The Proving Grounds

After hobbling around (with Philipides' ghost laughing heartily) for a few days, I was finally able to try out my new bike at Creve Coeur Lake. CC Lake is a nice park area with a 5+ mile loop around an expansive lake. With temps in the 80s F recently, there are plenty of roller-bladers, bikers, and walkers out there.

Because I can bike there in 5 minutes, it became my own "proving grounds" last autumn, though the only thing I really proved was that a hybrid/mountain bike isn't very fast.

The new bike is fast. For the first time in a hundred years, there were times when I had that nervous feeling that harkened back to when one is just learning to ride. Getting on those "aerobars" is interesting, let me tell you (the steering is ultra-touchy) -- not to mention being clipped into the pedals. One really does "wear" road bikes.

Thankfully no falls or bruises... Jim G had a wipeout on his first ride last year, so that's one moral victory to start the season.

Two worlds unite

Last night, the St Louis Blues retired #2 for Al McInnis, the venerable defenseman and future Hall-of-Famer.

I wasn't there, but the local news recapped the highlights:

• During the warmup, all of the Blues players wore #2.


• A blue #2 was painted behind both nets, and was prominent on the boards.


• A video tribute had accolades from Wayne Gretzky, Steve Yzerman, and other greats.


• Every important St Louis Blue in history was in attendance, including Brett Hull and old-timers like Bernie Federko.

But the news missed one item: as a fanfare for Al's entrance, a Scotsman, decked out in a kilt and the full regalia, played the bagpipes. A very classy touch, celebrating Al's roots in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia!

Stealing one from Philippides

Our hero fingerpicks a classical guitar in a salon in Paris. With a dramatic flourish, he ends a F# diminished appreggio, flamenco-style, with a resonant E major chord. The salon erupts in applause. Salma Hayek, wearing a fetching silky black dress, comes to the stage. With a delightful Latina accent, she leans in provocatively to our hero and whispers, "You're late".

Zounds! Our hero bolts awake: it's 6:22 am. He was supposed to be up at 5:45 am to head into St Louis city for the St Louis Marathon. With blazing speed, he grabs his clothes and is out the door, hurtling down i-70 in his red roadster.

Though 15 minutes late, and with no time to warm-up (or get nervous), our hero is soon trudging along the streets of St Louis. Using a technique known as the "run/walk", the goal is to improve on the pure-walk LA marathon in March with no injury to the delicate connective tissue of the foot and knee. The idea is to run a bit, walk a bit, repeat.

In stark contrast to LA, there is no fanfare, no companionship, no hotel room, and, well, no training. Some believe it is insane: "you can't just run/walk a marathon without putting in the miles. You have to respect the distance!". Philippides' ghost would not approve. (Philippides being the original runner from Marathon to Athens.)

The plan is to respect the distance, but also to push the boundaries.

And the boundaries were pushed: a finish-time of approximately 6 hours. The battleplan of "run 4 minutes, walk 1 minute" lasted until mile 15. Then it was throttled down to "run 3 minutes, walk 2 minutes". By mile 18, it was "walk and mutter profanity for 5 minutes". Thankfully a boost at mile 20 and another at mile 24. And the sweet, sweet finish line.

Damage assessment is underway... So far so good: I think I stole one and got away with it.

New Wheels

One of the main reasons I lost to Jim G in last autumn's Great Tri Showdown was that he had a new spiffy road bike.

This year I decided to at least match, if not surpass him. After being in Hawaii and reading glossy ads with seductive copy in a tri magazine on the plane, my tri-geek lust was high. Matching was not an option: can you put a price on victory? or utter domination?

Thankfully, I have calmed down and bought this little number. It's a road bike with add-on aerobars (allowing the rider to stretch the arms into that scrunched/aerodynamic riding position); it is not a true tri-bike which has a more aggressive geometry and gear shifters out at the end of the aerobars. If my old bike is a Toyota Corolla, this pony is a Mustang. The Ferrari will have to wait.

It's not easy to buy a bike anymore: they don't come with pedals and one has to buy special shoes. Stock seats are considered virtually disposable. And the bike is really just the foyer into Grand Ballroom of attire and accessories.

I feel more and more like Andy Rooney with each passing day.

Arch Rival #1: the dreaded Jim G

The best motivation for fitness is competition. Thankfully, I work with Jim G, my primary nemesis in St Louis. I am infinitely more fit because of our rivalry. I doubt if I would have run a 10 K, let alone a sprint triathlon, without the spice of competition.

