The scale read 190.5 and I knew that it was time to act…
Earlier that morning:
It was Sunday Nov 14th and I woke to the sounds of traffic and bustle on the streets of Arusha. Lying in the small concrete room I could feel the first hint of the heat of the day rising over the city. Outside was quieter than usual, less yelling and honking than the morning before, but that is Sunday in Tanzania. A majority of people were already in church replacing the shouting, honking and hawking with strains of praise and jubilance. The tradeoff in price for the hostel we were staying in was found in the toilet/shower stalls in the communal bathroom, the kind of place you picture picking up some horrid foot fungus, or perhaps something crawling up out of the shower drain to surprise you. Later that day we would be arriving in Moshi and settling into our house; a house with proper showers, clean and unlikely to infect me with some flesh eating disease. With this in mind I chose to disdain the morning shower in favor of later comforts.
Fast forward 8 hours, 5+ km of walking, a 2 hour bus ride, 1 zombie dog, another 1.5 km walk and we arrived home. I was hot, sweaty, dirty, and desperately in need of a nice cool shower. I briefly considered instead going for a run, something I had been promising myself I would begin doing regularly once we arrived in Moshi, but the fancy was fleeting, giving way instead to the allure of cool water cascading from above. Entering the bathroom I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was not only appointed with a clean tiled shower but also contained a digital scale.
One of my ‘goals’ in moving here was that it would provide an excellent framework, under which to lose weight. It is not like I was morbidly obese or terribly out of shape prior to coming, but let’s just say that there was significant room for improvement after a year of riding a school desk. My theory was that between the inevitable change in diet, the inevitable profuse sweating, a little more exercise in the form of regular walking and the occasional run, and finally a couple of bouts of Giardia, the weight would practically lose itself.
As I exited the shower and eyed the scale, I had been in Tanzania for 2 weeks, sufficient time to affect at least a slight favorable course correction in my girth. Curious to see how those weeks had affected me I zeroed the scale and stepped on. The digital display spun for a couple of seconds building suspense and then offered up its take on my situation. 190.5 lbs it read. 190.5?!! I was averaging around 186-187 before I left! Confused and frustrated I stepped off and re-zeroed the scale. Stepping back on I tried to think ‘light’ thoughts, pictures of clouds and balloons floating in front of my eyes. Again the display spun, taking its time, in no hurry to assuage my tension. 190.5 lbs. The scale could not be confused by my mental trickery and held steadfastly to its position.
I considered my current state. Yes I had just arrived after a long day of walking and travel. Yes I had just showered and was feeling clean for the first time in a few days. Yes I was tired and just wanted to sit down, maybe read a book. Yes it was still pushing 30 C outside. But most importantly: yes, I did in fact weigh in at 190.5.
“Son of a bitch…” I muttered under my breath and stalked out of the bathroom.
45 minutes, 4~km, a couple buckets of sweat, and another shower later I was standing in the same spot looking down at my new nemesis. 4 km of running isn’t really all that much and logically ought not to have much overall effect on my body. There is, however, a strange near addictive quality to scales, it is nearly impossible not to check them whenever they are present. I had no real expectation of measurable accomplishment after that first run, but that seemed an irrelevant piece of information as I stepped back onto the scale. It simply had to be checked. The display spun it its already familiar way and read: 189.0. This time I was shocked in a different way. 1.5 lbs in 4 km? I know that I am a pretty sweaty guy when I exercise, and I know that that 1.5 lbs lost is really just retained water… but 1.5 lbs!!
A little context: picture a 500ml bottle of water. Got it? That bottle weighs basically 1 lb. Now picture 1.5 of those bottles full of water. That is how much sweat you have to produce to lose 1.5 lbs in retained water!! Now I don’t know about you but to me that seems like a lot of sweating.
