I went to the county park today to do some running. Let's just say that it wasn't my best performance. I live in a flat town. When I say flat, I mean flat. Flatter than you think Kansas is, flat. Which makes running in a straight line pretty pleasant, all things considered. So today, in the park, which is in the hills outside of town, it was less so. My first hill workout was not pretty at all. I started sucking wind from the get-go. Add to that a few more complications: the map provided by the county is so lame it doesn't even give distances; the weather was surprisingly warm and sticky; I've had a rough couple of days, professionally. Take that all together, and today's run was more of a run-walk.
On the plus side, I did get out for about 50 minutes of exercise that included constant motion and some uninterrupted stretches of actual running, mostly on the downhills. The downhills were kinda fun, even if I have doubts about my knees ability to like them as much as my brain. Running on dirt is nicer than pavement, and the scenery was considerably more enjoyable. I did at least get some elevation gain into my week.
As Coach Oullette (sp?) would say, first you have to get used to the distance. Then you can work on the other stuff. If that means walking part, then walk part.
And, it's still a 6+ mile week, which is more than I did last week. Onward and upward.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
8 and Counting
I got a hand-delivered note this morning informing me that two students from my school were shot and killed last night. They were not my students, but I suspect that a couple of mine knew them. At least one student was very subdued, although he refused my attempts to engage him. I let him be. I think that's eight so far this year.
The only thing that was good about this incident is the way administration handled it. The last time there was craziness, I didn't get an email until the end of the day. I greatly appreciated that administration told me up front what was going on.
The only thing that was good about this incident is the way administration handled it. The last time there was craziness, I didn't get an email until the end of the day. I greatly appreciated that administration told me up front what was going on.
Day 5
I'm still here. Got up at 5am (well, 5:10) and went running. It's still taking me too long to get ready (didn't leave the house until about 5:35). At my pace, that puts me back home at 6:15. Not horrible. Was feeling pretty good all day, too. Although, in the last half-hour/forty-five minutes, my left knee has started to act up. It's getting all twingey and stupid. Five games of bowling after standing up to teach all day after said 3 mile run probably wasn't my *best* plan of action. So, I'm gonna ice it and then do the wet-sock treatment. (I'm saving my explanation of the wet-sock treatment for later in the month, when you get good and bored with my "I went running today" posts. Maybe you're already there, but I don't care!)
Maybe a little Lost before bed, though. Tomorrow: four miles.
Maybe a little Lost before bed, though. Tomorrow: four miles.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Not Even Close, Bud
I got a little carried away with my Angels this morning. We had this earthquake drill that was county-wide... and scheduled for the middle of a passing period. Well, one minute into it. I told my class that I would be "getting mad" at them, and "holding them in" during nutrition "as a consequence" for their "behavior". They understood and played along (a little too well). They really got into it. As I was adding time to the board (that I would be keeping them after the bell), because they wouldn't stop taking/goofing off (they really wanted to make it look real), one girl tossed out, "Are you done?" "Not even close, bud." Before I knew it, I was right there with her quoting The Breakfast Club. We tossed out, "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?" and a few other choice comments. Most of the students even got the reference, which warmed my heart.
The girl who started us off is pretty down with esoteric pop culture. She's got good taste. She manages to fit in while not fitting in to the Top 40 gangsta hooligans at the school. Her attention to her education could be better, but I gotta respect her taste in music and movies.
The girl who started us off is pretty down with esoteric pop culture. She's got good taste. She manages to fit in while not fitting in to the Top 40 gangsta hooligans at the school. Her attention to her education could be better, but I gotta respect her taste in music and movies.
Rest, Glorious Rest
I woke up this morning sore and tired. Nothing like a little Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS -- thank you Mazamas for teaching me its name) and a late night of bowling to put an end to thoughts of 5am runs. Hey, I get rest days. Without rest days, I would be in serious pain and perhaps even serious injury. When I considered my options and what I had to do today (progress report grades, teach) compared with tomorrow (teach, leave school at a reasonable hour), I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. (That is, perhaps, the most important lesson I've ever learned from Shakespeare.)
So, I rested fully today. No running. No lifting. No stretching. No climbing. No rolling. Already this evening I feel less sore than I did this morning. So tomorrow I will get up at 5 for my 3 mile run. After school, I will bowl. It will be good.
So, I rested fully today. No running. No lifting. No stretching. No climbing. No rolling. Already this evening I feel less sore than I did this morning. So tomorrow I will get up at 5 for my 3 mile run. After school, I will bowl. It will be good.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Climbing To the Clouds
I went to the Y this afternoon to check out their rock wall for my cross-training day. Let's just say that when you have as weak an uppper body as I do, the day after lifting weights isn't the best day to continue with an upper body workout. At least I got my heart rate up pretty quickly, though.
I only did two routes -- and I didn't even follow the routes, I'm that lame. I tried to on the second one (it was easier), but I couldn't really find the routes that well, my arms were tired and shaky, and I didn't really trust the belayer. I mean, she's got one of those auto things, so she doesn't even have to do anything; not much will happen if she lets go of the rope. I still prefer a belayer who is watching me and taking up my slack. I've always been on the cautious side.
Still, it's not too bad a wall considering it's in a closet. It's about 30' and it's got some overhangs and varying degrees, so the routes actually are easier and harder. They have the supid holds that look like letters and numbers, though. I guess they're great for kids, but I've never seen a rock that looks exactly like the letter Q. I'm jus' sayin'.
Anyway, I listened to my body and kept the workout to about 20 minutes. My arms were tired and my heart rate was up. That seems sufficient here at the beginning. As the weeks progress, I should be able to do more and more without being so lame.
Tomorrow is another 5am running day... so I'm going to go roll with my dept. chair. We'll probably only bowl a game or two, though, so I can still be in bed by 9. I'll just have to watch Lost on the computer.
I only did two routes -- and I didn't even follow the routes, I'm that lame. I tried to on the second one (it was easier), but I couldn't really find the routes that well, my arms were tired and shaky, and I didn't really trust the belayer. I mean, she's got one of those auto things, so she doesn't even have to do anything; not much will happen if she lets go of the rope. I still prefer a belayer who is watching me and taking up my slack. I've always been on the cautious side.
