With cautious steps

Rehabilitating right calf, adjusting to new shoes and thinking about blogging again.

Happy Thanksgiving! See you in about 3 weeks.

Not Just a Mailman Who Runs

Jamie and Lynn Parks

A Cautionary Tail

Primer: So, you busy tonight?
Loretta Lobster: No, just crawling around. Might even contract and retract my tail if some jerk steps on one of my feet. Why, what did you have in mind?
Primer: Oh I don’t know. How about dinner and some laundry?
Loretta Lobster: My chitin exoskeleton is not due to molt for another six months. Laundry on a Friday night?
Primer: Alright, alright. Maybe some other time. I did have this bucket of chum …
Loretta Lobster: Did you say chum?
Primer: Huh? Yeah.

Primer: I do enjoy clean clothes.

Where Was I?

I use my cell as my alarm clock. Actually, I routinely awake seven minutes before my alarm goes off, disable it, go back to sleep and then wake up eight minutes after the original target time. This morning I had a vivid dream during that quarter hour interlude. Unfortunately, now I only remember this fragment:

I’m standing at an entrance holding in my hand a laminated description of an event or venue. The description is in the form of a bulleted list. In the middle of the list is the item, “40 levels of assault.”

I woke up. Where was I?

Resolved

Some say that lefties don’t work well within structure. I find that I’m too inconsistent when I’m not. So, with that in mind here are my resolutions. They are more organizing principles than specific goals, but you know me. Typical lefty.

• Eat more meals with company
• Drink more water
• Sleep more consistently

Even the shortest list can occupy the longest of days. Once you make headway on one item, other dependencies emerge.

Actually I should have listed the sleep resolution first. I was trying to get cute with the whole “eat, drink and be merry” theme. The evidence supporting both more sleep and a more consistent sleep pattern is compelling. Quantity, quality and variety of endeavors increase when I get 6-8 hours of sleep a night as compared to 3-5 hours. It will require a slavish commitment to prioritization and organization. I will have to identify and eliminate some dead time.

Drink more water. I stole this idea. By the time I got it, it was at least third-hand. However despite its lack of originality and recent evidence that the 8 glasses a day rule should be taken more as a suggestion, I need to hydrate better. Specifically, I can get almost a fifth of my hydration needs satisfied by adding more (any) fruits and vegetables to my diet. The word “hyponatremia” is more commonly spoken. I’ve felt the effects, being one of those 4+ hour marathoners. Glass after glass of water may be expedient, but it is sounding less and less sensible. And why take a salt tab when food is so much more fun?

And there it is. Food. The last two years have been a resurrection of sorts for me. Prior to that, disappointments and life’s setbacks made it easy for me to withdraw. In order for me to eat more meals with company, I will have to invite, accept and cook more often. Those are three things I enjoy, but haven’t done much lately.

That’s my list. I’ll flesh it out as projects come together. What does your list look like?

Wishing everyone peace, joy and success.

Bane and Delight

I like steaks, beef in particular. I know the high cholesterol content is bad. I know that there are ethical and environmental concerns surrounding the eating of it. For some things, however, I am easily seduced. Yes, as Gloria Estefan might have sung, the bovine is gonna get me.

Oddly enough, I don’t think the conventional method is going to do me in. Three years ago, I sat down to enjoy a hard earned sizzling juicy slab. I was quite nearly inhaling the protein when a piece took me literally and lodged itself on my pharynx. As I stood up to enact the universal choking sign, I passed out and crashed to the floor. Fortunately the fall, or I guess more precisely, the impact dislodged the steak. I awoke to my brother scooping me off the floor and performing the Heimlich maneuver. I should get that whole syncope thing checked out sometime.

So, fast forward to Christmas Eve 2007 and we find steak and me having another run in. Family comes here for this holiday. An aunt brought a garlic stuffed prime rib roast. This would be a perfect accompaniment to the whole roasted pig, chicken, salmon, shrimp and lobster that was also on tap. I can’t believe I forgot to make the Christmas squid. Anyway, as I was lifting the rib roast out of the thermal picnic basket in which it was transported, I heard and felt a pop in my right bicep. It was sore but bearable. By midnight, there was a quarter-sized bruise midway between elbow and shoulder. I played some poker, busted out early and went to bed. I woke the next morning to find this:



I saw a physical therapist today and have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow. Steak, I forgive you. Just let me heal quickly.

True

Two quick quotes I heard this morning:

If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.

The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but in ourselves.

I didn't actually hear the Shakespere. It came to mind when I heard this:

It is time we steer by the stars as opposed to the lights of the ships at sea.

Contacts

While updating my contact list I noticed the first entry is no longer with us. The contact was very important to me. It got me through some very rough times. I remember fondly turning to it at the end of the day, calling to arrange meetings and never being let down. It has been years since our last encounter. Something else has replaced it. I will miss it dearly.

First Name - 20 piece chicken meal
Last Name - $26.99
Telephone - xxx-xxx-xxxx
Fax - xxx-xxx-xxxx

Deleted.