Since then I have been increasing the frequency and distance on my runs. Two weeks later and I am now running almost every day and have my distance up to about 7 km over 40 min. I am aiming for 10km by the end of the week. I usually run in the evening when the heat of the day has dissipated a little and the sun is not so strong in the sky. A few times, however, I have run at midday and the difference in my endurance and the weight lost over the run changes significantly. My average 7 km run in the evening is good for about 2-2.5 lbs. That same run at midday yields upwards of 4lbs and makes me feel like a big ol bag of crap by the end. The good news is that at least some of that weight is staying off. The morning after my first run, unsurprisingly, I weighed back in at 190.5 lbs. This morning, however, I weighed in at only 183.0 and I have seen my weight as low as 181.5 on Sunday after another midday excursion.
Moral of the story? If you are feeling fat go running? I don’t know, why does there have to be a moral?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Grandpa Skullet
Grandpa Skullet
Have you every seen someone who, despite knowing deep down inside that they are a human being, that they deserve a certain modicum of respect, that they have feelings too, you just couldn’t help staring and laughing in disbelief?
That was the case with Grandpa Skullet. I wish that I had a picture to share with you as it would really make this whole description a whole lot easier to give, much like the zombie dog, but in this case cameras were not present and simple words will have to suffice.
Grandpa Skullet (GS) stands about 5’6” and weighs at least 250 lbs. A conservative estimate would place 150 of those pounds centered in his impressive beer belly, which distends from his mid section like some kind of male pregnancy parody. 60 or so years old GS sports a receding hairline which has rendered him shiny bald across the entire front of his head. Draw a line from one ear directly over your head to the other and imagine everything in front of that line bald. From that line backwards, however, GS’ hair flows back in a righteous mane, slicked back with sweat, and likely some manner of petroleum jelly, to fall in cascading waves to his shoulders. Dressed in a safari vest over t-shirt, the vest is incapable of containing his massive girth and splits just below the button to perfectly frame his massive belly.
GS enters the courtyard of the expat nightclub where we have settled in to enjoy a drink, something predatory in his eyes. He takes up residence at a table adjacent to the door into the club, from where he has a perfect vantage point to observe his prey’s comings and goings. Ordering a Fanta, drink of choice of predators (refreshing and hydrating without inhibiting reaction time or other functions), he ‘casually’ surveys the assortment of prey, which has come to refresh themselves at the watering hole. A flock of young women alight upon a nearby table and GS’ eyes shine as he licks his chops. GS begins his hunt, throwing off ‘vibes’ in the direction of the flock, hoping to lure one or two away from the group. Sadly, today is not a good hunting day for GS, the flock appears immune to his charms. Soon recognizing defeat this magnificent predator slinks away in search of easier game.
Have you every seen someone who, despite knowing deep down inside that they are a human being, that they deserve a certain modicum of respect, that they have feelings too, you just couldn’t help staring and laughing in disbelief?
That was the case with Grandpa Skullet. I wish that I had a picture to share with you as it would really make this whole description a whole lot easier to give, much like the zombie dog, but in this case cameras were not present and simple words will have to suffice.
Grandpa Skullet (GS) stands about 5’6” and weighs at least 250 lbs. A conservative estimate would place 150 of those pounds centered in his impressive beer belly, which distends from his mid section like some kind of male pregnancy parody. 60 or so years old GS sports a receding hairline which has rendered him shiny bald across the entire front of his head. Draw a line from one ear directly over your head to the other and imagine everything in front of that line bald. From that line backwards, however, GS’ hair flows back in a righteous mane, slicked back with sweat, and likely some manner of petroleum jelly, to fall in cascading waves to his shoulders. Dressed in a safari vest over t-shirt, the vest is incapable of containing his massive girth and splits just below the button to perfectly frame his massive belly.
GS enters the courtyard of the expat nightclub where we have settled in to enjoy a drink, something predatory in his eyes. He takes up residence at a table adjacent to the door into the club, from where he has a perfect vantage point to observe his prey’s comings and goings. Ordering a Fanta, drink of choice of predators (refreshing and hydrating without inhibiting reaction time or other functions), he ‘casually’ surveys the assortment of prey, which has come to refresh themselves at the watering hole. A flock of young women alight upon a nearby table and GS’ eyes shine as he licks his chops. GS begins his hunt, throwing off ‘vibes’ in the direction of the flock, hoping to lure one or two away from the group. Sadly, today is not a good hunting day for GS, the flock appears immune to his charms. Soon recognizing defeat this magnificent predator slinks away in search of easier game.