Still, it's not too bad a wall considering it's in a closet. It's about 30' and it's got some overhangs and varying degrees, so the routes actually are easier and harder. They have the supid holds that look like letters and numbers, though. I guess they're great for kids, but I've never seen a rock that looks exactly like the letter Q. I'm jus' sayin'.
Anyway, I listened to my body and kept the workout to about 20 minutes. My arms were tired and my heart rate was up. That seems sufficient here at the beginning. As the weeks progress, I should be able to do more and more without being so lame.
Tomorrow is another 5am running day... so I'm going to go roll with my dept. chair. We'll probably only bowl a game or two, though, so I can still be in bed by 9. I'll just have to watch Lost on the computer.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Fire and Ice
(with apologies to Robert Frost)
The other English teachers have bought bowling balls because they were all jealous of my bowling ball, "Evan" (so named because some kid named Evan owned it before it was given to the Goodwill where I picked it up for $8). If you've ever bought a bowling ball, you know they get crazy model names, like Magma and Emerald Ice. When my dept. chair (the owner of magma) made a comment about the two balls not getting along because fire and ice don't mix, I felt the need to respond with this.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
is also great.
But Evan would suffice.
The other English teachers have bought bowling balls because they were all jealous of my bowling ball, "Evan" (so named because some kid named Evan owned it before it was given to the Goodwill where I picked it up for $8). If you've ever bought a bowling ball, you know they get crazy model names, like Magma and Emerald Ice. When my dept. chair (the owner of magma) made a comment about the two balls not getting along because fire and ice don't mix, I felt the need to respond with this.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
is also great.
But Evan would suffice.
We're Gonna Pump You Up
Well, I admit it. I did not get up at 5:30am today just to go to yoga. I woke up tired, and something kept running through my mind... "Today is supposed to be a rest day, so REST." So, I stayed in bed for awhile longer. But, all was not lost.
When I got home today, I hauled out my dumbbells and my Theraband and got to work. Some lunges (I've been advised against squats), some biceps and triceps, a few flies and some chest presses, toss in some crunches and a few stretches and I feel like I have still lived up to my obligations. I only skipped calf raises because I already have abnormally large calves (Rach, do you feel me on this one?). I even got to watch the President's speech at the same time. I might even have to excerpt the part about going to college and graduating from high school for my kiddies tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another "rest-ish" day. Thursday is big run, tomorrow is light running or cross-training. I do want to head to the Y and check out their climbing wall. It's about 30', so I should be able to get a pretty good workout out of a couple of climbs, and it'll help my non-existant upper-body strength.
Oh, and the crazy gym teacher (not crazy, loco-crazy, but crazy about health crazy) who is trying to get all of us teachers in shape was all excited when I told that I'd join the health challenge thing. She got even more excited when I asked her if she could help me find some nice places to run on the weekends -- she even wants to come with. I'm sure she'll be faster than I, but company can be nice.
When I got home today, I hauled out my dumbbells and my Theraband and got to work. Some lunges (I've been advised against squats), some biceps and triceps, a few flies and some chest presses, toss in some crunches and a few stretches and I feel like I have still lived up to my obligations. I only skipped calf raises because I already have abnormally large calves (Rach, do you feel me on this one?). I even got to watch the President's speech at the same time. I might even have to excerpt the part about going to college and graduating from high school for my kiddies tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another "rest-ish" day. Thursday is big run, tomorrow is light running or cross-training. I do want to head to the Y and check out their climbing wall. It's about 30', so I should be able to get a pretty good workout out of a couple of climbs, and it'll help my non-existant upper-body strength.
Oh, and the crazy gym teacher (not crazy, loco-crazy, but crazy about health crazy) who is trying to get all of us teachers in shape was all excited when I told that I'd join the health challenge thing. She got even more excited when I asked her if she could help me find some nice places to run on the weekends -- she even wants to come with. I'm sure she'll be faster than I, but company can be nice.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Day 1
Well, my official 11-week training program started today. Yes, I said 11 weeks. It turns out there are 11 weeks between now and the race. Generally, you plan better than I have done. You don't get a phone call from a friend and randomly decide that you'll run 13.1 miles (well, not if you begin by being horribly out of shape). No, you plan, you figure out how much time you have, then you pick a race that makes sense. Or, you just pick your race months in advance and count back 10 or 12 weeks. Not 11. So, I've modified a 12-week program.
Anyway, today is listed as a 3 mile run day. So I got up at 5am (OK, it was 5:15 by the time I was out of bed) and hit the road (at 5:25). It should not have taken me that much time, but it did. Anyway, it was fine. I ran. It's nice at 5am -- not a lot of cars. I saw one dog-walker and 2 other runners, other than that, it was pretty quiet. It took me about 35 minutes to go three miles, or about 11 minutes a mile. (I will not be getting all crazy about times and heart rates and VO2 max and shit. My plan is to run the thing, not race it. I have no pretentions to the Boston Marathon.)
The really cool thing is that all the teachers at my school are duly impressed. I mean, I'm just a bit impressed by my athletic prowess, and it's nice that the teaches are also impressed. They can't believe that I a) plan on running 13.1 miles b) can up and run 3 miles and c) will get up at 5am to do so. I love the attention. And, it's just one more thing to keep me honest. Now I *really* have to go through with it.
Tomorrow is a "stretch/strengthen" day, which is really a rest day. So, just some light weight lifting and some attention to my stretches. I'm going to try to check out the 6am yoga class -- I don't know if you're supposed to sign up in advance (I'm on a trial pass at the Y), because what is better for strength and stretching than yoga? Maybe Pilates, but they only have one Pilates class, and it's at stinkin' 8:15am. I'm really not impressed with their class schedule list. Anyway, I've been jonesing for some yoga (I know, my transition to hippy-crunchy-granola-tree-hugging freak is complete), so I hope I can get it and it's at least half-way decent.
