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Ladies and Gents – allow me to digress for a minute. This article here is not important for what it says, but where it implies that we are going. Much as we’ve reached the point where a screen can be anything from a calculator to a photo-display to a movi
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Here’s a question – the article says “At stake is whether Saturn’s moon could support alien life”. If the life’s on Enceladus, is it alien while it’s in its natural habitat? That turn of phrase strikes me as akward as saying that “Africa supports alien li
Month: December 2007
So, I lied…
No posting about running last night. I got wrapped around the axle trying to keep my Windows VM up and running. Stupid windows.
But running has been very, very good to me.
I’m back on a mas o menos “Run less, run faster” (henceforth referred to as RLRF) schedule – rest Monday, track work on Tuesday, Cross-train Wednesday, tempo run Thursday, Cross-train Friday, long run Saturday, and rest, easy run or cross-train on Sunday. I like it, in that the three runs each have foci – try to puke on Tuesday, try to finish exhausted on Thursday, and cruise on Saturday.
And I’m pumped about the idea of blogging about running again. Open Source’s intervew with Jonah Lehrer struck some deep cord with me – Cezanne painting the same mountain over and over again, learning about the way he perceived the mountain along the way. Running may be my mountain, and this blog may be my little attempt to push us closer to Truth. (This is where my wife rolls her eyes)
Last Thursday’s tempo run was out-freakin’-standing. I left the office around noon, and just RAN. Snow had started to fall; there was about a half-inch on the ground, and there was a steady wind coming across the Bay from the north. I was sore from Tuesday’s abortive track workout, and sorely tempted to blow off the run in the snow, but I’ve come to recognize some cold hard truth:
- I’m right up against 16 weeks until the OKC Marathon
- My wife’s wicked skinny, and is planning to run the Vermont Marathon in May. So, I’ve got one shot at getting the family title back, and then she’s got it pushed under 4 hours.
So, I laced ’em up, and headed out the door into winter.
And the run was good. There’s something soothing about running in the snow. I was on the trail that circumnavigates the base, padding down the soft stuff, and watching the drivers hunched over the wheel in the universal “Oh, crap, I hope I don’t slip” pose. I passed one other runner, doing the loop in the opposite direction from me, with his face and hair coated with ice, just like mine.
About mile 4, I broke down and walked for a little bit. Interestingly enough, as soon as I stopped, the snow started melting off of my fleece and face. I was digging on it.
But the run was great. Winter ain’t gonna phase me, no siree bob.
Back to the grind
And a grind it is.
Actually, work’s great. Exciting and everything. Just had a huge brief, went well.
15 miles last week, all good miles. I kind of blew up the day the boat pulled back into Jax – tried to go 8+ after two weeks off, and man, did that suck.
But, we’ve done a Christmas pageant, shoveled snow, and life is good. Will write about running in the snow later.
Interesting
Not only is it 10 years of blogging today, but it’s 104 years of powered, heavier than air, human flight.
Oh, and I do still run on occasion. I’ll write about that this evening.
Christmas by the Numbers
Nods to RandomDuck.
- Favorite Christmas Cartoon: I’ve got to ape Rudi here, in that A Charlie Brown Christmas is the absolute greatest Christmas special ever. Back when kids could be kids without all us adults getting up in their stuff. And the soundtrack’s the bomb.
- Favorite Christmas Movie: I’ve got to go for It’s a Wonderful Life. In a lot of ways, I identify with George Bailey – having passed on the chance to galavant around the world, all I really want is a house in the burbs, the gal I love, and to make a difference in my community. That, and a youth in which there were opportunities akin to having a drunk, naked, soaking wet girl in a bush at the end of a date.
- Favorite Christmas Song (Traditional): Man, I love ’em all. The one I keep singing most frequently is “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please put a penny in the old man’s hat. If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do. If you haven’t got a half penny, then God Bless You.” It’s got everything – food, sharing, and good will towards man. I’m always floored when the old iPod turns up Bing Crosby’s “Adeste Fidelas” (O come all ye faithful).
- Favorite Christmas Song (Pop/Modern): “Blue Christmas”. Elvis rocks.
- Favorite Christmas Cookie: Yes. Christmas cookies are my favorite this time of year. Though I’ll set aside fondness for my pop’s mom’s macaroons, for Missy’s gingerbread pigs, and for plain old sugar cookies out of the tube.
- Favorite Family Tradition: The kissing ball, and reading Luke 2 out of a King James bible. (I’ll rant after the break)
Anyway, That’s Christmas here. Mostly, though, we try to avoid the mall.
Freaking Problem Solved!
I’ve been bashing out my brains trying to get SMB sharing set up between my ubuntu machine in the basement and my MacBook running Leopard. It worked flawlessly in 10.4, but for whatever reason (likely a simultaneous switch from Ubuntu 7.04 to 7.10 and a mac upgrade from 10.4 to 10.5), it died.
After much digging, a rebuild of the Ubuntu machine (which lead, conveniently, to my realizing I can mount the BIG hard drive as /home/, mount the little hard drive as /, and not have to wipe and rebuild every time I want to try out a new build), and wailing and gnashing of teeth, I found fishfishfish who pointed out that it’s useful to add some Samba users to the Ubuntu system before you can log in.
Now I can quit swearing.
Day two underway
I’ve got the pleasure of being on the ARC Tayrona, a Colombian Navy submarine (Armada de Republica Colombia – doesn’t “Armada” sound that much cooler than “Navy”?). And, I’ll confess, I like being at sea. Not the “apart from family” part of being at sea, but there’s things that you just can’t get in port.
There’s no sleep like sleeping in a rack that’s rolling – the motion must bring me back to something fundamental, the first essence of a memory, deep in my reptile brain, of being in my mother’s womb. Similarly, there’s the constant presence of other bodies nearby. It’s extremely social, but at the same time, it’s amazing how far away from other people you can get in your own mind.
I love riding with the Colombians – they love the sea. Being sailors to them hasn’t been broken down into a bunch of strictly technical procedures and checklists. It is THEIR ship, and THEIR crew, and their country. Good stuff.
But it’s good to be at sea again. Good to be in the environment where there’s ALWAYS something to do, never a chance to completely relax. And let’s be honest here for a minute – I thrive on stress. I’m never really happy unless I’m three days behind on two different projects. I like being Johnny-on-the-spot.
I’ve also been trying to figure out what draws me to the sea. I’ll be the first to admit – in a lot of ways, it sucks out here. Even when I was going out on the pipelay and construction barges in the Gulf of Mexico as a civilian, that pretty much blew. But there’s something special about having nothing on the horizon for 360 degrees, the motion of the wind and waves, and hard work.
(Incidentally, I’m back. I just felt compelled to write while I was out)
Underway, almost home
So, my general theory about the reserves has held true for yet another year. The theory being that the old reserve chestnut about “two days a month, two weeks a year” breaks down as follows: The “Two Days” a month, or drill weekend, is pretty painless, other than giving up a weekend each month. Which, I suppose I could do for Habitat for Humanity or something if I weren’t a reservist.
The Two weeks a year, or the “Annual Training” part of being a Reservist: I’ve had the pleasure of doing the majority of my AT’s actually going to sea on actual Navy ships. The first week is awesome – all of that first year of excitement – haze grey and underway, nothing but the devil and the deep blue sea. Then, there’s the remembrance, sometime around day 7 or 10 (Day 9 this year for me), of all the little reasons why I resigned from Active Duty in the first place. And soon enough – I’m back on dry land, and there’s another 50 weeks or so until I do it again.