Training Archive: PGIn the 7 days ending 2008-05-03:
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Saturday May 3 | ||
| Event: West Point A-Meet | ||
| orienteering 43:49 [3] 3.8 km (11:32 / km) +160m 9:32 / km | |
| shoes: integrators 2006 | ||
| West Point, Middle distance, M60 (GreenX course). Very foggy and wet, though not actually raining, but the rocks were very slippery. So-so run, small mistake on #1, silly one on #7, saw another control, was unsure if I'd gone far enough or not, went back quite a ways to be sure. Blew off 2 or 3 minutes. Otherwise OK, nothing special. Nice course.
My routes. | ||
| C • #12 4 | ||
| orienteering 17:28 [4] 2.5 km (6:59 / km) +60m 6:14 / km | |
| shoes: integrators 2006 | ||
| Sprint (course 2, Green/Brown/Orange) in the afternoon. Nice course, lots of fun and hard work too. Good run, only problems were getting snagged on some concertina wire just after leaving #6, and getting off line on the way to #9. Good effort. Also a nice new map too.
Very pleasant to go to West Point and run a sprint instead of organizing it the last three years. And the weather even cooperated. My routes. | ||
Friday May 2 | ||
| Note | |
| So they give you a combination of Versed and Fentanyl. Strong stuff.
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| nautilus 40:00 [1] | |
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| trail running 29:30 [3] | |
| shoes: Montrail #2 | ||
| A short run on Greenfield ridge, south via the Tower, back via the white trail. Cool, misty, very pleasant.
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| Note | |
| So twice in the last couple of days I have found myself getting pissed off enough to actually do something about it. I am not sure if that is a good trend or not.
The first was with my credit card company, Citibank. I pay my balance every month, if they had looked they would have seen that I very recently charged a ticket on Icelandic Air, but they still rejected my card over a $6 charge at the airport in Iceland because their fraud program decided it might be fraud. So I called them up, and after a while found out that it seemed like their fraud program was liable to reject me if I used the card other than in my usual spending pattern. Like outside the country. Or, get this, in another state. But of course I could call up in advance and tell them where I was going to be and then they probably wouldn't reject me. I didn't find that particularly satisfying, so I did the usual and asked to speak to a supervisor. And spent a while letting her know how unsatisfying their policy was. And she eventually took me off their fraud program, or at least says she did. We shall see. Gail, observing the whole time, seemed concerned I was losing my cool. I would describe it as productively and perhaps even fraudulently appearing to lose my cool, just to make my case. I think. The second case was today, coming home from the gym. And for some reason the light is malfunctioning, three cycles go by and it never turns green for straight ahead and traffic is backed up a couple hundred yards (that's a lot around here), and from where I'm sitting, there are several signs warning of the presence of police officers and the need to go slow, but no actual police officers in sight. Finally the front car runs the red light, and this does something and the light starts to function again. And I get around the corner on the next cycle, and some construction is going on about 30 yards from the light. Two state police there, road details, getting paid $40+ an hour, state law requires it, well, the law requires at least one police officer. And the two guys are just chatting with one of the construction guys, quite oblivious to the traffic problem. So I pull over and open the window and tell them the light's not working, and traffic is getting backed up. And why don't they do something. I was quite careful not to say, why didn't they f**king do something. But I probably had a bit of attitude in my tone of voice. And the cop looked at my like he didn't like being talked to that way, or maybe he was just annoyed that he was actually going to have to do something. But I knew I'd said enough and moved on, no point in pressing my luck. And feeling good for having said something. But not too much, because a cop is still a cop, and a cop can make life miserable for you even if you haven't done anything wrong. I think as I get older I'm more like to speak my mind. Which is good. To a point. | ||
| C • Fraud 3 | ||
Thursday May 1 | ||
| Note | |
| weight:141lbs | ||
| Sometimes you are just glad to be home. Spent the last 24 hours preparing, and then just got back from, well, I'm sure Dave Barry describes it better.
