It's been a weird two days, with another two weird ones to follow. The Congress of the Humanities is happening in St. Catherines, and has been since last Friday. For those not in the know, Congress is basically the Woodstock of Canadian Humanities academics; all the associations that aren't quite big enough to hold regular meetings of their own hold their annual conferences during the same week span, and this year, St. Catherines gets to be the lucky host. This year, I'm delivering a a 10 minute work-in-progress paper for the Canadian Game Studies Association, which runs from the 28th to the 29th. My presentation is 9 am Wednesday morning. The downside is that my ride to St Catherines is picking me up at 6:50 am to make the drive there in time; the upside is, with the presentation happening so early in the conference, I'll be able to relax for the rest of the two days. Last year, the only major conference I went to put my presentation at the very last panel of the day, and it was both nerve-wracking, as it was looming over me the entire conference, and depressing, as most people had gone home, and I think there was a grand total of four people in the audience. The stars willing, this presentation will be different. Further, I'm giving a 10 minute presentation, which is a very odd thing. Five minutes is enough time to read your abstract out loud and sit down; fifteen minutes is time for a rushed argument, but ten minutes is a bizarre limbo. Still, I'm third on a panel of five, so even if it's a horrible mess, I'll at least be able to fade into the woodwork.
All of which is to explain why my next two days will be weird. Yesterday was weird because it was so productive; I finished my lesson plan for today's course in record time, and finished the CGSA paper, also in record time. (Of course, the works cited and slideshow took hours, as they always do; videogame screenshots can be persnickety things.) And then I went for a nice run. And I mean a really nice run. Two weeks ago, against my better judgment, I downloaded a running app called RunKeeper for my phone. It monitors your distance, speed, and so forth. I set it to a weight-losing routine, and it's been giving me exercises every other day. I've always resisted following an exact program for exercise; it seems like it takes all the spontaneity and fun out of it. But... well, it's already paid off. Following the program, I've increased my speed slowly, and built up some endurance. Yesterday showed me how much; for the first time, the program made me do a half hour of speed intervals, and it went fine. Wound up with a 32-minute five k run. It's not a particularly good speed, and nowhere near what I was doing when I was in peak shape. But when you factor in that I was averaging a 37-minute five k when I started using Run Keeper, it's an impressive improvement. And I felt really good after finishing. Darn you for making me like you, Run Keeper!
Today, on the other hand, has suuuucked. First, I forgot to set my alarm, so instead of waking up at 8, I woke at noon. NOON. This does not bode well for a good night's sleep before my presentation tomorrow. Then I get to campus, and dig through my office for a game case I need to finish the slideshow side of the presentation. Of course, it's at the very bottom of a stack of game cases (I keep the cases in my office and the actual games at home; never mind why), which is behind two other stacks that need to be moved first. And while I'm under my desk--because the stacking is so tight it's easier to go under the desk than move it all--my pants tear a hole in the side. My new pants. It's a combination of the fact that I caught on something while I'm down there, the fact that, well, there's a reason I'm doing a weight loss running program, and the fact that, surprise, cheap pants ordered online from Sears are probably cheap for a reason. Now, normally, I'd just suck it up and go home late at night where people spotting my new ventilation system would be at a minimum, but I teach today, so that's not an option. So I hop on a bus back home, change into a spare pair of pants (the pants I was planning to wear to the conference tomorrow--but what are the odds something will happen to them between now and then, he said, daring the gods' wrath), and ride another bus back to school. Ick. Luckily, it's a night class, so I still have four hours to race through all the other things I wanted to do today. Just as long as, you know, nothing else goes bizarrely wrong.
Later Days.
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Friday, May 24, 2013
Stuff What Happened to Me
Today it's a 10:30 pm post, rather than 11:30, so... that's something, I guess.
One the problems with keeping a blog for five years is that, eventually, the story well gets a little dry. Especially if you're like me, and specialize more in watching other people's stories than making your own. What I'm saying is that I don't have a lot to talk about today. Hmmm....
I went to a department meeting, but I can't talk about that, for confidentiality and professional reasons.
I ate two peanut butter muffins, which is a pinnacle of gluttony and perfection, but there's not a lot else to be said about that. I had a stomach ache later, which was probably well-deserved.
I tried out a new pedometer app on my phone. I've tried out pedometer devices before, but I've always found them disappointing, largely because the distance it says I've traveled is invariably less than the distance Google maps said I traveled, and the resulting mental downgrading is devastating to my running ego. This one worked well enough, in that it was actually spurring me on rather than depressing me. I really wanted to do a run that it said was 5 km, rather than the run Google routing had set out. Sadly, I kept checking my progress, rather than locking the phone. That meant I kept accidentally touching the phone screen with my side as my arms moved up and down, which in turn meant that I hit *just* the right combination to reset my stats 40 minutes into the run. Kind of frustrating. Plus, I've misplaced my headphones (they're in my office, I think?) so it was just me lugging around a paperweight for the whole time.
I like watching videos from my computer on my PS3. Previously, I was using Windows Media Player, which had the sole advantage that it was already installed in my computer. The disadvantages were that it was a pain to get any new files synced up with both the player and the PS3, and that only avi files were automatically picked up--I had to do a cheat to get mp4 files working, and forget about mkv. Now, I've got TVersity, which syncs up much faster, is much easier to add new folders, can apparently stream Internet videos directly, and can play all three file types. So yeah, pretty much a big improvement all around. And I put off installing it for the longest time because I didn't want the hassle of learning to use a new program. There's a moral in there.
Got a little more fodder out of today than I thought I would. That's nice.
Later Days.
One the problems with keeping a blog for five years is that, eventually, the story well gets a little dry. Especially if you're like me, and specialize more in watching other people's stories than making your own. What I'm saying is that I don't have a lot to talk about today. Hmmm....
I went to a department meeting, but I can't talk about that, for confidentiality and professional reasons.
I ate two peanut butter muffins, which is a pinnacle of gluttony and perfection, but there's not a lot else to be said about that. I had a stomach ache later, which was probably well-deserved.
I tried out a new pedometer app on my phone. I've tried out pedometer devices before, but I've always found them disappointing, largely because the distance it says I've traveled is invariably less than the distance Google maps said I traveled, and the resulting mental downgrading is devastating to my running ego. This one worked well enough, in that it was actually spurring me on rather than depressing me. I really wanted to do a run that it said was 5 km, rather than the run Google routing had set out. Sadly, I kept checking my progress, rather than locking the phone. That meant I kept accidentally touching the phone screen with my side as my arms moved up and down, which in turn meant that I hit *just* the right combination to reset my stats 40 minutes into the run. Kind of frustrating. Plus, I've misplaced my headphones (they're in my office, I think?) so it was just me lugging around a paperweight for the whole time.