Zombie Dogs
Zombie Dogs:
I think for the most part the picture says it all, but if a picture on its own is worth a thousand words then my assumption is that for every word associated with a picture the formula ought to be:
Picture X # of words = Total description value
Thus if you pair a picture with 200 words then the equation would read:
1000 X 200 = 200,000
This may of course be inaccurate, as at some point the number of words will stop adding to the descriptive value. However, I have yet to properly determine what that number is, as I believe that it varies picture to picture and context to context. Perhaps some day a man or women of greater mathematical intellect than I will waste a significant portion of their lives designing a matrix, which will answer this question… Until then:
This story takes place on a hot and sunny afternoon in the town of Arusha. Having just walked clear across town to purchase shuttle tickets to Moshi for later that afternoon, we backtracked a short distance in search of lunch. Along the side of the road there are usually some kind of dirt paths, be they the shoulder of the road or separate. This particular path was elevated and away from the road a slight distance and led us under the pleasant shade of several trees. Tanzanians seem to be quite excellent at collecting the random detritus along the roadside into neat piles, presumably to either burn, decompose, or at some unknown future date be collected and taken away. You tend to grow quite used to these piles quite quickly, not really paying them heed and often simply walking over them without a second glance. This day Amy made the mistake of taking a second glance.
Despite being quite decomposed in some areas this beastly cadaver somehow managed to retain a significantly lifelike appearance. The eyes were intact, and the face held such an expression; something feral, dark and angry, as though he were crying out in anger against the evil that had felled him. It was so easy to picture him stirring from his repose and rising in his skeletal state to take awful revenge against the world that had robbed him of his life.
Amy screamed and jumped about like a girl and in a perfectly scripted show of gender solidarity Carmen joined her. Being the stoic gentleman I am, I approached the situation with all of the somber detachment one would expect from a coroner or mortician. Ok actually I laughed at them, no one is perfect. The whole experience and mental picture of the corpse reanimating itself brought to mind an interesting query, however. In today’s world there are few who are not educated on least basic zombie survival techniques. The number of movies, books and television shows dealing with the topic, is only surpassed by the recent rash of ‘art’, which has managed to romanticize vampires. Man but the vamps must be loving that. I mean talk about easy prey, girls all over the world practically begging to be bitten… but I digress. The point is that while many of us have a good handle on the basics of surviving the eventual zombie apocalypse when it comes to human zombies, I think we are woefully underprepared for animal zombies. I mean think about it. Undead humans aren’t all that well suited to biting you and yet still pose formidable foes. But at least they are large, generally slow moving targets with small mouth to head ratios. Dogs and other animals, however, are practically all mouth; mouths with big nasty sharp teeth. And to make matters worse they move faster and they are closer to ground making it harder for us to fight them. I mean think about it. Would you rather be attacked by a normal human or a normal dog… assuming no weapons or advanced combat training, and assuming we are not talking about a corky or some other tiny excuse for a dog that ought to be put down regardless of its undead status? I personally would rather fight the human any day. Now just imagine that same scenario but with zombies…
One more thought. Zombie Mosquitoes!! Good luck with that one…
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Perfect Day
I had to write this for a Mentorship program that I am in. The idea is that you imagine your perfect day 5 yrs or so in the future....
"Soft warmth, an almost womb like envelopment, was the first thing I noticed. Soft dancing light filtering through my eyelids pulled me towards consciousness, and I began to become aware. The sound of the ocean caressing the shore just outside my bedroom window, the occasional shriek of a gulls and the creaking and clanking of the docks mixing to form a kind of music, like a movie soundtrack, setting the tone for the moment. I slowly fluttered my eyes open and looked up at the ceiling, admiring the dancing sunlight reflecting off of the ocean below. Next to me the bed shifted slightly as my wife began to stir. I looked over at her, tracing the lines of her neck and shoulders with my eyes, her hair splayed across the pillow like a fan. Rolling over I kissed her gently on the neck whispered “Morning love,” then rolled back the other way to get out of bed. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and looked out onto the balcony and the ocean beyond.
