Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Shakeology: Good workout drink!
Have been drinking this for about 6 weeks now. Pretty good stuff! There's more info here, and also some good general browsing.
http://teambeachbody.com/exitcomfortzone
http://teambeachbody.com/exitcomfortzone
Friday, September 24, 2010
New Software for Doctoral Students
A classmate and I were discussing the truly horrifyingly bad writing style of Academia, and came up with a new software app. Now all we need are developers who work for free. It would have a limited market since most people in graduate school actually buy into the obfuscation; it's only for the rare few that resolve to keep their grip on reality and not to drink the Koolaid.
Any bored developers out there?
From our chat session:
"Are you the square peg in a round hole?"
"The realist trying to get an advanced education?"
"Incapable of spewing random bullshit for the sake of spewing random bullshit?"
"Let us do the spewage for you!"
"Just write your coherent clear paper...run it through the Obfuscator 2000...and sit back."
"Your clear, concise, and relevant paper will be returned to you in seconds..."
"completely obfuscated and unintelligible to all but 6 people on Earth."
"And BONUS"
"The Obfuscator 2000 doesn't just remove any relevancy from your paper..."
"It bloats it up, too!"
"Two pages quickly becomes 15"
"thus satisfying any irrelevant requirements for quantity over quality."
Any bored developers out there?
From our chat session:
"Are you the square peg in a round hole?"
"The realist trying to get an advanced education?"
"Incapable of spewing random bullshit for the sake of spewing random bullshit?"
"Let us do the spewage for you!"
"Just write your coherent clear paper...run it through the Obfuscator 2000...and sit back."
"Your clear, concise, and relevant paper will be returned to you in seconds..."
"completely obfuscated and unintelligible to all but 6 people on Earth."
"And BONUS"
"The Obfuscator 2000 doesn't just remove any relevancy from your paper..."
"It bloats it up, too!"
"Two pages quickly becomes 15"
"thus satisfying any irrelevant requirements for quantity over quality."
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Some running wisdom that applies to life
Found this in an active.com post about running faster, but it applies to other aspects of life as well.
From:
http://www.active.com/triathlon/Articles/4-New-Rules-to-Run-Smart.htm?cmp=282&memberid=57260571&lyrisid=21006122&page=2
4. Run as fast as you want to, not as fast as you think you can.
Who's imposing your limits? Sometimes it's you, says Elizabeth Waterstraat, coach and founder of Multisport Mastery (multisportmastery.com) in Chicago. "Especially when athletes train heavily with technology, they can become wrapped up and limited by where the numbers should be, rather than where they could be." Unplug the technology now and then, she says, "and tune into how running fast feels in your legs, what it sounds like in your breathing, and what it speaks in your head. If you look down at your device and see you're approaching 5K pace, you might begin to fear that you will blow up or not be able to hold it. But you just might be breaking through in that workout. Save the evaluation for later. Don't let your fears and worries limit how much you are willing to give."
Learn how to define what's truly hard for yourself. "Many athletes look to coaches or formulas to tell them what hard is by heart rate, pace, or percentage of VO2max. Hard is hard. You run hard. Until you connect to that, you will not run as fast as you want to; you'll run as fast as someone tells you to go."
Then, listen to what you're saying. "You may be focusing on the negative (I am so slow) rather than the positive (I am getting stronger; this is a solid starting point). Running fast is so much about managing the physical pain; there is no hiding behind equipment (bicycle) or conditions (waves); it's usually just you and the pavement. Your legs must be strong, but your head must be stronger," Waterstraat says.
"To know your limits, you have to be willing to test them," she says. "The best athletes take logical risks in training so they know how far they can go in racing." Don't be surprised if it's farther than you thought.
From:
http://www.active.com/triathlon/Articles/4-New-Rules-to-Run-Smart.htm?cmp=282&memberid=57260571&lyrisid=21006122&page=2
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Volunteering at Ironman Louisville 2010
This past weekend two of us volunteered to help out at Ironman Louisville. As expected, it was an inspiring experience. Athletes ranged from superhuman professionals to mere mortals. All were fun to watch.
