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ZzDrafts

here's a place to gather string and tangle it before posting to the ^zhurnal ...

Faith to Doubt

[[Past_and_Now_and_Future?|Past and Now and Future]]

Stuck in traffic, I turn off the radio
And think how primitive my life will appear
To someone a hundred or a thousand years from now:
"They drove cars! They got sick!"

And then I wonder how the world today
Might have been imagined by people
A century or ten centuries ago:
"No work! Free everything!"

And how would it have felt, I muse,
To meet Shakespeare in a London pub,
To see plains dark with buffalo,
To sail the Pacific on a tiny raft.

Maybe the Future Self will marvel and be moved
At all I take for granted and ignore:
Great cities, peaceful protest marches,
Freeways through fields of corn, TV sitcoms.

And when my life is drawing to a close
What will I remember? Not electronic gadgets,
Roller-coaster rides, engineered foods,

No—the memories will be eternal ones:
Moonrise, lover's kiss, wind stirring the trees,
Taste of just-picked berry, birth of a child,
Wading across a stream, warmth of coming home.

[[Big_Five_Personality_Traits?| Big Five Personality Traits]]

A psychologist lectured recently about personality and mentioned that there are five key dimensions that people tend to vary among. From the Wikipedia article [1]:

another list, from the Hogan Inventory [2]:

Some want not, yet want to want
Some want, and want to want not

write a poem piling on deliberate symbols? angels, wilted roses, a single tear, a bird on fire, a tunnel and a spire, ...

[[As_a_Poem?|As a Poem]]

If you had something so important to say
Something more intimate than being inside or around a lover
Something more personal than a midnight fear
Something closer than a breath, warmer, softer, nearer, ...
You would have to say it as a poem.

Look up and think about:

[[Our_Optic?|Our Optic]]

A funny phrase that I've seen: "from our optic", meaning "based on our point of view" or "from our perspective" ...

[[Practice_Makes?|Practice Makes]]

Jon Kabat-Zinn is quite right when, in writing about Buddhist-style mindfulness meditation, he underscores the importance of practice before a crisis. I try to self-observe in odd moments, when I think about it, when walking or waiting or otherwise unoccupied. And when I really "need" some help—like when pain from a broken arm kept me awake through the night, or when running the final miles of a tough race moves past discomfort into the "Why am I doing this?" zone—my attempts to apply mindfulness are only partially successful, just enough to demonstrate that it could be much much better.

[[Running_Progress?|Running Progress]]

Reasons for recent improvement:

[[HTT_vs._HTH?|HTT vs. HTH]]

for some readings see http://www.patricksrealm.com/blog/?p=46 and http://ceki.blogspot.com/2008/08/hth-or-htt.html and the TED talk (which I haven't watched yet) http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/peter_donnelly_shows_how_stats_fool_juries.html cited in both ...

btw, the problem has some excellent connections to the Boyers-Moore and Knuth-Morris-Pratt string-matching algorithms (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boyer%E2%80%93Moore_string_search_algorithm and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knuth%E2%80%93Morris%E2%80%93Pratt_algorithm ... on the Metro this morning I worked out some state-transition diagrams for each case (HTT vs. HTH) and I think if I can understand that approach it will yield the answer pretty easily ... must study it some more first though ... might be fun to write a simulation to test the result empirically ...

^z - 2009-09-??

[[Key_Concepts_in_Analytic_Thinking?|Key Concepts in Analytic Thinking]]

In every instance of vanity it will be found that the blame ought to be shared among more than it generally reaches; all who exalt trifles by immoderate praise, or instigate needless emulation by invidious incitements, are to be considered as perverters of reason, and corrupters of the world; and since every man is obliged to promote happiness and virtue, he should be careful not to mislead unwary minds, by appearing to set too high a value upon things by which no real excellence is conferred.

from THE RAMBLER, Saturday 1750-11-03 ...

Running is simple. It rewards patience, persistence, and careful attention to detail.

[[Periodic_Table_of_Running_Injuries?|Periodic Table of Running Injuries]]

blisters ... bruises ...

lost toenails ... rolled ankle ...

stress fracture ... ITB ... plantar fasciitis ... torn Achilles tendon ...

The Wall ...

dehydration ... sunburn ...

arthritis ...

(as inspired by the Periodic Table of Awesoments at [5]

[[Runner_Code_-_Part_3?|Runner Code - Part 3]]

other categories?

injuries ... Toenails ... Equipment (shoes, clothes, GPS, etc.) ... Attitude (machismo/machisma, boasts, hash-harrier-ness, lying about mileage and speed, etc. --- fisherman's rule: add one and double ...) ... Fuel (preferred eats/drinks, electrolytes, etc.) ... Goals (get faster, enjoy life more, be all that I can be, ...) ... Groupishness (attitude about running with others) ... Trail Markings ... Logbook (recordkeeping level of detail ... nothing, build memories ... anecdotes and observations ...every step with pace info ... fisherman exaggeration (+1 *3 rule) ... ) ...

