The semester break has allowed me to begin contemplation about and action toward becoming athletic once again. I wish to be prepared for triathlons as I once was. These thoughts are compounded the lamest excuse for change- the New Year's resolution. Rather than share training schedules or workout regiments, I will share a somewhat comical account of the last triathlon in which I participated. I wrote this the week following the Lake Powell triathlon which occured in the middle of October 2008.
One theme that may be extrapolated from the anecdote is that I could be the bad luck charm for Lake Powell vacations. I have travelled to this great place in Utah many times and there are many stories to accompany the trips, but here are a few events that have happened during my experiences on separate excursions: motorboat crashing on a sandbar, motorboat being swamped and nearly submerged permanently, motorhome breaking down and motorhome burning to ashes. I do not care to re-read and re-edit this tale, so suck it up.
"I have been training to participate in the Lake Powell Triathlon. Last Thursday morning I got up to pack my things for my weekend trip in my the 4Runner. While I did so I listened to the car radio without the engine running. When I was ready and going to leave for work I tried to start my car and the battery was dead. I took Dad’s car and he used the Larsens’ charger before going to work.
When I arrived at Lake Powell, in the morning on Friday I set up my campsite. After doing so I listened to music through my headphones and read a book while sitting in my car. After awhile I noticed that there was some sort of ticking coming from the car. I did a walk-around and noticed that it was coming from the engine. I went to turn my car on to see if there was something wrong when I noticed that my lights were on. They had not shut off when I turned my car off. My battery was again dead.
There was no need to worry since there were cars all around and I had nowhere to go for over a day. I spent the day leisurely by taking a small bike ride and skipping rocks at the beach. I read, I cooked meals and even took a nap. At night I walked to the Lake Powell Resort to get my race packet and bag of swag. I ended the night by watching "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."
When I awoke in the morning and started to get ready for the race I noticed that the rear tire of my bike was flat. I decided to just switch tubes instead of trying to fix the hole. I surmised that the flat came from running over something small during my scenic bike ride of the prior day. My camping neighbors were kind enough to offer to jump start my car but I didn’t want to make a hassle at six in the morning so I chose to ride the short distance to the marina with my backpack of gear.
The race starts. After a few strokes I notice that the suit has soaked up some water for insulation. This was due to the fact that it was not specifically designed for racing but for skiing and surfboarding. My weak little arms began to struggle and I lost my mental concentration and got out of rhythm which made the rest of the swim arduous. When I was running up the launch ramp to the transition station I noticed that my watch was full of water thus rendered broken and useless.
At this point you may be realizing that this has been a difficult challenge for the mind. It does not end at this point. In fact, things get worse at this point. When I arrived to my station I struggled to get my wetsuit off since my arms were as mobile as wet noodles. I was now ready for the bike section of the race. However, the bike was not. During the downhill coast to the race site I again punctured my tire and caused a flat in the tire only this was in the second and even less used tube. My pump broke while I tried, with empty hope, to fill my tire. I decided to go on an empty one. After starting on the course I asked a fellow competitor if I could borrow her pump. She obliged and I, futilely, attempted to put air into my tire twice more in a 5 minute span. After about a mile of biking, I saw a man walking his bike back to the start. I thought "I could do the same and pack it in," but I put my mind to finishing all 12 ½ miles on a flat tire.
On the upside of hills I would climb slower than normal since all of the tire and wheel were touching the road. On downhill stretches I would have to break to avoid fish-tailing out of control since my rear tire became a sled runner while being deflated. Partway through the course I heard a metal clanging as something dropped from my bike and rolled away. One of my petal cages became dismantled which left me lopsidedly peddling now that I would be getting now power from my right leg’s upward motion.
Luckily nothing prevented the running segment of the race to go smoothly. I finished. I do admit that I was not as prepared for the swimming as I would have like to have been. I also truthfully state that I was tired during the run and did not push myself as hard as I could. But I do not take any blame for the poor showing on the bike. I know that I would have finished at least one half hour faster if I had not spent time trying to pump the tire up and had full traction with a fully inflated tire.
The weekend at Lake Powell was grandiose nonetheless. There happened not a cloud in the sky during the entirety of the weekend. What added more to the splendor of my vacation was the drive through Dixie National Forest on Route 14. This area is the most picturesque and varied landscape that I have yet experienced."
