Speaking of clams...

December 31, 2005

They do have legs.  I know this for a fact.  I saw it in a B.C. comic strip a few years ago.

So, 20km at the lakes with the 8:00 group this morning.  After a 10min warmup, I ran the first lap with Ian H and Kevin S and two younger guys whose names I don't know, gradually increasing pace as we went.  Ian modelled his fancy new toque, which he custom-made himself from a cycling leg warmer.  Sort of plant-like, a tuft of his hair poked out of an opening in the top, which Ian explained was perfect for just the right amount of ventilation. 

Kevin fell back at some point on the first lap as did one of the young guys; Ian and the other fellow did one lap only.  So I was on my own for the second, when I did a couple of harder 1-2 km efforts and otherwise held an even pace. I didn't want to over-do it, as the plan is to run the 5km Run through Time this evening.

It is interesting that 20km right now, with some harder efforts as part of it, seems comfortably manageable even after several high mileage days leading up to it.  I'm noticing the mileage is definitely resulting in another level of fitness.  The way things are going, I'm almost afraid to take a break and do nothing for a few days.  But I'm taking the words of cyclist Luca Segato to heart: "When I'm feeling really good, I back off, since I know I've achieved what I want to at the time."

Tri-guys from Calgary will be doing the Run Through Time too, after their requisite 130km or so of riding this morning. My legs feel good, and I'll be able to run this evening without any problem - it may not be particularly fast, but my body will tolerate the hard effort, and I'm interested to see how it goes.

To drive the cold winter away...

December 30, 2005

...certain Irish pub songs, such as Finnegan's Wake, Lanigan's Ball,  Dr de Jong' Cod Liver Oil, seem to do the trick quite nicely...sing along to those a few times, and one becomes suddenly happy as a clam!

Glancing upward, I note that my curious plant of previous blogged notoreity continues to thrive, albeit its flowers have been oddly short-lived - rather sensitive, they seem; to what I'm not sure.  Recounting a snippet from the day, after my 20km run at the lakes this morning, I made an error on today's Sudoku puzzle that loused up the whole thing, forcing me to abandon the effort, much to my chagrin, as I lacked the patience to retrace my steps.  When my break is done next Wednesday, I expect I will shun Sudoku puzzles, for want of time (he says, bitter from his latest defeat).

A swim this evening with tri-dudes from Calgary has left me perilously close to falling asleep at the keyboard, though not before the group of us observed the nuances of Team CSC in the 2004 Tour de France in the new release video "Overcoming".  Interesting the blatant admissions of drug use, although the subject was not discussed in detail.

The sort of volume a couple of these tri-guys is doing is quite inspiring. Kyle M, for example, 2004 duathlon national champion and 7th at 2005 Ironman Canada and 2005 Ironman Florida, in October did a 37 hour training week on top of his 40 hour work week as a fuel cell engineer.  He is still running 100km a week, while riding to and from work, doing wind-trainer workouts and swimming four times a week.  While visiting Victoria, they are logging 130-150km a day riding, while swimming and running too. My meager 100 miles this week of running (assuming I can make it there) rather pales in comparison to the sort of overall volume and dedication some of these guys have.

Total running mileage for the week so far for me: 110km.

Cliffy, the newspaper boy II...

December 29, 2005 Thursday

...oops, actually I haven't heard that story yet, and am not even sure it exists... stay tuned.  But, seeing as Cliff is an endless source of stories, there are sure to be more of equal entertainment value that follow.

So it was 10 miles+ this morning with Cliff, including a 15 min tempo effort.  This evening I joined about 10 of our IRR group, plus special guests Hillary D and John B from Team West Coast, for hills.  Total workout for the day about 28km, with a short nap between and some stretching/massage, leaving me feeling pretty good for the evening session.  I could definitely handle the lifestyle of a full-time professional athlete!

Total for the week so far: 90km.  The left achilles is tender, but I'm hoping it will hold up for 3 more days, after which I can take my scheduled break and let the whole body recover.  As a general observation, the high volume training is feeling really good, and I'm recovering day in and day out (aside from the achilles).  I'm beginning to feel I could handle this sort of high volume for longer periods.  For now, I'll stick to the plan and take my break in the first week of January.