I like watching videos from my computer on my PS3. Previously, I was using Windows Media Player, which had the sole advantage that it was already installed in my computer. The disadvantages were that it was a pain to get any new files synced up with both the player and the PS3, and that only avi files were automatically picked up--I had to do a cheat to get mp4 files working, and forget about mkv. Now, I've got TVersity, which syncs up much faster, is much easier to add new folders, can apparently stream Internet videos directly, and can play all three file types. So yeah, pretty much a big improvement all around. And I put off installing it for the longest time because I didn't want the hassle of learning to use a new program. There's a moral in there.
Got a little more fodder out of today than I thought I would. That's nice.
Later Days.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Note to self: Remember this, dummy.
I know this is a topic I come back to on a vaguely regular basis, but that's because it's something I do on a vaguely regular basis. I just came back from 10 k run, and I feel utterly relaxed. And that's something worth remembering about running, for me: it's good for me, mentally and physically. Granted, I've become a very picky runner. Not in terms of clothes or footware, but conditions. Raining? Gonna be a bad run. In the morning before my ablutions? Gonna be a bad run. (Also, my feet will start cramping, because that's what my body does in the morning.) Too hot? Bad run. Too much going on? Bad run. But when the stars align... it's great. Simply great.
Later Days.
Later Days.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Thanks from an Asshole
God, that was a good run. Why?
Long version: I went on today's run with a chip on my shoulder. I was carrying the emotional debris of yesterday's post, to begin with. I'd thought the Juul reading would take an hour or so to finish, and it took four hours. Five, counting that blogpost. Which meant I got home at 2:30 am. Which meant I got six hours of sleep. Today was also the first day where it's clear the snow is around to stay, and that's a mood-setter, if you let it be. Then I spent a good portion of today running around trying to track down a laptop for my students (although the downtime downtown was really nice, mostly thanks to good company). Back on campus, I felt inundated with minutiae (It's my blog and I'll use fancy vocabulary if I want): I had to drop off the laptop, get the key from the mailroom, carry a package from the mail room to my office, return a recalled book to the library, go up to the 10th floor to get a book on the rhetoric of instruction manuals (gonna bet they weren't thinking of game manuals), remember that I still had the mailroom key, return the mailroom key, and run at top speed to reach a bus that was pulling away. So I finally get home at around 5, which means the sun is setting. It's at that point I realize that I've lost my debit card, so I have to go the local grocery store and wait around until the floor manager's free so I can reclaim it. I get home, get ready for the run, and it's 5:30, which means the sun has already set.
And thus, I was in a bad mood for my run.
And because of the mood I was in, I wasn't taking the precautions I should have been. I was in a "cars make way for pedestrians, dammit" sort of mood. That misguided view came to a head when I came to a certain corner. There was a main road going east-west, and a road that joined it going south; the only traffic guiding element was a stop sign on the south road. So I'm running east across this walk while a car going west is turning left. I have to jump to avoid being hit, and it honks at me. At which I, being rather annoyed already yell, "IT'S A CROSSWALK!". The rejoinder came in that special tone that only a young male can properly affect: "GET THE FUCK OFF THE ROAD ASSHOLE!".
I'm pretty sure that a pedestrian crossing at a marked pedestrian crosswalk has the right of way in this situation, but that's not the point; if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own gloom at that point, I probably wouldn't have been in situation to begin with. My anger was endangering me, and I needed to calm down. And thus I did. I took some deep breaths, and ran on, sans iPod and music, just me and cold weather clothing, moving in the night. And once i settled into that groove, it struck me that this was all very familiar.
Those with particularly good memories may recall that I've previously said that I started running in order to impress a girl. Though that's a gross oversimplification, it still has an element of truth. I started running way back in the summer of 2004 for that reason. But what kept me running over these next seven years wasn't misplaced masculine pride. Rather, it was night jogs in the crisp, often cold night air of the late fall and early winter.
At that point in my life, most of my self-esteem was tied into my intellectual endeavors, and for some good reasons. Unfortunately, one of those reasons was that I really, really disliked my body. I was short, short-sighted, kinda chubby, and, though this was long before the asthma days, not exactly in good health. My body was just clumsy, accident-prone, and all around faulty. What was there to be proud of? But when I started running, that changed. Sure, I was still awkward and uncoordinated, but by God, at least I had endurance, and I could continue performing awkwardly long after those smooth-functioning pretty boys had to sit down for a breather.
But while I was appreciating the effects of my running, it wasn't until that fall that I started to appreciate the running itself. I was feeling a lot of pressure from school at the time--the double major was a tough mistress to please. And I was doing marking for the Math department, which meant a pretty heavy workload some nights. Running wasn't an escape, but it was a release. There's a tranquility to a good run that sets in after a kilometer or two. It's a simple satisfaction, but a true one. It's being content in the knowledge that the whole mind/body/meat/whatever assemblage is working together to forge its way through and in the environment around it. When I'm running like that, I'm at peace with myself in a way that's a little different from anything else in my life.
And I'd forgotten that, recently. Partly because I've gotten too used to jogging with the iPod, which, love it though I do, is undeniably a distraction. And partly because I've been doing nothing but day runs, where you have to be more concerned about the fellow pedestrians you're sharing elbow room with. But mostly because I've let the running slide. Once a week, twice a week, maybe skip a week, if sometimes. I've got a lot of things to do, after all, and running's not important. But what I reminded myself today is that it is important. It's important to me, both in terms of who I want to be, and what it does for me on a day-to-day basis.
Or, to put it another way, here's the short version of why that was a good run:
It reminded me who I am. I'm a mother-fucking runner, man.
(Knock on wood, but this would be a good time to start a betting pool for how long until I have my next running-related leg injury.)
Later Days.
Long version: I went on today's run with a chip on my shoulder. I was carrying the emotional debris of yesterday's post, to begin with. I'd thought the Juul reading would take an hour or so to finish, and it took four hours. Five, counting that blogpost. Which meant I got home at 2:30 am. Which meant I got six hours of sleep. Today was also the first day where it's clear the snow is around to stay, and that's a mood-setter, if you let it be. Then I spent a good portion of today running around trying to track down a laptop for my students (although the downtime downtown was really nice, mostly thanks to good company). Back on campus, I felt inundated with minutiae (It's my blog and I'll use fancy vocabulary if I want): I had to drop off the laptop, get the key from the mailroom, carry a package from the mail room to my office, return a recalled book to the library, go up to the 10th floor to get a book on the rhetoric of instruction manuals (gonna bet they weren't thinking of game manuals), remember that I still had the mailroom key, return the mailroom key, and run at top speed to reach a bus that was pulling away. So I finally get home at around 5, which means the sun is setting. It's at that point I realize that I've lost my debit card, so I have to go the local grocery store and wait around until the floor manager's free so I can reclaim it. I get home, get ready for the run, and it's 5:30, which means the sun has already set.
And thus, I was in a bad mood for my run.