The sun was well above the horizon now and shone brightly down on the light blue gray of the windswept sea. I stood and walked across the hardwood floor and opened the balcony door, stepping out into the warm August morning air. I leaned against the railing and took a deep breath, smelling the air. The smell of the ocean is hard to describe to anyone who is not familiar with it: salty, musky, soft and sharp at the same time. Suffice to say it is one of the best smells in the world. I stood for a while just soaking up the sun, and smell, appreciating the moment. I walked down the deck and entered through the kitchen door.
My wife was busy preparing a bowel of cereal for our daughter Anna who sat at the kitchen table looking on. Anna turned her golden eyes to me and grinned her 2 yr old grin. At 2 years old Anna was just starting to come into her words, with basic sentences, not always all that grammatically correct, but understandable none the less. “Breakfast daddy!” she exclaimed. Like many children she is a morning person, awake early, chipper, bright and excited for the day ahead. I know she didn’t get that from me, but I have found it to be somewhat contagious, helping me have more enthusiasm in the morning as well. “What are you having for breakfast this morning?” I asked her. “Eerios,” she exclaimed. She has trouble with the “ch” sounds. My wife and I joined her for breakfast, chatting amiably, asking Anna questions, trying to develop her conversational skills. Being Saturday I had the day off from work to spend with my family. The plan was to spend the morning playing with Anna and the afternoon lazing around the house while Anna took a nap and in the evening she would go to her Grandparents for the night while my wife and I went for dinner and took in the opera.
After breakfast I went and took a shower and got ready for the day. Looking in the mirror I reflected on how all the small and seemingly subtle changes in my body over the last 5 yrs had accumulated into something pretty significant. Gone were the slight love handles and gentle roundness to my stomach and in their place was a leanness and definition that I hadn’t seen since I was 20 years old. Regular running and exercise, and perhaps more importantly eating healthier and more proportionally had slowly but surely recreated my body.
The rest of the morning was spent down on the rocky beach with my wife and Anna, discovering crabs, throwing rocks and playing in the water. There is little in my life that I find more rewarding than playing with my daughter, seeing her discover new things, the excitement and wonder with which she perceives the world never ceases to inspire me. Working as an Executive for an advertising agency means that I work quite a bit, sometimes bringing my job home with me as well. The $250,000/yr salary, however, means that my wife is able to work only a couple of shifts a week, and spend most of her time with Anna and I try very hard to maintain a good balance between work an my relationships, especially those with my wife and daughter.
After Lunch Anna took a nap while my wife and I took some time to relax down on the dock in the sun, just reading and chatting while the gentle swell lulled our senses. After three years of marriage we had settled into a good level of routine and understanding in our relationship. Not that being married and parents is easy, but we had managed to reach a point in our relationship where we had learned how to make it work well. We talked for a while about our travel plans for when Anna was a little older. The plan was to take between 6 months and a year to travel around Africa, Asia and Europe once Anna was about 5, and we had already begun saving and planning details.
When Anna got up from her nap we took her sailing on our Laser before getting cleaned up so we could head out for the evening. My wife was wearing her black dress, the one I got her for Christmas the year previous. After we dropped Anna off for the night we headed downtown for dinner. It was an exquisite affair, rich food, and fine wine in a lovely quiet little bistro. Pan seared duck breast in a red wine reduction over orzo with seasonal vegetables, followed with crème brule and Icewine. After dinner we walked through the last rays of evening light to the theatre for the opera. I am not sure why I love the opera so much, I was never exposed to it growing up, but opera and ballet have been longtime loves and my wife and I try to attend often. The opera was excellent, everything that could be expected, from love, to despair, a grand sweeping epic full of robust performances from robust performers. After the show we headed home, the day ending, back in bed, where it had begun."