Cliffy, the newspaper boy

December 28, 2005, Wednesday

I'm still chuckling at the story Cliff told this morning to Rui B and me while running twice around the lakes.  With Cliff's permission to re-tell, it goes something like this (with a few liberties taken where I don't remember the story accurately):

When Cliffy was 13, he delivered newspapers.   One couple to whom he delivered owned a hyperactive, yappy Cockerspaniel that the woman could barely contain in her arms when Cliff would come to the door to collect.  So, Cliff always made sure never to go inside the house, keeping at least the door and the woman's restraining arms between him and crazy doggie. 

One day, the husband answers, which is a bit unusual.   He assures Cliff the dog is well out of harms way with the wife, somewhere in the kitchen or other room in the house.  So the man welcomes Cliff in and, as much as it worries him, Cliff takes a peek through the door and all seems safe and, being only 13 and an honest, trusting kid, he takes the man's word for it.  

Cliff comes in and tells the man the damages for the last two weeks deliveries.  "Ok," says the man, "Let me just pop into the bedroom and grab some cash for ya.  Just be a second." 

Sure enough, as the man disappears to the backroom Cliff hears the rapid pattering of dog feet on linoleum, some growling, and before Cliff has a chance to react, Cockerspaniel races toward him and launches himself right at Cliff's crotch.  Cliff would never forget the look of two big brown eyes staring up at him while doggie's jaw is sunk into Cliff's crotch. 

Just then, Cliff hears the man's feet slowly sauntering down the hall, his hands shaking some coins, calling out to Cliff cheerily, "Ok, here we go, I think I've got everything!"

Somehow Cliff manages to extricate the dog's jaws from their ungodly position and, just as the man rounds the corner, Cliff punts doggie and sends him sailing through the air past the man, yelping. 

"Hey, you kicked my dog!" yells the man.

"Your dog bit my balls!" Cliff shouts back, holding his stinging crotch.

"Oh, well, ok," the man says sheepishly. "Well, here you go then!" says the man, handing Cliff the money, nudging him toward the door.  "Keep the change!"

________

Anyway, it is much funnier the way Cliff tells it.

So 20km this morning, a short swim this evening and some very light weights, calisthenics, stretching, massage.

Chess, robots and Tuesday intervals

December 27, 2005 - Tuesday

I was thinking more about the famous chess match between the computer Deep Blue and Gary Kasparov, and some of the discussions that followed about the implications for Artificial Intelligence and how close it is or will be to simulating human intelligence/consciousness.  Without delving too much into that topic, which is another of my favourites, my topic for this tiny dissertation involves a scene from the movie I Robot, adapted from the book by Isaac Asimov.

The scene I recall is when the main robot creator observes how the robots spontaneously begin to agglomerate in groups in a highly socialized manner.  Interesting from my point of view is that this concept of group agglomeration is an example of a self-organizing phenomenon (that one, again!)  Asimov wrote the book in 1950, quite a long time before self-organizing phenomena were part of mainstream science (I think there was some at that time, but it hadn't been developed in the modern context of complexity theory, as I understand anyway). 

Asimov projected that certain hardwired rules within each individual robot would result in highly social interactions, just like humans.  This may seem an obvious projection, but perhaps not so obvious if the robots are not hardwired with the exact set of human abilities, as I believe in the movie they were not.  So Asimov suggested there are more simple inherent rules that can result in robot social activity, rather like ants which have a very simple and limited repertoire of behaviours. 

Enough of that for now.

A ride this morning with Kyle M, Frank W, both just in from Calgary for a few days of training, and Bruce S, from here.  I went only about an hour and 15mins with them, as I didn't want to ruin my legs for intervals, especially after a long run yesterday. Those three continued on.  It was pouring rain, and I was nearly hypothermic when I returned home.

This evening, the track was closed, but Frank W joined Patrick D, Roy and I for 6 X 1.5 minute efforts for some speed.  Total run for me 12km - perfect for some short speed work without being too taxing after yesterday's 30km run.

Puzzling...

Boxing Day, 2005

I've discovered the pleasures of Sudoku puzzles after learning that my uncle Fred in England can complete them in nearly half an hour and was submitting his completed puzzles to a newspaper-sponsored contest.  It was only recently that I realized how popular these number puzzles had become after I'd seen a row of whole books dedicated to them at Bolen Books.  I've also learned my mom is also addicted to them!  Retirees the world over must be rejoicing in Sudoku puzzles!

A couple of weeks ago I attempted one during a lunch hour at work, but lost patience after completing one or two lines.  I've since decided to focus some attention on completing one of medium difficulty.  So, I've now completed my first one, taking a bit over an hour.  They are actually relatively easy, but do require some patience and focus.  In some ways they are a bit like playing chess, and require abilities the equivalent of being able to see about two moves ahead in chess, I figure. 