Seems like it went ok. One very small polyp removed and the doc said I should come back in ten years. It does have a beneficial, though I presume temporary, effect on the G. ---------------------------------------- Dave Barry: A journey into my colon -- and yours OK. You turned 50. You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy. But you haven't. Here are your reasons: 1. You've been busy. 2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family. 3. You haven't noticed any problems. 4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt. Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ''behindular zone'' gives you the creeping willies. I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It's much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor's office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot. In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy. I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it. What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It's an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and It was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and you get a colonoscopy. If you are as a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one. But I didn't get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress. Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn't gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said: ``Dear Brothers, ``I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis: cancer. We're told it's early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.'' Um. Well. First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ``HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!'' I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies. I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon. The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground. MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet. After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?'' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough. At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked. Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house. When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate. ''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. ''Ha ha,'' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like. I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .'' . . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ. But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing. If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened ? he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn't have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as ''really, really boring food.'' His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Over-50-And-Hasn't-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here's the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don't. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don't have cancer, believe me, it's very reassuring to know you don't. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done. I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get a colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don't mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit. But even if you don't want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don't put it off. Just do it. Be sure to stress that you want the non-Abba version. | ||
| C • The worst part 7 | ||
| trail running 33:27 [3] | |
| shoes: Montrail #2 | ||
| Against doctor's orders, up to the power line (18:49) and back (1:38).
Well, not exactly. The orders were: Do not drive, return to work, or operate any machinery for 24 hours. Do not make any important decisions, sign any legal documents, or engage in any activity which depends on your full concentrating power or mental judgment to ensure proper completion. Go directly home from the hospital and rest quietly for the rest of the day. And so on. I tried. Gail drove me home, though we did stop on the way to get some FOOD (36 hours on a diet of clear liquids is more than enough). And then I went and lay down and took a nap, except my cell phone company called to see if they could sell me something, so I swore at them a few times, but that got me up, and eventually it just seemed like some exercise was called for. It was the nurse giving the orders, and a very fine nurse she seemed to be. It seems that whatever drug they gave to put me in la-la land for a while is a short-term amnesiac, and she was particularly concerned that I might venture off from home and forget where I lived and not be able to find my way back. Shades of my mother's trip to Buffalo? :-) But anyway, I found my way up to the power line, found my way back. Legs actually felt ok other than slow as molasses. And along the way I found myself wondering, hmm, that drug was so good, I remember absolutely nothing from a couple of minutes after she pressed the syringe to about an hour later, and then at some point on the way home I asked Gail something, and she said, oh, dear, I just asked her that 5 minutes earlier, was this what I was going to be like when I get Ahlzeimer's. Maybe. But it certainly took care of any anxiety I might have had. | ||
Wednesday Apr 30 | ||
| Note | |
| My route from the Tiomila. | ||
| C • If someone showed me this c... 9 | ||
Tuesday Apr 29 | ||
| nautilus 40:00 [1] | |
| road running 48:43 [3] 5.3 mi (9:12 / mi) | |
| shoes: Asics trail | ||
| Over to South Sugarloaf (15:58), up the road very slow but still running (10:04), down the road (7:16), and home (15:25). A struggle, but got it done. | ||
Monday Apr 28 | ||
| trail running 40:00 [3] | |
| shoes: Asics trail | ||
| From Boris's apartment in Uppsala with Ross and Brendan. First over to scope out the OK Linné clubhouse, looked ok, then over to Nästen to check out the forest and maybe find a few controls, and then back. Found a couple of controls ok, then mightily impressed the other two with a round-about route to the next one. Then back to Boris's and then to the airport.
Boris didn't join us because he was "teaching" a class, something about the behavior of fish when they are flocking, from some sort of mathematical perspective. By the way, excellent night sleep despite all available floor space being occupied. Just out cold. Today's run. | ||
| Note | |
| Some thoughts about the Tiomila trip....