"Soft warmth, an almost womb like envelopment, was the first thing I noticed. Soft dancing light filtering through my eyelids pulled me towards consciousness, and I began to become aware. The sound of the ocean caressing the shore just outside my bedroom window, the occasional shriek of a gulls and the creaking and clanking of the docks mixing to form a kind of music, like a movie soundtrack, setting the tone for the moment. I slowly fluttered my eyes open and looked up at the ceiling, admiring the dancing sunlight reflecting off of the ocean below. Next to me the bed shifted slightly as my wife began to stir. I looked over at her, tracing the lines of her neck and shoulders with my eyes, her hair splayed across the pillow like a fan. Rolling over I kissed her gently on the neck whispered “Morning love,” then rolled back the other way to get out of bed. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and looked out onto the balcony and the ocean beyond.
The sun was well above the horizon now and shone brightly down on the light blue gray of the windswept sea. I stood and walked across the hardwood floor and opened the balcony door, stepping out into the warm August morning air. I leaned against the railing and took a deep breath, smelling the air. The smell of the ocean is hard to describe to anyone who is not familiar with it: salty, musky, soft and sharp at the same time. Suffice to say it is one of the best smells in the world. I stood for a while just soaking up the sun, and smell, appreciating the moment. I walked down the deck and entered through the kitchen door.
My wife was busy preparing a bowel of cereal for our daughter Anna who sat at the kitchen table looking on. Anna turned her golden eyes to me and grinned her 2 yr old grin. At 2 years old Anna was just starting to come into her words, with basic sentences, not always all that grammatically correct, but understandable none the less. “Breakfast daddy!” she exclaimed. Like many children she is a morning person, awake early, chipper, bright and excited for the day ahead. I know she didn’t get that from me, but I have found it to be somewhat contagious, helping me have more enthusiasm in the morning as well. “What are you having for breakfast this morning?” I asked her. “Eerios,” she exclaimed. She has trouble with the “ch” sounds. My wife and I joined her for breakfast, chatting amiably, asking Anna questions, trying to develop her conversational skills. Being Saturday I had the day off from work to spend with my family. The plan was to spend the morning playing with Anna and the afternoon lazing around the house while Anna took a nap and in the evening she would go to her Grandparents for the night while my wife and I went for dinner and took in the opera.
After breakfast I went and took a shower and got ready for the day. Looking in the mirror I reflected on how all the small and seemingly subtle changes in my body over the last 5 yrs had accumulated into something pretty significant. Gone were the slight love handles and gentle roundness to my stomach and in their place was a leanness and definition that I hadn’t seen since I was 20 years old. Regular running and exercise, and perhaps more importantly eating healthier and more proportionally had slowly but surely recreated my body.
The rest of the morning was spent down on the rocky beach with my wife and Anna, discovering crabs, throwing rocks and playing in the water. There is little in my life that I find more rewarding than playing with my daughter, seeing her discover new things, the excitement and wonder with which she perceives the world never ceases to inspire me. Working as an Executive for an advertising agency means that I work quite a bit, sometimes bringing my job home with me as well. The $250,000/yr salary, however, means that my wife is able to work only a couple of shifts a week, and spend most of her time with Anna and I try very hard to maintain a good balance between work an my relationships, especially those with my wife and daughter.
After Lunch Anna took a nap while my wife and I took some time to relax down on the dock in the sun, just reading and chatting while the gentle swell lulled our senses. After three years of marriage we had settled into a good level of routine and understanding in our relationship. Not that being married and parents is easy, but we had managed to reach a point in our relationship where we had learned how to make it work well. We talked for a while about our travel plans for when Anna was a little older. The plan was to take between 6 months and a year to travel around Africa, Asia and Europe once Anna was about 5, and we had already begun saving and planning details.