And because of the mood I was in, I wasn't taking the precautions I should have been. I was in a "cars make way for pedestrians, dammit" sort of mood. That misguided view came to a head when I came to a certain corner. There was a main road going east-west, and a road that joined it going south; the only traffic guiding element was a stop sign on the south road. So I'm running east across this walk while a car going west is turning left. I have to jump to avoid being hit, and it honks at me. At which I, being rather annoyed already yell, "IT'S A CROSSWALK!". The rejoinder came in that special tone that only a young male can properly affect: "GET THE FUCK OFF THE ROAD ASSHOLE!".
I'm pretty sure that a pedestrian crossing at a marked pedestrian crosswalk has the right of way in this situation, but that's not the point; if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own gloom at that point, I probably wouldn't have been in situation to begin with. My anger was endangering me, and I needed to calm down. And thus I did. I took some deep breaths, and ran on, sans iPod and music, just me and cold weather clothing, moving in the night. And once i settled into that groove, it struck me that this was all very familiar.
Those with particularly good memories may recall that I've previously said that I started running in order to impress a girl. Though that's a gross oversimplification, it still has an element of truth. I started running way back in the summer of 2004 for that reason. But what kept me running over these next seven years wasn't misplaced masculine pride. Rather, it was night jogs in the crisp, often cold night air of the late fall and early winter.
At that point in my life, most of my self-esteem was tied into my intellectual endeavors, and for some good reasons. Unfortunately, one of those reasons was that I really, really disliked my body. I was short, short-sighted, kinda chubby, and, though this was long before the asthma days, not exactly in good health. My body was just clumsy, accident-prone, and all around faulty. What was there to be proud of? But when I started running, that changed. Sure, I was still awkward and uncoordinated, but by God, at least I had endurance, and I could continue performing awkwardly long after those smooth-functioning pretty boys had to sit down for a breather.
But while I was appreciating the effects of my running, it wasn't until that fall that I started to appreciate the running itself. I was feeling a lot of pressure from school at the time--the double major was a tough mistress to please. And I was doing marking for the Math department, which meant a pretty heavy workload some nights. Running wasn't an escape, but it was a release. There's a tranquility to a good run that sets in after a kilometer or two. It's a simple satisfaction, but a true one. It's being content in the knowledge that the whole mind/body/meat/whatever assemblage is working together to forge its way through and in the environment around it. When I'm running like that, I'm at peace with myself in a way that's a little different from anything else in my life.
And I'd forgotten that, recently. Partly because I've gotten too used to jogging with the iPod, which, love it though I do, is undeniably a distraction. And partly because I've been doing nothing but day runs, where you have to be more concerned about the fellow pedestrians you're sharing elbow room with. But mostly because I've let the running slide. Once a week, twice a week, maybe skip a week, if sometimes. I've got a lot of things to do, after all, and running's not important. But what I reminded myself today is that it is important. It's important to me, both in terms of who I want to be, and what it does for me on a day-to-day basis.
Or, to put it another way, here's the short version of why that was a good run:
It reminded me who I am. I'm a mother-fucking runner, man.
(Knock on wood, but this would be a good time to start a betting pool for how long until I have my next running-related leg injury.)
Later Days.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Rain of the Runner
I've been a bit lax in the jogging routine of late; I had an injury in February, and then spent an overly long time getting back into a routine. But I've rededicated myself, and I proved myself today with a 11 k run. A run through pouring rain. Because if you wait the extra hour for the rain to subside, you really lose your momentum.
It wasn't bad; I actually enjoyed the last 500 m to the house. But man, the 10 500 m before that SUCKED.
Later Days.
It wasn't bad; I actually enjoyed the last 500 m to the house. But man, the 10 500 m before that SUCKED.
Later Days.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Running Man
Will this post be about a convicted man who must fight for his life on live television? Ha, you wish. No, this is, as always, about me.
Last February, I placed myself on the disabled list after I took a bad tumble during a run and could barely walk for a few days. Two weeks later, I attempted to return to form, onto to suffer a disastrous, even more limping relapse. So I took it easy for a few weeks. And then a few more weeks. At the same time, I compensated by accelerating the anaerobic side of the workout. For the first time in my life, my workout routine could be said to approach the coveted "meathead" designation.
But no more! Trepidation shaking every limb, I bounded out into April's bizarre snowfalls (seriously, what's up with the weather these days?) and performed the 3 k run from my house to the university. It was... humbling. The foot fared fine; the only ill effect was that my sides were aching by the time I reached the university, as my lung muscles weren't used to that strenuous a workout. I then proceeded to walk another 6 k, and then I was home.
And since those who have read this far about a fairly boring topic deserve some sort of reward, I also picked up "The Hoax of Romance" by Jo Loudin. It's a 1980s early third wave feminist self-help book designed to help its readers "shake off the shackles of romance." (I'm quoting verbatim here. Okay, I'm not, but that's the type of rhetoric we're dealing with.) I can barely turn a page without snickering, and I'm not sure exactly why--yes, it's ridiculously over the top about its subject matter, but essentially, I actually agree with her main thesis. I'll have to read it, and report back.
And if *you*, the reader at home want to follow along, all you have to do is go to Amazon.com and get your very own copy of the Hoax of Romance... for $157, new. Eep. It seems the Hoax of Pseudo-Intellectualism is alive and well. (See? Where is all this hostility coming from? Find out... eventually.)
Later Days.
Last February, I placed myself on the disabled list after I took a bad tumble during a run and could barely walk for a few days. Two weeks later, I attempted to return to form, onto to suffer a disastrous, even more limping relapse. So I took it easy for a few weeks. And then a few more weeks. At the same time, I compensated by accelerating the anaerobic side of the workout. For the first time in my life, my workout routine could be said to approach the coveted "meathead" designation.
But no more! Trepidation shaking every limb, I bounded out into April's bizarre snowfalls (seriously, what's up with the weather these days?) and performed the 3 k run from my house to the university. It was... humbling. The foot fared fine; the only ill effect was that my sides were aching by the time I reached the university, as my lung muscles weren't used to that strenuous a workout. I then proceeded to walk another 6 k, and then I was home.
And since those who have read this far about a fairly boring topic deserve some sort of reward, I also picked up "The Hoax of Romance" by Jo Loudin. It's a 1980s early third wave feminist self-help book designed to help its readers "shake off the shackles of romance." (I'm quoting verbatim here. Okay, I'm not, but that's the type of rhetoric we're dealing with.) I can barely turn a page without snickering, and I'm not sure exactly why--yes, it's ridiculously over the top about its subject matter, but essentially, I actually agree with her main thesis. I'll have to read it, and report back.
And if *you*, the reader at home want to follow along, all you have to do is go to Amazon.com and get your very own copy of the Hoax of Romance... for $157, new. Eep. It seems the Hoax of Pseudo-Intellectualism is alive and well. (See? Where is all this hostility coming from? Find out... eventually.)
Later Days.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Jogger's Ettiquete
I've got fifteen minutes till the bus comes, so I thought I'd do a post. Considering most posts are constructed painstakingly over the course of an hour or two, this rigid time constraint should present some interesting challenges.
Or I'll get bored and end after a hundred words or so. Either way.
