Here is something I am looking forward to, more than I can really express: being able to sleep on my sides. I had been accustomed to avoiding sleeping on the left side since I started having trouble on that shoulder, but I am SUCH a shoulder sleeper, that I spent much of the night on my right side. As the pain in the shoulder got really bad after the arthrogram, though, even that got difficult, because having the shoulder lean left or right felt bad. And now, with the PICC line in place, I cannot do it at all.
Occasionally I have tried sleeping on my stomach with no pillow. I told my mother that on the phone recently, and she said, "I thought that was bad for you." I asked her, "What, are you worried about SIDS?" She laughed and reminded me it is bad for your back. I told her I was not really thinking of this as a long-term but rather a temporary solution. But that does not work so well either.
So it is all night on the back for me. Not that I sleep that constantly, because of the drugs and all the napping.
But one of the interesting things about all this is that I seem always to be on the verge of dozing off. That means that often I start dreaming before I even fully fall asleep, which makes the veil between the waking and sleeping times a very thin and fluttering thing. These are thin times, as the Celts would say.
Or maybe it seems that way because of all the time I have for contemplation, which makes me more open to noticing small pleasures and surprises in life. Yesterday the doctor changed my antibiotic, so I had to go to the infusion center at the hospital to have it infused (instead of doing it myself at home). When I got there, there were three people receiving their own particular infusions. I was struck that in however long they had been coming there daily, they had all gotten to be . . . I am searching for my adjective here. They all seemed to enjoy talking to each other, and seemed to enjoy each other's company, and seemed to be doing something more than just passing the time. They reminded me of the retired men you see eating breakfast together at Hardee's, or a knitting group, or people taking a water break during a pick-up basketball game, or a Red Hat Society, or a book club, or the French Table, or any such group of people who do not necessarily have more in common than that one shared interest, but there they are, having a great time. They had given each other nicknames, they liked to tease each other and the nurse, and it was the most warm, friendly group of people you could imagine. As people came and went, the conversations shifted slightly, and of course there was some talk about the infusions themselves, but mostly it was this strange warm thing in an otherwise sterile, artificially lit room.
I felt like I had been given a glimpse of something special, a world usually roped off from the well. It made me feel less bad about my own situation, and not because these people were so worse off, but because they had taught me something, all without really thinking about it.
Haven't done this in a while:
1. "The Carnival Is Over," Dead Can Dance, Into the Labyrinth
2. "Jolie Blonde," Queen Ida and her Zydeco Band, Caught in the Act
3. "Come Running," Van Morrison, Best of
4. "The Kraken," Squirrel Nut Zippers, Perennial Favorites
5. "Anansi Abstrakt," D. J. Spooky, Songs of a Dead Dreamer
6. "Great Balls of Fire," Jerry Lee Lewis, Best of Sun Records, Volume 1
7. "Grace Under Pressure," Jade Fox, Gilles Peterson Presents: The BBC Sessions, Volume 1
8. "What Is It This Time," Jamie Lidell, Multiply
9. In 3's," Beastie Boys, Check Your Head
10. "Alla Gossar (All the Young Men)," Triakel, Nordic Roots: A Northside Collection
Friday, May 04, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Phenergans Wake: The short version.
There was one point this weekend where the nurse said, "I am going to give you the Finnegan injection first. That should help with the nausea."
"Finnegan?" I said.
"Phenergan," she said. It turns out to be an anti-nausea drug, not a major late modernist epic of surreal proportion. Though the experience was surreal too.
* * *
When I went to see the shoulder specialist on Friday, he determined that there was indeed an infection in my shoulder joint: hence some of the pain. In addition to the regular scary things about infections, particularly those caught in a hospital (in my case, the hospital where I got my arthrogram), the bacteria can degrade the cartiledge of the joint, so he wanted to get it out immediately.
Hence the surgery scheduled for Friday afternoon (i.e. cancelled physical therapy appointment, which, Joe, I believe might be the same as physiotherapy). So I went home and grabbed some things, and the PP picked me up and took me to a different hospital for the surgery. The checking in took a good long while, because it was short notice, but eventually we were checked in and waiting for a good long time in my new room (private!). They had to wait for my breakfast to be digested, and run bloodwork, and then wait for an operating room to open up, and then I had surgery around 6:00 p.m.
It seemed to go fine, and in addition to flushing the infection out of the joint, the surgeon got some "debris" out, which he thought might be related to the original pain. The whole procedure, including the knocking out and coming to, lasted about two and a half hours.
Then I spent the rest of the weekend and most of Monday in the hospital, letting the anesthesia wear off, taking pain medication, letting the wound heal so that they could take the drains out, getting my strength back so I could walk easily to the bathroom or up and down the hall a bit, removing the old IV line and putting in a PICC line (is like an IV but which can stay in the body for many weeks), and beginning physical therapy to get range of motion and strength back in the shoulder.
Now I am home, having come home last night around 7:30 p.m. I can hardly express how relieved I am to be home, but perhaps this example gives some sense: it is so nice not to have anyone come into my room at 11 p.m. (after I've been sleeping a couple of hours), turn on the lights, empty the trash, turn off the lights, and slam the door on their way out. Not to mention all the needle-sticks. And not to mention that for my first meal after 24 hours of fasting (with some IV drip I guess) was a breakfast consisting of a biscuit, sausage links, and grits. (Had no one heard of soup?)
But we are home. I still have a PICC line in, which allows me to get my antibiotics injected everyday, and it allows them to draw blood without sticking me yet again. Last night I had a bath! I am still taking some pretty prime pain meds and yes, the pheneran for nausea. I understand the antibiotics will probably go 2-3 weeks. In the meantime I do physical therapy 3 times a day, and a therapist comes to the house 3 times a week.
Just wanted to fill you in. Obviously I will not be thinking about swimming for a while, but once the PICC line is out, I may begin some water therapy.
"Finnegan?" I said.
"Phenergan," she said. It turns out to be an anti-nausea drug, not a major late modernist epic of surreal proportion. Though the experience was surreal too.
* * *
When I went to see the shoulder specialist on Friday, he determined that there was indeed an infection in my shoulder joint: hence some of the pain. In addition to the regular scary things about infections, particularly those caught in a hospital (in my case, the hospital where I got my arthrogram), the bacteria can degrade the cartiledge of the joint, so he wanted to get it out immediately.
Hence the surgery scheduled for Friday afternoon (i.e. cancelled physical therapy appointment, which, Joe, I believe might be the same as physiotherapy). So I went home and grabbed some things, and the PP picked me up and took me to a different hospital for the surgery. The checking in took a good long while, because it was short notice, but eventually we were checked in and waiting for a good long time in my new room (private!). They had to wait for my breakfast to be digested, and run bloodwork, and then wait for an operating room to open up, and then I had surgery around 6:00 p.m.
It seemed to go fine, and in addition to flushing the infection out of the joint, the surgeon got some "debris" out, which he thought might be related to the original pain. The whole procedure, including the knocking out and coming to, lasted about two and a half hours.
Then I spent the rest of the weekend and most of Monday in the hospital, letting the anesthesia wear off, taking pain medication, letting the wound heal so that they could take the drains out, getting my strength back so I could walk easily to the bathroom or up and down the hall a bit, removing the old IV line and putting in a PICC line (is like an IV but which can stay in the body for many weeks), and beginning physical therapy to get range of motion and strength back in the shoulder.
Now I am home, having come home last night around 7:30 p.m. I can hardly express how relieved I am to be home, but perhaps this example gives some sense: it is so nice not to have anyone come into my room at 11 p.m. (after I've been sleeping a couple of hours), turn on the lights, empty the trash, turn off the lights, and slam the door on their way out. Not to mention all the needle-sticks. And not to mention that for my first meal after 24 hours of fasting (with some IV drip I guess) was a breakfast consisting of a biscuit, sausage links, and grits. (Had no one heard of soup?)
But we are home. I still have a PICC line in, which allows me to get my antibiotics injected everyday, and it allows them to draw blood without sticking me yet again. Last night I had a bath! I am still taking some pretty prime pain meds and yes, the pheneran for nausea. I understand the antibiotics will probably go 2-3 weeks. In the meantime I do physical therapy 3 times a day, and a therapist comes to the house 3 times a week.
Just wanted to fill you in. Obviously I will not be thinking about swimming for a while, but once the PICC line is out, I may begin some water therapy.
Friday, April 27, 2007
All your sanity and wits they will all vanish (I promise).
The start-wearing-purple sweater is off the needles--all that is left is the sewing (bleh). I should have realized that such a chunky yarn would make a WARM sweater. I suppose that will be a good thing in sweater season, but I hope I have not accidentally made a sweater too warm for SC.
But this means I need to find a new project. How exciting! I have gotten a good bit of self-pity yarn lately, and the PP even made a trek to a yarn store that is a little ways from town with me last week, before the shoulder went ultimate haywire. The ladies at the yarn store (like pretty much everyone who meets him) were so amazed by him: he was actually interested in the yarns (I had set him on a mission to find some specific things, and the PP loves new things anyway) and he was looking at a book called something like Knitting for Men, and picking out prospective sweaters (all of which, of course, involve cables that I do not know how to do yet--but soon!). They were amazed that he was not just itching to get out of there. "He's a keeper!" they kept saying.
Don't I know it. And none of us knew then how incredibly kind he would be to me the entire time of the weekend of doom.
Anyway, today is a big day!
This morning I go to see the shoulder specialist who comes highly recommended from another swimmer and my coach. I have my x-rays and my MRI pictures in a little envelope for him, along with some paperwork. If I do not document him to death, I hope he will be able to come up with something.
Then this afternoon is my first appointment in a while with the physical therapist. While I do not expect us to make any immediate progress on the actual shoulder problem, he should be able to help me get the joint loosened up and re-strengthened after the arthrogramathon.
I'll post a report after my appointments, but keep your fingers crossed for me.
But this means I need to find a new project. How exciting! I have gotten a good bit of self-pity yarn lately, and the PP even made a trek to a yarn store that is a little ways from town with me last week, before the shoulder went ultimate haywire. The ladies at the yarn store (like pretty much everyone who meets him) were so amazed by him: he was actually interested in the yarns (I had set him on a mission to find some specific things, and the PP loves new things anyway) and he was looking at a book called something like Knitting for Men, and picking out prospective sweaters (all of which, of course, involve cables that I do not know how to do yet--but soon!). They were amazed that he was not just itching to get out of there. "He's a keeper!" they kept saying.
Don't I know it. And none of us knew then how incredibly kind he would be to me the entire time of the weekend of doom.
Anyway, today is a big day!
This morning I go to see the shoulder specialist who comes highly recommended from another swimmer and my coach. I have my x-rays and my MRI pictures in a little envelope for him, along with some paperwork. If I do not document him to death, I hope he will be able to come up with something.
Then this afternoon is my first appointment in a while with the physical therapist. While I do not expect us to make any immediate progress on the actual shoulder problem, he should be able to help me get the joint loosened up and re-strengthened after the arthrogramathon.
I'll post a report after my appointments, but keep your fingers crossed for me.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Confusion: my mistake.
Dear Readers,
A couple of folks have expressed confusion at what sent my weekend south.
The real answer is that we don't know. But the going hypothesis is that about 5% of the population has a severe pain reaction to the "dye" (not really a dye, but a chemical whose name I do not remember) that they use in an arthrogram. That could explain why the pain in my shoulder began on Friday and increased so dramatically. Or, it could have been a little bit of that, exacerbated by the "palpating" in Friday's appointment. Or it could have been the 15 cc of fluid that was injected into my already tender shoulder. Or some combination of the three. Or there could be an infection in the joint, but that does not look likely, since my temperature is remaining very steady at normal, and the pain is going away instead of increasing.
What I do know is that the pain that came on this weekend was not caused by sports, since I have not done any since the needlefest on Thursday.
And what else I know is that this pain makes me nostalgic for the soreness I had before the test. You know, the pain that led me to get the test? Won't it be grand to get back to that point?
Again, sorry for the confusion.
Yours truly,
Isis
A couple of folks have expressed confusion at what sent my weekend south.
The real answer is that we don't know. But the going hypothesis is that about 5% of the population has a severe pain reaction to the "dye" (not really a dye, but a chemical whose name I do not remember) that they use in an arthrogram. That could explain why the pain in my shoulder began on Friday and increased so dramatically. Or, it could have been a little bit of that, exacerbated by the "palpating" in Friday's appointment. Or it could have been the 15 cc of fluid that was injected into my already tender shoulder. Or some combination of the three. Or there could be an infection in the joint, but that does not look likely, since my temperature is remaining very steady at normal, and the pain is going away instead of increasing.
What I do know is that the pain that came on this weekend was not caused by sports, since I have not done any since the needlefest on Thursday.
And what else I know is that this pain makes me nostalgic for the soreness I had before the test. You know, the pain that led me to get the test? Won't it be grand to get back to that point?
Again, sorry for the confusion.
Yours truly,
Isis
It's all just a matter of time-uh.
I may not yet be able to drive my manual-transmission car, but that does not mean I am not making progress.
For instance, as of today, I can use my left hand to pull up my pants! And I can touch my face with my left hand! Perhaps even wash said face!
The secret to my success? I am glad you asked: it is a combination of pill consumption that even an old person would envy and many hot baths, where I practice moving my left arm around in a low gravity warm water context. Oh yeah, and the passing of time.
Today I am more sore than yesterday, but it is no longer the joint hurting anymore but instead the muscles. Muscles that have been clenched into leetle tight wads and have recently been getting bits and pieces of workouts as I try to lift my arm (much exhaling of breath).
And, thanks be, I CAN KNIT AGAIN.
I am working on the world's simplest, chunkiest, start-wearing-purplest sweater. I have now finished the front and the back, and I have knitted the shoulders together using that cool move where you knit them together and bind the stitches off all in one slick move. (Good thing that move is slick, because there is nothing slick about the series of moves it presently requires to pour myself a cup of coffee.) Now I have started on Sleeve #1, making notes about mistakes as I go, so I can replicated them on Sleeve #2. Exciting news on the sleeve front is that I have learned the "make 1" increase. Watch me go!
Stay tuned as tomorrow I try to leave the house!
For instance, as of today, I can use my left hand to pull up my pants! And I can touch my face with my left hand! Perhaps even wash said face!
The secret to my success? I am glad you asked: it is a combination of pill consumption that even an old person would envy and many hot baths, where I practice moving my left arm around in a low gravity warm water context. Oh yeah, and the passing of time.
Today I am more sore than yesterday, but it is no longer the joint hurting anymore but instead the muscles. Muscles that have been clenched into leetle tight wads and have recently been getting bits and pieces of workouts as I try to lift my arm (much exhaling of breath).
And, thanks be, I CAN KNIT AGAIN.
I am working on the world's simplest, chunkiest, start-wearing-purplest sweater. I have now finished the front and the back, and I have knitted the shoulders together using that cool move where you knit them together and bind the stitches off all in one slick move. (Good thing that move is slick, because there is nothing slick about the series of moves it presently requires to pour myself a cup of coffee.) Now I have started on Sleeve #1, making notes about mistakes as I go, so I can replicated them on Sleeve #2. Exciting news on the sleeve front is that I have learned the "make 1" increase. Watch me go!
Stay tuned as tomorrow I try to leave the house!
Monday, April 23, 2007
What a weekend.
You may not find this as exciting as I do, but I am typing with two hands!
This is exciting, because for pretty much the entire weekend, I had no use of left arm. And what moving it did, felt like someone was ripping it out of my shoulder socket.
You see, that shoulder pain I was feeling on Friday got even worse, and I realized that it was important that when I described the arthrogram itself as sucking beyond most sucking--well, now I knew what some more sucking felt like.
Sucky.
As Friday went on the pain got worse and worse, and finally we convinced the doctor's office that I was not just being whiney, but really hurting, and they gave me vicodin. Cool: that helped some, and it definitely mellowed me out, but what they did not tell me and should have (and indeed the directions from the pharmacy even contradicted this) was TAKE WITH FOOD. I had taken the first dose right at dinner time, but I kept taking it every four hours as prescribed, so by the early morning my stomach was getting empty. And then, when I tried to eat, I could not eat more than one bite without being sick.