Recently I watched a documentary about the chess games played between IBM's Deep Blue and Gary Kasparov, considered the best chess player of all time.  Apparently he can see about eight moves ahead, which is astounding given the exponential number of possibilities after about two moves ahead.  Most people should be able to play chess about two moves ahead and more after some experience playing, so Sudoku puzzles are perfect to be stimulating and challenging but not impossible, and hence their popularity, at least as it seems to me. 

So, I managed a bit over 30km today, running out to the lakes from home, making a single pass around the lakes, swinging home again.   I stopped to walk for a short time after about 2 hours and 5 minutes in order to be sure I wasn't going to hurt myself, which obviously would be counterproductive!  Now the legs feel ok, and should be ready for intervals tomorrow, I hope.

Sunny Sunday Christmas

Christmas Day, 2005

It has since grayed over as I write, but it was a splendid bright and warm Christmas morning earlier; highly enticing for many walkers, cyclists, and runners, including me, to enjoy the outdoors.  I managed about 23-24km over what is becoming a standard route: down Cook to the waterfront, slingshotting around the Beacon Hill loop like an inter-planetary rocket swinging first around the sun before aiming to the far reaches of the solar system -- then down the waterfront, but avoiding a breakwater crowded with Christmas walkers, then through downtown along Wharf, across the Johnston St bridge and out the Goose to the 6km mark, before winding back from there, but not going all the way back up the waterfront before returning home.

Yesterday was 21km with the 8:00 group at the lakes, organized by coach Ron B. The run began easily but quickly increased in pace, building to 3km of hard tempo between 5km and 8Km (for me anyway), followed by an easy couple of km, and the same for the second loop.  Kevin S, Lisa H, Chris ?, another fellow whose name I've forgotten, and I, somehow managed to get lost following a trail around the gravel parking lot, finding ourselves on the Royal Oak golf course before bushwacking back to the proper running loop.  So we managed an extra km or so via that.  The run began with a good group of about 15 - some did about 15km it appeared, while the few I was with did two full laps.  It appeared the 9:00 fastee group this week consisted of Bruce D, Steve B, and Ian H. 

Friday I managed about 20km easily, as well, giving me a total of just over 130km for the week.  If the legs permit, my plan at the moment is to begin the week tomorrow with a long run, about 30km, before intervals on Tuesday.  I have often found intervals after a long run the day before to be particularly beneficial. The mileage goal for next week is about 150, after which I'll take a break for a few days.

Four syllable descriptors

December 22, 2005

I heard an interesting discussion on CBC radio this morning by three pop music critics, whom I've noticed in the past generally seem to be on the forefront of the trendiest use of English language descriptors.  Today's discussion was very revealing.   And maybe this is already old and part of mainstream English and I'm just far outside the loop, but this is what I heard one critic say about some 80's techno-punk or some such song: "That song sounds clearly like studio masturbation..."; then by another, "That song is just heroin for pop music junkies" and then a riposte by a third to the first, saying, "well, if that song is masturbation, it gives masturbation a bad name!" And they all howled out in laughter, as did I!  Then I thought, well it's probably ok for family listening, because it isn't a four letter word and has four syllables rather than one, plus it was used in a very sophisticated context (not!). 

In any event, I could use that four syllable word in the context of my two running sessions today - there is something oddly indulgent about running twice and getting in a ton of mileage without really feeling like it.  14km this morning with Cliffy, whose patellar tendon (not his achilles as I erroneously thought before) is faring better. We threw in a 15 minute tempo which felt pretty good, starting comfortable with a gradual acceleration in the last 5 minutes. 

After a nap later and some self-massage I was ready for session two with the group, where I went hardish on the last hill only.  Total 26km of running without feeling at all like I actually ran that far for the day.  Although, much to my chagrin I am now noticing some throbbing in my left ham and achilles.  I hope they're ok tomorrow...

Longest night

There is special significance in the longest day and the longest night.  The longest day on June 21 means continual shortening of days afterward, and I for one can't help but feel momentary disappointment when the longest day closes knowing the days grow shorter afterward.  It is a minor disappointment, to be sure, since the days remain reasonably long right up until the time changes in October; besides there obviously isn't much we can do about it, so it senseless to complain.  But even so when I wake up on June 22nd knowing the days become shorter continuously, I experience momentary discord and it becomes, oddly, a sort of small burden that I must carry in the nether reaches of my psyche until December 22nd, when I finally know the days become longer.  Then that small burden is lifted, replaced by a simmering optimism. 