This was the second such CSU venture, the first being the trip to Finland two summers ago for the Jukola relay. That was a great trip, both as regards the relay and also the trip in general. For the relay, the 7 of us (Boris Granovskiy, Mathias Mahr, Kenny Walker, Ross Smith, me, Mikell Conradi, and Will Hawkins) had agreed to go maybe 6 to 9 months earlier, and what was amazing was that no one got hurt, no one backed out, no one missed a flight, everyone had a good run, and the vibes were really good. For the trip as a whole, I went on a Tuesday, came back the next Tuesday, the shortest trip I have ever taken to Europe, and perhaps I therefore tried to pack in the most activity, including some sort of orienteering every day, sightseeing, hanging out with the team, and even a round of golf. So last fall when Boris floated the idea of a trip to the Tiomila, I signed up pretty quickly. Actually he floated more than just the idea of going, he also proposed the three more CSU members needed for a 10-man team (Brendan Shields, Ken Walker Sr., and Greg Walker), and he also proposed a possible running order. The latter is not trivial, as the leg lengths vary from 5.7 km to 17.5 km and about half are in the dark. And, amazingly, everyone said yes, no one backed out, the ones that got injured (me and Mikell, he was in a car accident and fractured his pelvis) got healed, and no one missed a flight, and the vibes were really good. You make notice that my comments on the Jukola included "everyone had a good run." That was not the case this time. Ross led off, mass start in the dark at 10 pm, good run, not great, a little bit of time lost, but when you are in a relay the goal is no big mistakes. Mathias was next, normally rock solid even at night, also a good run until late in the course when he missed a control in a difficult area and it was 15 minutes lost before he recovered. Brendan was next, also a good run but for one control, this one maybe 12 minutes gone. So at this point we were lying not much better than 300th out of a starting field of about 340, and far from our aggressive goal of 150th, and also far from our more reasonable goal of someplace in the top 200. Next was Boris, out on the "long night" leg, 16+ km. He had a great run, moved us up a bunch of places, his only complaint being that because he started so far back, he was running faster than everyone he saw, so he couldn't take advantage of the faster paces of the packs that form further up in the standings. So his time, done on his own, was terrific. Then came Greg (Mr. Catching Features), excellent run, part in the dark, part in the early daylight, moved us up some more places. Then his brother Kenny (Mr. AttackPoint), also an excellent run, moved up a few more places. Then Mikell, also an excellent run, and I think he came in at 222nd, progress. Though we had our two OFs next, old farts, first me and then Ken Sr., on the two shortest legs. We both did what we were supposed to, not fast but no mistakes of any consequence, dropped several places each but no more. And so Will went off in 233rd, and we were wondering, certainly he would move up, but top 200 seemed way too much to hope for. But by the first radio split after a quarter of the course he had moved up a dozen places, and by halfway he had picked off another dozen, and when he came cruising into the finish after his 17+ km done at about 6 minutes per km, the electronic sign on the top of lane 10 said we were team 195. Really cool. Except we found out a few minutes later that he had skipped control 7, a control within 100 meters of #6, he just hadn't noticed it. So we ended up DQ. And I was really pissed. The first rule of relays, you have to get them all -- check the codes, don't punch too fast, make sure the e-box flashes. Really really pissed. For about 5 minutes. And then it passed. And it didn't pass because I forced myself to be mellow (at least outwardly), or because I didn't want to take it out on Will. It just passed. And even now, a day later, it's too bad it happened, but it did, nothing can be done to change it, and yet what remains is the memory of a really fine trip, a great bunch of kids putting up with in this case two OFs, a great weekend. Staying pissed for more than a few minutes just wasn't possible. We hung around for a while with our women (Sandra and Kat) and our team leader (Leif Åkebloom, bubo on AP), then Tom Hollowell came by and we talked a bunch about his role as Team Coach and how that is working out and some changes we need to make. Then we slowly packed up and headed up to Boris's apartment in Uppsala, washed up, went out for pizza, and then hung around until midnight telling stories and then finally crashed, the 13 of us filling up all available floor space. Lots of laughs, and not pissed at all. Up in the morning, a run in the local forest, then off to the airport for the plane home, Boston via Iceland. On the road 3 days, in Sweden two days, totally insane and just wonderful. We are already talking about possibilities for the next club trip. Best not wait too many more years. | ||
Sunday Apr 27 | ||
| orienteering 48:40 [4] 5.73 km (8:30 / km) +109m 7:45 / km | |
| shoes: integrators 2006 | ||
| 10mila, leg 8. A pretty good run. Went out about 7:30 in the morning (1:30 am EDT). Just a couple small errors but my usual lack of anything close to speed. But I expected to do between 45 and 50, and that's what I did.
A fine CSU trip/reunion. Some good runs, a couple errors, one superb run by William moving us up to 193rd out of about 340 teams, except that he used Billygoat rules and skipped one control, so we ended up with a DQ. Serious bummer. But still a very fun trip. My course, haven't drawn in route yet. | ||
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