Anyway, today's subject is running. I know I've sort of given up on the *running update* feature. For once, that's not because I've taken a lazy man's hiatus, but because my current path involves so many footpaths that Google Map is really unhelpful in determining exactly how long the route is. But I'm still getting out at least four times a week, and when the weather dips below five degrees, that's an accomplishment in itself.
More specifically, though, today's subject is my run this Monday. For a while, I've been left with a conundrum whenever I run into (rarely literally) into someone I know while on a jog. If I'm being honest, it really interrupts the flow of the run; if I'm being really honest, I often have a hard time coming up with anything more than idle chitchat if I haven't prepared conversation topics in advance. (At least I've gotten to the point where the topics are just prepared mentally. The cue-cards are getting burdensome.) So, generally, if I see someone I recognize while jogging, I pretend I'm very, very intent on the process at hand.
This policy, understandably, has created some mixed feelings towards yours truly. So on that Monday run, I decided to stop and greet each person I recognized. And of course, that's the day I run into three different people: one fairly good friend, one more distant friend (but still a nice guy) and my supervisor.
This stopping resulted in three of the most awkward conversations of my life. The one with the good friend was fine enough; a little strained since we were both heading in different directions, but okay. The one with my supervisor was... more strained. He very clearly wanted to be somewhere else. And the third conversation was entirely awkward; my earphones got tangled, so my part of the conversation was largely repeating "What?" and "pardon" over and over again, while his part descended into incomplete sentences and random blandishments. To sum up, forget honesty; sometimes feigned mistaken identity and sustained silence is the best policy.
From this experience, I think there are three possible conclusions:
a) People are uncomfortable talking with someone who was clearly in the middle of a non-talking activity. (This statement is, of course, dependent on the activity.)
b) People are uncomfortable talking with someone who is clearly sweating profusely and smells terrible. (Unfortunate non-running behavior confirms this statement.)
c) People are uncomfortable talking to me. (Perhaps the most likely conclusion, but one that requires a more long term solution.)
That's it--bus is imminent.
Later Days.
Or I'll get bored and end after a hundred words or so. Either way.
Anyway, today's subject is running. I know I've sort of given up on the *running update* feature. For once, that's not because I've taken a lazy man's hiatus, but because my current path involves so many footpaths that Google Map is really unhelpful in determining exactly how long the route is. But I'm still getting out at least four times a week, and when the weather dips below five degrees, that's an accomplishment in itself.
More specifically, though, today's subject is my run this Monday. For a while, I've been left with a conundrum whenever I run into (rarely literally) into someone I know while on a jog. If I'm being honest, it really interrupts the flow of the run; if I'm being really honest, I often have a hard time coming up with anything more than idle chitchat if I haven't prepared conversation topics in advance. (At least I've gotten to the point where the topics are just prepared mentally. The cue-cards are getting burdensome.) So, generally, if I see someone I recognize while jogging, I pretend I'm very, very intent on the process at hand.
This policy, understandably, has created some mixed feelings towards yours truly. So on that Monday run, I decided to stop and greet each person I recognized. And of course, that's the day I run into three different people: one fairly good friend, one more distant friend (but still a nice guy) and my supervisor.
This stopping resulted in three of the most awkward conversations of my life. The one with the good friend was fine enough; a little strained since we were both heading in different directions, but okay. The one with my supervisor was... more strained. He very clearly wanted to be somewhere else. And the third conversation was entirely awkward; my earphones got tangled, so my part of the conversation was largely repeating "What?" and "pardon" over and over again, while his part descended into incomplete sentences and random blandishments. To sum up, forget honesty; sometimes feigned mistaken identity and sustained silence is the best policy.
From this experience, I think there are three possible conclusions:
a) People are uncomfortable talking with someone who was clearly in the middle of a non-talking activity. (This statement is, of course, dependent on the activity.)
b) People are uncomfortable talking with someone who is clearly sweating profusely and smells terrible. (Unfortunate non-running behavior confirms this statement.)
c) People are uncomfortable talking to me. (Perhaps the most likely conclusion, but one that requires a more long term solution.)
That's it--bus is imminent.
Later Days.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
random junk
Here's two things, in no particular order:
1. Jogging. When suburbs were first being created, I imagine someone must have said, "hey, you know that grid system we used for the rest of the city? The one where streets and avenues run at right angles? Well, I'm sick of right angles. Damn straight lines. For these suburbs, I want nothing but big, looping doughnuts. Doughnuts with jellied centers. Doughnuts with sprinkles. Doughnuts with a bit of a honey glaze that has a hint of maple, so when you bite into the center..."
Sorry, I skipped lunch today. Anyway, the point is, I've always found it miserable to jog in a suburb for the first few weeks, because the place is a seemingly randomly laid out maze. This time included. The feeling is somewhat ameliorated, however, by the sheer friendliness of the other joggers around here. I've gotten about half a dozen "hi"s and even a few high fives. Considering that in previous areas, the best I've gotten is catcalls unfavorably comparing my running to a scene from Forrest Gump, I'm willing to forgive a few twisty turns.
2. Speak into the void. I had to leave a phone message today, and it reminded me of just how much I hate phone messages. It's a number of factors. First, when you make the call, there's the uncertainty on whether you'll go to voice mail or not. I'm simultaneously constructing a conversation and a monologue in my head. Much as I love a good multitasking session, playing Schroedinger's receiver is not my idea of a good time. Second, and this point goes for phone calls in general, I have a harder time with a conversation when I can't support my side with gestures, and can't receive them. Third, with the recorded message there's the knowledge that you're being recorded; if you're talking to someone, at least anything you say that's idiotic can be glossed over fairly quickly. In a recorded message, it just sort of... hangs there. And the more you try to recover, the worse it sounds. I'd even prefer email--it's just as lacking in gestures, and just as recorded, but at least you can edit before you send. (And actually, I've read some interesting papers on how emoticons take on gestural and tonal connotations in text messages and emails. ;) ) Even a blog post is better, because since no one ever, ever replies, I can pretend that I'm speaking to myself.
There was gonna be a third thing, but I got distracted. So... tomorrow, quick review of "Book of Eli." Feel anticipation!
Later Days.
1. Jogging. When suburbs were first being created, I imagine someone must have said, "hey, you know that grid system we used for the rest of the city? The one where streets and avenues run at right angles? Well, I'm sick of right angles. Damn straight lines. For these suburbs, I want nothing but big, looping doughnuts. Doughnuts with jellied centers. Doughnuts with sprinkles. Doughnuts with a bit of a honey glaze that has a hint of maple, so when you bite into the center..."
Sorry, I skipped lunch today. Anyway, the point is, I've always found it miserable to jog in a suburb for the first few weeks, because the place is a seemingly randomly laid out maze. This time included. The feeling is somewhat ameliorated, however, by the sheer friendliness of the other joggers around here. I've gotten about half a dozen "hi"s and even a few high fives. Considering that in previous areas, the best I've gotten is catcalls unfavorably comparing my running to a scene from Forrest Gump, I'm willing to forgive a few twisty turns.