Four times of that later, and still in excruciating pain (this is early Saturday morning), we were trying to contact the on-call doctor again and again. Having started this rigamarole around 5:30 a.m., we finally reached a nurse around 10:30, and then around 1:30, I was back at the doctor's office, where I got stronger drugs. (The car ride, though, was no fun.) The new meds had anti-nausea stuff in them, too, thanks be.
Yesterday things kept improving and by evening I could be up and around. Even getting to the bathroom was no big deal! And solid food! And, can you believe it, I was able to knit again.
This morning feels like a whole new day. Thanks to super-meds, I got good sleep, and at one point I even managed to turn onto my right side (away from the sore arm).
Does this blog sound like I am charting the accomplishments of an infant?
No work for me today, which is dicey, given the time of the semester. But my goal is to able to drive by tomorrow.
This is exciting, because for pretty much the entire weekend, I had no use of left arm. And what moving it did, felt like someone was ripping it out of my shoulder socket.
You see, that shoulder pain I was feeling on Friday got even worse, and I realized that it was important that when I described the arthrogram itself as sucking beyond most sucking--well, now I knew what some more sucking felt like.
Sucky.
As Friday went on the pain got worse and worse, and finally we convinced the doctor's office that I was not just being whiney, but really hurting, and they gave me vicodin. Cool: that helped some, and it definitely mellowed me out, but what they did not tell me and should have (and indeed the directions from the pharmacy even contradicted this) was TAKE WITH FOOD. I had taken the first dose right at dinner time, but I kept taking it every four hours as prescribed, so by the early morning my stomach was getting empty. And then, when I tried to eat, I could not eat more than one bite without being sick.
Four times of that later, and still in excruciating pain (this is early Saturday morning), we were trying to contact the on-call doctor again and again. Having started this rigamarole around 5:30 a.m., we finally reached a nurse around 10:30, and then around 1:30, I was back at the doctor's office, where I got stronger drugs. (The car ride, though, was no fun.) The new meds had anti-nausea stuff in them, too, thanks be.
Yesterday things kept improving and by evening I could be up and around. Even getting to the bathroom was no big deal! And solid food! And, can you believe it, I was able to knit again.
This morning feels like a whole new day. Thanks to super-meds, I got good sleep, and at one point I even managed to turn onto my right side (away from the sore arm).
Does this blog sound like I am charting the accomplishments of an infant?
No work for me today, which is dicey, given the time of the semester. But my goal is to able to drive by tomorrow.
Friday, April 20, 2007
The so-called results.
Just back from my appointment with the orthopaedist.
The OUTSTANDING news is that there is no rotator-cuff muscle tear, and no serious degradation of the biceps tendon. And all that means NO SURGERY. HUGE sigh of relief.
The bad news is that they cannot really tell why I am experiencing this pain, so it is back to physical therapy, which may or may not do anything. Apparently my labrum, which is a part of the shoulder that the ball of joint touches, I THINK, is stretched, but this probably is not the source of pain but rather a symptom of swimming.
The doc had a student with him today, so they did a lot of "palpating," which in regular human speech means touching the places where the pain is and moving my shoulder all around to see what hurts. All that, plus the leftovers from yesterday's arthrogram fun, mean that my entire left arm fucking hurts. I am wondering what the repercussions of an entire afternoon of bourbon drinking might be..... Probably would not put me in the best frame of mind for this evening's swim team banquet, which includes masters + kids team.
So I am really happy not to be looking at surgery, but profoundly frustrated not to know what to do. I do have an appt with a special shoulder doc for next Friday, so maybe he will have some more detailed or specific sense of things.
Oh, and no swimming for now, of course--but you had guessed that, hadn't you?
The OUTSTANDING news is that there is no rotator-cuff muscle tear, and no serious degradation of the biceps tendon. And all that means NO SURGERY. HUGE sigh of relief.
The bad news is that they cannot really tell why I am experiencing this pain, so it is back to physical therapy, which may or may not do anything. Apparently my labrum, which is a part of the shoulder that the ball of joint touches, I THINK, is stretched, but this probably is not the source of pain but rather a symptom of swimming.
The doc had a student with him today, so they did a lot of "palpating," which in regular human speech means touching the places where the pain is and moving my shoulder all around to see what hurts. All that, plus the leftovers from yesterday's arthrogram fun, mean that my entire left arm fucking hurts. I am wondering what the repercussions of an entire afternoon of bourbon drinking might be..... Probably would not put me in the best frame of mind for this evening's swim team banquet, which includes masters + kids team.
So I am really happy not to be looking at surgery, but profoundly frustrated not to know what to do. I do have an appt with a special shoulder doc for next Friday, so maybe he will have some more detailed or specific sense of things.
Oh, and no swimming for now, of course--but you had guessed that, hadn't you?
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Ow ow ow.
One thing is certain: I would not be able to stand up to tortune.
I did successfully get my arthrogram + MRI done today, and, 4 hours later, I am home to tell the tale. The MRI was no big deal: as I explained to the tech who was giving me the earplugs, the PP's snoring pretty much sounds like that, so I sleep in earplugs all the time. And they do wrap you up pretty well before they send you into the magnetic tube, so it is pretty easy to hold still. And they give you a nice blanket, since the room is about 45 F. So all in all, not bad.
But the same cannot be said of the arthrogram. If you have never had such a test, it goes like this: they take an X-ray, then they use some kind of fancy camera to look at your shoulder (or whatever) while they try to figure out where to stick a needle, then they mark you with a sharpie, then they inject you with numbing solution, then they stick in the needle, inject dye (to magnify the contrast of various kinds of tissue) into the joint, take another picture, and presto you are done.
Well, presto, that is, if they can quickliy find the right spot to shoot in the dye. The doctor did mention that sometimes that is not so easy, but I figured I would not be such a case. I am sorry to have to tell that I was indeed such a case. I was not allowed to wear a watch during the procedure, and if I were I am sure I would not have been allowed to consult it, but I can tell you that however long it took, of moving the spinal needle around while it was stuck in my shoulder, and trying to get it readjusted, and all amidst tissue that has not been feeling the best lately, seemed like an eternity. Even with the numbing, you still of course feel quite a bit, and it is that horrible metal on tissue feeling, combined with the fun probing feeling. Combined with eternity.
But now the procedures are done and I am off to my massage appointment, which I have been anticipating all day, although she'll have to avoid all the little bandages and injection points. And tonight may be one of those nights that requires its share of scotch.
Results tomorrow, gods and goddesses willing.
I did successfully get my arthrogram + MRI done today, and, 4 hours later, I am home to tell the tale. The MRI was no big deal: as I explained to the tech who was giving me the earplugs, the PP's snoring pretty much sounds like that, so I sleep in earplugs all the time. And they do wrap you up pretty well before they send you into the magnetic tube, so it is pretty easy to hold still. And they give you a nice blanket, since the room is about 45 F. So all in all, not bad.
But the same cannot be said of the arthrogram. If you have never had such a test, it goes like this: they take an X-ray, then they use some kind of fancy camera to look at your shoulder (or whatever) while they try to figure out where to stick a needle, then they mark you with a sharpie, then they inject you with numbing solution, then they stick in the needle, inject dye (to magnify the contrast of various kinds of tissue) into the joint, take another picture, and presto you are done.
Well, presto, that is, if they can quickliy find the right spot to shoot in the dye. The doctor did mention that sometimes that is not so easy, but I figured I would not be such a case. I am sorry to have to tell that I was indeed such a case. I was not allowed to wear a watch during the procedure, and if I were I am sure I would not have been allowed to consult it, but I can tell you that however long it took, of moving the spinal needle around while it was stuck in my shoulder, and trying to get it readjusted, and all amidst tissue that has not been feeling the best lately, seemed like an eternity. Even with the numbing, you still of course feel quite a bit, and it is that horrible metal on tissue feeling, combined with the fun probing feeling. Combined with eternity.
But now the procedures are done and I am off to my massage appointment, which I have been anticipating all day, although she'll have to avoid all the little bandages and injection points. And tonight may be one of those nights that requires its share of scotch.
Results tomorrow, gods and goddesses willing.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Trying again.
I went to swim practice last night, for the first time since March 21.
You see, the alternative exercise thing has not been going as well as I would like.
Here is an exchange I had with my coach last night during a set of vertical kicks:
That about sums it up. Sure, I had been doing some spinning classes, which I really enjoy, but getting signed up for them requires surrendering your first-born, and I am all out of first-borns. And although I can sometimes muster the energy and dedication to get out for a run on my own or a cycle in the basement, sometimes I cannot.
So I had to face the swimming demons and get back in the pool.
Here, for the sake of testimony and bandwagons, is last night's practice:
900 kick warm-up (was supposed to be 1000, but I did not have time once I took off my short fins)
450 designated kick set (3 x 150: 50 easy, 25 fast, 25 easy, 50 fast)
50 random extra
300 kick (while the others were doing some kind of drill-swim thing)
~900 combination vertical kicking and lap-kicking in the diving well
300 kick (3 x 100 descend BR kick @ 2:00: 1:10, 1:04, :57)
200 kick easy
TOTAL: ~3100 yards
I realized in the course of this that whatever streamlining I was doing back when I was just kicking may have been the aggravating factor, keeping the shoulder from healing. Coach says I am not allowed to beat myself up for this, so I am working on LIVE AND LEARN. Or in this case, probably LIVE, GET SURGERY, AND THEN MAYBE LEARN.
MRI got postponed yesterday because of stupid scheduling snafu (though not until after I spent over an hour sitting in the Dr.-Phil-infused waiting room trying to get work done), so now that happens Thursday. Maybe I can still get my results Friday--we shall see.
Chin up.
You see, the alternative exercise thing has not been going as well as I would like.
Here is an exchange I had with my coach last night during a set of vertical kicks:
COACH: So, how is it going, being back?
ME: It SUCKS.
COACH: But isn't it better than sitting home by yourself?
ME: Yeah, that sucks more.
That about sums it up. Sure, I had been doing some spinning classes, which I really enjoy, but getting signed up for them requires surrendering your first-born, and I am all out of first-borns. And although I can sometimes muster the energy and dedication to get out for a run on my own or a cycle in the basement, sometimes I cannot.
So I had to face the swimming demons and get back in the pool.
Here, for the sake of testimony and bandwagons, is last night's practice:
900 kick warm-up (was supposed to be 1000, but I did not have time once I took off my short fins)
450 designated kick set (3 x 150: 50 easy, 25 fast, 25 easy, 50 fast)
50 random extra
300 kick (while the others were doing some kind of drill-swim thing)
~900 combination vertical kicking and lap-kicking in the diving well
300 kick (3 x 100 descend BR kick @ 2:00: 1:10, 1:04, :57)
200 kick easy
TOTAL: ~3100 yards
I realized in the course of this that whatever streamlining I was doing back when I was just kicking may have been the aggravating factor, keeping the shoulder from healing. Coach says I am not allowed to beat myself up for this, so I am working on LIVE AND LEARN. Or in this case, probably LIVE, GET SURGERY, AND THEN MAYBE LEARN.
MRI got postponed yesterday because of stupid scheduling snafu (though not until after I spent over an hour sitting in the Dr.-Phil-infused waiting room trying to get work done), so now that happens Thursday. Maybe I can still get my results Friday--we shall see.
Chin up.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Unimaginable.
My heart is breaking for the Hokies. I cannot quite wrap my head around this, but I suppose I try by thinking about one of my very favorite people in the world, one of the very sweetest people you could ever hope to know. He went to Va Tech, introduced me to the campus after the fact, and although I have no idea where he is now, he is always and forever a part of my soul, and so, by extension, is the college town he fell in love with.
My breaking heart goes out to everyone there.
My breaking heart goes out to everyone there.
Have a nice day.
How exactly are we to express our minute rage at those small injustices life gives us?
I am not talking about the real, big ones, the substantial affronts or serious injustices, the times when everyone agrees we have a right to our fury. But what I mean are the small things--the scheduling mishaps, the cuttings in line, the feelings badly expressed, the unintended insults, or perhaps bad climate conditions that do not lead to any real disasters. Because these things, too, generate their own small angers, the kind that leaves us not righteously indignant, but embarrassed at the smallness of our world-view. These are the times we feel like children, but unaccountably inhabiting overtall, overweight bodies, perhaps with less hair than we’d like, or more hips, but still wanting to let loose one of those completely-unaware-that-there-is-a-world-there wails, the kind where fresh tears come leaping out of your eyes, almost like in cartoons, and everyone around you, whether in our home or in an airport waiting area, has to feel our pain and just deal with it. But no, big person in your increasingly saggy and wrinkled skin, such an outburst is not something you can indulge.
Instead we must smile that furious smile we reserve for the people we cannot speak to, for fear of upsetting our karmic balance or getting ourselves in real trouble. These are the times we hope we are scoring real points, accumulating a case against someone who told us we have the tools to deal with life. We might imagine a courtroom scene with that person, where we lay out all our exhibits, each lettered in an alphabetic order that cannot really conceal our indignation. Because we have our positions ready: we can go forward with our opening arguments, our evidence, our peroration. Our case is irrefutable, really, and they should have made a deal with us before the jury marched in. But it is too late for that now, and we know we have victory locked up.
Assuming that there is any justice, really.
I am not talking about the real, big ones, the substantial affronts or serious injustices, the times when everyone agrees we have a right to our fury. But what I mean are the small things--the scheduling mishaps, the cuttings in line, the feelings badly expressed, the unintended insults, or perhaps bad climate conditions that do not lead to any real disasters. Because these things, too, generate their own small angers, the kind that leaves us not righteously indignant, but embarrassed at the smallness of our world-view. These are the times we feel like children, but unaccountably inhabiting overtall, overweight bodies, perhaps with less hair than we’d like, or more hips, but still wanting to let loose one of those completely-unaware-that-there-is-a-world-there wails, the kind where fresh tears come leaping out of your eyes, almost like in cartoons, and everyone around you, whether in our home or in an airport waiting area, has to feel our pain and just deal with it. But no, big person in your increasingly saggy and wrinkled skin, such an outburst is not something you can indulge.
Instead we must smile that furious smile we reserve for the people we cannot speak to, for fear of upsetting our karmic balance or getting ourselves in real trouble. These are the times we hope we are scoring real points, accumulating a case against someone who told us we have the tools to deal with life. We might imagine a courtroom scene with that person, where we lay out all our exhibits, each lettered in an alphabetic order that cannot really conceal our indignation. Because we have our positions ready: we can go forward with our opening arguments, our evidence, our peroration. Our case is irrefutable, really, and they should have made a deal with us before the jury marched in. But it is too late for that now, and we know we have victory locked up.
Assuming that there is any justice, really.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I know all there is to know about the waiting game.
Going for an arthroscopic MRI (where they squirt dye into the shoulder to better see what's going on with soft tissue) on Monday morning, and on Friday I discuss the results with the doc.
All that to say the cortisone shot did not really do the trick.
So we'll see....
All that to say the cortisone shot did not really do the trick.
So we'll see....
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Progress?
I don't want to jinx anything, but I think this cortisone shot might be doing its thing.
The PP and I had dinner at friends' last night, and then this morning we went to swim practice with our old swimteam. It was great to see folks after way too long, but because there have been, ahem, coaching changes there, there was no coach, just a group of swimmers, including my coach-friend who helped me train for Nationals. A feeling of frivolity was in the air, so we had "practice" moreso than practice. To me, it was GREAT to be in the water again (after a week and a half), so I did not mind kick-kick-kick. During a fly set, where my lanemate was swimming a 25 fly fast, I'd swim 25 fly kick underwater (with the big fins), and my lanemate was almost swimming on top of me, and he said he could get a draft off me. That was funny.
At one point in the "practice" the group was doing a set of 50s, where you swim 25 build and then 25 easy, IM order. I did most of the set kicking with short fins, but I tried out a little breaststroke swimming (with a much narrower, tightened in pull, in order not to strain the tendon), and that felt good. I also swam 4 x 25s of freestyle with short fins (and with a much wider entry, again to avoid the tendon). That felt good, too. So it was not enough swimming to make anything hurt or sore, but just to feel around a little.
This coming week is our team's spring break, so I think after that I will try to come back slowly.
Meanwhile, spin spin spin!