And, we have a winner on the post label. Rach had a good suggestion with 'kercise -- which I could add kantankerous or killer to, but Hollis wins with Kardiac Katastrophe. If it makes me bust out laughing while walking across campus, it's a sure winner. Your present is in the mail, er... yeah.
Anyway, today is listed as a 3 mile run day. So I got up at 5am (OK, it was 5:15 by the time I was out of bed) and hit the road (at 5:25). It should not have taken me that much time, but it did. Anyway, it was fine. I ran. It's nice at 5am -- not a lot of cars. I saw one dog-walker and 2 other runners, other than that, it was pretty quiet. It took me about 35 minutes to go three miles, or about 11 minutes a mile. (I will not be getting all crazy about times and heart rates and VO2 max and shit. My plan is to run the thing, not race it. I have no pretentions to the Boston Marathon.)
The really cool thing is that all the teachers at my school are duly impressed. I mean, I'm just a bit impressed by my athletic prowess, and it's nice that the teaches are also impressed. They can't believe that I a) plan on running 13.1 miles b) can up and run 3 miles and c) will get up at 5am to do so. I love the attention. And, it's just one more thing to keep me honest. Now I *really* have to go through with it.
Tomorrow is a "stretch/strengthen" day, which is really a rest day. So, just some light weight lifting and some attention to my stretches. I'm going to try to check out the 6am yoga class -- I don't know if you're supposed to sign up in advance (I'm on a trial pass at the Y), because what is better for strength and stretching than yoga? Maybe Pilates, but they only have one Pilates class, and it's at stinkin' 8:15am. I'm really not impressed with their class schedule list. Anyway, I've been jonesing for some yoga (I know, my transition to hippy-crunchy-granola-tree-hugging freak is complete), so I hope I can get it and it's at least half-way decent.
And, we have a winner on the post label. Rach had a good suggestion with 'kercise -- which I could add kantankerous or killer to, but Hollis wins with Kardiac Katastrophe. If it makes me bust out laughing while walking across campus, it's a sure winner. Your present is in the mail, er... yeah.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Konundrum
So as I start this half-marathon training thing, I realize I should blog about it. Why? Because first of all, you are all so incredibly interested in the daily events of my life, I know you would be distraught if I didn't give you a blow-by-blow of every step taken and weight lifted. Also, it will be good for me to be publically responsible for training. It's one thing to lie to oneself, it's another thing entirely to lie to the Internet community.
But here is the problem: what words do I use to describe said run? Run, marathon, race, miles, exercise, workout... nothing starts with a "k"! Do I need to start up a whole new kblog, just so I don't mar the perfection of Krazy Karoline's Kozy Korner?
I am open for suggestions.
But here is the problem: what words do I use to describe said run? Run, marathon, race, miles, exercise, workout... nothing starts with a "k"! Do I need to start up a whole new kblog, just so I don't mar the perfection of Krazy Karoline's Kozy Korner?
I am open for suggestions.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Child's Play
I ran 3.5 miles today, and I feel pretty good. Towards the end I was pretty amazed at how quickly my slack-ass body succombed to my physical demands. I mean, I've let my body get laaaaazy, and it's picking back up like it remembers what it means to exercise.
I guess it does remember, and even likes, what it means to exercise. Oh, I'm still slower than slow. The Mazamas would rank me as a "1", and I'm OK with that. It took me 45 minutes to run 3.5 miles -- that's about a 13 minute mile. Although, the half marathon I'm looking at only demands a 15 minute mile. Now *that* is slow.
So if I can just keep up my slow-ass pace for about 10 more miles, I'll finish within the alotted time. I might finish last, but at least they'll wait for me. Of course, I'm running on flat, and there are some hills on the race course. But there are also 10 weeks between now and then, and I should be able to get myself to something closer to a 10 minute mile. No, I am not trying to break any land-speed records. Viva la tortoise! is my motto.
Back to my run. I used Google Maps (again) to figure out a 3 mile loop, but with my crazy neighborhood, that means going up and down streets to work it out while avoiding stupid big roads with lots of stinky cars -- so I forgot one turn. Instead of running 3.1, it turned into 3.5. And I could still finish strong.
I can do this. I'm gonna do the whole 13 miles, damnit.
Oh, and I Google Mapped the Pizza Run, and it looks like it was about 13 miles. I thought 7 was too close to get from Biddo to South Portland. So, I just have to think of this as the Pizza Run that I never did, except this race is in wine country, so there will be wine waiting for me at the end.
I guess it does remember, and even likes, what it means to exercise. Oh, I'm still slower than slow. The Mazamas would rank me as a "1", and I'm OK with that. It took me 45 minutes to run 3.5 miles -- that's about a 13 minute mile. Although, the half marathon I'm looking at only demands a 15 minute mile. Now *that* is slow.
So if I can just keep up my slow-ass pace for about 10 more miles, I'll finish within the alotted time. I might finish last, but at least they'll wait for me. Of course, I'm running on flat, and there are some hills on the race course. But there are also 10 weeks between now and then, and I should be able to get myself to something closer to a 10 minute mile. No, I am not trying to break any land-speed records. Viva la tortoise! is my motto.
Back to my run. I used Google Maps (again) to figure out a 3 mile loop, but with my crazy neighborhood, that means going up and down streets to work it out while avoiding stupid big roads with lots of stinky cars -- so I forgot one turn. Instead of running 3.1, it turned into 3.5. And I could still finish strong.
I can do this. I'm gonna do the whole 13 miles, damnit.
Oh, and I Google Mapped the Pizza Run, and it looks like it was about 13 miles. I thought 7 was too close to get from Biddo to South Portland. So, I just have to think of this as the Pizza Run that I never did, except this race is in wine country, so there will be wine waiting for me at the end.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Starting with 5th Block
I'm taking a lesson out of CK's book, and calling all of my students' parents, starting with 5th block. I wavered between starting with 4th or 5th, but I think 5th is way more disrespectful. They're pretty competent, just rude. Fourth... well, they have issues all around.