2. Speak into the void. I had to leave a phone message today, and it reminded me of just how much I hate phone messages. It's a number of factors. First, when you make the call, there's the uncertainty on whether you'll go to voice mail or not. I'm simultaneously constructing a conversation and a monologue in my head. Much as I love a good multitasking session, playing Schroedinger's receiver is not my idea of a good time. Second, and this point goes for phone calls in general, I have a harder time with a conversation when I can't support my side with gestures, and can't receive them. Third, with the recorded message there's the knowledge that you're being recorded; if you're talking to someone, at least anything you say that's idiotic can be glossed over fairly quickly. In a recorded message, it just sort of... hangs there. And the more you try to recover, the worse it sounds. I'd even prefer email--it's just as lacking in gestures, and just as recorded, but at least you can edit before you send. (And actually, I've read some interesting papers on how emoticons take on gestural and tonal connotations in text messages and emails. ;) ) Even a blog post is better, because since no one ever, ever replies, I can pretend that I'm speaking to myself.
There was gonna be a third thing, but I got distracted. So... tomorrow, quick review of "Book of Eli." Feel anticipation!
Later Days.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Running Post
We haven't done one of these running posts in a while, but today's was kind of memorable.
Distance: 22.6 km
Time: 2 hr, 19 min.
Speed: 9.76 km/h
That's a half marathon distance, folks. I'd be more enthused, but right now it's dawning on me that I won't be able to walk for the next week or so.
Later Days.
Distance: 22.6 km
Time: 2 hr, 19 min.
Speed: 9.76 km/h
That's a half marathon distance, folks. I'd be more enthused, but right now it's dawning on me that I won't be able to walk for the next week or so.
Later Days.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Friday Quotations: It's How You Play the---
This stretches the definition of a quotation, but as the opening scene of Deus Ex, it's been of my mind of late. I've been making another attempt to play through the game recently, and it's worth playing, despite its age of nearly a decade. (Of course, this is coming from someone who just finished playing through the original Zork text-games last week, the first of which was made before I was born.) It's got more lofty Nitzschean references, moral dilemmas, and truly offensive Asian accents than any "next-gen" game you can name.
And if you can't stand the idea of a game being picked for the lofty position of Quotation of the Week, here's a quotation from a book about a game so big it's God's Number One Pastime:
"I think one of the reasons golf is such an addictive pastime is that, after you've achieved a basic level of proficiency--somewhere around the fifteen handicap zone--you can, to a certain degree, control what happens on the course. Not every shot, no one controls every shot, but you can control a high enough percentage of your shots that you have at least the illusion that you're in charge. It's a small amount of authority, but on certain days that's about a million times more than you have in your married life, or in your work life, or in world politics, is it not? You hit a nine iron stiff from 135 yards and think: All right, I did that. I made that explosive white ball fly 405 feet through the air and stop an arm's length from where I aimed it.
"It's a rather special feeling."
--Golfing with God, by Roland Merullo
*UPDATE*: And here's something we haven't seen in a while:
There and Back Run
Distance: 12 km
Time: 1 hr, 5 min
Speed: 11.1 km/hr
Given that it's 27 C out, with a "feels like" in the 30s, I think that's a respectable time. The runner is back!
Later Days.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
random junk
More postings soon, honest.
For now, three things I learned today:
1) The shorts I'm wearing are indeed exactly the right length so that if I bike with my wallet in the front pocket, it will slip out and spill cards into the street. Good to know.
2) Just because you can run 12 k at 5:30 am doesn't mean you should.
3) Just because you can spend seven straight hours reading Kittler doesn't mean you should. Also, beware buribunks. I'm serious about that. They're bad news.
Later Days.
Seriously, buribunks.
For now, three things I learned today:
1) The shorts I'm wearing are indeed exactly the right length so that if I bike with my wallet in the front pocket, it will slip out and spill cards into the street. Good to know.
2) Just because you can run 12 k at 5:30 am doesn't mean you should.
3) Just because you can spend seven straight hours reading Kittler doesn't mean you should. Also, beware buribunks. I'm serious about that. They're bad news.
Later Days.
Seriously, buribunks.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Good Friday, Good Times
There is a world of difference between 11 k at ten degrees Celsius and 7 k at 26 degrees Celsius. Man, I forgot how summer jogging works. Hint: with lots of little breaks in between. And a bottle of water. It was really nice though; it being Easter Weekend, and the beginning at that, there were a lot of families out and about, enjoying the day. And a lot of college-oriented students too, on their break before the studying for finals.
And speaking of studying for finals... after three and a half long years, I've finally uncovered the best part of being a grad student: a stress free end of classes. Throughout the entire undergraduate career, the end of classes is a time of huge stress--you're desperately trying to cram in the last few assignments you didn't quite finish, and then cramming some more for the final exams. Sure, there's usually some "end of class" sort of party, but it's always got this weird sense of desperation to it; you want to get all the partying in before the crunch time comes.
The option to avoid the stress, I suppose, is to get a job and enter the work force--but that doesn't so much avoid stress as make it low level, yet never-ending. Even the MA and the beginning of the PhD courses aren't entirely free, because you've got those giant end term papers to wade through. To date, the closest thing I had to a "responsibility-less" end of term would be the April of 2008, and I was too stressed out about finishing the thesis and leaving my province of birth to really enjoy it.
This time, however, there's nothing to hold back. End of classes means a break from teaching for a semester. And because there's no papers to write, the "end of term" partying felt more tranquil than anything else. Yep, nothing smooth sailing from...
Oh right. That comp thing. Less than two months to finish up over 19 000 pages of over 50 texts that I'm desperately cramming. (There's the cram!) Forget the tranquility then. I'm going to go back to existential dread and panic.
Later Days.
And speaking of studying for finals... after three and a half long years, I've finally uncovered the best part of being a grad student: a stress free end of classes. Throughout the entire undergraduate career, the end of classes is a time of huge stress--you're desperately trying to cram in the last few assignments you didn't quite finish, and then cramming some more for the final exams. Sure, there's usually some "end of class" sort of party, but it's always got this weird sense of desperation to it; you want to get all the partying in before the crunch time comes.
The option to avoid the stress, I suppose, is to get a job and enter the work force--but that doesn't so much avoid stress as make it low level, yet never-ending. Even the MA and the beginning of the PhD courses aren't entirely free, because you've got those giant end term papers to wade through. To date, the closest thing I had to a "responsibility-less" end of term would be the April of 2008, and I was too stressed out about finishing the thesis and leaving my province of birth to really enjoy it.
This time, however, there's nothing to hold back. End of classes means a break from teaching for a semester. And because there's no papers to write, the "end of term" partying felt more tranquil than anything else. Yep, nothing smooth sailing from...
Oh right. That comp thing. Less than two months to finish up over 19 000 pages of over 50 texts that I'm desperately cramming. (There's the cram!) Forget the tranquility then. I'm going to go back to existential dread and panic.