We worked a five-hour shift in the transition area, outside of the changing tents, and saw people returning from the bike. As each athlete returned, they went into one of the two changing tents, did their thing, and took off for the run. Our job was to offer sunscreen as they exited the tents. Sheets of plastic were spread out on tables, lots of sunscreen was poured out onto the plastic, and we covered our gloved palms in the stuff. As athletes exited, they were offered a generous slather of sunscreen, usually with 2 or 3 volunteers per athlete.
The professionals were on a mission and didn't have time for such nonsense, but we got much more busy as the age-groupers came in. As most of the slatherers were female, the men had a good time with it. Some just stood there moaning and asking if they had to go do the run. One guy came staggering out of the tent, stretching, blinking, and yawning like he had just awakened. He was hilarious.
Watching the professionals come in filled all of us with awe. These people were running into transition as if they had just begun their morning jog; you never would have guessed they had just climbed off 112 miles' worth of bike. Transition took them all of a minute, and they left for the run as easily as they came in. The man that won, Paul Ambrose, did the entire 140.6 miles in 8:20. Damn. It takes me 7 hours to do half that distance!
By the time our shift was over, the heat was in full force. It peaked in the mid-nineties, with relatively high humidity. There was a steady stream of people coming in from the bike and calling it a day. They just couldn't handle the heat. The medical tent was also quite busy, with occasional trips to the hospital and constantly full cots.
Around 14 hours into the race (9pm), we wandered over to the finish line and watched for a while. Folks coming in looked pretty darned good, all looked happy to finish, and most didn't seem to be suffering too terribly. We hung out for a while, left for dinner, and came back at 11 to watch the last "official" hour of the race. (Participants have 17 hours to finish; after that, no medal, no official time.) That hour went by FAST. The crowd was fantastic, making all kinds of noise and cheering everyone who came along. The announcer did a great job of acknowledging everyone by name, and saying, "John Doe, you are an Ironman!" as they crossed the finish.
Again, the vast majority of people looked pretty darned good! It was impressive how many were able to sprint it in. There were a few "Ironman shuffles", which is just sad. All stooped over, unable to move their feet at more than a shuffle, but finishing the race anyway. It got very stressful as 17:00:00 edged nearer and nearer, and people were coming in but moving slower and slower. Some, sadly, didn't make the cutoff. It was heartbreaking to see people working SO hard to cover that last 50 yards, and just unable to do it fast enough. One poor guy had a leg/butt cheek that was totally cramped up on him, and he was stiff-legging it as fast as he could, but he didn't make it. We concluded it might just be less heartbreaking to be pulled off the course early, like after the bike cutoff, than to get that close and watch the clock ticking away your deadline. Aaaargh.
The run course has a very cruel twist: around the halfway mark, it comes within a block of the finish. The first time through you have to watch people finishing, then make a hard right away from it, out for another 12-13 miles. Here is where we found a guy hugging a mailbox, trying to get his body under control. I walked up to him and said, "You've got this," and he said, "No, I still have 13 to go. I'm pulling out." This was with 2.5 hours left. Apparently he was so seized up that he didn't think he could even shuffle that last half-marathon. Poor bastard was near tears, he was so frustrated.
By 17:05:00, the timing mats had been taken up and the finish line was being dismantled. We roamed the area a bit, helped pick up some trash, then headed back to the hotel, one block before the finish area. By now it was around 20-25 minutes after the cutoff. In front of the hotel, we noticed a woman standing in the road who looked like she was still waiting for someone. We had just stepped into the lobby when a commotion started outside, so we went back out to see. An older woman (over 60), was shuffling by, finishing the race no matter what. She was bent over and couldn't pick up her feet, but by God she was doing the distance. Damn. Those of us who were still outside cheered her on, but this was not who the spectator was waiting for. By now, the finish arch/timer was gone, the area was dark and quiet, medical people were gone, and street crews were dismantling the chute. We don't know how long people continued to straggle in. They didn't get medals or official times, but they're still Ironmen.