The PP and I had dinner at friends' last night, and then this morning we went to swim practice with our old swimteam. It was great to see folks after way too long, but because there have been, ahem, coaching changes there, there was no coach, just a group of swimmers, including my coach-friend who helped me train for Nationals. A feeling of frivolity was in the air, so we had "practice" moreso than practice. To me, it was GREAT to be in the water again (after a week and a half), so I did not mind kick-kick-kick. During a fly set, where my lanemate was swimming a 25 fly fast, I'd swim 25 fly kick underwater (with the big fins), and my lanemate was almost swimming on top of me, and he said he could get a draft off me. That was funny.
At one point in the "practice" the group was doing a set of 50s, where you swim 25 build and then 25 easy, IM order. I did most of the set kicking with short fins, but I tried out a little breaststroke swimming (with a much narrower, tightened in pull, in order not to strain the tendon), and that felt good. I also swam 4 x 25s of freestyle with short fins (and with a much wider entry, again to avoid the tendon). That felt good, too. So it was not enough swimming to make anything hurt or sore, but just to feel around a little.
This coming week is our team's spring break, so I think after that I will try to come back slowly.
Meanwhile, spin spin spin!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Thursday Unrandom 10: I will give you anything just please don't stop spinning Edition.
It is now officially one week since I last swam. Wow--time flies, sort of.
I'm pleased to report that the cortisone shot seems to be helping, in that there is not the lingering achiness in the shoulder that I had before, although I cannot be certain whether that difference is from the shot or the lack of swimming. It is sooooooooo tempting to try swimming again, but I will be patient, although I may break down at some point and do another kick practice, just to be in the water. It is a little like a cost-benefit analysis: will just being in the water feel good enough to make up for not being able to use my arms? Often, yes, if I am not trying to do the kicking too frequently.
But I digress, because I came here today to tell you about my recent bike ride. Wish you could have joined me today for my beautiful ride through wine country. It was a gorgeous day, nearly incandescent, with lush scenery.
OK, let's be honest.
Wine country = my basement.
"Incandescent" = completely artificial lighting.
"Lush scenery" = boxes, paint cans, old light fixtures, and the water heater.
But it was 30 minutes on the trainer, with some good intensity mixed in, and I am happy for that.
(But unhappy that I cannot think of as good a name for the bike trainer as "thrillmill." How about "strainer"?)
This is just another episode in the continuing saga of not swimming, which has also included some pleasants jogs around our local park full of blooming daffodils and tulips, some time on the bike machine and thrillmill at the Y, and a fun spinning class (GREAT instructor + pretty fun music = all the difference), and long walks with the PP. I need to get out for a run tomorrow, but for today I'm feeling sweaty from the cycling, and happy from the little adrenaline burst.
The greatest difficulty in indoor cycling, as you may know, is heart-wrenching boredom. But a few good tunes can really help. So here is the playlist from my recent ride:
1. "L.I.P.S.T.I.C.K.," Ralph Myerz and the Jack Herren Band
2. "Natasha '75," Ralph Myerz and the Jack Herren Band
3. "Single," Pet Shop Boys
4. "Somebody's Watching Me," Rockwell (don't even say it)
5. "Stop, Drop and Roll," Squirrel Nut Zippers
6. "Bedlam Ballroom," Squirrel Nut Zippers
7. "State of the Nation," New Order
8. "Such a Lovely Thing," Devotchka
9. "Sunday Arak," Balkan Beat Box
10. "Take Me, I'm Yours," Squeeze
Can you tell that I was using my little player that plays tracks in alphabetical order? (Some by artist, of course.)
I'm pleased to report that the cortisone shot seems to be helping, in that there is not the lingering achiness in the shoulder that I had before, although I cannot be certain whether that difference is from the shot or the lack of swimming. It is sooooooooo tempting to try swimming again, but I will be patient, although I may break down at some point and do another kick practice, just to be in the water. It is a little like a cost-benefit analysis: will just being in the water feel good enough to make up for not being able to use my arms? Often, yes, if I am not trying to do the kicking too frequently.
But I digress, because I came here today to tell you about my recent bike ride. Wish you could have joined me today for my beautiful ride through wine country. It was a gorgeous day, nearly incandescent, with lush scenery.
OK, let's be honest.
Wine country = my basement.
"Incandescent" = completely artificial lighting.
"Lush scenery" = boxes, paint cans, old light fixtures, and the water heater.
But it was 30 minutes on the trainer, with some good intensity mixed in, and I am happy for that.
(But unhappy that I cannot think of as good a name for the bike trainer as "thrillmill." How about "strainer"?)
This is just another episode in the continuing saga of not swimming, which has also included some pleasants jogs around our local park full of blooming daffodils and tulips, some time on the bike machine and thrillmill at the Y, and a fun spinning class (GREAT instructor + pretty fun music = all the difference), and long walks with the PP. I need to get out for a run tomorrow, but for today I'm feeling sweaty from the cycling, and happy from the little adrenaline burst.
The greatest difficulty in indoor cycling, as you may know, is heart-wrenching boredom. But a few good tunes can really help. So here is the playlist from my recent ride:
1. "L.I.P.S.T.I.C.K.," Ralph Myerz and the Jack Herren Band
2. "Natasha '75," Ralph Myerz and the Jack Herren Band
3. "Single," Pet Shop Boys
4. "Somebody's Watching Me," Rockwell (don't even say it)
5. "Stop, Drop and Roll," Squirrel Nut Zippers
6. "Bedlam Ballroom," Squirrel Nut Zippers
7. "State of the Nation," New Order
8. "Such a Lovely Thing," Devotchka
9. "Sunday Arak," Balkan Beat Box
10. "Take Me, I'm Yours," Squeeze
Can you tell that I was using my little player that plays tracks in alphabetical order? (Some by artist, of course.)
Friday, March 23, 2007
In the meantime...
Thanks for the words of support for my last post: I really appreciate that. The resounding question seems to be what I will do for exercise since I am not swimming, and since no one seems to think that knitting counts. Funny, that was the big question for me, too, the thing that kept me in the water for as long as it did.
I decided on Wednesday night, while I was showering after my shortened practice, to join the local YMCA, since it seems to be the nearest gym with the widest offerings. When I got home that night I checked out their workout classes (they also have a pool with open swim hours, for a future time when I want to do swimming at times other than designated masters practice). I was specifically hoping for spin classes (yes, Joe, I am a lemming!), because I used to enjoy them for off-season triathlon training, and even taught them for a little while. Next to swimming and actually doing a big bike ride, they are my favorite kind of exercise--and definitely the best indoor thing. The Y does have spin classes, along with various other aerobic classes--including something called "Body Blast," which just seems like it would smell bad. I see they also have Yoga, which might be good if I can modify some of the arm stuff, or just for the future. Also, there are the usual cardio machines and weights, although I am not looking for weight stuff just yet. In short, this might be a good thing generally, as it will fill in some facility gaps I have been feeling since the move. So my application form is filled out, and I'll go tomorrow morning while the PP is at swim practice.
Also, I ran yesterday. Woo-hoo! I wore my little music device to keep me motivated, and to block out any impressions of people laughing at me. Truth be told, this was my third run of recent times, as I did a bit of running during recent travel. Yesterday's was 50 minutes, a combination of running and walking, and, I think, 2.5-3 miles. (I don't have one of those fancy GPS gizmos.) (And I'll ask the PT today whether I need to wear a sling.)
It is funny: 6 years ago when I had my bad ankle tendonitis (way worse than the shoulder thing, because I did not realize what it was as it was setting in), it was running and cycling that were impossible, swimming the only alternative. Now? Isn't it ironic.
Today I'm also getting an injection in the tendon, to see if that helps with the healing and inflammation. I know that for some people, these things really work, while for others, not so much.
We'll see how it goes.
I decided on Wednesday night, while I was showering after my shortened practice, to join the local YMCA, since it seems to be the nearest gym with the widest offerings. When I got home that night I checked out their workout classes (they also have a pool with open swim hours, for a future time when I want to do swimming at times other than designated masters practice). I was specifically hoping for spin classes (yes, Joe, I am a lemming!), because I used to enjoy them for off-season triathlon training, and even taught them for a little while. Next to swimming and actually doing a big bike ride, they are my favorite kind of exercise--and definitely the best indoor thing. The Y does have spin classes, along with various other aerobic classes--including something called "Body Blast," which just seems like it would smell bad. I see they also have Yoga, which might be good if I can modify some of the arm stuff, or just for the future. Also, there are the usual cardio machines and weights, although I am not looking for weight stuff just yet. In short, this might be a good thing generally, as it will fill in some facility gaps I have been feeling since the move. So my application form is filled out, and I'll go tomorrow morning while the PP is at swim practice.
Also, I ran yesterday. Woo-hoo! I wore my little music device to keep me motivated, and to block out any impressions of people laughing at me. Truth be told, this was my third run of recent times, as I did a bit of running during recent travel. Yesterday's was 50 minutes, a combination of running and walking, and, I think, 2.5-3 miles. (I don't have one of those fancy GPS gizmos.) (And I'll ask the PT today whether I need to wear a sling.)
It is funny: 6 years ago when I had my bad ankle tendonitis (way worse than the shoulder thing, because I did not realize what it was as it was setting in), it was running and cycling that were impossible, swimming the only alternative. Now? Isn't it ironic.
Today I'm also getting an injection in the tendon, to see if that helps with the healing and inflammation. I know that for some people, these things really work, while for others, not so much.
We'll see how it goes.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Frustratsia.
The time has come: I need to stop swimming. I hope this is temporary.
Last night was the kind of practice that has become too typical for me lately, where I spend most of it frustrated or angry or crying. I kicked for an hour, 2000 meters, and called it a night.
At first I thought that doing this kicking thing, which I have been doing since the beginning of Februrary, would be a way to be in the pool while I recovered from this injury. When I realized this week that I am going to need to do a bit more rest before I can get back to swimming for real, I had to look at what will likely be 4-6 more weeks of kicking, and I just cannot do that. Not because kick is so horrible, but because at every practice I have to watch all the other people swimming for real. Like Monday night, when a couple of guys in the lane next to me were doing a good practice together and since they are relatively recently returning to the sport, I could have hung with them if I had the use of my arms. I just wanted to badly to be in their lane, doing their practice.
So no more pool for me for a while. Please, keep your fingers crossed for me, that it is not too long.
Last night was the kind of practice that has become too typical for me lately, where I spend most of it frustrated or angry or crying. I kicked for an hour, 2000 meters, and called it a night.
At first I thought that doing this kicking thing, which I have been doing since the beginning of Februrary, would be a way to be in the pool while I recovered from this injury. When I realized this week that I am going to need to do a bit more rest before I can get back to swimming for real, I had to look at what will likely be 4-6 more weeks of kicking, and I just cannot do that. Not because kick is so horrible, but because at every practice I have to watch all the other people swimming for real. Like Monday night, when a couple of guys in the lane next to me were doing a good practice together and since they are relatively recently returning to the sport, I could have hung with them if I had the use of my arms. I just wanted to badly to be in their lane, doing their practice.
So no more pool for me for a while. Please, keep your fingers crossed for me, that it is not too long.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The infamous 100 things.
OK, Joe is saying everyone should do it, and I see other people are, so I will, too.
100 things about me:
1. I am a lemming, apparently.
2. I am a superhero, or a goddess, but not in real life, where sometimes I cower in my house.
3. But my house kicks ass--you'd want to cower here, too.
4. I am not trying to be arrogant about the house, it's just that it is about 90 years old, with gorgeous windows, tons of wood, beautiful high ceilings, and two doorways per room.
5. And some questionable plumbing.
6. I like to plant things in the garden, but I have not done any of that since we moved last August.
7. We = me + Patient Partner + 2 cats.
8. Patient Partner is amazing. I am finding it harder and harder to imagine life without him, even though I never found it easy.
9. The cats are nutso, but I love them too.
10. I like to make up stories about the cats and their rich inner lives.
11. I have recently become obsessed with knitting, which I taught myself to do a few weekends ago. So far I have made 3 + 3/2 scarves.
12. I would like to learn to make hats.
13. I would like to learn to make ridiculous hats.
14. Knitting calms me.
15. I really need that.
16. I love swimming.
17. I cannot swim right now because I have tendonitis in my biceps tendon.
18. And lingering tightness in my anterior deltoid.
19. Sometimes after kicking 3000 yards I want to scream. (see #14)
20. Or cry.
21. But I cannot bear to be out of the water.
22. I do not love running because I feel like a trundling lump.
23. And I do not know how to breathe properly.
24. I know, it should be easy when you are not in the water.
25. I love cycling, but we do not do it anymore.
26. Partly this is circumstantial, partly because my bike is a hair too big, and partly it is because it takes so much time.
27. I have a great job where I get to spend a good bit of my time doing the things I want to do.
28. The other parts can be a drag, of course.
29. I enjoy cooking, but I do not find enough time to do it, especially with evening swim practices.
30. I am not afraid to try new things.
31. Because I just act like a clown when I am bad at things, to cover up the embarassment.
32. I enjoy learning new languages.
33. I love traveling.
34. I have done a lot of traveling alone, which is not exactly my preference, but it has its upsides.
35. But it is good to come home (see #3).
36. I rely on my friends, who sustain me.
37. And who I have a really great time with.
38. I spend almost all of my disposable income on (1) music, (2) yarn, and (3) eating out.
39. The PP and I do not have children so, according to a friend, we can throw our money away.
40. We really try not to do that, my recent visit to the Virgin Megastore excepted.
41. Oh yeah, and the dinner after Nationals where I accidentally ordered a $150 bottle of wine.
42. Blame it on 2 days of racing.
43. I am very proud of my medals from Nationals.
44. And the wine was pretty great.
45. I went dogsledding while I was in graduate school.
46. It was one of the best weeks of my life.
47. I secretly want to race dogs now.
48. But the sled won't get far in South Carolina.
49. I am on spring break right now, which is how I am finding time to actually write in my blog again, which I have missed.
50. But the knitting comes first.
51. I wish I were taller and thinner.
52. I have never felt a desire to have children.
53. I often admire and envy families with children.
54. I had no brothers or sisters growing up.
55. I am very, very good friends with my parents.
56. I often wonder what it would be like to have a sister or brother.
57. I am very bad at sharing my space.
58. The PP is an exception, but it took me a long time to learn to do that.
59. It was worth it.
60. He still teases me about how I thought we should have houses next door to one another.
61. That was not such a crazy idea, really.
62. But not financially viable.
63. I do not really like to shop, but recently I have been thinking a lot about shoes.
64. And bags.
65. I am not a religious person.
66. I have a profound sense of the ineffable.
67. Thinking too much about environmental problems makes me emo.
68. I would like to travel to Antarctica.
69. But not on one of those cruise ships where you take your photo with penguins.
70. I know how to play the piano.
71. But I never practice, and I do not play enough.
72. I wish I played more, and that I had real musical ability.
73. I am a jack of all trades, master of none.
74. I do not really mind that, most of the time.
75. I love sweets.
76. I wish I were more creative.
77. I wish I were more willing to take risks.
78. I would like to live in Italy for a while.
79. I love eggs. That's why I order a omelet.
80. I watch too much Law and Order.
81. I am more likely to participate in sports if I can do so with friends. (see #1)
82. I like watching basketball on TV.'
83. I frequently cannot watch UNC basketball on TV without leaving the room in agony.
84. I am not a Duke fan.
85. I am learning to be a Clemson fan, unrewarding though it can be.
86. I do not watch many movies.
87. I am mildly afraid of movies.
88. I am not afraid of French pastries.
89. I am addicted to the Washington Post's daily sudoku puzzle.
90. That is not the first video game I have gotten hooked on.
91. I just finished knitting my fourth scarf.
92. That leaves 2 partials to go.
93. I find knitting scarves out of that ribbon where there are little strings everywhere CONFUSING.
94. My favorite part of the knitting is the yarn.
95. Soon I will learn to knit hats.
96. And afghans.
97. And little animals.
98. And how to use those round knitting needles.
99. I will wrap the entire world in little knitted things.
100. Look out world.
100 things about me:
1. I am a lemming, apparently.
2. I am a superhero, or a goddess, but not in real life, where sometimes I cower in my house.
3. But my house kicks ass--you'd want to cower here, too.
4. I am not trying to be arrogant about the house, it's just that it is about 90 years old, with gorgeous windows, tons of wood, beautiful high ceilings, and two doorways per room.