I started during my prep yesterday -- well,the portion of the prep that I had left after I ran all my other errands. I thought I would finish after school, but I forgot about the staff meeting. (I thought it was next week, because it's *always* the day before grades are due -- a really great time to have a 2 hour meeting.) No prep today, and I left at a reasonable hour so I could actually run an errand or two before 5pm. (Rach -- your presents are in the mail.) Although I still need to make it to the district office before 5 sometime next week.
ANYWAY.
I've only made it up to the M's, but it is a start. Already one student is PISSED at me because of it. So, instead of straightening himself out and doing some work, he got mad, put his head down, and did absolutely NOTHING during class. Sure kid, that's a great way to get your toys back. Yeah, Dad's gonna want to hear about that. Sure, you're made at me, but suck it up. You are the one failing. Your parents and other teachers should know what's going on. He is very capable, just unmotivated. I'm just trying to help him find some motivation. If he stops doing any work, it's not like much will have changed.
I'll keep going on Monday. Once I'm done with 5th, I'll call 4th. Then I'll target the ones that really need it in the other classes.
Oh, and in case you were wondering. Yes, EVERYONE gets a phone call. The phone call might just be to say that the child is a pleasure to have in class, but everyone gets one.
I started during my prep yesterday -- well,the portion of the prep that I had left after I ran all my other errands. I thought I would finish after school, but I forgot about the staff meeting. (I thought it was next week, because it's *always* the day before grades are due -- a really great time to have a 2 hour meeting.) No prep today, and I left at a reasonable hour so I could actually run an errand or two before 5pm. (Rach -- your presents are in the mail.) Although I still need to make it to the district office before 5 sometime next week.
ANYWAY.
I've only made it up to the M's, but it is a start. Already one student is PISSED at me because of it. So, instead of straightening himself out and doing some work, he got mad, put his head down, and did absolutely NOTHING during class. Sure kid, that's a great way to get your toys back. Yeah, Dad's gonna want to hear about that. Sure, you're made at me, but suck it up. You are the one failing. Your parents and other teachers should know what's going on. He is very capable, just unmotivated. I'm just trying to help him find some motivation. If he stops doing any work, it's not like much will have changed.
I'll keep going on Monday. Once I'm done with 5th, I'll call 4th. Then I'll target the ones that really need it in the other classes.
Oh, and in case you were wondering. Yes, EVERYONE gets a phone call. The phone call might just be to say that the child is a pleasure to have in class, but everyone gets one.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Channeling my 16-Year-Old Self
Baby Mama has convinced me to run a half marathon. Well, a half of a half marathon, so that's really only a quarter marathon. And if you further consider that makes the distance between 6 1/2 and 7 1/2 miles -- which was just an average day back in high school -- it seems like a perfectly reasonable goal.
Of course, I haven't run seriously since high school, if you can call the running that I did in high school "serious". I have been getting slowly more sedentary as the years have gone by. Sure, there was the Summer of Six Summits when I was in pretty good shape. But since then, injury, grad school, work, and my own essential laziness have conspired to keep me from working out. So 6 1/2 miles seems like quite a long way. I'd love to be able to bust out the full 13 1/2 miles (or whatever approximation of "busting out" my running conjures up), but I don't know if that's really doable between now and Mother's Day.
So, I just did it. I used Google Maps to mark out a 2 mile loop near my house (I love Google Maps, it was sooooo much easier than driving around the neighborhood looking at my odometer) and I started running. (Along with channeling my 16-year-old self, I am also channeling the classic Nike commercials.) I'd run until I felt like I had to give up, and I'd walk the rest of the way back -- but I was at least getting 20 minutes of aerobic exercise regardless. This started just over a week ago. And today, I ran the full two miles. Well, if you can call a 12.5 minute mile "running".
I just channeled my young self, back when I was too stupid or idealistic to know when to give up, and kept putting down the other foot. And today I also had that feeling that I'd made it past the beginning bla's and was ready to start running. How to explain?
When I hike, I feel like crap for about the first 10 minutes. I get all out of breath instantly, my chest tightens up, my muscles get all hot, and I get insanely discouraged by the task ahead of me. I just want to turn around and take a nap with potato chip crumbs stuck to my chin. But after that 10 minutes, I get my wind and can keep going for a long time. Granted, I go slowly for a long time, but I can bust out the 10-12 mile, 3500'+ hikes/climbs. That is not insignificant.
So today, I was realizing that when I was stopping during those first two miles, I hadn't even made it past the crappy feeling yet. I was just giving in before my body had a chance to get used to the elevated heart and respiration rate and settled down in something resembling submission. So, I ran through it today and lo-and-behold, I ran the two mile loop.
Maybe it was just that I started running while it was raining, and I had forgotten how much I love running in the rain. It was a light rain, but a good rain. The air was clean and fresh, my shoes shouldn't glow in the dark anymore, and running through puddles is just fun.
I figure another week of feeling OK with the (short) distance, and I can start seriously working on getting ready for a half of a half marathon.
"I like to run; it makes me smile. I think I'll go another mile."
Of course, I haven't run seriously since high school, if you can call the running that I did in high school "serious". I have been getting slowly more sedentary as the years have gone by. Sure, there was the Summer of Six Summits when I was in pretty good shape. But since then, injury, grad school, work, and my own essential laziness have conspired to keep me from working out. So 6 1/2 miles seems like quite a long way. I'd love to be able to bust out the full 13 1/2 miles (or whatever approximation of "busting out" my running conjures up), but I don't know if that's really doable between now and Mother's Day.
So, I just did it. I used Google Maps to mark out a 2 mile loop near my house (I love Google Maps, it was sooooo much easier than driving around the neighborhood looking at my odometer) and I started running. (Along with channeling my 16-year-old self, I am also channeling the classic Nike commercials.) I'd run until I felt like I had to give up, and I'd walk the rest of the way back -- but I was at least getting 20 minutes of aerobic exercise regardless. This started just over a week ago. And today, I ran the full two miles. Well, if you can call a 12.5 minute mile "running".
I just channeled my young self, back when I was too stupid or idealistic to know when to give up, and kept putting down the other foot. And today I also had that feeling that I'd made it past the beginning bla's and was ready to start running. How to explain?