Jim G is a good man and friend. He's honest and is a devoted father/husband. He's about 15 years older than me, but has a military and track background; in his youth, he was probably much more fit than I was in mine. I'd say we are about the same now.

Enough niceties: as running partners, we're The Odd Couple. We don't talk politics, religion, morals, bioethics (!), world affairs, or any of our other interests (he renovates houses; I play piano). He has been mortified at my various hairstyles and absolutely aghast in the summer 2003 when I came to work with my toenails painted (long story -- he still brings it up). I am always surprised at his news sources and role models. I am Owen Wilson to his Tommy Lee Jones.

We do talk about 3 things: swimming, bicycling, and running; and who can do what faster. We are both acutely aware of the other's status (injured, working out, super-fit, etc). And we have had some titanic battles "on the field". When I lose, I heartily congratulate him, but will replay the defeat for days. When I win, it is euphoria.

Our first major match-up of the season will be in June (a sprint tri). I cannot wait... this is The Year.

Pics from the Tropics

Here are the Hawaii pics!

A brief guide for the diverse audience of CaptainComicCanuck:

Kim wore a blue hat; Gila wore a pink hat; Bryan is the handsome thorn between 2 roses.

Gila's luggage didn't arrive for 2 days, hence the Walmart photos.

Yes, I am wearing high heels. Boredom at said Walmart. The heels accented my legs but hurt within 5 minutes -- *feigned outrage* clearly men designed those things!

The waterfall is Akaka Falls, on the north side of the Big Island. About 450 feet.

One photo has a sign that reads "the official swim start/run finish of the Ironman Triathlon World Championship". The promised land!

Among the activities depicted: snorkelling, surfing, and an old-fashioned Luau!

Photographers Are Exhibitionists

My friend, Jess, is making a name for herself in the St Louis "photog" community. When true artistic vision is married with the long, hard effort of perfecting a craft, that can only mean one thing: eBay! Buy her stuff now and cash in later on. I have a few pieces that are earmarked for materialistic destiny!

Check out her website and especially her 2nd exhibition in the upcoming event, Venus Envy. Venus Envy is an "organization run by women who's vision is to create female-produced arts events and outreach/education programs that strengthen feminine diversity and promote empowerment". Key dates for Venus Envy are April 14 and 15.

Rocky Raccoon Redux

Raccoon #3 was caught last night. Considerably larger than raccoon #2. She (?) just played in the trap and seemed relatively content -- certainly compared to the lil' furball cat that was caught over the weekend.

Bandits at 6 o'clock (am)

For a month now, there have been noises above my apartment. Due to the building design, no one lives directly above me: it's my neighbour's patio deck.

It is also a condo for raccoons. The noises occur between 4 and 6 am, clearly when the nocturnal noisemakers of noteriety were coming home from The Dumpster Buffet. I have been complaining to the apartment complex since March 3 or so. In that time, the pest control geniuses have done the following (no animals have been harmed, btw):

1. They set a trap that clearly inhibited the raccoon from getting out (even into the trap). It's hard to explain but the animals would use a hole through a wood panel that clearly swung open; the men stapled the panel shut.

2. They caught a cat (because they use tuna for bait -- from what I've read, I think they should be using berries/cherries. Raccoons love sweet berries; cats don't.)

3. They caught a raccoon and boarded up the deck. Upon my return from a long vacation, there were still noises, from a raccoon that seemed rather impatient to get out, considering it had been there for days.

4. After another 4 days, they open the deck again. The "pest control guy" drops by on Thursdays. I wonder when the fire dept "drops by"; if I have a fire, I want to schedule it accordingly. This one was my fault for not raising a bigger, err, stink as there might have been dying mammals in my abode.

5. This weekend, another young cat was caught. He wouldn't shut up so I let him out of the trap. Fiesty little bugger. No collar, and when released, he was off like a shot, up the shingled roof to the side of the decks. I suspect he was an alley cat. He didn't even stop to say thanks!

6. This morning, we have culprit #2. See the pic. But there were major noises around 6 am so I think Momma is still up there. Great.

Back in Black

I went to the YMCA (gym) for the first time this month. Given that it was March 26, that's not good. But thankfully I had a very active vacation including the 26.2 mile walk.

I swam 50 lengths and ran 8 miles (rather slowly). It was a relief because I was afraid that I was going to be completely out of shape. Note that for the hardcore triathletes (which I ain't), that is a warmup.