So for me there is always a silent celebration on June 21 and on December 21, these two days of significance for me.

About 20km today, easy during the day, the first of a couple weeks off. 3 loops around Beacon, then down to the breakwater, out to the lighthouse and led the way back by gliding seagulls, seeming to enjoy the company of the people running or strolling; then out to the Goose to 2km and winding back from there.

Dec 20 05 - Saga of the plant and bitter old wine

While one flower on my fave plant has indeed bought the farm, bit the dust, kicked the bucket (!), given up the ghost, and generally ceased to be, another yet far more resplendent tri-headed lovely rises to takes its place!  Seeing this, I rushed to water it more since this particular plant seems insatiable - go wee flowers go! 

Yes, there was a a third of an old bottle of wine remaining fridge-wise from some uncertain era long past, and whose dregs are yet bitter-sweet, that I've elected to finish in my own version of the Dave Smart Beer mile I missed after my own workout of 800's at UVic.

So: 8km warmup - 4X800 with one lap in between, 1X400, 1 lap in between, and two 200s with a half lap.  Times: 2:31, 2:29, 2:28 - time missed on the 4th; 400 in 1:12, and 200s in 33 each. Generally I felt pretty crappy and the times were slow compared to the last time I did 800s when the times got faster on each lap, finishing with a 2:24.  This is why I chose to finish up with 200s, just to make sure I ended the session with some speed in my legs, which is perhaps more what I should have focussed on for this session given my sluggishness.  2.25 mile cooldown; total just over 16km.

Patrick D did several quick but untimed 200s after complaining of a full stomach due to plenty of indulging during work earlier.  Matt was out as well and did a 20 minute tempo, finishing with a deadly 100m sprint on the track., while a few others vamoosed earlier to head down to the Oak Bay track to witness the beery 4 by 400.

Yesterday's retrospect

Approaching the close of Monday evening and nearly absent significant inspiration for the day,  I had thought to post nothing today, perhaps with a view to a fuller account  tomorrow.  But then I recalled the spectacular rising of the sun yesterday morning, and now feel compelled to record its haunting image. 

Running early yesterday with Cliff down the slight descent from Clover point toward the cemetary, the morning sun was just beginning to spread its light across the Cascades far in the distance on the mainland to the east.  There a remarkable sight greeted us: the sun was precisely located behind a narrow mountain, shaped rather like a pine tree and at just the right distance to the east to appear small and sharp enough to pierce the sun like a spear, thrusting upwards from the ground, spilling the sky with morning, encircling the mountain top with a halo of shimmering shards of reds and pinks, and to every shifting shade an undertone of crystal.  The Cascades were clearer than I've ever seen them, and the sun, so precisely located, spreading behind a piercing mountain is an image not quickly forgotten, especially in contrast with today's rainy flat greyness; it lays imprinted on my mind, and I hope it will greet me again in dreams from time to time. 

Aside from that, today was a half hour treadmill run, following on 40minutes of swimming, light weights and calisthenics.  Two weeks of nasty training lie ahead.  Yikes, the time...

A second tiny white flower...

was offered to me.  Unfortunately this flower is nothing like any flower May ever bore, since, being shrouded by two broad unfolding leaves, it has, alas, shriveled and died.  The first may suffer the same fate, if it isn't lucky.  So seeing as the two flowers offered to me are biting the dust, there is no risk of any rose trees turning up their eyes in jealousy; no thorns for my delight.

So, two hours today beginning at twilight with Cliff this morning at 7:30, and much to our non-thorned delight the Olympics and even the Cascades raised up their monumental selves, looming over us with an eerie intensity and clarity.  Our run wound out the waterfront and around 10-mile point where Cliff showed me the amazing house where he spent the previous evening partying, returning through trails by the University and back - about 25k or more. 

Later Quayam and I met up for about an hour and half of riding.  We were both feeling a bit knackered from our respective runs and recent training.  Quayam reminds me much of myself when I was around his age of 17, though he is far more personable and mature than I ever was!