When I hike, I feel like crap for about the first 10 minutes. I get all out of breath instantly, my chest tightens up, my muscles get all hot, and I get insanely discouraged by the task ahead of me. I just want to turn around and take a nap with potato chip crumbs stuck to my chin. But after that 10 minutes, I get my wind and can keep going for a long time. Granted, I go slowly for a long time, but I can bust out the 10-12 mile, 3500'+ hikes/climbs. That is not insignificant.
So today, I was realizing that when I was stopping during those first two miles, I hadn't even made it past the crappy feeling yet. I was just giving in before my body had a chance to get used to the elevated heart and respiration rate and settled down in something resembling submission. So, I ran through it today and lo-and-behold, I ran the two mile loop.
Maybe it was just that I started running while it was raining, and I had forgotten how much I love running in the rain. It was a light rain, but a good rain. The air was clean and fresh, my shoes shouldn't glow in the dark anymore, and running through puddles is just fun.
I figure another week of feeling OK with the (short) distance, and I can start seriously working on getting ready for a half of a half marathon.
"I like to run; it makes me smile. I think I'll go another mile."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Marinas
A quick aside. In He's Just Not That Into You, one of the characters goes to live on his boat for awhile. It's a gorgeous boat. Just, like, totally money boat. His ex goes to find him at one point, and she's wandering around the docks. It brought me back to warm summer mornings when Hollis and I used to go sit on his uncle's (?) boat back in K'Bunk Port. It was not the largest boat in the marina, and we looked pretty out of place, not being of the Boat Set, but it was fun.
I guess in Maine you have to make your own fun...
I guess in Maine you have to make your own fun...
He's Just Not That Into You
I know, I haven't seen a movie in a full-price movie theater in I don't know how long (seriously -- it was sometime in Portland, but even there I tend to go to the 2nd run theaters because although it still costs $20, it comes with beer and pizza), and I've now seen two movies this weekend. Blockbusters, both. What is the world coming to? Oh yeah: friends.
Anyway, my good friend Shells said that it was the story of her life. MDTS said he'd heard that it was all Hollywooded up and not as in-your-face as the book.
So let me say that I read the book. I doubted it at first, but it changed my life. The book is not rocket science -- far from it. It says everything that you already know, but it spells it out in a very clear, forthright, incontrovertible way. If he doesn't call... he's just not that into you. If he's still with his wife... he's just not that into you. If he doesn't want to marry you... he's just not that into you. If he's messed up emotionally... he's just not that into you. Greg (yeah, we're on a first-name basis) says that if a guy wants to be with you, he will do whatever crazy thing he has to to be with you. He will knock on doors; ask everyone he knows for your number, divorce his wife, go to counseling... anything. If he does't, well... he's just not that into you. It doesn't mean he's not into you at all, or that he doesn't like you, or find you attractive, it's just that he's not *that* into you. Period.
It's actually a very freeing concept. I realized the man that I hadn't been dating for five years wasn't that into me. It had been staring me in the face for 4 1/2 of those years, but there it was. If I was still unsure about his feelings, than he wasn't that into me. I emailed him that night and broke it off. (What? After 4 1/2 years of batting me around, yes, an email is all he got. We could've talked all night, but that wouldn't have gotten us anywhere.) I have not initiated conversation with him since. (He's emailed a few times. I finally told him -- again -- to stop it. Forever.)
So, is the movie brutally honest? Well, yes and no.
The thing is, the book is written by Greg and this other chick, Liz. She plays the role of the chick (duh), the "But what about..." and "I'm sure he just..." and "Maybe this time it will be different because...". So the book has this other voice, the voice that we hear all the time. The voice that gets our hopes up; the voice that has seen The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, and every movie with Rock Hudson and Doris Day. So we hear those women's voices in the movie. But we do hear that he's just not that into us. And we see it -- which can be far more powerful than the words themselves. It becomes obvious when you see it played out for your viewing pleasure.
It's a good movie. It's well done. The characters have some depth. There is romance and there are break-ups. There are rules and there are exceptions. (Which is what does us ladies in all the time, we hear about exceptions and expect them. The thing is, when you are the exception -- you know it. Otherwise, you're the rule. You're the rule early, and you're the rule often.)
If you need a good chick flick that won't make you cry: see it. If you need some help to dump your man: see it. If you just want to see what all the fuss is about: see it. It's not an Oscar-winner (er, I don't pay attention -- please tell me it hasn't been nominated); it's not classic cinema. But it's a good movie. And the final song is "Fridays I'm in Love" by the Cure. I love that song. It reminds me of sophomore year -- and yet another man who just want't that into me. hee!
Anyway, my good friend Shells said that it was the story of her life. MDTS said he'd heard that it was all Hollywooded up and not as in-your-face as the book.
So let me say that I read the book. I doubted it at first, but it changed my life. The book is not rocket science -- far from it. It says everything that you already know, but it spells it out in a very clear, forthright, incontrovertible way. If he doesn't call... he's just not that into you. If he's still with his wife... he's just not that into you. If he doesn't want to marry you... he's just not that into you. If he's messed up emotionally... he's just not that into you. Greg (yeah, we're on a first-name basis) says that if a guy wants to be with you, he will do whatever crazy thing he has to to be with you. He will knock on doors; ask everyone he knows for your number, divorce his wife, go to counseling... anything. If he does't, well... he's just not that into you. It doesn't mean he's not into you at all, or that he doesn't like you, or find you attractive, it's just that he's not *that* into you. Period.
It's actually a very freeing concept. I realized the man that I hadn't been dating for five years wasn't that into me. It had been staring me in the face for 4 1/2 of those years, but there it was. If I was still unsure about his feelings, than he wasn't that into me. I emailed him that night and broke it off. (What? After 4 1/2 years of batting me around, yes, an email is all he got. We could've talked all night, but that wouldn't have gotten us anywhere.) I have not initiated conversation with him since. (He's emailed a few times. I finally told him -- again -- to stop it. Forever.)
So, is the movie brutally honest? Well, yes and no.