5. And some questionable plumbing.
6. I like to plant things in the garden, but I have not done any of that since we moved last August.
7. We = me + Patient Partner + 2 cats.
8. Patient Partner is amazing. I am finding it harder and harder to imagine life without him, even though I never found it easy.
9. The cats are nutso, but I love them too.
10. I like to make up stories about the cats and their rich inner lives.
11. I have recently become obsessed with knitting, which I taught myself to do a few weekends ago. So far I have made 3 + 3/2 scarves.
12. I would like to learn to make hats.
13. I would like to learn to make ridiculous hats.
14. Knitting calms me.
15. I really need that.
16. I love swimming.
17. I cannot swim right now because I have tendonitis in my biceps tendon.
18. And lingering tightness in my anterior deltoid.
19. Sometimes after kicking 3000 yards I want to scream. (see #14)
20. Or cry.
21. But I cannot bear to be out of the water.
22. I do not love running because I feel like a trundling lump.
23. And I do not know how to breathe properly.
24. I know, it should be easy when you are not in the water.
25. I love cycling, but we do not do it anymore.
26. Partly this is circumstantial, partly because my bike is a hair too big, and partly it is because it takes so much time.
27. I have a great job where I get to spend a good bit of my time doing the things I want to do.
28. The other parts can be a drag, of course.
29. I enjoy cooking, but I do not find enough time to do it, especially with evening swim practices.
30. I am not afraid to try new things.
31. Because I just act like a clown when I am bad at things, to cover up the embarassment.
32. I enjoy learning new languages.
33. I love traveling.
34. I have done a lot of traveling alone, which is not exactly my preference, but it has its upsides.
35. But it is good to come home (see #3).
36. I rely on my friends, who sustain me.
37. And who I have a really great time with.
38. I spend almost all of my disposable income on (1) music, (2) yarn, and (3) eating out.
39. The PP and I do not have children so, according to a friend, we can throw our money away.
40. We really try not to do that, my recent visit to the Virgin Megastore excepted.
41. Oh yeah, and the dinner after Nationals where I accidentally ordered a $150 bottle of wine.
42. Blame it on 2 days of racing.
43. I am very proud of my medals from Nationals.
44. And the wine was pretty great.
45. I went dogsledding while I was in graduate school.
46. It was one of the best weeks of my life.
47. I secretly want to race dogs now.
48. But the sled won't get far in South Carolina.
49. I am on spring break right now, which is how I am finding time to actually write in my blog again, which I have missed.
50. But the knitting comes first.
51. I wish I were taller and thinner.
52. I have never felt a desire to have children.
53. I often admire and envy families with children.
54. I had no brothers or sisters growing up.
55. I am very, very good friends with my parents.
56. I often wonder what it would be like to have a sister or brother.
57. I am very bad at sharing my space.
58. The PP is an exception, but it took me a long time to learn to do that.
59. It was worth it.
60. He still teases me about how I thought we should have houses next door to one another.
61. That was not such a crazy idea, really.
62. But not financially viable.
63. I do not really like to shop, but recently I have been thinking a lot about shoes.
64. And bags.
65. I am not a religious person.
66. I have a profound sense of the ineffable.
67. Thinking too much about environmental problems makes me emo.
68. I would like to travel to Antarctica.
69. But not on one of those cruise ships where you take your photo with penguins.
70. I know how to play the piano.
71. But I never practice, and I do not play enough.
72. I wish I played more, and that I had real musical ability.
73. I am a jack of all trades, master of none.
74. I do not really mind that, most of the time.
75. I love sweets.
76. I wish I were more creative.
77. I wish I were more willing to take risks.
78. I would like to live in Italy for a while.
79. I love eggs. That's why I order a omelet.
80. I watch too much Law and Order.
81. I am more likely to participate in sports if I can do so with friends. (see #1)
82. I like watching basketball on TV.'
83. I frequently cannot watch UNC basketball on TV without leaving the room in agony.
84. I am not a Duke fan.
85. I am learning to be a Clemson fan, unrewarding though it can be.
86. I do not watch many movies.
87. I am mildly afraid of movies.
88. I am not afraid of French pastries.
89. I am addicted to the Washington Post's daily sudoku puzzle.
90. That is not the first video game I have gotten hooked on.
91. I just finished knitting my fourth scarf.
92. That leaves 2 partials to go.
93. I find knitting scarves out of that ribbon where there are little strings everywhere CONFUSING.
94. My favorite part of the knitting is the yarn.
95. Soon I will learn to knit hats.
96. And afghans.
97. And little animals.
98. And how to use those round knitting needles.
99. I will wrap the entire world in little knitted things.
100. Look out world.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Times matter.
Recently Scott wrote about masters swimming, arguing that times should not matter there. Granted, he was talking about swimming times in the grand and glorious sense--national records, world records, even racing with one's competitors. He did allow that times could matter as a benchmark for individual assessment, although I suspect he would note that an adult swimmer measuring their success or failure against their times from their youth is in for nothing but hurt.
This is true. As adults, we not only lack the time and compunction to train at the level necessary for peak achievement, but our bodies are disintegrating around us. I suppose I am even more aware of this fact since I am still not able to use my arms for more than 600 yards in a practice (total), but I also see around me plenty of other swimmers with injuries or whose bodies are betraying them.
But I want to argue for the importance of competition in mastsers swimming.
I am not writing from the same perspective as Scott, since I have no dreams of real glory, nor do I have much of a swimming past. I swam avidly growing up, but only during the summer season. There was one year when I swam year-round, but I did not much care for it, and I knew that I would never be that calibre of swimmer. Really, I swam all year just to be in better shape the next summer.
The coach at my previous team often argued that his swimmers should be super-serious about the sport, prioritizing it above other activities, willing to train with great dedication. "Jack of all trades, master of none," he would say. Sure, if you want to achieve, you have to put in the work. But I hate the idea that kids who are willing to put a good bit into swimming, but want to do other things too, were discouraged.
To me, there is an analogy between these two positions, that masters swimming times are irrelevant and that swimming should be the top of the list for kids who swim.
What I would hope for instead--or really, in addition--is a space for achievement and even small bits of private glory, even with the knowledge that those achievements and that glory would not matter to the wider world.
One of my favorite aspects of masters swimming is seeing people who you might not expect kick ass. For instance, the man who broke world records in the 90+ category in the 1000 free and 1650 free at nationals last year. Sure, those records might not mean much compared to the current time standards for Olympic trials, but to do that swim--and to prepare for that swim--at that age is pretty awesome. Similarly, when you see someone who can hardly walk helped to a starting block so that they can dive in and then swim like a shark to beat everyone in your heat, that is awesome too.
What I am saying is that masters swimming (like other lifelong sports) offers many ways to achieve glory. For me, someone who often wonders what it would have been like to take my swimming seriously as a teenager, it is the chance to achieve the physical and mental gains that come with athletic discipline. And times are definitely a part of that. To be able to qualify for various national or world meets means something important: it means that the work I am putting in (limited, as it is, by life and other obligations) is paying some kind of reward. Then to race with the other swimmers in my age group who show up means something more: it is an acknowledgement of all of our place in a sport that we love.
So even though I do not swim just for the times, and I do not swim just to race, and I do not race just to win, the swimming, the racing, the times all matter.
But not as much as getting back to something other than kick.
This is true. As adults, we not only lack the time and compunction to train at the level necessary for peak achievement, but our bodies are disintegrating around us. I suppose I am even more aware of this fact since I am still not able to use my arms for more than 600 yards in a practice (total), but I also see around me plenty of other swimmers with injuries or whose bodies are betraying them.
But I want to argue for the importance of competition in mastsers swimming.
I am not writing from the same perspective as Scott, since I have no dreams of real glory, nor do I have much of a swimming past. I swam avidly growing up, but only during the summer season. There was one year when I swam year-round, but I did not much care for it, and I knew that I would never be that calibre of swimmer. Really, I swam all year just to be in better shape the next summer.
The coach at my previous team often argued that his swimmers should be super-serious about the sport, prioritizing it above other activities, willing to train with great dedication. "Jack of all trades, master of none," he would say. Sure, if you want to achieve, you have to put in the work. But I hate the idea that kids who are willing to put a good bit into swimming, but want to do other things too, were discouraged.
To me, there is an analogy between these two positions, that masters swimming times are irrelevant and that swimming should be the top of the list for kids who swim.
What I would hope for instead--or really, in addition--is a space for achievement and even small bits of private glory, even with the knowledge that those achievements and that glory would not matter to the wider world.
One of my favorite aspects of masters swimming is seeing people who you might not expect kick ass. For instance, the man who broke world records in the 90+ category in the 1000 free and 1650 free at nationals last year. Sure, those records might not mean much compared to the current time standards for Olympic trials, but to do that swim--and to prepare for that swim--at that age is pretty awesome. Similarly, when you see someone who can hardly walk helped to a starting block so that they can dive in and then swim like a shark to beat everyone in your heat, that is awesome too.
What I am saying is that masters swimming (like other lifelong sports) offers many ways to achieve glory. For me, someone who often wonders what it would have been like to take my swimming seriously as a teenager, it is the chance to achieve the physical and mental gains that come with athletic discipline. And times are definitely a part of that. To be able to qualify for various national or world meets means something important: it means that the work I am putting in (limited, as it is, by life and other obligations) is paying some kind of reward. Then to race with the other swimmers in my age group who show up means something more: it is an acknowledgement of all of our place in a sport that we love.
So even though I do not swim just for the times, and I do not swim just to race, and I do not race just to win, the swimming, the racing, the times all matter.
But not as much as getting back to something other than kick.
Why editing matters.
Greetings! I am back now from New York City, having enjoyed the authentic New York experience, i.e., a mid-March sleetstorm. The joys of such a thing in The City include not having proper footware (I do not recommend Mary-Jane-style shoes, as the snow can fall or seep right in from the top), gale-force winds funneled by tall buildings, and stepping off curbs into feet-deep snow banks which may or may not contain a puddle of ice water at the bottom.
But now that I have spent the better part of the week considering the processes and theoretical backing for editorial practice, I need to comment on this, from the NYTimes:
Well, I am just back from the biennial conference of the Society for Textual Scholarship, and I am here to tell you that neither I nor the STS support the version of editing conducted by Mr. Cooney.
For starters, Mr. Cooney appears not to have included any kind of note on the text, indicating what he used as his copytext, what his principles for emendations were, and what his editorial perspective was. And where was his table of emendations, indicating modifications made to support 2001 knowledge in favor of more up-to-date information? Furthermore, any good textual editor (and I do have some experience here) knows that rather than modifying the text to suit a particular point of you.
How many times must we tell you, Mr. Cooney: Follow. The. Text.
But now that I have spent the better part of the week considering the processes and theoretical backing for editorial practice, I need to comment on this, from the NYTimes:
WASHINGTON, March 19 — A House committee released documents Monday that showed hundreds of instances in which a White House official who was previously an oil industrylobbyist edited government climate reports to play up uncertainty of a humanrole in global warming or play down evidence of such a role.
In a hearing of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, the official, Philip A. Cooney, who left government in 2005, defended the changes he had made in government reports over several years. Mr. Cooney said the editing was part of the normal White House review process and reflected findings in a climate report written for President Bush by the National Academy of Sciences in 2001.
Well, I am just back from the biennial conference of the Society for Textual Scholarship, and I am here to tell you that neither I nor the STS support the version of editing conducted by Mr. Cooney.
For starters, Mr. Cooney appears not to have included any kind of note on the text, indicating what he used as his copytext, what his principles for emendations were, and what his editorial perspective was. And where was his table of emendations, indicating modifications made to support 2001 knowledge in favor of more up-to-date information? Furthermore, any good textual editor (and I do have some experience here) knows that rather than modifying the text to suit a particular point of you.
How many times must we tell you, Mr. Cooney: Follow. The. Text.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
That Thomas Wolfe plaque.
Greetings! As Jarrett would say, rumors of my blog death have been exaggerated. It has just taken me a little while to process a few things about my recent trip to the southern part of heaven.
Here is something Ian Williams said about his own trip, which, stars being aligned, coincided with my own:
Here is something Ian Williams said about his own trip, which, stars being aligned, coincided with my own:
Almost without fail, Tessa and I have journeyed to Chapel Hill every year to teach one of Dr. Peter Kaufman's classes at UNC. And without fail, it's always a fantastic trip, getting to dip our toes in the undergraduate experience once more and meeting a cadre of cool kids. I use the word "kids" self-consciously, because every time I step onto campus, time stops and I am eighteen years old again, wondering what Jon, Chip and Bud are doing for dinner. In essence, I don't feel that different from them, even though they were born in 1987 and I have a toddler who keeps yelling "Daddo has ears!" (emphasis mine)
I agree with some of this. I admit it: I spent a good bit of my time there sitting on my favorite couch in Davis Library (NCMarcus: Davis says hi back) doing the work I needed to do for my own classes. I even took a nap there, even though I was facing out the window and I knew that some 2000s version of my 1990s self would walk by and laugh at me. And I ate or tried to eat at all my fav places, wondered at the transformation of Chez Lenoir, tried to track down a couple of old profs, dropped way too much money at the Bull's Head, wandered around Fortress Greenlaw, ate a sandwich in the Pit, etc. etc.
And don't get me wrong: it was seriously cool to give a talk at my own alma mater about the subject of my own undergraduate honors thesis in front of professors and new students.
But I cannot agree with what Ian said in the bolded part of his message. In large part, I think this is because in the years since I left UNC I developed a new relationship to college campuses, such that without even realizing it I made the nostalgic return that I really desired impossible. You see, because I spend most of my days on college campuses, grading papers, trying to get the youth of America to think for itself, navigating jaywalking people on cellphones--because of all this, when I looked around the Pit, I saw not latter-day versions of myself, but instead I saw ......... my students.
I felt as if I had entered some kind of liminal zone, where I could not really identify with the faculty there, even though they could now be my colleagues, and I could not really identify with the students, because (apart from the distinct lack--thanks be--of orange) they could be the sleepy faces looking back at me at 9:30 a.m. Here I was, looking for the big reconnection, only to find . . . I'm not sure what, but not that. It was not until I took a 6-a.m. walk around familiar territory (Winston, Spencer, Grimes, the rose garden around the planetarium), while most everyone else was still snoozing, that I could reclaim the campus as my own.
So what does it mean to require a post-rapture landscape for such a feeling?
And it was not until I returned home and was narrating the trip to a friend and burst into absolutely unexpected and overwhelming tears that I realized the biggest gap in the whole thing. How can you go back to something when one of the biggest somethings about the thing is not there? You know, I noticed this visit that there is a new commemorative Thomas Wolfe plaque on campus: I suppose he was right.
Monday, February 26, 2007
The Old North State.
I know, I know. From where you're reading, North Carolina is hardly north, but still. If you find yourself in the greater Chapel Hill area on Tuesday evening, and you have any interest in the poetry of W. H. Auden, you might consider going to this.
Meanwhile, if you find yourself in the greater Chapel Hill area anytime between now and Wednesday morning, why not get in touch with me? I'll be the one eating at Pepper's Pizza (which I hear has a new location), drinking from the Old Well, shopping at the Bull's Head, getting misty-eyed in the Pit, napping in Davis Library, and generally acting like a dorky alum.
Meanwhile, if you find yourself in the greater Chapel Hill area anytime between now and Wednesday morning, why not get in touch with me? I'll be the one eating at Pepper's Pizza (which I hear has a new location), drinking from the Old Well, shopping at the Bull's Head, getting misty-eyed in the Pit, napping in Davis Library, and generally acting like a dorky alum.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The ultimate haywire comes home to roost.
On Monday morning I went to meeting of a reading group, and I had to make the following excuse: "I did not do the reading, because this weekend, my house was overrun by a band of gypsies."
Sure, you are probably thinking. And your non-existent dog ate your homework.
Or maybe you are thinking, Honey, back away from the Bruno archives.
But I am not making this up.