Cockfighting

Roosters

I’ve been hearing from friends who I’ve not seen in over a decade. One had a similarly old roll of undeveloped film that she decided to process last week.

More regularly scheduled programming will continue after I complete a writing intensive project. Thank you for your patience.

Free Rice

It's fun and you'll do good.

Cursing

From Jay's Blog

I forgot where I heard it but someone once said in describing their euphoria over running the NYC Marathon:

"I spent [insert finishing time] on the streets of New York City and nobody cursed at me."

I guess some punchlines have shorter half-lives than others.

In the beginning …

... it was a little tight.

An Orange and Purple Needle

If you wanted to try to catch me on the course here are some data points. Click on the image to see a full map of the course.

Start time - 10:10 am

Est. Arrival
Mile 5:	11:00 am
Mile 10:	11:50 am
Mile 15:	12:40 pm
Mile 20:	1:30 – 2:20 pm
Mile 25:	2:20 – 3:20 pm
Finish, mile 26.2:	2:30 – 3:30 pm

I usually start breaking down around the 16-18 mile markers so my pace will slow considerably. Wish me luck. Thanks again for all your support. Hope to see you there enjoying the spectacle.

Cookie

5 For 5 And 5

1. Please take five minutes to read this post.
2. Then go to my fundraising page at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center and donate at least five dollars.
3. Then finally and most importantly, forward this to five friends or family members.

Five minutes is less than the time you might spend checking your email, instant messaging and on Blogger, MySpace or Facebook. Five dollars is less than you might spend on drinks tonight. Five friends may be fewer than the number of people with whom you will speak today.

Do you think supporting research to eradicate cancer is worth five minutes of your time, five dollars and five forwarded messages? In the past few decades, we have witnessed a miracle of sorts in medicine. Where there was once only despair, now there is hope. Through the efforts of our brightest minds (researchers), most compassionate hearts (medical clinicians) and our bravest souls (cancer patients and their families), survival rates have dramatically increased. However, there is much still left to be done. Please take the time to consider this message. Please donate to the cause. Please tell your friends.

Five minutes. Five dollars. Five people.

Thank you.

Where Knowledge Leaves Off

Children light up a room. When we see them exploring, playing or regrouping even the most jaded among us are hard pressed not to be softened. Is it because we see ourselves or remember our more innocent selves in their joy? Is it because we anticipate and hope for all the potential that their lives promise? Will he inspire others with song, deed or ideas? Will she find cures or mediate grave conflicts? Will they show us in original and imaginative ways the seemingly endless capacity for human creativity and care? Or is it because their heads are disproportionately large compared to the rest of their bodies? Whatever the case, kids make me smile.

My cousin’s almost four year old son was diagnosed with leukemia yesterday. As I am writing this through tears, doctors are inserting an aspirating needle through his lower back. They hope the cerebrospinal fluid they acquire will reveal if this type of white blood cell cancer has infiltrated this brave little man's central nervous system. I know the biology, but I swear I can’t make any sense of this. I am comforted by the fact that treatment of pediatric leukemia is one of the astounding success stories of medicine in the past four decades. Survival rates have improved from a dismal five percent in the 1960’s to the high eighty to ninety percent today. However, WTF?!? He’s facing chemotherapy, blood transfusions and possibly bone marrow transplants for the next two to three years.

A quote on a friend’s wedding website reads:

“Love takes up where knowledge leaves off.”

The context is different, but the sentiment is somehow fitting. His parents, barely older sister, grandparents and a host of cousins, titos and titas, lolos and lolas are all sending our love and praying for him. For now, it’s about all we can do.

Negative Space

Growing up I had one of those inspirational posters hanging on my bedroom wall. No, I’m not referring to the one with the woman in the aquamarine bikini. The image was of a runner going down a road that bisected a wheat field. The road was pin straight and its limit, I’m sure, approached infinity. The notion inscribed in the corner read:

“The race is not always to the swiftest, but to those that keep on running.”

After I started college, I thought it a good idea to buy a box of crayons and colored pencils and try to teach myself how to draw. Prior to that, my interest in art ended when I was sent to the Principal’s office for eating clay. You see, she was awfully cute and it seemed reasonable enough. Eat clay, make her smile. Simple, right? I digress. One of the first lessons of my adult foray into the visual arts was, “Respect negative space.” The image is as much defined by what is untouched as it is by the stroke, slash or scribble.

I read a short post today by someone who is quickly becoming one of my favorite reads. She wrote about irritation. As I read her declaration, I saw myself in her writing. I’ve been on the unsympathetic side of analogous situations. How many fights could have been avoided if I had just shut my trap and listened? It’s a natural impulse that I’m learning to suppress; the need to fix everything I perceive to be wrong. Sometimes, I’m mistaken and it’s not broken. Sometimes I wouldn’t be able to fix it anyway. Other times, it’s just not my place and I’d be more help just sitting there looking pretty. Respect negative space.