The thing is, the book is written by Greg and this other chick, Liz. She plays the role of the chick (duh), the "But what about..." and "I'm sure he just..." and "Maybe this time it will be different because...". So the book has this other voice, the voice that we hear all the time. The voice that gets our hopes up; the voice that has seen The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, and every movie with Rock Hudson and Doris Day. So we hear those women's voices in the movie. But we do hear that he's just not that into us. And we see it -- which can be far more powerful than the words themselves. It becomes obvious when you see it played out for your viewing pleasure.
It's a good movie. It's well done. The characters have some depth. There is romance and there are break-ups. There are rules and there are exceptions. (Which is what does us ladies in all the time, we hear about exceptions and expect them. The thing is, when you are the exception -- you know it. Otherwise, you're the rule. You're the rule early, and you're the rule often.)
If you need a good chick flick that won't make you cry: see it. If you need some help to dump your man: see it. If you just want to see what all the fuss is about: see it. It's not an Oscar-winner (er, I don't pay attention -- please tell me it hasn't been nominated); it's not classic cinema. But it's a good movie. And the final song is "Fridays I'm in Love" by the Cure. I love that song. It reminds me of sophomore year -- and yet another man who just want't that into me. hee!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Friday the 13th
I saw my first Friday the 13th movie last night. I know, it's a bit embarassing to be my age and NOT to have seen any of them. I did grow up in the 80s, after all. But, I've never been a huge fan of the horror genre, and as an adult, I've spent too many nights alone to really want to scare myself before bedtime. However, M&C have convinced me that there is some value in dabbling in the genre, so when my Spanish friend asked me if I would watch the new one with her, I agreed.
As I've said, I'm no expert in the genre, so here are a neophyte's musings on the subject.
All those years of being worried about being scared were unfounded. The does not, and really isn't designed, to scare. The movie relies on cheap tricks to shock the viewer, with some gruesome killings and a little T&A thrown in for good measure. While watching it, I couldn't help but notice how important the foley is to the movie. You're watching, lah-di-dah, when CRASH coincides with Jason jumping out from behind a tree with a machete. It's the actual sound that is shocking, not really the picture.
Of course, the filmmakers do a good job -- as it were -- of using off-screen space. Or, not allowing us to see anything. The movie is shot rather tightly, so even though you know, you KNOW, that Jason is lurking around a corner, you are not allowed to view the entire scene. When the angle does shift to where he is, along with another sound effect, you are duly surprised. Well, surprised physically, but not mentally. You know it's going to happen all along, it's just a question of which milisecond brings the knife.
This over-reliance on sound and cuts reminded me of an article that I read while teaching Fahrenheit 451 last year. Life is full of "technical events" or "jolts". This all technical TV speak, so the article tells me ("Culture Jam", btw, I'm unsure on the author at this point). Producers? Editors? Directors? refer to any shift in the picture as a "jolt". So a cut is a jolt. And, there are more and more jolts on television and in the movies these days. We are overwhelmed by the information -- so much that we stop paying attention and become zombies. (Ah, another, better, horror genre: the zombie flick.) And that's all Friday the 13th does; it relies on jolts. We try to find meaning, but we cannot because we are never given enough meaning. But the changes evoke a purely physical reaction: dilated pupils, elevated heart beat, higher respiration rate. We mistake it for fear, and it's a fun feeling, so we see the movies.
Oh, and tits don't hurt, either.
As I've said, I'm no expert in the genre, so here are a neophyte's musings on the subject.
All those years of being worried about being scared were unfounded. The does not, and really isn't designed, to scare. The movie relies on cheap tricks to shock the viewer, with some gruesome killings and a little T&A thrown in for good measure. While watching it, I couldn't help but notice how important the foley is to the movie. You're watching, lah-di-dah, when CRASH coincides with Jason jumping out from behind a tree with a machete. It's the actual sound that is shocking, not really the picture.
Of course, the filmmakers do a good job -- as it were -- of using off-screen space. Or, not allowing us to see anything. The movie is shot rather tightly, so even though you know, you KNOW, that Jason is lurking around a corner, you are not allowed to view the entire scene. When the angle does shift to where he is, along with another sound effect, you are duly surprised. Well, surprised physically, but not mentally. You know it's going to happen all along, it's just a question of which milisecond brings the knife.
This over-reliance on sound and cuts reminded me of an article that I read while teaching Fahrenheit 451 last year. Life is full of "technical events" or "jolts". This all technical TV speak, so the article tells me ("Culture Jam", btw, I'm unsure on the author at this point). Producers? Editors? Directors? refer to any shift in the picture as a "jolt". So a cut is a jolt. And, there are more and more jolts on television and in the movies these days. We are overwhelmed by the information -- so much that we stop paying attention and become zombies. (Ah, another, better, horror genre: the zombie flick.) And that's all Friday the 13th does; it relies on jolts. We try to find meaning, but we cannot because we are never given enough meaning. But the changes evoke a purely physical reaction: dilated pupils, elevated heart beat, higher respiration rate. We mistake it for fear, and it's a fun feeling, so we see the movies.
Oh, and tits don't hurt, either.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Bizarrely Constructed Burger
I am trying to fit in my community. I am trying to make some lemonade over here. So, I have been occassionally eating at some local establishments. One town favorite is Great Awakenings. There is a location in Salinas and another on Monterey. I went to Monterey with a friend, and it was pretty good, so I've been giving the Salinas location a whirl. There are some disappointments.
First, the potatoes. Call me crazy, but I think a potato should be cooked through with no crunchy at all. Potatoes are not like green vegetables or noodles which should by all rights be cooked al dente. No, potatoes should be soft the whole way through. Obviously, the cook at Greak Awakenings does not agree with me. For the second time today, my home fries were underdone. I suspect that they do boil them first, but in an effort to keep them from falling apart, they undercook them. But then they don't cook them enough on the griddle to actually finish the cooking process, leaving you with a slightly crunchy, unsatisfying potato. If it happens again, I'm complaining.
Second, the burger was bizarrely constructed. The most obvious defect was that it came to me cut in half. Now, I know a lot of people prefer to eat their burgers cut in half. That's fine. It's not the way I prefer to eat mine, however. And while anyone can cut a burger in half when it is sitting whole on his or her plate, it is impossible to glue a burger back together once it's been cut. So strike number one is the cutting of the burger. Leave the integrity of the patty alone.