You see, on Saturday night the PP and I and some friends went to see the Luminescent Orchestrii at the The Bohemian/Horizon Records, where they were giving a concert that was also a recording for WCNW's Tower of Song series. For those of you who, like me, have a bit of a thing for the Romanian gypsy sound, or klezmer, or tango nuevo, or all of the above, you should not pass up a chance to see Luminescent Orchestrii, as they are fantastic musicians and singers who bring together a wonderful hybrid sound that will launch you from your seat, whether you do or do not know how to dance to something in 11/7 time. Dance anyway. Life is short.
Anyway, mid-way through the second set, they noted between songs that they needed a place to stay, and the PP's head nearly spun around three times. What he was thinking, it turns out, is that we have two extra bedrooms plus a futon couch and that we should put these people up. Life is short.
So we did.
As our friends who we'd gone to the concert with were leaving, they said, "if you take the gypsies home, be sure not to take home the groupies." Luckily, we so succeeded. The band packed up their stuff, packed their instruments and gear into their mini-van (like a well-oiled packing machine, I might note), and off we all went to our house.
Over limoncello and herbal tea, my fantasy of talking about my current favorite kind of music with actual practitioners came true. When I noted that one of their songs sounded like Astor Piazzolla, they acknowledged his influence. They told us a little about trips to Romania and Hungary and various gypsy music festivals, and then everyone went off to respective bedrooms and crashed.
In the morning, the PP and one of the band member brought home pastries and we all feasted and chatted, and after a while everyone went off to do his or her own thing. It all seemed so normal, yet so not: at one point I realized that we had a fiddler playing on our front porch, a bassist listening to my CDs of Renaissance choral music back in the TV room, and the guitarist practicing riffs in my study. Later the bassist joined him in my study and they worked out a new song. I kept looking at the PP in disbelief, only to be greeted with a similar disbelieving look from him.
Then they left, and the house was silent, as if none of it had ever happened. But there is still, several days later, this great creative energy here in the study.
Sure, you are probably thinking. And your non-existent dog ate your homework.
Or maybe you are thinking, Honey, back away from the Bruno archives.
But I am not making this up.
You see, on Saturday night the PP and I and some friends went to see the Luminescent Orchestrii at the The Bohemian/Horizon Records, where they were giving a concert that was also a recording for WCNW's Tower of Song series. For those of you who, like me, have a bit of a thing for the Romanian gypsy sound, or klezmer, or tango nuevo, or all of the above, you should not pass up a chance to see Luminescent Orchestrii, as they are fantastic musicians and singers who bring together a wonderful hybrid sound that will launch you from your seat, whether you do or do not know how to dance to something in 11/7 time. Dance anyway. Life is short.
Anyway, mid-way through the second set, they noted between songs that they needed a place to stay, and the PP's head nearly spun around three times. What he was thinking, it turns out, is that we have two extra bedrooms plus a futon couch and that we should put these people up. Life is short.
So we did.
As our friends who we'd gone to the concert with were leaving, they said, "if you take the gypsies home, be sure not to take home the groupies." Luckily, we so succeeded. The band packed up their stuff, packed their instruments and gear into their mini-van (like a well-oiled packing machine, I might note), and off we all went to our house.
Over limoncello and herbal tea, my fantasy of talking about my current favorite kind of music with actual practitioners came true. When I noted that one of their songs sounded like Astor Piazzolla, they acknowledged his influence. They told us a little about trips to Romania and Hungary and various gypsy music festivals, and then everyone went off to respective bedrooms and crashed.
In the morning, the PP and one of the band member brought home pastries and we all feasted and chatted, and after a while everyone went off to do his or her own thing. It all seemed so normal, yet so not: at one point I realized that we had a fiddler playing on our front porch, a bassist listening to my CDs of Renaissance choral music back in the TV room, and the guitarist practicing riffs in my study. Later the bassist joined him in my study and they worked out a new song. I kept looking at the PP in disbelief, only to be greeted with a similar disbelieving look from him.
Then they left, and the house was silent, as if none of it had ever happened. But there is still, several days later, this great creative energy here in the study.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
That time again.
The Cod made this claim today:
Here I must disagree, by adding two additional categories: those who are in the greater Hamtramck metro area, and those who wish they were. You can count me among the latter. We are the devotees of Super-Size I-gotcher-Fat-Tuesday-right-here debauchery, because what great debauchery can there be than one that sends you on the path to eminent, if not immediate, system shut down. What says seize the day like Polish doughnuts 'til you burst?
Friends, I am not alone. There, as usual, the huddling masses searching Google for "paczki calories" and "paczki pronunciation" and "weight watchers point paczki." Abandon hope, ye who enter here! And trust me, the pronunciation of Polish consonants is the least of your concerns.
Then there are the truly lost, such as this fine person from Colorado:
Not to mention this poor soul, Jenny, right here in the upstate:
Sigh.
There are exactly six kinds of people today: people who are in Mobile, New Orleans, or Rio, and those who wish they were in Mobile, New Orleans, or Rio, representing respectively JV, varsity, and all-star levels of debauchery.
Here I must disagree, by adding two additional categories: those who are in the greater Hamtramck metro area, and those who wish they were. You can count me among the latter. We are the devotees of Super-Size I-gotcher-Fat-Tuesday-right-here debauchery, because what great debauchery can there be than one that sends you on the path to eminent, if not immediate, system shut down. What says seize the day like Polish doughnuts 'til you burst?
Friends, I am not alone. There, as usual, the huddling masses searching Google for "paczki calories" and "paczki pronunciation" and "weight watchers point paczki." Abandon hope, ye who enter here! And trust me, the pronunciation of Polish consonants is the least of your concerns.
Then there are the truly lost, such as this fine person from Colorado:
Not to mention this poor soul, Jenny, right here in the upstate:
I found your blog by doing a Google search for Greenville and paczki. I moved here from Indiana but I never would have if I had known I would have to give up my paczkis! I discovered them in Indiana (happily) about five years ago and I've been looking everywhere.That's right, folks. Another paczki day has come and nearly gone, and like Jenny and JR, I am up the paczki creek.
Noooooooo.
Sigh.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Crazy Random Friday Thingy: Ice is nice Edition
I just came back from icing my shoulder (I am not making that up) to find a comment from Joe. He said, "How's the shoulder, Isis? I propose you change your blog's name to The Secrets of Ice It. Just kidding.... I'll check back later for your crazy random Friday thingy."
Be careful what you ask for, Joe!
But thanks for asking about the shoulder. It is, I would say, better than it has been since last week. Nothing like my new "all kick, all the time" program for allowing the shoulder to heal! Actually, today I managed to swim my entire warm-up. Yes, swim. Very exciting, and particularly because I am experiencing some toe blisters from my fins.
All to say, here comes a not-at-all-random 10 for you. Can you sense a theme?
1. "Walking on Thin Ice," Yoko Ono (Double Fantasy)
2. "Ice Cool," The Yockamo All-Stars (Do Drop Out)
3. "Iceman," Ben Neill (Traveler '03 [bonus disc])
4. "Soul on Ice," Me'shell NdegeOcello (Plantation Lullabies)
5. "Fire and Ice," Pat Benatar
6. "Ice Pick," Albert Collins (Ice Pickin')
7. "Flyswatter/Ice Water Blues," Lyle Lovett (Joshua Judges Ruth)
8. "Ice Dance," London Symphony Orchestra (Winterscapes)
9. "Ice Cream Man," Tom Waits (The Early Years)
10. "Ice Cream Shop," Giorgio Conte (L'ambasciatore dei sogni)
Be careful what you ask for, Joe!
But thanks for asking about the shoulder. It is, I would say, better than it has been since last week. Nothing like my new "all kick, all the time" program for allowing the shoulder to heal! Actually, today I managed to swim my entire warm-up. Yes, swim. Very exciting, and particularly because I am experiencing some toe blisters from my fins.
All to say, here comes a not-at-all-random 10 for you. Can you sense a theme?
1. "Walking on Thin Ice," Yoko Ono (Double Fantasy)
2. "Ice Cool," The Yockamo All-Stars (Do Drop Out)
3. "Iceman," Ben Neill (Traveler '03 [bonus disc])
4. "Soul on Ice," Me'shell NdegeOcello (Plantation Lullabies)
5. "Fire and Ice," Pat Benatar
6. "Ice Pick," Albert Collins (Ice Pickin')
7. "Flyswatter/Ice Water Blues," Lyle Lovett (Joshua Judges Ruth)
8. "Ice Dance," London Symphony Orchestra (Winterscapes)
9. "Ice Cream Man," Tom Waits (The Early Years)
10. "Ice Cream Shop," Giorgio Conte (L'ambasciatore dei sogni)
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The Kicker (with apologies to Horace Silver).
Last night, as on Saturday, I did most of the practice kick. I had learned from my massage therapist on Friday that things were not improving in my left shoulder as I would have hoped (I was not surprised), so I am trying to lay off it at practice.
First to go was backstroke, which pulled a bit too much on the biceps tendon and the pec, because of the rotation. I never would have thought I would say it, but I miss it.
Then pulling much at all went next, because it felt like it was straining, which is just what I do not want to do. So on Saturday I did a mostly regular warm-up, followed by the designated kick set, followed by nothing but kick for the rest of practice. That came to 3300 meters (~3625 yards), of which 2200 meters (or ~2425 yards) was kick. Yes, some of that was with fins, but still: yuck.
Then yesterday at work, doing nearly nothing at all, I felt a little twinge in that tendon conglmeration, and it felt like a guitar string slapping against my body, or being twanged a bit too much. Double yuck.
All to say my goal at practice last night was to see just how much kicking a human being could do without (a) their legs falling off, and (b) losing their mind. I cannot say that highly scientific protocols were followed or that my results are necessarily statistically significant, but of a 3700 yard practice, I kicked 3000 (some with fins). And my legs feel it today.
Now I have a phone number for a good physical therapist and I will soon make the call.
First to go was backstroke, which pulled a bit too much on the biceps tendon and the pec, because of the rotation. I never would have thought I would say it, but I miss it.
Then pulling much at all went next, because it felt like it was straining, which is just what I do not want to do. So on Saturday I did a mostly regular warm-up, followed by the designated kick set, followed by nothing but kick for the rest of practice. That came to 3300 meters (~3625 yards), of which 2200 meters (or ~2425 yards) was kick. Yes, some of that was with fins, but still: yuck.
Then yesterday at work, doing nearly nothing at all, I felt a little twinge in that tendon conglmeration, and it felt like a guitar string slapping against my body, or being twanged a bit too much. Double yuck.
All to say my goal at practice last night was to see just how much kicking a human being could do without (a) their legs falling off, and (b) losing their mind. I cannot say that highly scientific protocols were followed or that my results are necessarily statistically significant, but of a 3700 yard practice, I kicked 3000 (some with fins). And my legs feel it today.
Now I have a phone number for a good physical therapist and I will soon make the call.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Thank you, Clement VIII.
I suspect that you have not done enough lately to show Pope Clement VIII how much you appreciate him and some of his deeds.
Just two years after becoming pope in 1592, our man Clement VIII declared that coffee was NOT the property of Satan. He tried a cup, and he liked it so much that he baptized it, declaring (though likely not in English), "We will not let coffee remain the property of Satan. As Christians, our power is greater than Satan's; we shall make coffee our own."
Amen, Father Clement.
(N.B., it is acquiring such knowledge as this that begins to make up for the chore of working through a copyedited manuscript. Begins.)
Just two years after becoming pope in 1592, our man Clement VIII declared that coffee was NOT the property of Satan. He tried a cup, and he liked it so much that he baptized it, declaring (though likely not in English), "We will not let coffee remain the property of Satan. As Christians, our power is greater than Satan's; we shall make coffee our own."
Amen, Father Clement.
(N.B., it is acquiring such knowledge as this that begins to make up for the chore of working through a copyedited manuscript. Begins.)
Life's little injustices.
Remember how much fun I had back in May 2006, trying to get used to using British style for the edition I am editing?
Guess what: it was all a big fat waste.
Yes, that's right: the British press whose stylesheet we were told to use is actually not the primary press with which we are working. Instead, everything goes to an American press, which uses--say it with me--AMERICAN STYLE.
Well, fuck me.
Guess what: it was all a big fat waste.
Yes, that's right: the British press whose stylesheet we were told to use is actually not the primary press with which we are working. Instead, everything goes to an American press, which uses--say it with me--AMERICAN STYLE.
Well, fuck me.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Snow day, part 2.
So what does a goddess do on a snow day, you may be asking.
Well let me tell you.
For one thing, she takes time away from her exciting life to write to you about it. Lucky you.
For another thing, she lets her eyes wander to the massive snowball fight that erupted in her neighborhood. It is interesting to live in a city neighborhood because you do not own your snow. For instance, our goddess found herself at one point asking, Why is my neighbor stealing the snow off my car to throw it at his child? Who does he think he is? I had plans for that snow! But really, because the snow is outside (just as well), it is communal snow. Redistribution of snow from those who have plenty to those who need some. She likes her city neighborhood.
For another thing, she trolls the internet for updates about the weather. Here is helpful advice for you from WYFF4 news.
For another thing, she wonders whether her day would be going better if she had bought the required bread and milk yesterday. Or what the lack of weather stripping and storm windows will mean for inside temperatures if the power goes.
For another thing, she does not go to swim practice, because it has been cancelled.
And for another thing, she reads the copy-edited manuscript for the edition that she spent the better part of the last couple of years working on. You may not realize how fascinating that kind of work is. For instance, how frequently have you had the chance to respond to such captivating questions as "Not in abbreviations list--add?" or "appositive comma >> only one associate OK?" or "page 4 of YVP 4, yes?" or "Harun al-Rashid or Harun-Al-Rashid?"
I know: you envy her. You should. This is the life, really.
Well let me tell you.
For one thing, she takes time away from her exciting life to write to you about it. Lucky you.
For another thing, she lets her eyes wander to the massive snowball fight that erupted in her neighborhood. It is interesting to live in a city neighborhood because you do not own your snow. For instance, our goddess found herself at one point asking, Why is my neighbor stealing the snow off my car to throw it at his child? Who does he think he is? I had plans for that snow! But really, because the snow is outside (just as well), it is communal snow. Redistribution of snow from those who have plenty to those who need some. She likes her city neighborhood.
For another thing, she trolls the internet for updates about the weather. Here is helpful advice for you from WYFF4 news.
For another thing, she wonders whether her day would be going better if she had bought the required bread and milk yesterday. Or what the lack of weather stripping and storm windows will mean for inside temperatures if the power goes.
For another thing, she does not go to swim practice, because it has been cancelled.
And for another thing, she reads the copy-edited manuscript for the edition that she spent the better part of the last couple of years working on. You may not realize how fascinating that kind of work is. For instance, how frequently have you had the chance to respond to such captivating questions as "Not in abbreviations list--add?" or "appositive comma >> only one associate OK?" or "page 4 of YVP 4, yes?" or "Harun al-Rashid or Harun-Al-Rashid?"
I know: you envy her. You should. This is the life, really.
Snow day.
Or more like a sleet day. Things started out as snow, and when the PP and I went for a morning walk circa 5:45, there was much contemplation of the nature of traces, as we left some, only to find them effaced on our return trip, by more snow. Ah, the pleasures of rediscovering one's city when it is covered in a light dusting of the real stuff, not the fake snow they were generating at Christmastime (with 50-F temperatures) that was made out of soap bubbles.
My new weather ritual is a walk to the Reedy River falls, to see how they look. On Christmas day, after two days of rain, they were boiling, gushing, obliterating the scenic little rocks around them. In the pink pre-dawn this morning, those rocks glowed white around the dark water.
After arriving at the only open coffee shop in town shortly just as it was opening, as using that as an omen to justify a couple of capuccinos (scusa, capuccini), we headed home, looking for our effaced tracks, to find Mike Seidel reporting live from Greenville. What would have made an authentic Upstate backdrop for his reporting would have been if the cars coming to the stoplight had slid into one another for no reason at all, and their drivers emerged, swearing.
Now the neighbor children have emerged in their little coats and hats and mittens, because nothing stings like a slushball. Schools are closed, but of course not the PP's office. If I were not so lazy, I'd take a picture to show you Upstate winter: it would have the daffodils that are blooming, surrounded by thin snow, with just enough ice to kill of the remaining blooms.
Happy February.