Some finish line pics are posted here...at the back of the album.
http://indyhappel.myphotoalbum.com/view_album.php?set_albumName=album10
We worked a five-hour shift in the transition area, outside of the changing tents, and saw people returning from the bike. As each athlete returned, they went into one of the two changing tents, did their thing, and took off for the run. Our job was to offer sunscreen as they exited the tents. Sheets of plastic were spread out on tables, lots of sunscreen was poured out onto the plastic, and we covered our gloved palms in the stuff. As athletes exited, they were offered a generous slather of sunscreen, usually with 2 or 3 volunteers per athlete.
The professionals were on a mission and didn't have time for such nonsense, but we got much more busy as the age-groupers came in. As most of the slatherers were female, the men had a good time with it. Some just stood there moaning and asking if they had to go do the run. One guy came staggering out of the tent, stretching, blinking, and yawning like he had just awakened. He was hilarious.
Watching the professionals come in filled all of us with awe. These people were running into transition as if they had just begun their morning jog; you never would have guessed they had just climbed off 112 miles' worth of bike. Transition took them all of a minute, and they left for the run as easily as they came in. The man that won, Paul Ambrose, did the entire 140.6 miles in 8:20. Damn. It takes me 7 hours to do half that distance!
By the time our shift was over, the heat was in full force. It peaked in the mid-nineties, with relatively high humidity. There was a steady stream of people coming in from the bike and calling it a day. They just couldn't handle the heat. The medical tent was also quite busy, with occasional trips to the hospital and constantly full cots.
Around 14 hours into the race (9pm), we wandered over to the finish line and watched for a while. Folks coming in looked pretty darned good, all looked happy to finish, and most didn't seem to be suffering too terribly. We hung out for a while, left for dinner, and came back at 11 to watch the last "official" hour of the race. (Participants have 17 hours to finish; after that, no medal, no official time.) That hour went by FAST. The crowd was fantastic, making all kinds of noise and cheering everyone who came along. The announcer did a great job of acknowledging everyone by name, and saying, "John Doe, you are an Ironman!" as they crossed the finish.
Again, the vast majority of people looked pretty darned good! It was impressive how many were able to sprint it in. There were a few "Ironman shuffles", which is just sad. All stooped over, unable to move their feet at more than a shuffle, but finishing the race anyway. It got very stressful as 17:00:00 edged nearer and nearer, and people were coming in but moving slower and slower. Some, sadly, didn't make the cutoff. It was heartbreaking to see people working SO hard to cover that last 50 yards, and just unable to do it fast enough. One poor guy had a leg/butt cheek that was totally cramped up on him, and he was stiff-legging it as fast as he could, but he didn't make it. We concluded it might just be less heartbreaking to be pulled off the course early, like after the bike cutoff, than to get that close and watch the clock ticking away your deadline. Aaaargh.
The run course has a very cruel twist: around the halfway mark, it comes within a block of the finish. The first time through you have to watch people finishing, then make a hard right away from it, out for another 12-13 miles. Here is where we found a guy hugging a mailbox, trying to get his body under control. I walked up to him and said, "You've got this," and he said, "No, I still have 13 to go. I'm pulling out." This was with 2.5 hours left. Apparently he was so seized up that he didn't think he could even shuffle that last half-marathon. Poor bastard was near tears, he was so frustrated.
By 17:05:00, the timing mats had been taken up and the finish line was being dismantled. We roamed the area a bit, helped pick up some trash, then headed back to the hotel, one block before the finish area. By now it was around 20-25 minutes after the cutoff. In front of the hotel, we noticed a woman standing in the road who looked like she was still waiting for someone. We had just stepped into the lobby when a commotion started outside, so we went back out to see. An older woman (over 60), was shuffling by, finishing the race no matter what. She was bent over and couldn't pick up her feet, but by God she was doing the distance. Damn. Those of us who were still outside cheered her on, but this was not who the spectator was waiting for. By now, the finish arch/timer was gone, the area was dark and quiet, medical people were gone, and street crews were dismantling the chute. We don't know how long people continued to straggle in. They didn't get medals or official times, but they're still Ironmen.