Risky propositions

"A flower was offered to me.  Such a flower as May never bore
But I've a pretty rose tree, I said, and passed the sweet flower o'er"

Inspired by a tiny white flower on a plant that has never yet flowered since I acquired it about a year ago, these lines by William Blake have alighted on my mind.  Will I, as the poem suggests, now go to "my pretty rose tree, to tend her by day and by night."?  Well, firstly I've no rose tree to tend, but even so, it seems a risky proposition, lest, like Blake's rose tree, "her eyes turned up with jealousy, and her thorns were my only delight."

Two loops around the lakes (20km), 5km warmup, 10km tempo, 5km cooldown with Bruce D, Eric K, David M, Bernard, at coach Ron B's behest.  Great workout.  Bruce and Eric did the 10k in 32:27, while I was exactly two minutes back of them.  I made it to about 12mins 50 before a surge by Bruce took Eric with him but left me in the dust, after which I was forced to do a descending ladder of tempos to recover with three periods of slow running between periods of hard running.  So with the slow-downs, I was happy to complete the 10k in 34:27, especially after 20+ km barely just over 12 hours before, and the pegs definitely felt heavy.  That is actually one of my fastest ever runs around the lakes.  Dave M was not feeling great and abandoned the tempo effort before I dropped off the pace, as did Bernard.

Calibrating distance by the moon

When running around Beacon Hill 10 times (a mile a pop), if it is a dark and moony night, one can calibrate his distance by observing the locus of the moon between two particular trees as he passes that point on each lap.  This, combined with the diminishing circumference of the moon as it climbs altitude in the night sky as well as relative luminscence, one can begin by noting these three factors after two laps and extrapolating by multiplying distance, circumference and luminosity by 5, thus arriving at a reasonable estimation of when 10 miles is complete.  In this way he can ignore his watch and lose count entirely of what lap he is on and still know how far he has gone! 

Complete bs of course, but man does it sound good!  Actually probably possible in principle, but in practice, very difficult unless you have the perceptive capacity of the Hubble telescope!

Where can I get some of this?

Might be able to take up body building instead of running 18km on Thursday with some hills, if I can get me some of this

See:

MOUSE STUDY: NEW MUSCLE-BUILDING AGENT BEATS ALL PREVIOUS ONES

rhymes of reference

"You have a great skill for writing something about nothing," once commented a wise fellow student in response to some presentation or another I'd made.   "That's something I just can't do," he continued.  Unsure whether I should be flattered or offended, glowingly I elected to take it as a compliment. 

Yes, when in doubt write self-referentially, I've sometimes thought, such as now and if ever temporarily bereft of inspiration: let the words you write reflect themselves and become their own inherent paradox, like the infinite regressions of Borges' labyrinths,  the Escherian staircases that unendingly wind upon themselves; the Shakespearean sonnets that by self-reference strangely demand its author's immortality; the Liar's paradox, the Penrose triangle, the Klein bottle's endless surface; the mirror turned upon itself or the camera that captures the television that shows itself in a bendy line that stretches on and on and on...

Douglas Hofstadter in his book "Goedel, Escher, Bach - an Eternal Golden Braid" identified the self-referential capacity of humans as a primary component of consciousness, especially human  consciousness. 

Extending the concept, recently Prime Minister Paul Martin referred to the notion of a "global consciousness". If one uses his imagination, there is a multiplicity of ways in which to apply the concept of self-reference on a global scale. This is the subject of a manuscript of fiction that waits patiently for me to revise...

Swimming last night at 9:00 pm at the Crystal Pool can be like going back to the womb.  One can get an entire lane to himself and the water, undisturbed except by you, is oddly soothing.  As usual I lost count of the laps but it was about 1400 metres, with some weights/calisthenics at lunch.

April is the cruelest of months

Well it isn't April yet, but for some reason the first line of T.S. Elliot's poem, The Wasteland, popped into mind when I remembered chuckling this morning about how cruel and insensitive kids can sometimes be. 

Kids are nothing like the month of April, so there is no other connection aside from the common root word "cruel".   But this morning I recalled how I once remarked to a fellow in grade 8 science class how I thought he looked rather like an ostrich. True, he did have an inordinately long neck and a huge Adams apple and rather protruding lips.  But of course I didn't realize at the time that when I said it, it probably offended him.  He certainly became very flushed. He did himself no favours, however, when he subsequently made a fist, stuck up his index finger and did a sequence of "finger up, finger down and out" motions, which he seemed to enjoy and which I watched, fascinated by his dexterity.  