My new weather ritual is a walk to the Reedy River falls, to see how they look. On Christmas day, after two days of rain, they were boiling, gushing, obliterating the scenic little rocks around them. In the pink pre-dawn this morning, those rocks glowed white around the dark water.
After arriving at the only open coffee shop in town shortly just as it was opening, as using that as an omen to justify a couple of capuccinos (scusa, capuccini), we headed home, looking for our effaced tracks, to find Mike Seidel reporting live from Greenville. What would have made an authentic Upstate backdrop for his reporting would have been if the cars coming to the stoplight had slid into one another for no reason at all, and their drivers emerged, swearing.
Now the neighbor children have emerged in their little coats and hats and mittens, because nothing stings like a slushball. Schools are closed, but of course not the PP's office. If I were not so lazy, I'd take a picture to show you Upstate winter: it would have the daffodils that are blooming, surrounded by thin snow, with just enough ice to kill of the remaining blooms.
Happy February.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Meet Report: Charlotte Sunbelt Champs.
Last time, Tim accused me of burying the lead/lede, so this time I will highlight it:
I swam well on Saturday, less so on Sunday: all in all better than I had feared but not as well as I would have liked.
As you may recall, I went into this meet uncertain about whether my shoulder--and my "good sense" about preventing further injury--would let me compete. I had swum a regular practice on Monday night, then took off the rest of the week because things hurt too much. I decided that it was better to go into a meet without a feel for the water than to irritate a potential injury.
By Saturday morning (after a week of icing and heating and ibuprofen--oh my), things were feeling relatively pain-free. The amazing part was that the swimming felt good: I felt rested, but I did not seem to have lost my feel for the water. Perhaps things even felt better than usual.
Granted, the downtown Charlotte pool is an excellent one. This is where I got my very first national cut (during a meet when I was fighting a yucky cold, even). It is a fast pool, and a pool whose very design makes it a pleasure to swim in. Once I got used to where the bulkhead was, that is, because it took longer than usual to be able to judge flip turns at that end.
On Saturday I had originally planned to swim the 1000 FR, but I scratched that in advance, figuring that long freestyle might be the worst thing right now. So on the docket were all easy events--50 BR, 100 BA, 50 FR, 100 IM, and then (after the 50 BR) a 50 FL in a women's 200 medley relay.
I shocked myself and my fans by swimming a best time in the 50 BR, cutting about 1/10 second since last March. This surprised me because I have not been targeting breaststroke these days, whereas last season was all about that stroke. Then I had a good race in the relay, making some serious ground back on the opposition (who were not, it turns out, true opposition, because they were swimming in a different age group: we won our age group uncontested--woohoo!), and swimming what felt like the best butterfly I have swum in sometime. Well, after the start, that is: for some reason my brain shut down when I left the block, and I started to do a breaststroke pullout--but was not disqualified because I never had non-simultaneous arm or leg movement--whew!
Then I swam the 100 BA, one of my goals for this year. It felt pretty good, and I did manage to descend the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th 50s, which pleased my coach. I was thrilled to see that my time was a drop of 8 seconds from my entry time, my previous best. I was ecstatic. What a drop for a 100! It turns out, though, that I had accidentally entered with my best 100 METERS backstroke time, instead of my YARDS time, and I actually added time. Oh well--another goal not yet achieved.
AFter that was the 50 FR, where I also dropped time from my best--19/100. Yip. And then the 100 IM, also a best time, by 61/100. Yip yip.
So how to account for all these best times in events where they were not expected? Two thoughts: 1. The swimming just felt fantastic, and I was incredibly rested. 2. I was not focused on these events, and focus can sometimes do me more harm than good.
So after icing, off to a great Irish pub for dinner and Guinness (Guinness times deserve Guinness!), and then to bed by 8 pm. Life is good.
I woke up on Sunday SORE.
I started off the morning with a 50 FL, and although I swam the race faster than I had the day before (in the relay) by about 4/10, I had a bad turn, so I did not achieve a best time. Then I swam a 50 free in the mixed 200 free relay, and my time there was about 2 seconds slower than the day before. And I was hurting. So that was the end of my day and my meet: I scratched the 100 BR, the 200 BA, and the 500 FR, took a shower, did some icing, and counted for teammates racing the 500 FR.
All to say what I said at the beginning: much better than I feared but not all I would have hoped for. So I continue with the icing and the recovery, and dream about the next meet.
RESULTS (SCY, *=PR):
SATURDAY:
50 BR :36.77*
50 FL (relay) :33.55
100 BA 1:24.78
50 FR :30.38*
100 IM 1:16.19*
SUNDAY:
50 FL :33.14
50 FR (relay) :32.29
I swam well on Saturday, less so on Sunday: all in all better than I had feared but not as well as I would have liked.
As you may recall, I went into this meet uncertain about whether my shoulder--and my "good sense" about preventing further injury--would let me compete. I had swum a regular practice on Monday night, then took off the rest of the week because things hurt too much. I decided that it was better to go into a meet without a feel for the water than to irritate a potential injury.
By Saturday morning (after a week of icing and heating and ibuprofen--oh my), things were feeling relatively pain-free. The amazing part was that the swimming felt good: I felt rested, but I did not seem to have lost my feel for the water. Perhaps things even felt better than usual.
Granted, the downtown Charlotte pool is an excellent one. This is where I got my very first national cut (during a meet when I was fighting a yucky cold, even). It is a fast pool, and a pool whose very design makes it a pleasure to swim in. Once I got used to where the bulkhead was, that is, because it took longer than usual to be able to judge flip turns at that end.
On Saturday I had originally planned to swim the 1000 FR, but I scratched that in advance, figuring that long freestyle might be the worst thing right now. So on the docket were all easy events--50 BR, 100 BA, 50 FR, 100 IM, and then (after the 50 BR) a 50 FL in a women's 200 medley relay.
I shocked myself and my fans by swimming a best time in the 50 BR, cutting about 1/10 second since last March. This surprised me because I have not been targeting breaststroke these days, whereas last season was all about that stroke. Then I had a good race in the relay, making some serious ground back on the opposition (who were not, it turns out, true opposition, because they were swimming in a different age group: we won our age group uncontested--woohoo!), and swimming what felt like the best butterfly I have swum in sometime. Well, after the start, that is: for some reason my brain shut down when I left the block, and I started to do a breaststroke pullout--but was not disqualified because I never had non-simultaneous arm or leg movement--whew!
Then I swam the 100 BA, one of my goals for this year. It felt pretty good, and I did manage to descend the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th 50s, which pleased my coach. I was thrilled to see that my time was a drop of 8 seconds from my entry time, my previous best. I was ecstatic. What a drop for a 100! It turns out, though, that I had accidentally entered with my best 100 METERS backstroke time, instead of my YARDS time, and I actually added time. Oh well--another goal not yet achieved.
AFter that was the 50 FR, where I also dropped time from my best--19/100. Yip. And then the 100 IM, also a best time, by 61/100. Yip yip.
So how to account for all these best times in events where they were not expected? Two thoughts: 1. The swimming just felt fantastic, and I was incredibly rested. 2. I was not focused on these events, and focus can sometimes do me more harm than good.
So after icing, off to a great Irish pub for dinner and Guinness (Guinness times deserve Guinness!), and then to bed by 8 pm. Life is good.
I woke up on Sunday SORE.
I started off the morning with a 50 FL, and although I swam the race faster than I had the day before (in the relay) by about 4/10, I had a bad turn, so I did not achieve a best time. Then I swam a 50 free in the mixed 200 free relay, and my time there was about 2 seconds slower than the day before. And I was hurting. So that was the end of my day and my meet: I scratched the 100 BR, the 200 BA, and the 500 FR, took a shower, did some icing, and counted for teammates racing the 500 FR.
All to say what I said at the beginning: much better than I feared but not all I would have hoped for. So I continue with the icing and the recovery, and dream about the next meet.
RESULTS (SCY, *=PR):
SATURDAY:
50 BR :36.77*
50 FL (relay) :33.55
100 BA 1:24.78
50 FR :30.38*
100 IM 1:16.19*
SUNDAY:
50 FL :33.14
50 FR (relay) :32.29
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Hubris.
Great. Now that I have given voice to my anticipation of the meet this weekend, my shoulder says, "Oh, no you don't." It said this by standing up, yelling a little bit, and getting all enflamed at the point where three tendons come together. In case you're wondering, this also hurts, all the yelling and the standing up. It does not look like tendonitis--yet. I would like to keep it that way, thanks, having had a bout of tendonitis in my ankle that effectively ended my triathlon "career" (such as it was).
My massage therapist tells me that if I want to not stop swimming, I need to spend the rest of the time pretending I do not have a left arm. This is hard, it turns out. It precludes, just to name a few things: 1. talking on the phone while doing anything else; 2. typing without holding my keyboard in my lap; 3. putting on and taking off shirts. Are you getting the picture?
We are still going to the meet this weekend. I have already officially scratched the 1000 free (so much for achieving that goal this season), and the plan is to warm up for the p.m. session on Saturday and see how things feel. But I think that PP has a great meet ahead of him: he is poised to drop some serious time in his butterfly events, given big skill practice lately with that stroke. This time, after many meets where he has been my "handler," I may be the one holding his towel and glasses while he swims.
Sing it with me, "God is old, we're not old...."
My massage therapist tells me that if I want to not stop swimming, I need to spend the rest of the time pretending I do not have a left arm. This is hard, it turns out. It precludes, just to name a few things: 1. talking on the phone while doing anything else; 2. typing without holding my keyboard in my lap; 3. putting on and taking off shirts. Are you getting the picture?
We are still going to the meet this weekend. I have already officially scratched the 1000 free (so much for achieving that goal this season), and the plan is to warm up for the p.m. session on Saturday and see how things feel. But I think that PP has a great meet ahead of him: he is poised to drop some serious time in his butterfly events, given big skill practice lately with that stroke. This time, after many meets where he has been my "handler," I may be the one holding his towel and glasses while he swims.
Sing it with me, "God is old, we're not old...."
Friday, January 19, 2007
Friday Random 9: Radio Isis.
I was reading Ian Williams's blog the other day, and he talked (in service of a different point) about technology that lets you broadcast your iPod to cars around you on the highway, sometimes reaching them whether they want you to or not. I am interested in the possibilities of this technology for pirate radio, although perhaps with a very small range. I have always wanted to run such a station (I know, Pump Up the Volume at an impressionable age), but now this may be the way to do it on the cheap.
Or would it be more like k. d. lang on your trucker's CB?
Anyway, I am even more inspired after yesterday morning's random mix on my mp3 player, which freakin' rocked. If only all the poor souls traveling with me on highway 123 could have joined in the fun!
Here's the best I can reconstruct of what it looked like:
"She's Leaving Me Because She Really Wants To," Lyle Lovett (Joshua Judges Ruth)
"O Paalanhaare," Lata Mangeshkar, Udit Narayan, Chorus (Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India)
"Dancing Machine," Jackson 5
"Dodge the Dodo," Esbjörn Svensson Trio (Somewhere Else Before)
"O Caminho," Bebel Gilberto (Bebel Gilberto)
"Bella Simamaer" Björk Guđmundsdóttir (Gling-Gló)
"Junkie Song," The Be-Good Tanyas (Chinatown)
"Karsilama," Talip Ozkan (The Dark Fire)
"Ava (Space Dance Mix)," David Byrne (Forestry)
And as can sometimes happen in surprising ways, the segues were even nice.
Or would it be more like k. d. lang on your trucker's CB?
Anyway, I am even more inspired after yesterday morning's random mix on my mp3 player, which freakin' rocked. If only all the poor souls traveling with me on highway 123 could have joined in the fun!
Here's the best I can reconstruct of what it looked like:
"She's Leaving Me Because She Really Wants To," Lyle Lovett (Joshua Judges Ruth)
"O Paalanhaare," Lata Mangeshkar, Udit Narayan, Chorus (Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India)
"Dancing Machine," Jackson 5
"Dodge the Dodo," Esbjörn Svensson Trio (Somewhere Else Before)
"O Caminho," Bebel Gilberto (Bebel Gilberto)
"Bella Simamaer" Björk Guđmundsdóttir (Gling-Gló)
"Junkie Song," The Be-Good Tanyas (Chinatown)
"Karsilama," Talip Ozkan (The Dark Fire)
"Ava (Space Dance Mix)," David Byrne (Forestry)
And as can sometimes happen in surprising ways, the segues were even nice.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Another perspective.
I thought I would pass along this quotation from our swim team's newsletter, written by one of our coaches. It reminds me, as I so often need, of why we really do this:
Happy training, Everyone.
Too often we get caught up comparing times when we really should be measuring effort, heart, tenacity, passion, resiliency, honesty, compassion, growth, leadership, courage, teamwork and all the other really important qualities we value.
Happy training, Everyone.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Divide and conquer.
Before I really get going on this swimming post and everyone nods off, let me suggest you travel over to Two-Thirds the Venture, where we are all signing up for push-ups and sit-ups of solidarity. How many will you commit to?
But now the news:
Last night we did more of a group practice than usual, since Coach usually caters the practice separately to each lane. While that approach gives each person the practice they need and deserve, it does cut down a bit on the sense of teamwork or camaraderie.
But last night was different. We did an open 25-minute warm-up (I swam 1200 yards) and then an open 7-minute (I think) kick set with fins (I did 750 yards). Then a bit of open swimming until 50 minutes into the 1:30 practice. Coach said that the main set would be a "sixteen eight four two," and I was trying to figure out how we could swim a total of 3000 yards in forty minutes. Turns out those numbers refer to MINUTES.
The goal of the set was to swim steady for 16 minutes, counting your laps. Then you rest about a minute and swim for eight minutes. During that 8 minutes, you are supposed to swim more than half of what you swam during the 16. Then you swim for 4 minutes, trying to go more than half of what you did in the 8 minutes, and so forth, with the last swim being 2 minutes long. Coach calls these kinds of sets "divide and conquer."
It was up to us how we did the swim. The PP swam freestyle (that's a lot of free!), and I did continuous 100 IMs, which was lots of fun because you never have to swim more than 25 yards of any stroke at any given time.
Here is how it went:
Also, because the fly comes first, I clocked 450 yards of fly in that set--three times my required minimum for a given practice! I can tell that swimming more fly is making swimming fly easier. I am still having trouble with the recovery, in that I bring my arms around too far (my wrists often hit, when they should only come around to shoulder-width apart), but the rhythm of the stroke is feeling more natural, as is keeping my hips up.
Then one of the other women, who was also doing 100 IMs, noted how cool it was that for the "1" we would only have to swim 1 length of fly. (That was the downside of the fly being first--when you went further than a multiple of 100, it was fly that always came first.) I said, "But we don't have to do a 1!" and then made the mistake of asking Coach across the pool whether we did, and he said we did not, but we could..... She, of course, was game, so I was game, too. So let's add to the above:
But now the news:
Last night we did more of a group practice than usual, since Coach usually caters the practice separately to each lane. While that approach gives each person the practice they need and deserve, it does cut down a bit on the sense of teamwork or camaraderie.
But last night was different. We did an open 25-minute warm-up (I swam 1200 yards) and then an open 7-minute (I think) kick set with fins (I did 750 yards). Then a bit of open swimming until 50 minutes into the 1:30 practice. Coach said that the main set would be a "sixteen eight four two," and I was trying to figure out how we could swim a total of 3000 yards in forty minutes. Turns out those numbers refer to MINUTES.
The goal of the set was to swim steady for 16 minutes, counting your laps. Then you rest about a minute and swim for eight minutes. During that 8 minutes, you are supposed to swim more than half of what you swam during the 16. Then you swim for 4 minutes, trying to go more than half of what you did in the 8 minutes, and so forth, with the last swim being 2 minutes long. Coach calls these kinds of sets "divide and conquer."
It was up to us how we did the swim. The PP swam freestyle (that's a lot of free!), and I did continuous 100 IMs, which was lots of fun because you never have to swim more than 25 yards of any stroke at any given time.