Some finish line pics are posted here...at the back of the album.
http://indyhappel.myphotoalbum.com/view_album.php?set_albumName=album10
Monday, August 2, 2010
What a difference two decades make!
Back in 1990 when I was commuting from Chicago to St. Joseph, MI to play in the Southwest Michigan Symphony, if you had suggested I would come to St. Joe to do a half-iron triathlon, I probably would have suggested you put down the crack pipe. After I stopped laughing.
Fast forward to 2010. I was one of 48 Team in Training members from MI, IL, and IN. Our group was a wonderful mixture of old and young, newbies and veterans. Our common thread was that we had each raised several thousand dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and had dedicated our races to honored heroes. My race was in honor of my brother-in-law Jim, who is currently fighting not one, but several types of lymphoma.
Race Day, July 31, 2010
You want us all in the hotel lobby WHEN? Really? Groan. 4am finds lots of groggy-eyed and nervous TNT members picking at breakfast and doing a lot of general fidgeting. We carpooled to the beach, and set up our transition area. It was nice not to have to deal with getting the bike there, since we had racked them the previous day. Most of us were completely set up before 5am, when the rain started. We found a pavillion to sit under and watch the lightning, and hoped the announcer was correct that the weather would skirt us to the north.
The Swim
By 6:30 it was time to get the wet suit on and walk to the swim start. The swim had two starting points, depending on the current that day. Either way, it was a 1.2 mile walk down the beach, with hordes of other participants and very slow-moving spectators. What should have taken about 20 minutes took around 40. The race organizers did a very poor job of informing us exactly WHERE the swim gear check was, and many of us had bags with sandals and other miscellany, since we weren't allowed back into transition after 6:30. I jogged the last quarter-mile and got there just as my swim wave was going onto the beach. Where's the gear check? Just up there, about 150 yards away up the sand dune and out of sight. Oh now that's really convenient. Luckily there were some TNT supporters standing nearby, and I just gave the bag to them and asked them to check it when they could. Sheesh.
Unbelievably, Lake Michigan was a balmy 76 degrees. Wow that was nice. It was easy to sight, as the buoys simply followed the coastline back to transition. Keep the beach to your right and let 'er rip! Haha, yeah, like I'm a fast swimmer. However, the current was extremely helpful and I surprised our coach Sean when I showed up at transition about 10 minutes sooner than expected. 46 minutes! Best swim ever.
Transition was a very long slog through loose sand, back up to the bikes. I jogged some of it, but took my time. Got to the bike and washed the sand off my feet. Considered firing up the hibachi to dry out the socks, but wrung them out instead. At least the bike shoes have drainage holes.
The Bike
After a 5-minute T1 (transition 1), I left on the bike. Had the ride of my life, despite discovering that the tune-up instead had totally jacked up my gearing. Sometimes it would shift up, often not quite all the way down, and forget changing to the big ring in front. Had to slam the gears around to get them to shift, and did the entire distance (on rolling hills) using the smaller ring. However, I felt great and had a terrific ride. My biggest concern was that I would drop the chain, or worse yet, break it from having to slam it around so much. I passed five or six people with flats, and hoped that wouldn't happen either. Finally, at 54 miles and 3:07, my back tire blew. I sped up, and probably made it a few hundred more yards before it was completely flat.
Theoretically, I know how to change a tire. I actually have done it once. Was it worth the time? No. Was it worth trying to at least jam a CO2 cartridge in it and see if it would hold maybe another half mile? Sure. Was I successful? No. Don't know if it was user error (most likely), destroyed valve, or what, but it didn't work. So I walked it in, and had an extra-long T2. Got a lot of encouragement from spectators coming down the chute, and quite a few offers of help from other racers, which was nice.
Note to self: Stop being such a girl and learn how to quickly change a bike tire.