P.S. I have always had disdain for the song "I Will Survive." It is overplayed on broadcasting media and overused in entertainment genres. I will add that my contempt was strenghtened by a past loathing to any song that one of my sisters enjoyed. However, I recently re-discovered a cover of this song by the band Cake. I now like the song, but only when performed by this group.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Social Netball Practice
A few months ago I attended a satellite broadcast of a LDS CES (no explanation here, you're smart- figure it out) fireside. I will not mention the speaker or topic, for my discussion is about the people in the choir. The participants were college-aged people at Brigham Young University. Aside from remarking about the speaker's exquisite facial profile, I contemplated the contrast between the male and the female choir members.
They all seemed very young looking for college enrollment. However, the physical characteristics not shared between sexes were those of attractiveness. Boy, those boys were dorks. There is not simpler nor more refined way of stating that. I could not understand how any girl would desire to accept an invitation to date any of them. I obviously once (still?) fit into that category so I have considered apologizing on behalf of all male Caucasians, but what is the point of a 'sorry' if circumstances are not to change?
Now, there is much discussion in the social and academic world about woman's attraction to men through emotions; traits other than physical beauty and strength. However, true this may be, it is difficult psychologically prove. Sure there are many examples of pretty women choosing overweight and overbearing men: According to Jim, King of Queens, Family Guy, Roseanne, but to make the initial agreement to meet for dinner, movie or a stroll does the girl have only to hope that the conversation will be stimulating enough to distract her from the vehicle from which the words flow?
I will admit that I have many feminine tendencies, so though I may not understand I may try and relate. Sure the Jolies and Aguileras of the world are great for the eye (not too relevant of examples?), but they have never caught mine. Of the females I wish to pursue these are words I would not use to describe the physical attractiveness I look for: gorgeous, sexy and hot. Now, you may retort "You're excluding people from your search. You're prejudging people in those categories and ruling them out before you get to know them." Sure. I am. We all have preferences. Some like people fair-skinned, some like auburn hair, some choose from the pool of people with a college degree, some look for a southern-belle. I am not excusing myself with the general public. Nor did I just describe the ideal mate for me (or did I?) I am solely stating the pick-up lines are only used after the choice has been made on physical features.
A related discussion is with flirting and those first steps wooing someone. Is there a way to get out of seeming threatening in these situations? The only method I see being effective is putting on a show through sarcasm. Any form of courtesy is returned by gratitude only. That truly is the purpose of doing such good turns, but it would be nice to get a number also. Is courtship a lost art? Has it evolved that someone "calling on" someone else is viewed as stalking?
In any case, good luck to you ladies dealing with all the stereotypes associated with guys attempting to hit on you. That's about all the advice there is. The rest is for admonition in Cosmo. And, as Radio From Hell's Kerry Jackson always reminds "wear a condom."
Lastly, as the year nears to its end, I present two words that have been overused. Sure they are, were, great words, but even spoken fads must end.
Quintessential- the topics/items/people modified by this word are just 'examples' of the subject presented. related to the word 'epitome' oft-used last year that we have been able to regain
Epic- stop using it to describe your drunk weekend happenstances. the only thing epic that happened this year was the Larsens' motorhome exploding into flames
They all seemed very young looking for college enrollment. However, the physical characteristics not shared between sexes were those of attractiveness. Boy, those boys were dorks. There is not simpler nor more refined way of stating that. I could not understand how any girl would desire to accept an invitation to date any of them. I obviously once (still?) fit into that category so I have considered apologizing on behalf of all male Caucasians, but what is the point of a 'sorry' if circumstances are not to change?
Now, there is much discussion in the social and academic world about woman's attraction to men through emotions; traits other than physical beauty and strength. However, true this may be, it is difficult psychologically prove. Sure there are many examples of pretty women choosing overweight and overbearing men: According to Jim, King of Queens, Family Guy, Roseanne, but to make the initial agreement to meet for dinner, movie or a stroll does the girl have only to hope that the conversation will be stimulating enough to distract her from the vehicle from which the words flow?