But then I recalled how one fellow, in the same grade, remarked to a friend while walking in the hallway just ahead of me, looking back and nudging to his friend, saying "hey, Richard, don't you think Hugh looks a bit like ET?".  I was closely within earshot and not particularly overjoyed by the comment, but I managed to laugh somewhat uncomfortably.  Then his friend Richard, who was also sort of my friend too, looked back at me, then looked to the first guy and said, "Well you're one to talk - you look like ET's s**t ball!"  The first guy turned red, and I laughed and felt much better after that, especially when Richard said it again to me later in private.  Anyway, for some reason that little sequence of classic grade 8 insensitivity came to me as I jogged to work this morning, three minutes late as I usually am.

Track workout - 3 sets of 4X300 with 100m rest, 500  between each set.  I managed to get 19 laps (4 3/4 mile) warmup, 2.5km cool down (about 16km), riding there and back.  Hard workout, but felt pretty good, generally. 10km yesterday with 1.5 hours of  Ashtanga Yoga at Moksana's, after which my legs felt quite good - much better than the last one, when Michael, the instructor, had us twisted in pretzels. Of course my level of inflexibility renders it impossible for me to move my appendages any where near pretzel state, but whatever he had us do hurt my knees even with upright styrofoam blocks supporting my legs. Glad yesterday's session was better.

Thoughts for Tori Seay

About 30 people arrived at Mile Zero this morning to pay their respects to the recently deceased Tori Seay, who lost her life in a kayaking accident off the coast of Mexico two weeks ago.  The group ran from Mile Zero to the Chinese cemetary while passing around a bouquet of flowers which, when we arrived, Cheryl Murphy and Lucy Smith flung into the ocean, a few at time.

I am of two minds when writing anything about such a subject. One is that sometimes accounts of events like these are better left unsaid, lest one's sincerity be compromised or questioned in the process of writing, especially when he did not know Tori particularly well, as I did not.  On the other hand, I did get to know her well enough at competitive events to be shocked by her passing, and expressions of sympathy, regardless of who they are from, I believe, are rarely viewed disparagingly by those closest to the deceased.

I remember when long time cyclist, Roger Sumner, whom I knew, died very soon after a car accident that occurred while he was on his bike.  My thoughts to the family were that we could take some comfort in knowing that he died doing what he loved to do more than anything - riding his bike. 

I think the same can be said for Tori Seay.  Although far too young to go, there is some small comfort in knowing she died partaking of a physically demanding activity intimately connected with who she was, to a great extent, as a person: one driven, positively, enthusiastically and passionately to reaching her physical and athletic potential.

Of course we can never choose the circumstances of our passing, but there are many ways far less preferable than others.  And when my time inevitably comes, I would choose over myriad others some way similar to those of Roger and Tori: passing during some passionate embrace of what they gave so much of their lives to, and always would have had they continued on.

Dreaming Goldstream

Since Cliffy is nursing a sore achilles, I chose to do a run on my own starting from Goldstream Park.  After finding some fantastic trails on the west side of the highway on which to warmup, up and down alongside the rushing stream, I wound my way back to Humpback Road where I did 3 X 10 mins at 10km pace. Humpback road has several short steep punchers which I chose to really attack anaerobically over the top, relaxing a bit on the descents.  Total run about 1.5 hours and 22km. 

Afterward I took some time to observe a few of the remaining salmon carcasses, bloated and yellowed; picked at by seagulls still lingering, and at least one eagle still vigilant in the skies above.  I recalled a rainy November day about 5 years ago when I stood on the bridge above the rushing waters with my friend Ross, helping him to count salmon in various configurations for his honors thesis in biology.  Today it was sunnier and more pleasant than that day in November years ago, but I am certain the memory of that shared experience with Ross will linger far longer than any of the sunniest days spent alone in Goldstream park.

Yesterday ended up being a zero-training day.  Intending to do some weights with Ased at lunch, I ended up needing to work through the lunch hour, but was able to enjoy the staff party later in the afternoon (only partly at taxpayer expense!), where our gingerbread-person decorating team got last place and my wine consumption bordered on excessive for working hours, especially since continuing on with more wine consumption with a friend later, leading ultimately to a mild headache this morning.  Nonetheless, I probably needed a no-training day. 

So the weather is beautiful out there - looks like a short nap and then some time in the saddle...

Birds of a feather...

My version of planes, trains and automobiles, is birds, penguins and cyclists.  This morning, while rushing over to review turn of the century federal land title documents at an office near mine, I stopped, as I often do, to observe flocks of doves twisting, turning and swooping in unison above me.  This, to me, is a sight as beautiful and fascinating as the Olympic mountains on the clearest of days.