The Run/Trudge
I don't recommend walking two miles in bike shoes. It's hell on the shins. It felt heavenly to put on my (now almost dry) running shoes and start to jog a little. I felt ok on the run, but definitely did not eat enough on the bike and simply ran out of fuel. I had already taken several gels, and had eaten half a PowerBar and banana, and consumed all of my protien/carb drink on the bike, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't run far at a time, so alternated very short walk breaks with marginally longer running stints. The aid stations and volunteers were wonderful, with bananas, gels, water, Gatorade, and cups of ice, so I just kept trying to eat something. It helped, but the damage was done. I had to walk quite a bit, but was able to finish in a respectable (for me) 2:38. Many thanks to our coach Sean who found me at mile 10, let me whine a little bit, then encouraged me.
The Joys of Perimenopause
TMI warning: If you are not the least interested in the adventures of being a perimenopausal woman, you may want to skip this section. Consider yourself warned.
Mother Nature decided why have one period this month when I can have two? The rude surprise began at 9am Friday morning. Perfect. I was lucky it was not the full-blown chronic fatigue of July Period #1, but still... Got through the swim and bike feeling great, then around mile 3 of the run my back just started killing me. Men, if you want to experience the joys of racing with your period, have your running partner smack you in the back with a 2x4, behind your kidneys. Then run. Every time the pain starts to subside even a little, have your partner smack you again. Keep running. Do this for five miles. Do it until you think you're gonna puke. Then stop with the smacking and enjoy the rest of the run. Prostate exam or racing with periods? Hmmm. Not sure which is more joyous.
The Finish
Sucked it up and jogged it in, even though it darned near killed me! Official time was 7:14:36, but I still consider it my PR. I lost 30 minutes walking the bike in, so probably would have had a time closer to 6:50 without the flat. Under 7 hours, in any case. So I'll take it.
I'll also take the quick recovery. No aches and pains to speak of. Neck is slightly stiff from being aero on the bike, which was also a milestone for me. I was down in the aero bars more than ever before, for the entire 54 miles, only coming up for aid stations and sharp course turns. Thank you Nebo Ridge for an outstanding bike fitting! Sunday was a wonderful massage at Massage Envy, and this morning a much-needed adjustment from my chiro Dr. Drew. Between that and coffee, life is good!
Team Indiana at 4 a.m.!
Fast forward to 2010. I was one of 48 Team in Training members from MI, IL, and IN. Our group was a wonderful mixture of old and young, newbies and veterans. Our common thread was that we had each raised several thousand dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and had dedicated our races to honored heroes. My race was in honor of my brother-in-law Jim, who is currently fighting not one, but several types of lymphoma.Race Day, July 31, 2010
You want us all in the hotel lobby WHEN? Really? Groan. 4am finds lots of groggy-eyed and nervous TNT members picking at breakfast and doing a lot of general fidgeting. We carpooled to the beach, and set up our transition area. It was nice not to have to deal with getting the bike there, since we had racked them the previous day. Most of us were completely set up before 5am, when the rain started. We found a pavillion to sit under and watch the lightning, and hoped the announcer was correct that the weather would skirt us to the north.
The Swim
By 6:30 it was time to get the wet suit on and walk to the swim start. The swim had two starting points, depending on the current that day. Either way, it was a 1.2 mile walk down the beach, with hordes of other participants and very slow-moving spectators. What should have taken about 20 minutes took around 40. The race organizers did a very poor job of informing us exactly WHERE the swim gear check was, and many of us had bags with sandals and other miscellany, since we weren't allowed back into transition after 6:30. I jogged the last quarter-mile and got there just as my swim wave was going onto the beach. Where's the gear check? Just up there, about 150 yards away up the sand dune and out of sight. Oh now that's really convenient. Luckily there were some TNT supporters standing nearby, and I just gave the bag to them and asked them to check it when they could. Sheesh.