Aloha

Did you know that "aloha" not only means "hello" and "goodbye" but also "love"? In Hawaii, the locals would often talk about the "aloha spirit".

I honestly think that this spirit is predicated by the stunning beauty of the island, and the perfect weather. Although a true good-old winter can forge the bonds of community (e.g. how often people help someone who is stuck in snow), it is tricky to stay cheery when it is -40 F and one has yet to shovel the driveway.

Back in The Lou

I've returned from a double-dream "field trip" with some dear, dear friends. I could write entire paragraphs of thank yous and "shout outs" but that seems pretentious, somehow. On the flight home, I decided to express emotion via brevity. Hopefully, I've already conveyed my feelings to everyone involved!

Stop #1 on the trip was The Big Island of Hawaii. Though it was really just a sidebar, I walked on the hallowed ground of _the_ premier Ironman Triathlon. I did NOT compete as (a) it's in October and (b) I'm more of a "Aluminium-Foil-Man" triathlete.

Stop #2 was the City of Angels: LA. With six brave souls, I walked (not ran) the LA marathon. 9.5 hours. It might sound like a bad day at the mall but it ain't easy -- I have a newfound respect for distance events, no matter what the speed.

Marathon

sixty-thousand steps
nomads marching, laughing, ache
child offers cup

Hawaii Haiku #5 (Snorkel)

Rainbows suspended
i am mere guest, alien,
Deaf, in nature's womb

Hawaii Haiku #4 (Hallelujah)

Pele's fire drowns
Warm rain sings Hallelujah
Green tendril unfurls

Gone Fishin'

This site will be quiet for awhile.... Going on a "field trip" of sorts!

An E-List Celebrity

A local radio station has a comment-line where people call in and leave messages "we have you on at work all the time!".

I thought I would try a little schtick/comment of my own, and it schtuck -- The Arch 106.5 plays it fairly often (it's rare to hear repeated comments and esp. rare to hear a comment that is 15+ seconds). I called in early in the morning and with a baritone, deadpan voice, drawled something like:

" I'm driving in to work on my mind-numbing commute to my mind-numbing job listening to mind-numbing radio: a spectrum ranging from perky voices gossiping about celebrities to rude hosts with juvenile noises that make me feel like I'm thirteen. Then in this bleak, desolate landscape, I find an oasis -- a radio station that actually plays music in the morning -- and for one brief moment, I think maybe -- just maybe -- everything is going to be ok. "

Several dear friends in StL have heard it and have called me with joyful recognition... But the big question: can I follow-up? What if I left another message (a la serial commentary)... is this the start of something? Hmmmm..... (Btw, my job isn't mind-numbing)

Nous bloggons

Here are some friends' blogs...

What happens when a legal eagle marries a math/comp-sci geek and they raise a fashion princess with personality to spare? Hijinx ensues at the Rosenberger Three (I was a groomsman at Fred's wedding, just after Phil's wedding, in 2001)

The envy files: an intrepid Maritimer moves to Banff, Alberta to bring beauty tips, improv skills, and skiing shenannigans to affluent guests!

Though somewhat outdated, this one is from PEI... Dear to one's heart as this one is kin... Two Kids and a Fish (called Wanda?)

Finally, the blog that is sweeping the continent... Another interpid Maritimer documents her life in a small town near the Artic Circle. North of Nain

No Oscar Awards for the Canines

A happier anecdote from NPR: a director of a film (Tsotsi, I think) was talking about the difficulty of filming with infants and especially dogs. One scene in the movie involves a dog who is injured. He said that they had a dozen "audition" dogs who had been trained to act as though they were injured. All of the dogs were very intelligent and performed excellently, with one major flaw: because they were trying to please their trainers, they all wagged their tails! :-)

The director ultimately chose a Doberman solely because it had a minimal tail...

Sights I'd Never Thought I'd See

Sir Paul visits Prince Edward Island! No doubt he will raise awareness about the seal hunt (which I always thought was a bigger deal in Newfoundland), but the big question: will he catch Anne of Green Gables at the Confed Centre? Pity that the seals don't calve in June...

As an aside, I always find our biases toward animal rights to be fascinating. Seal cubs are such an easy target for the media because they are so cute and fluffy and the hunt seems so violent. Yet I would take the fate of a baby seal over ducks (foie gras) or veal any day of the week. Also, KFC and others are notorious for ultra-efficient (and heartless) chicken farming. Where's the outrage for the chickens? My personal bias is for exotic animals -- there's no words for what I want to do to those who hunt tigers...

well this turned into a cheery entry!