What Makes a Good Race

(a good race is ...)
G1 = A Good Race is one I win; Gf = A Good Race is one that I finish without major injury; G* = A Good Race is one in which I make a new friend, help someone in trouble, see something beautiful, and/or learn something about myself. ...

Quotes from David Fontana's 2001 book Discover Zen: A Practical Guide to Personal Serenity:

p. 35, "Exercise 5: Move Beyond the Self" --- maybe I should give up judgment that satori is a delusion?! --- point here is nonlocalization --- that consciousness isn't pointlike or contained --- as Dennett and Hofstadter and Vinge have pointed out in various ways ...

from Coming to Our Senses by Jon Kabat-Zinn

from the chapter "Presence":

Tibetans use the term "Kundun" when speaking of the Dalai Lama. Kundun means the Presence. It is neither a misnomer nor an exaggeration. In his presence, you become more present. I have watched him over a period of days, in a room with a small number of people, often with complex scientific conversations and presentations going on, varying naturally in degrees of interest. But he appears to be right there all the time, not just in his thinking but in his feeling tone. He attends to the matter at hand, and I've noticed that all of us around him become not only more present, but more open and more loving, just by being in his presence. He interrupts when he doesn't understand. He ponders deeply, you can see it on his face. Closeted with scientists and senior monks and scholars, he regularly asks pointed questions during their presentations, to which a frequent response is: "Your Holiness, that is exactly the question we asked ourselves at this point, and the next experiment we decided to do." He sometimes appears distracted, but usually I am fooled if I think so because he stays right on the point. But he does often look deep in thought, puzzled, or pondering a point. In the next moment, he can be very playful, radiating delight and kindness. You could say he was born this way, and that is a whole other story, of course, but these qualities are also the result of years of a certain kind of rigorous training of the mind and heart. He is the embodiment of that training, even though he would modestly say it is nothing, which is also more than passingly correct.

If We Remembered

Memories like diamonds, emeralds,
Constellations of gems, sparkles in the sky,
Fevered glimpses, saved and savored,
Recalled in beauty-charged moments:
Glimpse of thigh, arc of riverbend,
Eye-glint, blood splash, shadowy curve,
Belly-swell like a sail,
Innocent sleeping breath-sigh,
Hair-toss, giggle, glance.

flash of red when a period arrives unexpectedly during a trail run
A bosom close to my nose when she reaches to tie my headband
A rump high as she turns away and bends over to tie shoelaces
Pregnant belly swelling like a sail
Eyes closed as she sleeps beside me on the airplane
The sparkling moments:
Arc of a riverbend in the morning sun
Glint of light off camera lens
Flare reflected off distant mirror-antenna on satellite 2 thousand miles above
The gallery glimpses:
Pointillist dots that merge into landscape as I step back
Pinky and Blue Boy flouncing puff sleeves beside one another
Talony eagle swerving to attack

Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, ...

"To My Dear and Loving Husband"

by Anne Bradstreet

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

also:

When You Are Old

by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Happy the Man

by Horace

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite or fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

"Happy the Man" by Horace, from Odes, Book III, xxix. Translation by John Dryden. Public domain.

2010-03-04 - New Toy Test

[[2010-03-06_-_Seneca_Creek_Greenway_Trail_50k?|2010-03-06 - Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k]]

31.3 miles @ 14.5 min/mi

http://zhurnaly.com/images/running/SCGT_50k_2010.jpgClimbing the big hill at mile 30 of the Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k my left metatarsals ache, my right knee twinges, and I'm happy. John Lennon's song Imagine, on the radio at 5am this morning, plays in my head. "... Above us, only sky ...." Two miles to go!


(photo by Ken Trombatore, who was hiding behind a tree catching runners near the crest)

"Where's your pack of girlfriends?" the volunteer course marshall teases me. She's at the last corner now, guiding runners into a final sprint down unpaved Tschiffley Lock Rd. Several hours ago she saw us upstream, a group running along behind pacesetter friend Kate Abbott.

"They're coming along soon," I reply. Several miles back my feet start to feel frisky and I run ahead of the gang. At the Clopper Lake aid station, coming out of the side loop near mile 19, I take a couple of Succeed! electrolyte capsules. Apparently they're just what the old carcass craves. Half an hour later my strength comes back and I feel like running again.

This year's SCGT 50k trail race actually begins at 4:45am as I hop on my left foot across the dining room. I'm trying to reach the nail clippers in the kitchen without touching my grease-coated right foot to the floor or falling down and waking Paulette. After trimming an ugly toenail I don socks and shoes, then head out.

A last-quarter moon shines bright in Scorpio, next to red Antares. At Riley's Lock I'm among the first to arrive, but as usual cheery Caren Jew is there ahead of me. In her minivan she gathers Holly Franz, Kate Abbott, Caroline Williams, Rob Dolan, and me for the ride to Damascus. Caren lends a pair of gloves to Caroline and encourages us all. We huddle in her warm car until Race Director Ed Schultze announces the early start is about to take place. Then it's ten minutes in the cold wind, a shout out of bib numbers to the officials, and at 7:10am we begin.