Unbelievably, Lake Michigan was a balmy 76 degrees. Wow that was nice. It was easy to sight, as the buoys simply followed the coastline back to transition. Keep the beach to your right and let 'er rip! Haha, yeah, like I'm a fast swimmer. However, the current was extremely helpful and I surprised our coach Sean when I showed up at transition about 10 minutes sooner than expected. 46 minutes! Best swim ever.
Transition was a very long slog through loose sand, back up to the bikes. I jogged some of it, but took my time. Got to the bike and washed the sand off my feet. Considered firing up the hibachi to dry out the socks, but wrung them out instead. At least the bike shoes have drainage holes.
The Bike
After a 5-minute T1 (transition 1), I left on the bike. Had the ride of my life, despite discovering that the tune-up instead had totally jacked up my gearing. Sometimes it would shift up, often not quite all the way down, and forget changing to the big ring in front. Had to slam the gears around to get them to shift, and did the entire distance (on rolling hills) using the smaller ring. However, I felt great and had a terrific ride. My biggest concern was that I would drop the chain, or worse yet, break it from having to slam it around so much. I passed five or six people with flats, and hoped that wouldn't happen either. Finally, at 54 miles and 3:07, my back tire blew. I sped up, and probably made it a few hundred more yards before it was completely flat.
Theoretically, I know how to change a tire. I actually have done it once. Was it worth the time? No. Was it worth trying to at least jam a CO2 cartridge in it and see if it would hold maybe another half mile? Sure. Was I successful? No. Don't know if it was user error (most likely), destroyed valve, or what, but it didn't work. So I walked it in, and had an extra-long T2. Got a lot of encouragement from spectators coming down the chute, and quite a few offers of help from other racers, which was nice.
Note to self: Stop being such a girl and learn how to quickly change a bike tire.
The Run/Trudge
I don't recommend walking two miles in bike shoes. It's hell on the shins. It felt heavenly to put on my (now almost dry) running shoes and start to jog a little. I felt ok on the run, but definitely did not eat enough on the bike and simply ran out of fuel. I had already taken several gels, and had eaten half a PowerBar and banana, and consumed all of my protien/carb drink on the bike, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't run far at a time, so alternated very short walk breaks with marginally longer running stints. The aid stations and volunteers were wonderful, with bananas, gels, water, Gatorade, and cups of ice, so I just kept trying to eat something. It helped, but the damage was done. I had to walk quite a bit, but was able to finish in a respectable (for me) 2:38. Many thanks to our coach Sean who found me at mile 10, let me whine a little bit, then encouraged me.
The Joys of Perimenopause
TMI warning: If you are not the least interested in the adventures of being a perimenopausal woman, you may want to skip this section. Consider yourself warned.
Mother Nature decided why have one period this month when I can have two? The rude surprise began at 9am Friday morning. Perfect. I was lucky it was not the full-blown chronic fatigue of July Period #1, but still... Got through the swim and bike feeling great, then around mile 3 of the run my back just started killing me. Men, if you want to experience the joys of racing with your period, have your running partner smack you in the back with a 2x4, behind your kidneys. Then run. Every time the pain starts to subside even a little, have your partner smack you again. Keep running. Do this for five miles. Do it until you think you're gonna puke. Then stop with the smacking and enjoy the rest of the run. Prostate exam or racing with periods? Hmmm. Not sure which is more joyous.
The Finish
Sucked it up and jogged it in, even though it darned near killed me! Official time was 7:14:36, but I still consider it my PR. I lost 30 minutes walking the bike in, so probably would have had a time closer to 6:50 without the flat. Under 7 hours, in any case. So I'll take it.I'll also take the quick recovery. No aches and pains to speak of. Neck is slightly stiff from being aero on the bike, which was also a milestone for me. I was down in the aero bars more than ever before, for the entire 54 miles, only coming up for aid stations and sharp course turns. Thank you Nebo Ridge for an outstanding bike fitting! Sunday was a wonderful massage at Massage Envy, and this morning a much-needed adjustment from my chiro Dr. Drew. Between that and coffee, life is good!
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