Father creator, with the greatest example of literature provided by Him.

I despair at times to see how reading is being put aside by so many in this day and age.  Despite being a technologically savvy person myself, I believe that the reading of good books and literature teaches us things in a much deeper way than video bites or interactive learning systems.  It is the way we are wired-- if do the hard work (yes, it is often hard work to read something substantial), it will enrich you like no other form of learning.

There was once an episode of the original Star Trek, where a lawyer who is defending James Kirk against a murder charge is shown to be one of the few remaining people who still likes books... their feel, their look, and most importantly, their contents.   If I were a Star Trek character...that would probably be me :)

Is the world headed down a path where future generations will not be readers of anything deeper than a milk saucer?  I don't know.  What I do know is, that like many aspects of life, the most direct impact I can have is on my oikos, my immediate area of influence.

And in that area, there are 3 little boys who rush up to Daddy to get their books from the library.  At that moment, all is right with the world.

Random thoughts:
1.  Gentlemen:  when you have a beautiful wife to whom you are unfailingly faithful, and you do enough for her to keep her happy and keep her emotional tank full.... and she has the sort of personality where she will then take care of your needs.... it doesn't get much better than that.  Seriously.  Free lesson for the day.
2.  I just can't seem to learn.    My personal trainer:  "We're done for today, unless you think you can do a third set"   Me:  "Sure, I could do a third set".    Stupid, stupid, stupid
3.  Today, I found one benefit of being 40...  turns out my personal trainer should have been using a different chart for my body fat calculations since I was so close to (and just turned now) 40.  So, this morning I magically lost another 2% just like that.   That was cool!

In order for this post to make any sense, you must understand one thing... I am the world's hottest-natured person.  I can't stand heat.  It drives me up the wall, makes me buggy... just ask my family.  When the temperatures climb into the triple digits here in Texas, I just come home from work, take a cold shower, and hide in the dark bedroom in front of a roaring fan for the entire evening.   I don't do heat.

So, we're in the middle of this heat wave in Texas-- one that has me, once again, contemplating moving to another part of the US.  It's been 11 straight days of over 100 degree temps.  We canceled a trip to Six Flags last weekend because the high was supposed to be 107 degrees, with a heat index of 112!

And what am I wearing in my cubicle at work?   A HOODIE!  They have the air conditioning running so high in this portion of the building that we are all just freezing!   I work in a large room that was made of out converted cubicle space.  In other words, this area was not originally designed as an enclosed room, and the A/C has never been "redesigned" for the change.   So, in order to make it remotely hospitable for other cubicle denizens, some of whom are yards and yards and yards (meters and meters and meters) away.... our room is turned into a reefer, a meat locker, a WALK-IN REFRIGERATOR.

It's surreal.  I am normally the last person to complain about a nice, cool room, but this is too much.  It's 102 degrees outside right now, and I'm drinking hot tea and shivering in my light wool hoodie.  And, in a little over 3 hours, I will walk out into an absolute oven to climb in my overbaked coche, to drive home in heat so oppressive that it starts to put me to sleep during the drive..

I tell ya... a guy can't win for losing.   Oh, to have a sailboat and go cruising with my beautiful wife, leaving work and cares behind...... someday!

Helpful hint to every Net denizen who happens upon this...... I have decided that it is not entirely sane to tell one's personal trainer the following: "I seem to have hit a plateau". I personally think that mine decided that "oh you have, have you? We'll just see about that!".

Ergo, I struggle to walk this fine day. Brother. I want to go lie down and sleep for a couple of hours.

My personal trainer is just a little sprite of a thing. Nice as can be. And mean as all-git-out on the inside.  I told her today I was going to pop her with my towel!

Seriously, I was in need of the next level of workouts.  As I continue to train and better my temple, it has been really helpful to have a professional show me the way.  The hard work, the determination to get up at 0430 every morning, and the endurance to keep going and not slack off as I have so many times.... those come from me and me alone.   But my trainer helps me by showing me how to exercise so that my physique is well-rounded and I minimize the chance for injury.

If you are trying to make a change like this in your life, and you have the means, I highly recommend that you contract with a trainer to show you the way.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, I got inspired by a one-armed Mt. Everest climber... and for my own personal quest, my trainer is my 'sherpa'.


Random thoughts for today:
1.  Pudge Rodriguez is a Yankee now.  Yuck.  I hate the Yankees.  I like Rodriguez.  Why do so many ex-Rangers go on to great things in their careers, whilst the home team still struggles to figure out that pitching is a crucial element in winning baseball?!?
2.  Did you know that an MRI of the knee looks a lot like a pork chop?

Today I did something that any reasonable person would consider benign and innocuous.  I switched my "home library"!   Allow me to explain:  I am a frequent patron of the one of the local library systems, and as one might easily guess, I use their internet-based features quite frequently.    The internet tools they provide allow me the ability to manage the items I have checked out, search for new items, and have them placed on hold under my name.   Then I simply walk in to the "holds" area, which is conveniently located near the front, pull my items, and I'm checked out in minutes.