Later Days.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
running--so, did we ever decide on the "running as separate post" issue?
Yesterday's Run:
Distance: 13.6 km
Time: 1 hr, 20 min. Sort of.
Speed: 10.2 km/h
The "sort of" qualifier is that at the half way point, I went for a 20 minute walk in the park. I saw of squirrels. It was nice. Given the distance of the walking path, you could add another 2.4 km onto the distance, and take the speed down another 2km/hr.
Next week will not be great for running opportunities. It's 5 degrees and raining right now, so, no, and I've got a GSA meeting on Monday, a general GSA meeting on Tuesday, SOMETHING on Wednesday that I can't remember for the life of me at the moment, though the realization will eventually hit me like a ton of bricks, and a friend's birthday on Thursday. On top of my regular stuff, it means little running. Well, unless I give up TV for a week or start getting up at 6. But really, what are the odds of that? And it's not just the running that's going to suffer. I don't when I'll find time to do my laundry this week--and that's going to hurt everyone near and close to me.
*EDIT: Wednesday is PhD Bowling Night. And we only have an event, like, once a year, so I really want to make it. And given this post and the last (which took about an hour and a half to write), the "no time to run" excuse is already wearing thin, isn't it?
Later Days.
Distance: 13.6 km
Time: 1 hr, 20 min. Sort of.
Speed: 10.2 km/h
The "sort of" qualifier is that at the half way point, I went for a 20 minute walk in the park. I saw of squirrels. It was nice. Given the distance of the walking path, you could add another 2.4 km onto the distance, and take the speed down another 2km/hr.
Next week will not be great for running opportunities. It's 5 degrees and raining right now, so, no, and I've got a GSA meeting on Monday, a general GSA meeting on Tuesday, SOMETHING on Wednesday that I can't remember for the life of me at the moment, though the realization will eventually hit me like a ton of bricks, and a friend's birthday on Thursday. On top of my regular stuff, it means little running. Well, unless I give up TV for a week or start getting up at 6. But really, what are the odds of that? And it's not just the running that's going to suffer. I don't when I'll find time to do my laundry this week--and that's going to hurt everyone near and close to me.
*EDIT: Wednesday is PhD Bowling Night. And we only have an event, like, once a year, so I really want to make it. And given this post and the last (which took about an hour and a half to write), the "no time to run" excuse is already wearing thin, isn't it?
Later Days.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Well, that was a fun four days.
I'm violating both the run choice and the diet today. To make up for it, I've read an extra 100 pages of text.
...I might be on to something here. If I can harness the guilt over destroying my health as an engine to drive my comp reading, and yet somehow not actually destroy my health, the next two months will go much more easily.
Later Days.
...I might be on to something here. If I can harness the guilt over destroying my health as an engine to drive my comp reading, and yet somehow not actually destroy my health, the next two months will go much more easily.
Later Days.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
This is a good use of my time.
A friend of mine on Facebook is musing on wearing a rope belt. I wish to mock him, with this image:
This is the midriff of Luke Dunphy, from Modern Family (excellent show. Full review in due course). The fun part is that this image, as far as I can tell, does not exist on line. So I had to spend about an hour combing through youtube videos until I found the show, look for the right episode (among 15), find the scene, printscreen the whole thing, copy into an image, and upload it onto a web page, all so I could provide the link to it on the Facebook post.
Worth it? Of course it was.
Running For the Past Two Days:
Run: Needle, Monday. Needle, Tuesday.
Distance: 11.9 km, both times.
Time: 1 hr, 10 min, 1 hr, 4 min.
Speed: 10.2 km/hr, 11. 1 km/hr
Man, that's quite a difference, huh? Well, it was raining pretty hard by the end of Monday, so I'll attribute the lack of speed to that.
This is the midriff of Luke Dunphy, from Modern Family (excellent show. Full review in due course). The fun part is that this image, as far as I can tell, does not exist on line. So I had to spend about an hour combing through youtube videos until I found the show, look for the right episode (among 15), find the scene, printscreen the whole thing, copy into an image, and upload it onto a web page, all so I could provide the link to it on the Facebook post.
Worth it? Of course it was.
Running For the Past Two Days:
Run: Needle, Monday. Needle, Tuesday.
Distance: 11.9 km, both times.
Time: 1 hr, 10 min, 1 hr, 4 min.
Speed: 10.2 km/hr, 11. 1 km/hr
Man, that's quite a difference, huh? Well, it was raining pretty hard by the end of Monday, so I'll attribute the lack of speed to that.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
How I can I better meet the needs of my constituents?
Open question: How are the running updates sitting with everyone?
I was pretty hesitant to add them as a regular feature because
a) I thought it would be more than I was willing to share, and
b) I didn't think anyone would care.
I want to dig deeper into both concerns, because I think they unearth a deeper issue of my blogging ethos, not to mention how I feel about running. Let's take a hard look at what I am willing to share: disturbing dreams, political beliefs, and existentialist ponderings as to my true nature and being. (Guess which one this post fits under?) And what I'm NOT willing to share: I don't use proper names, I try to avoid talking directly about my specific research tasks, and I don't like using stories that involve other people without running it by them.
As for b), let's look at the content. I've got comic book features that most of my readers don't care about, book reviews for books that, as far as I know, people aren't that interested in, and personal stories that rarely even involve a second party. So for the most part, I don't really care whether people are interested or not. So why the concern with running?
One more item to ponder: I seriously considered putting up a disclaimer in the first running post that I wouldn't be posting *ALL* my runs, just so I wouldn't have everyone knowing (and potentially belittling) my running efforts. I haven't done that; what you see here is my entire list of physical activity, for better or worse.
So what info is to be weened from all this? Well, I like running--or exercise in general. I also feel like my running is a private activity. And I like the feeling that I'm taking positive steps towards my own fitness. (Which is a lot bigger a statement than it may appear to be. But of my reticence to discuss running issues is probably related to my body image, which is a much bigger Topic That We Don't Talk About.) I like sharing that positivity. The downside is that the guilt that comes from skipping a day (or a week, or a month. Things happened, dammit) is now magnified in front of an audience. But for me, one of the main purposes of blogging is to take things stuck in my head and get them out, and this is one of those things.
I'm pretty conflicted here. So we'll conclude with two points:
1) Running updates. Good or bad?
2) On the subject of running updates and body image, here's a running update connected with body image. I'm skipping today, but I'm planning on doing a 10 k every day for five days, starting tomorrow. So if you're not liking the running updates, you're really not going to like this week.
Also, the resumed running has forced me to admit that running alone is not going to make up for the past half year of debauchery. So I'm changing the food intake. For the next month, I'm giving up pizza and chocolate. And it's probably very telling that the one thing I deleted on this post was the complete list of ALL the products I'll be consequently giving up. Although I'm really going to miss those Cadbury eggs...
Later Days.
I was pretty hesitant to add them as a regular feature because
a) I thought it would be more than I was willing to share, and
b) I didn't think anyone would care.