Halfway down the bikepath a helpful runner points out that my shoes are untied. I sit down to reknot the laces and claim Dead Last Place. At the bottom of the hill, where the course leaves the asphalt to head through the snowy woods, I catch up with Kate and Holly. Here it's Kate's turn to pause and install her YakTrax, metallic coils for extra traction. I'm wearing my screw shoes, a choice with mixed consequences: I never slip, but the lack of padding promotes metatarsalgia.

Across the crusty snow we trek, following leader Kate on Magruder Branch Trail. I check my new GPS frequently, trying not to fall while doing so. Our pace is slow but steady. A few miles downstream at the first major water crossing the stream is deep. Several people stop to take off their shoes and socks. Kate and I wade quickly across, avoiding the submerged stepping stones which look slippery.

The aid station volunteers are jolly and helpful. Ed Schultze has directed them not to give out paper cups, not to let runners litter, and not to give runners too special food. "If we treat them too good they will keep coming back just like the geese," his instructions say. Holly and I do our part, picking up litter as we progress.

After Rt 355, a dozen or so miles into the race, Judith Weber catches up and joins us. She's from Ellicott City and has run the Catoctin 50k, an ultra that Caren and I plan to do together again some day. We talk about our aches and discover that both of us have the same foot pains in the metatarsal bones.

At Clopper Lake, miles 16, we're passed by a passel of 8am starters including Mark McKennett. He's growing out his hair so he can shave "MMT 100" into it for the mid-May Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 miler. Shortly after Mark goes by, to my vast amazement fleet-footed friend Ken Swab materializes. He's been blasting along after taking the 8am start, and has gained an astounding 50 minutes on me. Our mutual banter entertains the other runners in the train tireless Kate is pulling along.

At Rt 28, mile ~25, I take two more S! e-caps. Jim Farkas refills my water backpack and Don Libes lets me drink Pepsi from the communal mug. "You promised you would volunteer at my aid station for a few seconds, and here you are!" he teases me. As I leave I look back and see no one, but after the race Kate reports cresting the hill and spying me outbound.

The final half-dozen solo miles go by briskly, if not totally comfortably. I pass several faltering runners, but my dream of finishing in under 7.5 hours soon fades. The right knee complains, but less than the left foot. I come in at 7:35:32 by my watch. The GPS measures 31.38 miles and estimates I've burned 3109 calories. Some of its other data are less credible, including an estimate of over 10,000 feet elevation change. Perhaps it's due to jitter in the altitude estimation function?

2010 SCGT course as recorded by my new Garmin Forerunner 205 GPS, plotted via GPS Visualizer on Google Maps, with markers every mile.http://zhurnaly.com/images/running/SCGT_50k_2010_course.jpg

Today's lessons relearned:

GPS split data, with Pace in units of min/mi:

Mile PaceTime Mile Pace Time Mile Pace Time
0113:180:13:181215:412:56:402314:255:43:40
0214:550:28:131315:373:12:172411:385:55:18
0314:400:42:531415:323:27:492516:096:11:27
0413:540:56:471517:253:45:142612:096:23:36
0517:191:14:061614:073:59:212714:176:37:53
0614:201:28:261715:264:14:472813:456:51:38
0714:181:42:441815:364:30:232912:367:04:14
0814:591:57:431916:024:46:253016:007:20:14
0914:222:12:052014:105:00:353111:517:32:05
1015:362:27:412114:405:15:15
1113:182:40:592214:005:29:1531.3809:167:35:32

(cf. Seneca Creek Greenway Trail Marathon 2005 (2005-03-05), SenecaCreekGreenwayTrailMarathon2006 (2006-03-05), Seneca Creek Greenway Trail Marathon 2007 (2007-03-04), Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k 2008 (2008-03-02), [[2009-03-07_-_Seneca_Creek_Greenway_Trail_50k_2009?|2009-03-07 - Seneca Creek Greenway Trail 50k 2009]] (2009-03-14), ...) - ^z - 2010-03-??

[[2010-03-10_-_Recovery_Test_Loops?|2010-03-10 - Recovery Test Loops]]

~3 miles @ ~8.5 min/mi

Meetings most of the day leave only a little time to trek on a pleasant March afternoon. Friend Amy and I walk the parking lot periphery (~1.5 miles) to test her rebuilt left hip joint—results not yet in. "Femoral acetabular impingement" is the phrase of the day. I change clothes and set off for a brisk couple of circuits around the hilly woodsy jogging course. Right knee feels iffy, but measured miles come in an accelerating blitz of 8:21 and 7:41, scaring squirrels and robins, zigging to avoid a pair of ladies walking the opposite direction on the paved pathway. Patches of snow melt in shaded nooks.

^z - 2010-03-??

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Last edited 2010-03-11 09:36 UTC by zz (diff)