I will admit that I have many feminine tendencies, so though I may not understand I may try and relate. Sure the Jolies and Aguileras of the world are great for the eye (not too relevant of examples?), but they have never caught mine. Of the females I wish to pursue these are words I would not use to describe the physical attractiveness I look for: gorgeous, sexy and hot. Now, you may retort "You're excluding people from your search. You're prejudging people in those categories and ruling them out before you get to know them." Sure. I am. We all have preferences. Some like people fair-skinned, some like auburn hair, some choose from the pool of people with a college degree, some look for a southern-belle. I am not excusing myself with the general public. Nor did I just describe the ideal mate for me (or did I?) I am solely stating the pick-up lines are only used after the choice has been made on physical features.
A related discussion is with flirting and those first steps wooing someone. Is there a way to get out of seeming threatening in these situations? The only method I see being effective is putting on a show through sarcasm. Any form of courtesy is returned by gratitude only. That truly is the purpose of doing such good turns, but it would be nice to get a number also. Is courtship a lost art? Has it evolved that someone "calling on" someone else is viewed as stalking?
In any case, good luck to you ladies dealing with all the stereotypes associated with guys attempting to hit on you. That's about all the advice there is. The rest is for admonition in Cosmo. And, as Radio From Hell's Kerry Jackson always reminds "wear a condom."
Lastly, as the year nears to its end, I present two words that have been overused. Sure they are, were, great words, but even spoken fads must end.
Quintessential- the topics/items/people modified by this word are just 'examples' of the subject presented. related to the word 'epitome' oft-used last year that we have been able to regain
Epic- stop using it to describe your drunk weekend happenstances. the only thing epic that happened this year was the Larsens' motorhome exploding into flames
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Rat Pack
If you were sly enough to guess at the play on word- the title of the blog is meant to inform you that near the time of 1 am, I will wail at or about something (see it's clever 'cause I obsess about whales).
This morning I wish to classify the main, glory members of The Rat Pack. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. have formed an era of culture. While only a few performers today are able to sing the genre of songs these three did and entertain in the same way they did, there is not a musical troop to command more than a generation of audiences.
Frank. Frank. He was just a god. He held every listener in the palm of his cool, calming voice. Each piece he performed, whether mellow or blasting, captivates the soul. Frank Sinatra was just, is just, the MOST TALENTED stage, big band, night club, television, movie performer. Make sure to also view one of his acting roles in "The Man with the Golden Arm."
Dean. As conveyed through the his roasts and variety show, Dean was the ENTERTAINER. He was genuine. When he thought something was funny, he laughed, boisterously. As the stereotype is used, Dean was the welcoming, hearty Italian.
At the possible risk of controversy, Sammy had the BEST VOICE. It was pure, classic and powerful. Unbeliever? "What Kind of Fool Am I?" from the album "The Ratpack."
You may agree, disagree or reclassify these icons. As a shock, I will trump there talent with the best all-time vocalist and performer- Nat King Cole. I recently watched a short documentary of the life of this man. At every clip of his singing I smiled with peace. He loved to sing. His voice cut through prejudice and fear that blanketed the country and world during the middle of the last century. He was a black man that had a television show during primetime Monday night in 1956!
As Isaac Hayes summarized, "He was the personification of cool. He was cool before it was cool to be cool."
This morning I wish to classify the main, glory members of The Rat Pack. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. have formed an era of culture. While only a few performers today are able to sing the genre of songs these three did and entertain in the same way they did, there is not a musical troop to command more than a generation of audiences.
Frank. Frank. He was just a god. He held every listener in the palm of his cool, calming voice. Each piece he performed, whether mellow or blasting, captivates the soul. Frank Sinatra was just, is just, the MOST TALENTED stage, big band, night club, television, movie performer. Make sure to also view one of his acting roles in "The Man with the Golden Arm."
Dean. As conveyed through the his roasts and variety show, Dean was the ENTERTAINER. He was genuine. When he thought something was funny, he laughed, boisterously. As the stereotype is used, Dean was the welcoming, hearty Italian.
At the possible risk of controversy, Sammy had the BEST VOICE. It was pure, classic and powerful. Unbeliever? "What Kind of Fool Am I?" from the album "The Ratpack."
You may agree, disagree or reclassify these icons. As a shock, I will trump there talent with the best all-time vocalist and performer- Nat King Cole. I recently watched a short documentary of the life of this man. At every clip of his singing I smiled with peace. He loved to sing. His voice cut through prejudice and fear that blanketed the country and world during the middle of the last century. He was a black man that had a television show during primetime Monday night in 1956!
As Isaac Hayes summarized, "He was the personification of cool. He was cool before it was cool to be cool."
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