Flock phenomena is another well studied area of complexity theory, and so does a peloton (pack) of cyclists exhibit similar characteristics to a flock.  Triathletes will know that packs of swimmers also exhibit flock phenomena, as do cross-country skiers.  Runners, to a limited degree, exhibit similar phenomena, but the key is energy saved by drafting, which all of these groups and flocks experience, and runners only very slightly. 

Where do penguins fit into this picture?  For another post...

Today was 7 miles on the treadmill at 7:24 pace followed by 10mins on the exercise bike.  I'd planned on some weights, but decided against them and paid extra attention to stretching and massaging instead.

Variations on a theme

As a variation on my theme below, about synchronizing training oscillations, Tuesday evening track sessions provide good fuel for discussing synchronization between runners.

Steven Strogatz, one of the pre-eminent scholars of synchronization phenomena actually uses track runners as a good example of synchronization dynamics.  In his book "How Order Emerges from Chaos in Sync", Strogatz describes two runners as oscillators because their stride patterns oscillate back and forth.  He says (at 56): "Picture them as friends jogging together on a circular track. Being friends, they want to chat as they jog, so each one makes adjustments to his preferred speed."  In fact when Dave and I were jogging around the track during our warmup, we did precisely that - since I was going relatively quickly, I slowed a tiny bit to match Dave's warmup speed until we were running stride for stride.

"This", says Strogatz, "corrective action tends to synchronize the oscillators." Strogatz goes on to describe how similar corrective actions will allow larger groups to synchronize.   He then gets into a slightly more technical discussion about different degrees of sync.  But the interesting thing is that in a field fraught with a panoply of hardcore physicists and mathematicians, Strogatz explains some basics about sync dynamics by using a group of runners as an example.  As such we runners join an elite field of biological oscillators that synchronize, like flashing fireflies, neurons, pacemaker cells in our hearts, and others.

I developed a paper on synchronization dynamics among cyclists, and essentially the same principles apply.  I was able to present this paper at a conference in Mexico on synchronization dynamics that S was kind enough to watch me muddle through, before all hell and asynchrony broke between us after we returned (kidding, sort of!).

So our track workout was 4 times 600, and 4 x 400 - a hard workout.  I synched with Patrick for the 400's, and I saw lots of sync happening all around...

Training oscillations

"It escalates," was a recent comment I made about bad-hair weeks becoming bad-hair months.  This now brings to mind a comment by Niles on Frasier: in the episode I recall, Niles stands mesmerized by the turning blade of a fan as Daphne asks him a question.  In response Niles says, "It...oscillates," as he sways just a bit, rather rhythmically. 

The oscillation patterns of dynamic processes are a subject of great study among complexity theorists.  Of particular interest to some is how the oscillation patterns of one object can synchronize with the oscillation patterns of another.

Our training patterns oscillate in their day to day and week to week patterns.  If we plot their duration and intensity as a bar graph or sine wave we can see discernable oscillation patterns: higher mileage one day as compared to another; one week as compare to another and so on, and repetitions in the patterns.  Indeed interval training represents very distinctive oscillations. There will also be oscillating patterns to our performances from month to month, and even year to year. 

It is interesting to consider that over one or two centuries of trial and error among many thousands of athletes, what we must do is to synchronize our oscillation patterns with those that have worked for people in the past, as well as with patterns that have worked for ourselves in the past.  Of course, what really works for our particular bodies is not something quickly understood, but requires years of trying different things - and yet the things we try should more or less synchronize with training regimes tried by others.  

Few of us in this day and age attempt to reinvent the wheel all on our own, since in an age of instantaneous information transmission, we can learn rapidly from what others have done before us.  This is why average athletes today are far better than Olympic athletes at the turn of the 20th century, and perhaps is why there is still room for continued athletic performance:  each succeeding generation can synthesize all the existing training methodology and improve upon it, even if ever so slightly.  In that sense current training methods do not entirely synchronize with previous training methods, but result from an evolutionary process.  In fact complete synchronization is counter to an evolutionary process by which adaptations occur by accident, and yet synchronizing our training patterns with others is very important to our success on an individual basis.  But ! I could go on...

Today was a 1400m swim followed by 20mins on the exercise bike and some light weights.  My back is a tiny bit sore after doing leg presses on a stand-up shoulder padded leg machine at the Commonwealth pool.   I'll avoid that machine from now on.