Second, who melts cheese on a piece of tomato. I mean really. The lettuce and tomato are cold, and should maintain that coldness. You do not try to melt cheese on the tomato. This is not a grilled cheese with tomato, this is a burger. The burger is the hot item, it is onto this round piece of food that the cheese should be melted. Oh, sure, there was cheese melted on the underside, but not on top. What?
Let's pause for a moment and consider the entire structure of the burger. It began with a soft, floofy bun. I suspect there was some potato starch in the bun. It was not quite sturdy enough for a full burger, but whatever. That was grilled with some butter. Next came a melted layer of cheese and the actual burger patty. On top of the patty was mayo. Wha? Hu? The mayo does not go on the burger. It goes on the bread -- which does not need butter because it is getting mayo. Then there was a layer of iceburg letter (ooh, fancy). Then, tomato. Then the cheese. Yeah -- warm tomato and cold cheese. Joy. Then the top of the bun. Notice what is missing? That's right, the onion. The onion that I specifically said I DID want. So right there we have strikes two and three.
For the record, a cheeseburger should be constructed in the following mannter. Bun, dry toasted. Burger, preferably a hand-formed patty made freshly ground meat. Then, melty cheese. Jack, cheddar, swiss, or provalone all work, as does blue cheese. Then onion. The onion should nestle into the cheese and provide a piquant bite to the mellow cheese. Then bacon (if required). Then tomato -- garden ripe. Then lettuce -- green leaf acceptable, but romaine is better able to stand up to the temperatures and juices of said burger. Red leaf and mesclun are really too thin to be ideal. Finally, a nice spread of mayo on the top bun, which again has been dry-toated. Now *that* is a burger.
Oh, and my waiter kept on calling me "Sweetie". Don't get me wrong, I do not mind the pet names. Eight years in the South, and I am down with a Honey and Sugar and Shug. However, I have not been a "Sweetie" in I don't know how long -- especially from a pimply 20-something man who is obviously younger than I am. (At least it was obvious to me.) He also had taken a page out of Office Space; and was right there with the 27 pieces of flair. I do not remember the character's name, but he's the "good" waiter at the restaurant. He was chipper and friendly (but forgot the onion on the burger) and had a long conversation with himself (considering the task) of getting me more water. And he called me "Sweetie." Weird.
I might still hit them up for breakfast again, but lunch is sadly lacking.
First, the potatoes. Call me crazy, but I think a potato should be cooked through with no crunchy at all. Potatoes are not like green vegetables or noodles which should by all rights be cooked al dente. No, potatoes should be soft the whole way through. Obviously, the cook at Greak Awakenings does not agree with me. For the second time today, my home fries were underdone. I suspect that they do boil them first, but in an effort to keep them from falling apart, they undercook them. But then they don't cook them enough on the griddle to actually finish the cooking process, leaving you with a slightly crunchy, unsatisfying potato. If it happens again, I'm complaining.
Second, the burger was bizarrely constructed. The most obvious defect was that it came to me cut in half. Now, I know a lot of people prefer to eat their burgers cut in half. That's fine. It's not the way I prefer to eat mine, however. And while anyone can cut a burger in half when it is sitting whole on his or her plate, it is impossible to glue a burger back together once it's been cut. So strike number one is the cutting of the burger. Leave the integrity of the patty alone.
Second, who melts cheese on a piece of tomato. I mean really. The lettuce and tomato are cold, and should maintain that coldness. You do not try to melt cheese on the tomato. This is not a grilled cheese with tomato, this is a burger. The burger is the hot item, it is onto this round piece of food that the cheese should be melted. Oh, sure, there was cheese melted on the underside, but not on top. What?
Let's pause for a moment and consider the entire structure of the burger. It began with a soft, floofy bun. I suspect there was some potato starch in the bun. It was not quite sturdy enough for a full burger, but whatever. That was grilled with some butter. Next came a melted layer of cheese and the actual burger patty. On top of the patty was mayo. Wha? Hu? The mayo does not go on the burger. It goes on the bread -- which does not need butter because it is getting mayo. Then there was a layer of iceburg letter (ooh, fancy). Then, tomato. Then the cheese. Yeah -- warm tomato and cold cheese. Joy. Then the top of the bun. Notice what is missing? That's right, the onion. The onion that I specifically said I DID want. So right there we have strikes two and three.
For the record, a cheeseburger should be constructed in the following mannter. Bun, dry toasted. Burger, preferably a hand-formed patty made freshly ground meat. Then, melty cheese. Jack, cheddar, swiss, or provalone all work, as does blue cheese. Then onion. The onion should nestle into the cheese and provide a piquant bite to the mellow cheese. Then bacon (if required). Then tomato -- garden ripe. Then lettuce -- green leaf acceptable, but romaine is better able to stand up to the temperatures and juices of said burger. Red leaf and mesclun are really too thin to be ideal. Finally, a nice spread of mayo on the top bun, which again has been dry-toated. Now *that* is a burger.
Oh, and my waiter kept on calling me "Sweetie". Don't get me wrong, I do not mind the pet names. Eight years in the South, and I am down with a Honey and Sugar and Shug. However, I have not been a "Sweetie" in I don't know how long -- especially from a pimply 20-something man who is obviously younger than I am. (At least it was obvious to me.) He also had taken a page out of Office Space; and was right there with the 27 pieces of flair. I do not remember the character's name, but he's the "good" waiter at the restaurant. He was chipper and friendly (but forgot the onion on the burger) and had a long conversation with himself (considering the task) of getting me more water. And he called me "Sweetie." Weird.
I might still hit them up for breakfast again, but lunch is sadly lacking.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Fuck It Dude, Let's Go Bowling
That's right. For the first time since I broke my pinkie (last March), I went bowling. And, it's the first time in a new lane -- I've been to about four bowling alleys in my life -- no kidding -- well, if we're talking 10 pin, not candlepin. But I hauled out my bowling shirt, dusted off Evan (my bowling ball -- the name was already printed on it when I bought it at the Goodwill for $8), and put on my wristbands (I don't know why, but I wear wristbands when I roll).