Yes, I’m the tool sitting at the beach as the sun goes down tapping away at this helpless keyboard. In between typing, deleting and re-typing, I look up to see the blonde in the grey shorts and white hoodie folding her book. She places it beside her, reclines and closes her eyes. The children to the left have commandeered the lifeguard stand. No worries, they have the watch. There is, however, slight disagreement as to who got there first and who commenced the pushing. The sun is 10 degrees off Connecticut. A bank of clouds has constructed an irregular, temporary but solid horizon. Helio tucks behind a particularly dark cloud. The shadows are long and the colors have just turned magnificent. Unfortunately, the gnats and mosquitoes love the kaleidoscope as well. Not the light show you say? Oh must be my sweet blood. I fold the laptop, shake my blanket of sand (careful not to disturb blonde woman) and trace my way back to my studies. I’ve done a lot in the past few days. Hmm, days, weeks more like months. I spent these precious past few minutes doing as little as possible. It’s the difference between need and desire, utility and appeal. Negative space, if you will.

Timing

Molecular collisions occur on the orders of magnitude lasting literally millionths of a second resulting in fate changing reactions. We don’t see it happen. Only the effects are tangible. These life sustaining and life directing phenomena require precise conditions and multiple supporting players. They are who we are and what we will become.

I remember reading recently, or not so recently, that the number of single people slightly exceeds the number of people in committed relationships. Tens of millions, if not a hundred million single people in the US and yet it is not uncommon to hear about the lack of available or suitable partners. If Love is supposed to be this unstoppable force, why is it so regularly stymied? How can two who once loved each other, who had all the necessary cofactors in an optimal environment not still be together?

Hmm, there it is. To paraphrase, when the conclusion is without a doubt but does not follow from the premises, check the premises. We know that removal of a cofactor or change in the environment can alter a reactant’s conformation. We know that competitive inhibitors can change the rate of effective collisions thereby diminishing productive interactions. Previously unknown requirements or conditions may have been unmet. In other words, it just wasn’t the right time or the right place.

Makes sense, but logic provides only so much solace. There are quiet times like now when I miss her. I miss who we were together, the times we were good to each other. I grew and was changed irreversibly for the better by her. I hope that was mutual. I regret the times we weren’t right. We’d misunderstand or not communicate or just have different expectations. Again, for my part in that, I’m truly sorry.

An enzyme acts on a substrate but is undiminished and unchanged by the reaction. It is capable of acting on another substrate given the proper conditions. We’ve moved on and we’re good for each other in other ways. We differ from the molecules in this respect. I am not only undiminished, I am enhanced by our relationship. I am altered, and for that I am grateful.

Déjà vu?

Beautiful

Pure directed motion. Purposeful, determined and earnest. I know, I just wrote three things that mean the same thing. Apparently that is a writing faux pas. However, repetition for the sake of emphasis serves this situation well.

I met her briefly at a poker game years ago. We may have exchanged not more than a fistful of words. I busted out early when my all-in on a straight was called by the higher straight. It’s all good. I got to watch. She would study her cards, have a moment of self-consciousness then put on her best poker-face. Classical posture. She’d lean back onto her chair after a bet when she had a hand; spine straight or forearms on the table if she was bluffing. Dark piercing eyes. Alarmingly disarming smile.

I’ve caught glimpses of her maybe three or four times around the building since then. I think I remember her name. Then, two days ago I saw her as I was leaving the sports complex. At the greater distance she was a slight buzz on the horizon. As we converged she momentarily came into focus. Her mocha skin was radiant with effort. Her eyes remained trained on the road ahead. Her festive locks were bridled into a neat functional ponytail. Where was it she was from? Argentina, Columbia, Jackson Heights? I don’t remember. Even at our sub-sub-sub-light speed, the Doppler effect of her approach, pass and departure was stunning.

There are precious few things in life more engaging than a woman concentrating on a task and executing the necessary actions. If I was deaf, I could still sit for hours watching a woman play the violin. I’ve annoyed more than my share of women as I watched, star-struck, as they put on makeup. Don’t even get me started on women and food prep. Awesome, just awesome.

And now finally, laundry.

I Never Understood

Why so pissy Jesus? Over the years I remember hearing the story of Jesus cleansing the temple by violently overturning the market that had cropped up. Friday I read again that chapter from Mark and, as if reading it for the first time, was befuddled. Why did Jesus curse the fig tree? Sure he was hungry and the tree bore leaves and no fruit. But Jesus knew that it was not the season for the tree to bear fruit.

I asked two people, whose opinions I respect a great deal. One said the verse was an illustration of Jesus’ dual nature prior to his crucifixion and resurrection. Indeed, Jesus was both God and human. As human he was subject to wrath and vindictiveness. OK. I can see that very valid point.

My other guide pointed me to another verse in that chapter.

“Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it shall be done for him.”

Mark 11:11-26

It is an early iteration of Oscar Wilde’s quotation:

“When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.”

Jesus was showing the apostles that faith and belief in the Word of God was so powerful that it could move mountains. And because prayer was so powerful, Jesus cautioned them to be thoughtful and aware of the consequences of their prayers.

What is it that we pray for? Or, more along the lines above, would we truly benefit if all our prayers were answered?