I want to dig deeper into both concerns, because I think they unearth a deeper issue of my blogging ethos, not to mention how I feel about running. Let's take a hard look at what I am willing to share: disturbing dreams, political beliefs, and existentialist ponderings as to my true nature and being. (Guess which one this post fits under?) And what I'm NOT willing to share: I don't use proper names, I try to avoid talking directly about my specific research tasks, and I don't like using stories that involve other people without running it by them.
As for b), let's look at the content. I've got comic book features that most of my readers don't care about, book reviews for books that, as far as I know, people aren't that interested in, and personal stories that rarely even involve a second party. So for the most part, I don't really care whether people are interested or not. So why the concern with running?
One more item to ponder: I seriously considered putting up a disclaimer in the first running post that I wouldn't be posting *ALL* my runs, just so I wouldn't have everyone knowing (and potentially belittling) my running efforts. I haven't done that; what you see here is my entire list of physical activity, for better or worse.
So what info is to be weened from all this? Well, I like running--or exercise in general. I also feel like my running is a private activity. And I like the feeling that I'm taking positive steps towards my own fitness. (Which is a lot bigger a statement than it may appear to be. But of my reticence to discuss running issues is probably related to my body image, which is a much bigger Topic That We Don't Talk About.) I like sharing that positivity. The downside is that the guilt that comes from skipping a day (or a week, or a month. Things happened, dammit) is now magnified in front of an audience. But for me, one of the main purposes of blogging is to take things stuck in my head and get them out, and this is one of those things.
I'm pretty conflicted here. So we'll conclude with two points:
1) Running updates. Good or bad?
2) On the subject of running updates and body image, here's a running update connected with body image. I'm skipping today, but I'm planning on doing a 10 k every day for five days, starting tomorrow. So if you're not liking the running updates, you're really not going to like this week.
Also, the resumed running has forced me to admit that running alone is not going to make up for the past half year of debauchery. So I'm changing the food intake. For the next month, I'm giving up pizza and chocolate. And it's probably very telling that the one thing I deleted on this post was the complete list of ALL the products I'll be consequently giving up. Although I'm really going to miss those Cadbury eggs...
Later Days.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Friday Quotations: It's At Least The Second-Best Quotation That Can Be Found on the First Page
First: running.
Run: Half Needle with University Twist
Distance: 12.5 km
Time: 1 hr, 12 min
Speed: 10.4 km/hr
The Twist is that instead of heading home half way, I went to the university instead.
Second: I just received word (the email came about 5 minutes ago) that I was accepted to a conference in Montreal, to deliver a paper on the video game Mass Effect. which = awesome. The problem is that it's immediately after my written comp exam (the exam will be on the Friday, and the conference is the following Tuesday), but probably before the oral exam can be held. So I'll need to talk that over with my committee, if it's doable at all. But still, Montreal. Awesome.
Third: Today's quotation. I wanted to find something from Mitchell's Iconology, but the book doesn't lend itself to awesome quotations; it's more about ideas considered at length. So here's the opening of a book I started reading today that I found very effective:
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they com in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eye away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men."
Any well-read members of the audience want to guess (or Google, I'm not picky) the book in question?
Later Days.
Run: Half Needle with University Twist
Distance: 12.5 km
Time: 1 hr, 12 min
Speed: 10.4 km/hr
The Twist is that instead of heading home half way, I went to the university instead.
Second: I just received word (the email came about 5 minutes ago) that I was accepted to a conference in Montreal, to deliver a paper on the video game Mass Effect. which = awesome. The problem is that it's immediately after my written comp exam (the exam will be on the Friday, and the conference is the following Tuesday), but probably before the oral exam can be held. So I'll need to talk that over with my committee, if it's doable at all. But still, Montreal. Awesome.
Third: Today's quotation. I wanted to find something from Mitchell's Iconology, but the book doesn't lend itself to awesome quotations; it's more about ideas considered at length. So here's the opening of a book I started reading today that I found very effective:
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they com in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eye away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men."
Any well-read members of the audience want to guess (or Google, I'm not picky) the book in question?
Later Days.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Comic Panel Wednesday: Yeah, I'll Be Honest--Totally Not Trying Today
In honour of Green Irish Drinking Day, here's Shamrock, the super-powered Irish girl, from Marvel's Contest of Champions. According to Wikipedia,Shamrock is possessed by the souls of thousands of victims of wars who manifest themselves as poltergeists which affect probability within a 20-foot radius of her, altering situations so that she is given an advantage. In essence having "The Luck of the Irish". Which makes them the most depressing luck-based power in the superhero pantheon, at least until Scarlet Witch went insane.
Now, if you haven't done so already, go out there and drink something green.
*UPDATE: Thursday Run.
Distance: 7.6 km
Time 1 hr
Average Speed: 7.6 km/hr
Super slow, I know, but in my defense, I took a detour and spent about 20 minutes walking around the park. There were geese and swans and bunnies and horsies and people playing Frisbee golf. 's cool.
Later Days.
A Day in the Life of a Person of Consequence
Happy Green Irish Day! Yeah, I figure we should call it what it is. Of course, if you want to be entirely accurate about that, you probably need to add "Excuse to Drink in the Middle of Week" day.
As you may guess from that cheery introduction, I am not in a great mood. In fact, my state is that of one of the worst sleep combinations (The Blogger spellchecker doesn't recognize the plural of combination. Honestly, people. We can do better.): I've got the weariness of the sleep-deprived, and the grumpiness of the just recently awakened. And considering it's 3 pm, I got some 'splainin' to do.
First, as you have no doubt noticed, I haven't posted a running update in a few days. This filled me with great shame (as is the point), and I got up at 6:00 am today to go for a run. Sadly, due to my own special brand of asthmatic insomnia, I didn't get more than about 4 hours of sleep. The run itself was great, if consequential. I nearly slipped on a banana peel, and if I was in a different mood, we'd be discussing how my life is that of a cartoon character. In my current mood, this would degenerate into a rant on how no one watches the classic Looney Tunes any more, and how children are now forced to watch the mediocre. (Look at ABC's morning line-up: That's So Raven, Hannah Montana, The Suite Life of Zach & Cody. Honestly, as a kid, if there was that little animation in MY Saturday morning cartoons, I'd wonder why I was being punished.)
Right, so after the run, I perform my morning ablations, write up a lesson plan for tomorrow, accidentally delete the lesson, decide that I could probably reconstruct it from memory in a few hours, run some errands, and I'm at the university by 10:00. I read and transcribe my notes for a chapter from my comp (and laugh ruefully at the pathetic standard by which I currently judge being "productive"). Then it's up to my office for a brief lunch (apple, green apple flavored licorice, and apple juice. Yeah, I don't know what happened there), and a chapter from Kafka's The Trial. When you're in an academic building, Kafka's portrayal of bureaucracy becomes less "amusing" and more "deeply depressing and existentially horrifying."