Part of the process requires you to select a "home library"  It;s the branch where all your holds will be sent for pickup.  For the last 2-3 years, I have been "homed" out of one particular branch that is located along a major freeway of my commute.  Now that I work at a different place, and I recently decided not to use that freeway anymore to avoid the toll fees, I decided that another branch of the library would be slightly more convenient... so today I asked a librarian to change my "home library".

Benign and innocuous.  One could hardly think of something more definitive of those terms.  The phrase "no big deal" comes to mind.

So, why did a feel a small twinge of guilt as I made this change?  Make no mistake, it was by no means a crippling sense of guilt, but an honest self-examination proved it to be extant nonetheless.    Granted, we are creatures of habit, and I had been patronizing this one particular branch for several years.. sometimes stopping by multiple times per week on the way home.   I recognized most of the library staff, and I like to think that some of them knew me as well-- especially after waltzing into the library in my full motorcycle gear a few times!

I've never lived in a real urban environment, but I imagine that the change I made today would be like changing hot dog vendors or newsstands in New York or D.C.  In my own little way, I had built a brand loyalty with this particular branch and some of its librarians, and I felt a little guilty abandoning them on the altar of convenience (or to the extortion of $4.00 gasoline!)

In the grand scheme of things, this was certainly nothing to get one's knickers in a knot over... but I was fascinated that such a simple thing could cause such feelings.   The human psyche is a wonderfully complicated and mysterious thing....

As I returned from lunch today, I looked up while riding the elevator and noticed a perfect handprint on the stainless steel just above the inside of the elevator door.  It was so clear I could almost make out the whorls in the fingerprints. 

To working out. I've been going to the gym every day now for weeks. 3 days of weight training and 4 days of core strengthening exercises and cardio work.

At the end of last year, my previous employer brought in a motivational speaker at a company meeting. The speaker's name was Gary Guller, the only one-armed man to ever climb Mt. Everest all the way to the North Summit. After listening to Gary speak, I did some research on climbing Mt. Everest, and got a better grasp of the unique challenges he faced (namely: the Hillary Step), and the thought struck me that I had no more excuses for my overweight, out-of-shape physical condition.

You can find out more about Gary and Team Everest here:  Gary Guller  and Team Everest '03

For those of you who recognize the significance of the "title" of this LJ page... this post falls under that category.

In fact, many of the posts in this blog will probably have some tie-in the quote that is attributed to Einstein (but not confirmed as his!).. which is one of the reasons I chose it as a title.  :D    (I wanted to use the "people are like slinkys" one... but decided against it.)

Anyhoo, what is it about some business owners that just don't get it?  The other day I was getting a quote from a maid service for a one-time cleaning of our house.  I wanted to surprise my wife by having some of the more cleaning-intensive areas of the house done by a pro while my wife was away at a church retreat.

So, with coupon in hand, I contact the company, and begin discussions.  Finally, at some point, I am told that my little town is not in their cleaning area, and they probably won't be able to help me.   Now understand, they do service the town just south of mine... only 7 miles from my house to Main street in that town.

7 miles.   Even my gas-guzzling SUV will do that on less than a half-gallon of gas  (at current local prices... call it $1.50).    Heck, they can get from any point in the next town to my house on less than 1 gallon.   So I told the lady I'd be willing to pay $5 or so for that extra gallon of gas.  Seemed reasonable to me.    Since the only difference between my house and one in the serviced town was about one gallon of gas and 5 minutes or so of driving, I figured we could wrangle a deal.

Boy, was I mistaken.  The lady told me she'd have to talk to the owner, and call me back the next day.  Call me back she did, and told me that they would only come to my house if I bought a cleaning package over twice as expensive as what I was planning.  That was the only way they could "justify" the extra distance!

Justify?   I was willing to assuage their increased cost directly, and they want to dig me for $70 more just to come 7 miles?

That business person threw away perfectly good money.  It made absolutely no business sense to refuse my business when I was offering to offset the only business cost that differentiated me from a customer who would have been able to acquire their services based on their more southerly location.

Sometimes you gotta wonder about the Universe.

Hello everyone!   Welcome to my page, although there won't be much for most of you to see-- and I felt like I ought to explain that a bit.

I am by nature a very private person.  Ergo, posting my journal entries online for anyone to read would be somewhat equivalent to having my toenails ripped out by razor-toothed MC Escher worm/caterpillars while being subjected to the Muzak version of  "It's a small world after all"

In other words... it ain't happening.  My posts, be they random rants or my more deliberative writing attempts, will be marked as "Friends only", or "Me only"... almost without exception.

Therefore, if you happen to be someone who wanders through the lovely neighborhood of LiveJournal, browsing the windows of the various shops whilst imaging you're Harry Potter gazing in awe at Diagon Alley.... to you I offer my sincerest apologies for the magical wards placed on the entrance to this shop.    (They were placed with the help of a beautiful Aes Sedai, one that I actually happen to trust).   You can trust that I am pottering around in here, looking at the dusty shelves and numerous books, filling a pipe with sweet smelling tobacco that is never and will never be lit... and occasionally picking up a quill and writing a few words 'concerning Hobbits'.

I do hope you will understand.   I wish you a happy journey on this 'Net and that dangerous, scary place called The Real World.

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."