Fine balances

Complexity theory is about describing patterns that emerge among systems of interacting agents, whether those agents are sub-atomic particles, ants, humans, or myriad other things.  One description I've seen of complexity is that it emerges "at the edge of chaos", perched in a fine balance between disorder and order - if a given system leans one way, its processes are wholly chaotic, or unpredictable; if it leans the other way its outcomes are easily predictable.  Complex patterns riding the "edge" are at once both chaotic and ordered.

These last few days I've had an interesting sense of my own life as unfolding in a pattern along an edge between predictability and unpredictability.  On one hand there is a sense that it has all been predestined but not predictable; on the other there is the sense that it is all subject entirely to the choices I make, and therefore entirely predictable. Lately it has all seemed rather to proceed somewhere on an edge between the two.  

A few days ago, in a strange deja vu,  I felt that every word, whether poorly or wisely chosen, every consequence that flowed as a result, and every divergent and convergent path among those in my life was entirely mapped out and that somehow I had seen it all before in dreams.  Of course this conflicts with the rational consideration that a person's choices ultimately determine his destiny.  And yet I basked for a while amid an unfamiliar sensation that my own life was somehow finely balanced between the two. 

Today was a long(ish) run, 23-24km with Judy around the lakes - 45mins lap 1, 43 min lap two approx, and another 15min or so in addition.

The song Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley is firmly on my mind at the moment...

It's a jungle in there

I have a hardy, steadfast and seemingly rather loyal fern that has yet to expire on me even after a year of relative neglect.  Actually I like to think I generally take good care of my plants and I even sing to them frequently, although without a doubt poor fern-baby really was rather pekid after it went waterless for almost two weeks while I was in Mexico with S.

This morning I noticed two new chutes placidly poking into view amid the cascading fronds that appear almost jungle-like if one puts his nose right in amongst them.  The new chutes have heads that are yet tightly curled, but seem to be keenly and robustly unrolling upward.  New growth, new life - always a pleasure to bear witness to, and for me often symbolic of the unfolding of a new day and the unforeseen directions our lives will sometimes take. 

It was 10 times 3 minutes at 10km pace with Cliffy this morning up and down the waterfront. Four times up and 6 times back.  One minute rest in between. The first three were comfortable and we gradually picked up the pace on each one.  The workout felt amazing, though the left hamstring was a bit tight on the cooldown.  With an extended warmup before meeting Cliff, my total distance was about 20km.  Cliff is targetting the London marathon and starting to increase mileage, as am I starting to ramp up the mileage for December with a view to a similar race pattern for 2006 as for 2005, except that my plan is to incorporate more time trial training on the bike earlier than last year.

The softness of whiteness

Running in an inch or two of freshly fallen snow is one of my favourite running experiences.  When I am the first to break the perfect surface of a sheen of newly fallen snow, it is so soft and the impact so small, I feel I've suddenly acquired a wellspring of greater endurance, though it is largely an illusion, I'm sure. 

Of course tonight there was not much more than slush nearby, except near Beacon Hill park where in the darkness there was a muted whiteness underfoot, sufficient to keep each muffled step well cushioned.  Muted whiteness and muffled steps and puffs of breath - these kept me company around the waterfront, sub-tempo, relaxed but quick: 1:10.

Infinite Carrots, Bugs Bunny, connections squared

I recall a show I used to watch occasionally, called Connections squared (the "squared" being denoted by a superscript 2).  It was a science show that started with a single basic theme or word and then moved from one historical or scientific context to another in which that basic theme arises.  My mind often operates that way - a single word triggers a sequence of connections to the point where the last one may not be discernably related to the first.  Most people's minds do operate that way to some degree, I've no doubt, but mine is a particularly quirky version of that process, I suspect.  In a sense it is an interesting example of a chaotic (in the scientific sense of the word) process, in that the end result or set of connections is not predictable from the initial neuronal processes, or triggering context, that underly the sequence of connected thoughts. 

In any event, that is how I can get a Bugs Bunny episode in mind from a sentence that uses "carrot" and "bucket" near each other, when the original context was something very different.  In the episode I recall, BB is"fati - gued" - that's how he pronounced it; he staggers around a bit with a carrot in one hand and his other on his forehead, saying "I think I might just - might just... kick the bucket", and he stumbles over to a pail, kicks it and then feels a lot better right after.

So - the "infinite carrot" of real property connects to "infinity"... which connects to, umm the left bone, which connects to the right bone...