Here is how it went:
I was pretty happy with all that, because in all cases it was no problem to go more than half, and I felt better and better as the set went on. And most importantly, NO PAIN in my shoulder.almost 800 yards @ 16:00
almost 450 yards @ 8:00
almost 250 yards @ 4:00
a little more than 125 yards @ 2:00
Also, because the fly comes first, I clocked 450 yards of fly in that set--three times my required minimum for a given practice! I can tell that swimming more fly is making swimming fly easier. I am still having trouble with the recovery, in that I bring my arms around too far (my wrists often hit, when they should only come around to shoulder-width apart), but the rhythm of the stroke is feeling more natural, as is keeping my hips up.
Then one of the other women, who was also doing 100 IMs, noted how cool it was that for the "1" we would only have to swim 1 length of fly. (That was the downside of the fly being first--when you went further than a multiple of 100, it was fly that always came first.) I said, "But we don't have to do a 1!" and then made the mistake of asking Coach across the pool whether we did, and he said we did not, but we could..... She, of course, was game, so I was game, too. So let's add to the above:
exactly 75 yards @ 1:00That makes 475 yards of fly all together, out of a total of 4200 yards of practice. Whew!
Monday, January 15, 2007
She likes wearing lipstick.
When last we saw our Goddess, before she did that disappearing trick that she tends to pull when there are big time-consuming changes in the world such as a move of household, a laptop-free trip, or, oh, the beginning of a new semester, she was contemplating men. Not literally contemplating particular men, mind you, but men as a genre, a concept, a phenomenon. More specifically, she was focused on how the world of music might lead us to understand what exactly a man is.
Here is the one thing she can tell you from her explorations: the world of music has not made up its mind.
Who gets to define macho, by the way? Is it the Village People? Or the Rolling Stones? Or the Pogues? And is it better to be Handy or Sweet-Loving? Do we trust Tom Waits or John Brim more when it comes to Ice Cream Men? Are the categories designated by Soul Man, Zydeco Man, Kitchen Man, Television Man, and Magic Man useful for delineating the male gender, or do they function more like that Chinese encyclopedia that Borges mentions and Foucault loves?
And, we are sad to report, the Goddess's collection of pop contemplations of masculinity was not as comprehensive as it could have been, what with omissions of "Stand By Your Man," "Man Out of Time," and other versions of "I'm Your Man"--only to name those left in comments here and on The Art of the Mix. Further exploration of her own archive has led to wonder why she had also left out "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)" or Antibalas' "Big Man," not to mention "Cuchy Frito Man" or "What's a Man to Do" or "Love Me Like a Man."
But now is not the time for a wide survey--no no no that boat has come and gone.
Today we need to talk about ZZ Top.
Because that, friends, is an interesting place to think about men. I do not really mean here that very many men who I have encountered are much like ZZ Top, because there is simply not that much facial hair in our world. But as I was listening to the I'm Your Man mix, I came to "Sharp Dressed Man," and it stirred up something old, as though there were something primal about that kind of guitar and that kind of simple drum line and deep voices--something that says: MAN.
Not "man," like the kind of person you would like to have an interesting conversation with, or you would like to glance at while you read the paper and drink coffee on a Sunday morning, or you could spend the better part of an evening talking about why Seabiscuit is a movie you are afraid to go see.
No, instead, I realize that this is a vision of "man" that planted itself in the now solidified inner reaches of my teenage sense of gender identity--the same place where adolescent anxieties and social pressures give you a sense of what to wear and what not to, how to walk if you ever want to have a date, what hair is for and why make-up is important. And so there I was, driving down the road, listening to my mix, a reasonably mature adult person suddenly transformed into a wiggly teenager wondering about what a person of another sex is like.
And really: does every girl go crazy for a sharp-dressed man? and are cheap sunglasses the first thing you go get when you get up in the morning and the light is hurt your head? and does she like whips and chains, whether or not she is all he can manage? and that girl who lives on the hill, is it true her sister will?
It does not matter, because these are songs about innuendo, which felt sly when we all first heard them. Who could believe they were singing about tush, and pearl necklaces, and tube snake boogie on the radio? But they were! And they do. And they get major gigs doing it!
And the odd thing for this goddess, who tends to think of herself as different from that teenager who was mesmerized by these visions of adulthood, is how intensely compelling this music still is--how it can still hit that primal point and ignite something intense. And face it, people: you want to drive around with your speakers amped and your windows down when you listen to "La Grange," and you want to pretend that you can sing like that and play the guitar like that while you're waving your long long beard around. You want to be able to play a retro-looking guitar while wearing hat and gloves. You want to be that kind of man, to know how to live in the world of that kind of man. Even if it is just for a minute or two.
Here is the one thing she can tell you from her explorations: the world of music has not made up its mind.
Who gets to define macho, by the way? Is it the Village People? Or the Rolling Stones? Or the Pogues? And is it better to be Handy or Sweet-Loving? Do we trust Tom Waits or John Brim more when it comes to Ice Cream Men? Are the categories designated by Soul Man, Zydeco Man, Kitchen Man, Television Man, and Magic Man useful for delineating the male gender, or do they function more like that Chinese encyclopedia that Borges mentions and Foucault loves?
And, we are sad to report, the Goddess's collection of pop contemplations of masculinity was not as comprehensive as it could have been, what with omissions of "Stand By Your Man," "Man Out of Time," and other versions of "I'm Your Man"--only to name those left in comments here and on The Art of the Mix. Further exploration of her own archive has led to wonder why she had also left out "Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)" or Antibalas' "Big Man," not to mention "Cuchy Frito Man" or "What's a Man to Do" or "Love Me Like a Man."
But now is not the time for a wide survey--no no no that boat has come and gone.
Today we need to talk about ZZ Top.
Because that, friends, is an interesting place to think about men. I do not really mean here that very many men who I have encountered are much like ZZ Top, because there is simply not that much facial hair in our world. But as I was listening to the I'm Your Man mix, I came to "Sharp Dressed Man," and it stirred up something old, as though there were something primal about that kind of guitar and that kind of simple drum line and deep voices--something that says: MAN.
Not "man," like the kind of person you would like to have an interesting conversation with, or you would like to glance at while you read the paper and drink coffee on a Sunday morning, or you could spend the better part of an evening talking about why Seabiscuit is a movie you are afraid to go see.
No, instead, I realize that this is a vision of "man" that planted itself in the now solidified inner reaches of my teenage sense of gender identity--the same place where adolescent anxieties and social pressures give you a sense of what to wear and what not to, how to walk if you ever want to have a date, what hair is for and why make-up is important. And so there I was, driving down the road, listening to my mix, a reasonably mature adult person suddenly transformed into a wiggly teenager wondering about what a person of another sex is like.
And really: does every girl go crazy for a sharp-dressed man? and are cheap sunglasses the first thing you go get when you get up in the morning and the light is hurt your head? and does she like whips and chains, whether or not she is all he can manage? and that girl who lives on the hill, is it true her sister will?
It does not matter, because these are songs about innuendo, which felt sly when we all first heard them. Who could believe they were singing about tush, and pearl necklaces, and tube snake boogie on the radio? But they were! And they do. And they get major gigs doing it!
And the odd thing for this goddess, who tends to think of herself as different from that teenager who was mesmerized by these visions of adulthood, is how intensely compelling this music still is--how it can still hit that primal point and ignite something intense. And face it, people: you want to drive around with your speakers amped and your windows down when you listen to "La Grange," and you want to pretend that you can sing like that and play the guitar like that while you're waving your long long beard around. You want to be able to play a retro-looking guitar while wearing hat and gloves. You want to be that kind of man, to know how to live in the world of that kind of man. Even if it is just for a minute or two.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
I'm your man.
Back before I lost all my playlist data, I had made a new mix, which entertained me while I decorated our Christmas tree, and which fortunately I saved on my mp3 player, so it survived the great erasure. It started out as a CD, but it quickly got too big, and it almost seemed there was nothing I could cut--not if I wanted it to have the expansiveness that I did want it to have.
So here it is. Please note that it extends beyond the 30 tracks allowed in a playlist by Art of the Mix.
It started with "I'm Your Man," by Leonard Cohen, which I've been listening to again after finishing season 1 of The L-Word, in whose last episode the song features prominently. Then I started wondering about men. And the mix is how music answered my questions.
So here it is. Please note that it extends beyond the 30 tracks allowed in a playlist by Art of the Mix.
It started with "I'm Your Man," by Leonard Cohen, which I've been listening to again after finishing season 1 of The L-Word, in whose last episode the song features prominently. Then I started wondering about men. And the mix is how music answered my questions.
Descent.
Pretty much over at the other end of North America, there has been some sprinting lately. Reviews are mixed. I can tell you that during a speed set recently I realized how little quickness I have these days, so last night I asked Coach for a set of 25s. "Why?" he growled at me, as if suggesting that I just wanted an easy set, but when I told him I wanted an interval in order to do some speed work, he complied.
The first part (read: 3400 yards) of the practice was like normal:
It was a pretty good set for getting your pace set before you blast off, since the first 25 was at about 90% effort, which still allows for thought. In each round, I descended the swims by about 1 second per 25. That meant that in the breaststroke set, I swam :22/:21/:20/:19. There was quite a long glide in each of the first two 25s, but I worked to get big, powerful pulls and kicks in there. And the last 25 felt FAST, which felt good.
Now let me provide a bit of context. Last April, when I was training for Nationals, I did a somewhat similar set, but it was all breaststroke, and rather than descending the 25s, the idea was to maintain speed through the set. It looked like this:
5 rounds:
In that set, my goal was to maintain at :19 for each 25 of breast. I sometimes hit an :18, and I tried to hit a :17 but did not. But as the set went along, as I approached the fourth and fifth rounds, I was good and tired (I swam 1500 yards before this set and 2100 yards after for a total of 5100 yards), but I still had to work to maintain the quality.
Revisiting that set puts the 100 BR that I will swim at the end of this month in perspective. I would love to swim a 1:16 again, as I did in Coral Springs, but to do that, I would need to do much more fast training in the coming weeks.
The first part (read: 3400 yards) of the practice was like normal:
1000 warm-up (400 swim, 300 kick, 200 pull, 100 drill)Then the sprint set was more of a descend set: 3 rounds of 4 x 25 descend, with 50 easy in between each round. I did the first round free @ :40, the second round backstroke @ :45, and the last round breaststroke @ :45.
600 kick (4 x broken 150: 75 easy, 50 build, 25 fast; 2 rounds with fins)
200 easy (to loosen the arms after the kick set)
1500 swim/pull (6 x 250: odds = pull free, evens = swim stroke)
100 easy
It was a pretty good set for getting your pace set before you blast off, since the first 25 was at about 90% effort, which still allows for thought. In each round, I descended the swims by about 1 second per 25. That meant that in the breaststroke set, I swam :22/:21/:20/:19. There was quite a long glide in each of the first two 25s, but I worked to get big, powerful pulls and kicks in there. And the last 25 felt FAST, which felt good.
Now let me provide a bit of context. Last April, when I was training for Nationals, I did a somewhat similar set, but it was all breaststroke, and rather than descending the 25s, the idea was to maintain speed through the set. It looked like this:
5 rounds:
1 broken 100 breast (25s @ :45)
3 x 100 free @ 1:40
In that set, my goal was to maintain at :19 for each 25 of breast. I sometimes hit an :18, and I tried to hit a :17 but did not. But as the set went along, as I approached the fourth and fifth rounds, I was good and tired (I swam 1500 yards before this set and 2100 yards after for a total of 5100 yards), but I still had to work to maintain the quality.
Revisiting that set puts the 100 BR that I will swim at the end of this month in perspective. I would love to swim a 1:16 again, as I did in Coral Springs, but to do that, I would need to do much more fast training in the coming weeks.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Anticipation: Charlotte Sunbelt Championship.
My first meet of 2007 will be the 33rd Annual Short Course Yards Sunbelt Championship, held 27-28 January in Charlotte, NC. Now if only I can keep healthy between now and then. The last two years I have been sick with some kind of cold or flu for that weekend. In 2005, I went and raced anyway, and it was at that meet that I got my first national cut. Last year I was sicker, and decided to skip it. So now I am pumping vitamin C and hoping that an El Nino year combined with smaller class size might make for less sickness around here.
On that Saturday, I am entered to swim the 1000 FR (one of my year's goals), 50 BR (for grins and maybe a ribbon), 100 BA (to try to beat my previous best time--another goal), 50 FR (more grins), and 100 IM (how can you not grin?). If you look at the entry form, you might be surprised to see that I am NOT entered to swim the 200 BR, usually one of my big events.
Well, I don't want to swim it. So there.
Seriously, I am not training for it this year, and that means that racing it is both exhausting and potentially disappointing, which leads to stress--and who needs that?
On to Sunday! 50 FL, 100 BR (because OK, I am not exactly training for that either, but it just does not hurt as much as the 200, and so I enjoy swimming it), 200 BA (another event I want to check off my goal list), and 500 FR (because it is at the end of the day, so I can really lay it all out there).
It should be a very different kind of meet from recent years, and not just because I am swimming more backstroke than anything else except distance free, and I am not much at either. That means that the expectations for exceptional results are not there, yet I can go out and maybe have some best times (because they are events I rarely or never swim), and generally have fun.
Let's see if it works.
And yes, in case you're wondering, classes do start this week. Why else would I be devoting so much attention to swimming?
On that Saturday, I am entered to swim the 1000 FR (one of my year's goals), 50 BR (for grins and maybe a ribbon), 100 BA (to try to beat my previous best time--another goal), 50 FR (more grins), and 100 IM (how can you not grin?). If you look at the entry form, you might be surprised to see that I am NOT entered to swim the 200 BR, usually one of my big events.
Well, I don't want to swim it. So there.
Seriously, I am not training for it this year, and that means that racing it is both exhausting and potentially disappointing, which leads to stress--and who needs that?
On to Sunday! 50 FL, 100 BR (because OK, I am not exactly training for that either, but it just does not hurt as much as the 200, and so I enjoy swimming it), 200 BA (another event I want to check off my goal list), and 500 FR (because it is at the end of the day, so I can really lay it all out there).
It should be a very different kind of meet from recent years, and not just because I am swimming more backstroke than anything else except distance free, and I am not much at either. That means that the expectations for exceptional results are not there, yet I can go out and maybe have some best times (because they are events I rarely or never swim), and generally have fun.
Let's see if it works.
And yes, in case you're wondering, classes do start this week. Why else would I be devoting so much attention to swimming?
Saturday, January 06, 2007
The machine is breaking down.
Yow. Four swims, for a total of 16,200 yards, plus one hour of Pilates is all I need for this week, thank you very much. That is my second highest weekly yardage total for this season, though last year I swam over 20K yards several different weeks--how did I do that?
Yesterday was the first ever Pilates workout--fun, and with some good exercises, I think, although I may never learn how to breathe correctly. Last night the PP and I had dinner with some friends, and when I said I had tried Pilates, one of my friends said, "Pilates--what are they?" They are tiring in surprising places, is what I should have said, but was not yet stiff enough to know.
Now I am.
Swimming helped temporarily loosen some of the shoulder stiffness, but Oh. Man. Was I fatigued today or what.
Hint: The answer is not "what."
It was one of those practices where I started out tired and got tireder. By my coach's definition, it may be a sign of too big a week. But then, that is how you have big weeks, I guess.
Now? Carpe napum.
Yesterday was the first ever Pilates workout--fun, and with some good exercises, I think, although I may never learn how to breathe correctly. Last night the PP and I had dinner with some friends, and when I said I had tried Pilates, one of my friends said, "Pilates--what are they?" They are tiring in surprising places, is what I should have said, but was not yet stiff enough to know.
Now I am.
Swimming helped temporarily loosen some of the shoulder stiffness, but Oh. Man. Was I fatigued today or what.
Hint: The answer is not "what."
It was one of those practices where I started out tired and got tireder. By my coach's definition, it may be a sign of too big a week. But then, that is how you have big weeks, I guess.
Now? Carpe napum.
Friday, January 05, 2007
This year.
I am marking this, the final official day of winter break, in four ways. First, instead of making some ill-conceived attempt to work (and not really succeeding), this morning I went to my first ever Pilates class. Second, I am listening to WNCW today, instead of the music I work to. Third, I am going to take a stab at finishing my book, which would mean reading 200 pages. (Luckily, it is a mystery, so this is possible. Also luckily, it is vacation, so everything does not have to be about achieving goals.) Fourth, I have just laundered most of the fleece clothing in the house (not inconsiderable), so since the dryer recently buzzed, I am now wearing hot fleece--ahhhhh.