At this point, approximately 1:30, I fall asleep. I wake up at a quarter to 3. I had a strange dream, even by my standards: I dreamed I had stumbled into an alternate reality where parents were honor-bound to murder their children if they failed to achieve something the parent deemed appropriate for the child. But the values were really esoteric, like if the child had worn enough blue over the course of a year. It was basically a combination of personal aesthetics and eugenics. I remembered thinking in the dream that this would make a good short story, if I could get the style right. And then I woke up, and typed out this entry.
And there you go. One day. -ish. I suppose it's possible I may do something of interest in the course of the next 8 or so hours, but given my current urge to bike home and bury my head under the covers, it seems unlikely.
Wednesday's Run:
Title: the Needle
Distance: 11.9 km
Time: 1 h, 7 minutes.
Average Speed: 10.66 km/hr
Later Days.
PS. I'm not really this annoyed at the world in general. "Grumpy" is a fun persona to slip on, but I wouldn't want to live there.
As you may guess from that cheery introduction, I am not in a great mood. In fact, my state is that of one of the worst sleep combinations (The Blogger spellchecker doesn't recognize the plural of combination. Honestly, people. We can do better.): I've got the weariness of the sleep-deprived, and the grumpiness of the just recently awakened. And considering it's 3 pm, I got some 'splainin' to do.
First, as you have no doubt noticed, I haven't posted a running update in a few days. This filled me with great shame (as is the point), and I got up at 6:00 am today to go for a run. Sadly, due to my own special brand of asthmatic insomnia, I didn't get more than about 4 hours of sleep. The run itself was great, if consequential. I nearly slipped on a banana peel, and if I was in a different mood, we'd be discussing how my life is that of a cartoon character. In my current mood, this would degenerate into a rant on how no one watches the classic Looney Tunes any more, and how children are now forced to watch the mediocre. (Look at ABC's morning line-up: That's So Raven, Hannah Montana, The Suite Life of Zach & Cody. Honestly, as a kid, if there was that little animation in MY Saturday morning cartoons, I'd wonder why I was being punished.)
Right, so after the run, I perform my morning ablations, write up a lesson plan for tomorrow, accidentally delete the lesson, decide that I could probably reconstruct it from memory in a few hours, run some errands, and I'm at the university by 10:00. I read and transcribe my notes for a chapter from my comp (and laugh ruefully at the pathetic standard by which I currently judge being "productive"). Then it's up to my office for a brief lunch (apple, green apple flavored licorice, and apple juice. Yeah, I don't know what happened there), and a chapter from Kafka's The Trial. When you're in an academic building, Kafka's portrayal of bureaucracy becomes less "amusing" and more "deeply depressing and existentially horrifying."
At this point, approximately 1:30, I fall asleep. I wake up at a quarter to 3. I had a strange dream, even by my standards: I dreamed I had stumbled into an alternate reality where parents were honor-bound to murder their children if they failed to achieve something the parent deemed appropriate for the child. But the values were really esoteric, like if the child had worn enough blue over the course of a year. It was basically a combination of personal aesthetics and eugenics. I remembered thinking in the dream that this would make a good short story, if I could get the style right. And then I woke up, and typed out this entry.
And there you go. One day. -ish. I suppose it's possible I may do something of interest in the course of the next 8 or so hours, but given my current urge to bike home and bury my head under the covers, it seems unlikely.
Wednesday's Run:
Title: the Needle
Distance: 11.9 km
Time: 1 h, 7 minutes.
Average Speed: 10.66 km/hr
Later Days.
PS. I'm not really this annoyed at the world in general. "Grumpy" is a fun persona to slip on, but I wouldn't want to live there.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Sunday Blehs
Behold, a rationalization so powerful, so great, so magnificent in its shear effrontery that it will shake the very heavens to the ground!
Which is a pseudo-poetic way of saying I'm going to skip going for a run today--as I did yesterday. My reason? Well, it's 3 degrees, raining, and windy. I'm okay with running when it's snowing out, provided the sidewalks are neither slippery as death or buried under three feet. But rainy and cold? There's not a lot you can do. Can't take the iPod, 'cause electronics don't do so good in precipitation. Can't bundle up in warm clothes, 'cause by the end of the run, they'll be soggy clothes, which is worse than being cold in the first place. Can't do the university gym, 'cause that place is full to the rafters on a Sunday. And so, I'm left in a Catch 22--either I feel bad while running, or I feel bad for skipping running.
My solution? Put on a pot of tea, work through an extended version of the other exercise items (curls, weight-lifting, push-ups) to compensate, and mark some papers while watching reruns of So You Think You Can Dance, Australian Edition. 'Cause if you can't exercise yourself, you might as well watch someone else do it.
*UPDATE*
My plans to stay home were compromised by my decision to spend the time grading students' papers. It's a scientific fact that any act, no matter how exhausting, miserable, or seditious, is preferable to grading students' papers. So I went for the run--it was to the fourth closest primary school to my apartment, and back. See, I split the difference: I went for the run, but I made it very short. It took... about 24 minutes, and covered about 4.2 km. So yeah, about the usual speed. It was wet and miserable, and now I feel guilty about putting off my comp reading instead of feeling guilty about not running.
Because at the end of the day, the only thing you can't outrun...
is yourself.
And cars. And trains. Probably bikes. In general, most artificial modes of transportation. Also fast animals, and natural phenomena.
Later Days.
Which is a pseudo-poetic way of saying I'm going to skip going for a run today--as I did yesterday. My reason? Well, it's 3 degrees, raining, and windy. I'm okay with running when it's snowing out, provided the sidewalks are neither slippery as death or buried under three feet. But rainy and cold? There's not a lot you can do. Can't take the iPod, 'cause electronics don't do so good in precipitation. Can't bundle up in warm clothes, 'cause by the end of the run, they'll be soggy clothes, which is worse than being cold in the first place. Can't do the university gym, 'cause that place is full to the rafters on a Sunday. And so, I'm left in a Catch 22--either I feel bad while running, or I feel bad for skipping running.
My solution? Put on a pot of tea, work through an extended version of the other exercise items (curls, weight-lifting, push-ups) to compensate, and mark some papers while watching reruns of So You Think You Can Dance, Australian Edition. 'Cause if you can't exercise yourself, you might as well watch someone else do it.
*UPDATE*
My plans to stay home were compromised by my decision to spend the time grading students' papers. It's a scientific fact that any act, no matter how exhausting, miserable, or seditious, is preferable to grading students' papers. So I went for the run--it was to the fourth closest primary school to my apartment, and back. See, I split the difference: I went for the run, but I made it very short. It took... about 24 minutes, and covered about 4.2 km. So yeah, about the usual speed. It was wet and miserable, and now I feel guilty about putting off my comp reading instead of feeling guilty about not running.
Because at the end of the day, the only thing you can't outrun...
is yourself.
And cars. And trains. Probably bikes. In general, most artificial modes of transportation. Also fast animals, and natural phenomena.
Later Days.
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