As I was at the bowling alley, I realized that although I am overshadowed by the hipsters in Portland, I am a hipster anywhere else. My combination of ironic gear and in-jokes it just too much for average people. My fellow English teachers didn't really know what to do with me. They did get a kick out of my shirt, though.
Of course, I lost the last game (I rolled a 76). I was penultimate in the 2nd game (I rolled an 85). And I tied for penultimate in the 3rd game -- but I broke 100, rolling a 102.
There was league bowling going on next to us. I tried to explain to them about the guy with the string tied to his foot and his wrist... but I just can't. I guess you had to be there. (Good enough for you, Hollis?)
Oh, and there was this one frame? The 6th, I think. We all bowled strikes. (It was my third mark of the night -- I am not ao good bowler). So, we're getting shirts made up and calling ourselves the Cinco Equis.
Oh, but no one sang Sweet Caroline to me when I got a strike or a spare. That was very sad.
As I was at the bowling alley, I realized that although I am overshadowed by the hipsters in Portland, I am a hipster anywhere else. My combination of ironic gear and in-jokes it just too much for average people. My fellow English teachers didn't really know what to do with me. They did get a kick out of my shirt, though.
Of course, I lost the last game (I rolled a 76). I was penultimate in the 2nd game (I rolled an 85). And I tied for penultimate in the 3rd game -- but I broke 100, rolling a 102.
There was league bowling going on next to us. I tried to explain to them about the guy with the string tied to his foot and his wrist... but I just can't. I guess you had to be there. (Good enough for you, Hollis?)
Oh, and there was this one frame? The 6th, I think. We all bowled strikes. (It was my third mark of the night -- I am not ao good bowler). So, we're getting shirts made up and calling ourselves the Cinco Equis.
Oh, but no one sang Sweet Caroline to me when I got a strike or a spare. That was very sad.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Oh Yeah, That's Right
When I first moved here, I noticed that the town had a culture of violence. The gangs, the military presence (and reverence), the fist-fights in class. You know, the stuff you've heard about. But it got pushed to the back of mind while dealing with all this other crap, but it's back in front.
And I've realized, it's not so much the violence itself that worries and saddens me; it's the anger that these kids are dealing with. They are so angry it is incredible. They tell me they are angry. They sometimes even explain their anger. Let me explain.
We are reading Oedipus to prepare for reading Antigone. We'll, we're reading a condensed version of Oedipus, but they need to know who all these people are. Anyway, Oedipus's tragic flaw is his anger (and maybe his hubris -- but his anger is what feeds that). He gets mad, makes rash decisions, kills some guy at a crossroads in the first documented case of road rage -- thus killing his father. And it goes on: he vows to kill the killer of the king, he assumes Creon and Tiresias are out to get him, he demands to know the truth. All of which lead to his realization that he has, in fact, killed his father and married his mother.
So, I ask them to think of a time when they got angry and did something they regretted as an opening free write. Some take it seriously: there was the time that a guy insulted my race, so I pulled out a knife and slit his throat.
Er. OK. That's good. Now tell me why you regret that.
Do you know how hard it is to not react to that statement? I do my best to keep a nice, flat affect with my students. (They do not need more rage or derision.)
And then -- there was the time I punched a kid and he punched me back. I kicked him because he wrecked my four-wheeler -- while he was lying on the ground injured. Or, what might be the best: I get angry, but I don't regret anything I do.
Really?
My mom is really lucky that I didn't punch her.
Huh. Tell me why.
Well, it would have knocked out her teeth. She has loose teeth.
Oh, and what would happen to you if you punched your mom?
Nothing.
Nothing. That's the response. These kids know they have anger management issues. They obviously grow up around adults with anger management issues. And it's not just one or two kids. It's a good minority of each of my classes. They are angry, violent children. They all need serious counseling. But the chances of any of them getting the services they actually need is really quite slim.
So, we read Oedipus, and talk about anger management. I'll probably pull out Joseph Campbell, and try to convince them that myths have a meaning for our lives. And maybe, maybe, one or two of them will walk away with something useful.
And I've realized, it's not so much the violence itself that worries and saddens me; it's the anger that these kids are dealing with. They are so angry it is incredible. They tell me they are angry. They sometimes even explain their anger. Let me explain.
We are reading Oedipus to prepare for reading Antigone. We'll, we're reading a condensed version of Oedipus, but they need to know who all these people are. Anyway, Oedipus's tragic flaw is his anger (and maybe his hubris -- but his anger is what feeds that). He gets mad, makes rash decisions, kills some guy at a crossroads in the first documented case of road rage -- thus killing his father. And it goes on: he vows to kill the killer of the king, he assumes Creon and Tiresias are out to get him, he demands to know the truth. All of which lead to his realization that he has, in fact, killed his father and married his mother.
So, I ask them to think of a time when they got angry and did something they regretted as an opening free write. Some take it seriously: there was the time that a guy insulted my race, so I pulled out a knife and slit his throat.
Er. OK. That's good. Now tell me why you regret that.
Do you know how hard it is to not react to that statement? I do my best to keep a nice, flat affect with my students. (They do not need more rage or derision.)
And then -- there was the time I punched a kid and he punched me back. I kicked him because he wrecked my four-wheeler -- while he was lying on the ground injured. Or, what might be the best: I get angry, but I don't regret anything I do.
Really?
My mom is really lucky that I didn't punch her.
Huh. Tell me why.
Well, it would have knocked out her teeth. She has loose teeth.
Oh, and what would happen to you if you punched your mom?
Nothing.
Nothing. That's the response. These kids know they have anger management issues. They obviously grow up around adults with anger management issues. And it's not just one or two kids. It's a good minority of each of my classes. They are angry, violent children. They all need serious counseling. But the chances of any of them getting the services they actually need is really quite slim.
So, we read Oedipus, and talk about anger management. I'll probably pull out Joseph Campbell, and try to convince them that myths have a meaning for our lives. And maybe, maybe, one or two of them will walk away with something useful.
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