But I am not writing this to talk about vacation; I am writing about plans. Specifically, I am thinking about "resolutions" for the year, and about assessment. Quite a few people say that most New Year's Resolutions go down the flusher pretty quickly because they are vague and often a little over-ambitious. So, here are seven resolutions, and then seven swimming goals. I am writing them here so I have a record of them.
RESOLUTIONS
1. Swim 150 yards or more of butterfly in every swim practice. This goal started as a "swim more fly" sort of goal, but OK, assessable. The 150 yards does not have to happen all at once, but it will require me to swim fly in "choice" sets, which I am not always inclined to do. 150 yards feels like it will require diligence, but it will not kill me. By summer, I would like to be swimming 300 yards of fly in each practice.
2. Find non-computer-related break activities and use them to replace aimless internet searching, doing several days worth of Washington Post sudoku at a time, etc. The PP pointed out recently that I used to do more gardening at our other house, so this was a better break. I agree. Also, one of the people on the swim team pointed out last night that constant computer work may be causing some of my neck and shoulder pain. I am not happy that this resolution is phrased so vaguely, but I am not sure how to assess it, so there you are. I am thinking of things like cooking, gardening, reading books away from the desk, etc. as break activities for the days when I work at home. This next one is related:
3. Turn off internet and e-mail while working. This goal is partly about not overindulging in computer activity, but also about increasing productive work. There can be occasional exceptions, for when I am using the internet as a part of my research--but no play.
4. Eat one salad, one large piece of fruit, and one other vegetable per day. This is an attempt to make "more fruits and vegetables" real, and my thought is that substantial portion sizes will get me closer to those USDA requirements. And back off, all you nutrition nuts! I am trying to be realistic!
5. Exercise 4-5 days per week instead of 3-5. That explains itself. Exercise can include swimming or strength training, but not leisurely walks around town, although those are a good bonus. When summer comes, and teaching goes away, then we raise the bar to 5-6 days per week.
6. Do shoulder exercises every other day and also stretch on those days. I fell off this wagon when the semester ended. Ahoy!
7. Ice sore shoulder after swim practice. Not necessary after every practice--only when it is hurting. This will be more fun now that the PP's fabulous mother has given me excellent icing equipment and I can say goodbye to the leaky plastic bag filled with melting cubes.
There. Those are the plans for the year. I will also post them here at my desk.
Now, swimming goals for this year. I do not want to set time goals around my breaststroke, because that would require upping my training from last year, and I do not see that as realistic, or even desirable. So instead, I want to target events that I usually ignore or avoid--a lot of butterfly and backstroke, both of which I have been working on in practice.
SWIMMING GOALS
1. Swim 200 back in competition. I have only swum this even as a part of a postal meet, never in a regular meet.
2. Swim 200 fly in competition. Ditto #1.
3. Swim 1000 SCY free in competition. I have never done this race, although I have swum the mile once and also the 500 several times. This is the only race that I have no time for, if you include postal meet times for the 200 back and 200 fly.
4. Swim 400 IM strong in competition. I tend to avoid this race, or else really slack it. I want to try to beat my previous best time (6:06.47 SCY). That time is from November 2004, and every time since then that I have swum it (all of twice, one of them postal, one in a regular meet) I have gotten slower.
5. Beat previous best time in 100 SCY back and SCM in competition. (1:23.67 for SCY, 1:33.45 for SCM, and that SCM time is from December 2004, before I began writing about swimming.)
6. Beat previous best time in 100 SCY fly in competition. (1:16.73) This will be tough, because I was hauling ass in that race, even beating all but one of the other people (read: 13-14 year old girls) in my heat.
7. In one week during the summer, swim every practice that my masters team offers. This has to happen in the summer, because it is logistically impossible with my teaching schedule. The practice schedule includes 7 x 1.5 hour sessions, M-Th pm and T/Th/Sa am. I will have to work up to this, to avoid injury.
But I am not writing this to talk about vacation; I am writing about plans. Specifically, I am thinking about "resolutions" for the year, and about assessment. Quite a few people say that most New Year's Resolutions go down the flusher pretty quickly because they are vague and often a little over-ambitious. So, here are seven resolutions, and then seven swimming goals. I am writing them here so I have a record of them.
RESOLUTIONS
1. Swim 150 yards or more of butterfly in every swim practice. This goal started as a "swim more fly" sort of goal, but OK, assessable. The 150 yards does not have to happen all at once, but it will require me to swim fly in "choice" sets, which I am not always inclined to do. 150 yards feels like it will require diligence, but it will not kill me. By summer, I would like to be swimming 300 yards of fly in each practice.
2. Find non-computer-related break activities and use them to replace aimless internet searching, doing several days worth of Washington Post sudoku at a time, etc. The PP pointed out recently that I used to do more gardening at our other house, so this was a better break. I agree. Also, one of the people on the swim team pointed out last night that constant computer work may be causing some of my neck and shoulder pain. I am not happy that this resolution is phrased so vaguely, but I am not sure how to assess it, so there you are. I am thinking of things like cooking, gardening, reading books away from the desk, etc. as break activities for the days when I work at home. This next one is related:
3. Turn off internet and e-mail while working. This goal is partly about not overindulging in computer activity, but also about increasing productive work. There can be occasional exceptions, for when I am using the internet as a part of my research--but no play.
4. Eat one salad, one large piece of fruit, and one other vegetable per day. This is an attempt to make "more fruits and vegetables" real, and my thought is that substantial portion sizes will get me closer to those USDA requirements. And back off, all you nutrition nuts! I am trying to be realistic!
5. Exercise 4-5 days per week instead of 3-5. That explains itself. Exercise can include swimming or strength training, but not leisurely walks around town, although those are a good bonus. When summer comes, and teaching goes away, then we raise the bar to 5-6 days per week.
6. Do shoulder exercises every other day and also stretch on those days. I fell off this wagon when the semester ended. Ahoy!
7. Ice sore shoulder after swim practice. Not necessary after every practice--only when it is hurting. This will be more fun now that the PP's fabulous mother has given me excellent icing equipment and I can say goodbye to the leaky plastic bag filled with melting cubes.
There. Those are the plans for the year. I will also post them here at my desk.
Now, swimming goals for this year. I do not want to set time goals around my breaststroke, because that would require upping my training from last year, and I do not see that as realistic, or even desirable. So instead, I want to target events that I usually ignore or avoid--a lot of butterfly and backstroke, both of which I have been working on in practice.
SWIMMING GOALS
1. Swim 200 back in competition. I have only swum this even as a part of a postal meet, never in a regular meet.
2. Swim 200 fly in competition. Ditto #1.
3. Swim 1000 SCY free in competition. I have never done this race, although I have swum the mile once and also the 500 several times. This is the only race that I have no time for, if you include postal meet times for the 200 back and 200 fly.
4. Swim 400 IM strong in competition. I tend to avoid this race, or else really slack it. I want to try to beat my previous best time (6:06.47 SCY). That time is from November 2004, and every time since then that I have swum it (all of twice, one of them postal, one in a regular meet) I have gotten slower.
5. Beat previous best time in 100 SCY back and SCM in competition. (1:23.67 for SCY, 1:33.45 for SCM, and that SCM time is from December 2004, before I began writing about swimming.)
6. Beat previous best time in 100 SCY fly in competition. (1:16.73) This will be tough, because I was hauling ass in that race, even beating all but one of the other people (read: 13-14 year old girls) in my heat.
7. In one week during the summer, swim every practice that my masters team offers. This has to happen in the summer, because it is logistically impossible with my teaching schedule. The practice schedule includes 7 x 1.5 hour sessions, M-Th pm and T/Th/Sa am. I will have to work up to this, to avoid injury.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Look what I went and did.
So in the spirit of the end of my previous post, I wrote an e-mail to Coach, saying I enjoyed that fast freestyle set, even though I did not perform as well as I had hoped, and that I thought that maybe perhaps possibly it was time to up the ante. He wrote back and said, "I'm ready to push a bit more if you are...."
Looks like now I have to make good on that challenge.
Stay tuned....
Looks like now I have to make good on that challenge.
Stay tuned....
Statistical analysis and last night's practice: Feel free to skip.
NOTE: THIS IS PROBABLY A BORING POST. I WANTED TO MAKE THESE NOTES, SO I DID, BECAUSE IT IS MY BLOG, AFTER ALL. FEEL FREE TO STOP READING NOW.
I am starting a new workout log today: for once, my little notebook ran out right as the year was running out. How exciting to have a brand new cover and everything. My old log has quite the tattered cover, and it has the 2006 SCY national qualifying times stapled in the front, with the 30-34 times highlighted as a reminder of what the goals were. 2006's yardage amounted to 569,550, whereas in 2005 I swam 480,075, and in 2004 I swam 482,000. (Incomplete data for 2003--sorry).
Obviously 2006 was a bigger year than the two previous, but I do not think that reading these numbers in terms of calendar years tells a very accurate story. If we read the data in terms of seasons, then we see
That data wrap-up shows how last year I really swam quite a bit more than in previous years, even though I was on a generally upward trend in all three years. And if we want to look at the data in terms of August-December, so that we can also compare this year's so-called achievement, here is what we find:
Now, THAT tells us something--namely, that I am off the mark for the first half of this year. I am not surprised, given that in 2004-5 and 2005-6 I was swimming with the children's team a couple of days a week, in addition to regular masters practice.
But let's let fall 2006 be bygone, and move on to now:
Last night's practice was a bit of a doozy. Frequently my evening practices are about 3500 yards, but this one went 4000, and with an extra challenge: the water was only 78 F (so said the lifeguard). This is only a few degrees cooler than the usual water temperature, but MAN was it cold. I felt like I never really warmed up, in that my muscles were tight and jerky the whole time. And by the end of the second main set, my toes felt cold. Yuck. But as Coach says, these are the joys of Westside. I tried to argue that because of the temperature I would not need to ice my shoulder afterwards, but he just gave me that look.
It was a good workout, so in the spirit of good starts, I'll note it down:
1000 warm-up (5 x 200 choice, switching every 200)
600 kick set (4 x [3 x 50 kick], one round for each stroke, descend within round)
200 drill/swim
1200 main set (6 x 200, for each: 75 stroke + 50 free + 75 stroke; for the stroke swim fly/back, breast/fly, back/breast, two times through)
800 free (8 x 100 free on ~20 sec. rest: 3 x 100 moderate, 3 x 100 tempo, 2 x 100 FAP)
200 cool (as if I needed to cool off!!!)
TOT: 4000 yards, 1.5 hours
That IM set was tough, if only because 75 fly at one time is not easy for me--let ALONE when the 75 of fly came at the END of a 200. But it was a good set for training for 200 IM, or even 400 IM.
The freestyle set was also tough, but because I have not been doing that much fast swimming this season. (And probably the cold-induced tightness did not help.) Our new team's workouts seem to be more steady state swimming than our old team's, which had much more interval training and fast sets. So swimming the 8 x 100 free and trying to maintain an interval and raise intensity over the course of the set was tougher than it should have been.
Note to self: talk to Coach about including more fast swimming in practice.
I am starting a new workout log today: for once, my little notebook ran out right as the year was running out. How exciting to have a brand new cover and everything. My old log has quite the tattered cover, and it has the 2006 SCY national qualifying times stapled in the front, with the 30-34 times highlighted as a reminder of what the goals were. 2006's yardage amounted to 569,550, whereas in 2005 I swam 480,075, and in 2004 I swam 482,000. (Incomplete data for 2003--sorry).
Obviously 2006 was a bigger year than the two previous, but I do not think that reading these numbers in terms of calendar years tells a very accurate story. If we read the data in terms of seasons, then we see
2003-4: 324, 625
2004-5: 452,775
2005-6: 612,125
2006-7: incomplete data
That data wrap-up shows how last year I really swam quite a bit more than in previous years, even though I was on a generally upward trend in all three years. And if we want to look at the data in terms of August-December, so that we can also compare this year's so-called achievement, here is what we find:
2003-4 Aug-Dec: 166,050*
2004-5 Aug-Dec: 227,425
2005-6 Aug-Dec: 254,725
2006-7 Aug-Dec: 212, 150
* no data for 12 weeks in 2003, so I
estimated this figure based on average yardage per week for the year. Let's not
give it much statistical significance, shall we?
Now, THAT tells us something--namely, that I am off the mark for the first half of this year. I am not surprised, given that in 2004-5 and 2005-6 I was swimming with the children's team a couple of days a week, in addition to regular masters practice.
But let's let fall 2006 be bygone, and move on to now:
Last night's practice was a bit of a doozy. Frequently my evening practices are about 3500 yards, but this one went 4000, and with an extra challenge: the water was only 78 F (so said the lifeguard). This is only a few degrees cooler than the usual water temperature, but MAN was it cold. I felt like I never really warmed up, in that my muscles were tight and jerky the whole time. And by the end of the second main set, my toes felt cold. Yuck. But as Coach says, these are the joys of Westside. I tried to argue that because of the temperature I would not need to ice my shoulder afterwards, but he just gave me that look.
It was a good workout, so in the spirit of good starts, I'll note it down:
1000 warm-up (5 x 200 choice, switching every 200)
600 kick set (4 x [3 x 50 kick], one round for each stroke, descend within round)
200 drill/swim
1200 main set (6 x 200, for each: 75 stroke + 50 free + 75 stroke; for the stroke swim fly/back, breast/fly, back/breast, two times through)
800 free (8 x 100 free on ~20 sec. rest: 3 x 100 moderate, 3 x 100 tempo, 2 x 100 FAP)
200 cool (as if I needed to cool off!!!)
TOT: 4000 yards, 1.5 hours
That IM set was tough, if only because 75 fly at one time is not easy for me--let ALONE when the 75 of fly came at the END of a 200. But it was a good set for training for 200 IM, or even 400 IM.
The freestyle set was also tough, but because I have not been doing that much fast swimming this season. (And probably the cold-induced tightness did not help.) Our new team's workouts seem to be more steady state swimming than our old team's, which had much more interval training and fast sets. So swimming the 8 x 100 free and trying to maintain an interval and raise intensity over the course of the set was tougher than it should have been.
Note to self: talk to Coach about including more fast swimming in practice.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Yes, I am a nerd. Why do you ask?
OK, OK, I plead guilty: but truly, if I were sitting somewhere other than my desk when I read Spence's blog, it might all have gone differently. Really!
Spence tagged me with this book game:
1. Find the nearest book.
2. Name the book & the author.
3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
5. Tag three more folks.
OK, here we go:
Book: Cosmopolitan Style: Modernism Beyond the Nation (Columbia UP, 2006)
Author: Rebecca L. Walkowitz
p. 123, 5th sentence and ff.:
"In The Remains of the Day, therefore, Ishiguro allows us to imagine that the text is not simply a description of England but an expression of it. For Ono in Artist, as for Stevens in Remains, the perceived authenticity of local characteristics depends on an exoticism displaced elsewhere. Ishiguro wants us to see that national traditions are forged by international encounters."
I suppose it could have been worse if, say, one of the hardcore textual criticism books had been closer to the top of the stack.
Just a friendly reminder that today is back to work day--but lucky for me, I don't have to go into the office until next week!
Let's see... I tag Jarrett, estaminet, Joe.
Spence tagged me with this book game:
1. Find the nearest book.
2. Name the book & the author.
3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
5. Tag three more folks.
OK, here we go:
Book: Cosmopolitan Style: Modernism Beyond the Nation (Columbia UP, 2006)
Author: Rebecca L. Walkowitz
p. 123, 5th sentence and ff.:
"In The Remains of the Day, therefore, Ishiguro allows us to imagine that the text is not simply a description of England but an expression of it. For Ono in Artist, as for Stevens in Remains, the perceived authenticity of local characteristics depends on an exoticism displaced elsewhere. Ishiguro wants us to see that national traditions are forged by international encounters."
I suppose it could have been worse if, say, one of the hardcore textual criticism books had been closer to the top of the stack.
Just a friendly reminder that today is back to work day--but lucky for me, I don't have to go into the office until next week!
Let's see... I tag Jarrett, estaminet, Joe.
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