When Anna got up from her nap we took her sailing on our Laser before getting cleaned up so we could head out for the evening. My wife was wearing her black dress, the one I got her for Christmas the year previous. After we dropped Anna off for the night we headed downtown for dinner. It was an exquisite affair, rich food, and fine wine in a lovely quiet little bistro. Pan seared duck breast in a red wine reduction over orzo with seasonal vegetables, followed with crème brule and Icewine. After dinner we walked through the last rays of evening light to the theatre for the opera. I am not sure why I love the opera so much, I was never exposed to it growing up, but opera and ballet have been longtime loves and my wife and I try to attend often. The opera was excellent, everything that could be expected, from love, to despair, a grand sweeping epic full of robust performances from robust performers. After the show we headed home, the day ending, back in bed, where it had begun."
Friday, January 8, 2010
Where's My Hovercar?
My first computer was an Apple IIe. Amber screen, two 5 1/4 floppy drives, which sounded like a mac truck with a loose clutch during a downshift, and a monstrous keyboard that made a very satisfying clack and clunk upon depression, those were the days. I remember countless hours spent playing pirated copies of 2D games like Lode Runner, Prince of Persia, and The Goonies. The audio made the later midi of Nintendo sound orchestral by comparison, and the pixels were so large there was probably only room for 100 or so on the screen. I think I was the only kid in grade 4 who turned in reports on printed paper.
I fell in love in those early years with technology, and could imagine a world of flying cars, virtual reality, robot servants and cybernetic implants. While my car does not fly, and forays into VR seem to keep failing to be marketable (Nintendo in the 90's), and I still don't have a chip in my head that lets me control the tv or make phone calls, my love is largely undiminished. From the IIe to the NES, the 386, the N64, onwards to the birth of the Pentium and beyond, I was there being weaned on electricity following it's proscribed pathways through the silicone landscape.
These days the intensity of my love has been tempered by the songs of competing harpies and a general lack of financial ability to keep up. There have also been betrayals and unfulfilled expectations which have shaped my relationship with technology. Gone are the days when I would be excited to hear about Microsoft's latest achievements, my faith in that empire has fallen, replaced by the gospel according the St. Jobs. With my Macbook, my Ipod, Iphone and firm faith in Apple's ability to produce, I am a full convert.
My techno upbringing has given me a keen understanding, sometimes bordering on instinctual, for learning and being able to navigate programs and systems. There are a variety of similarities in most every piece of software and system, and if you know where and how to look they will give up their secrets in the form of keyboard shortcuts and autofill fields.
While I continue to be excited and hopeful for my cybernetic cell phone I do sometimes wonder when we will (if we haven't already) go to far in our focus on tech, to the detriment of the human "touch." The virtual world with MMORPG's, Facebook, Twitter, Second Life, Zwinkies, etc, may improve connectivity and networking but sometimes leaves me longing for the days when people actually had to put on pants and leave the house to be social.
I fell in love in those early years with technology, and could imagine a world of flying cars, virtual reality, robot servants and cybernetic implants. While my car does not fly, and forays into VR seem to keep failing to be marketable (Nintendo in the 90's), and I still don't have a chip in my head that lets me control the tv or make phone calls, my love is largely undiminished. From the IIe to the NES, the 386, the N64, onwards to the birth of the Pentium and beyond, I was there being weaned on electricity following it's proscribed pathways through the silicone landscape.
These days the intensity of my love has been tempered by the songs of competing harpies and a general lack of financial ability to keep up. There have also been betrayals and unfulfilled expectations which have shaped my relationship with technology. Gone are the days when I would be excited to hear about Microsoft's latest achievements, my faith in that empire has fallen, replaced by the gospel according the St. Jobs. With my Macbook, my Ipod, Iphone and firm faith in Apple's ability to produce, I am a full convert.
My techno upbringing has given me a keen understanding, sometimes bordering on instinctual, for learning and being able to navigate programs and systems. There are a variety of similarities in most every piece of software and system, and if you know where and how to look they will give up their secrets in the form of keyboard shortcuts and autofill fields.
While I continue to be excited and hopeful for my cybernetic cell phone I do sometimes wonder when we will (if we haven't already) go to far in our focus on tech, to the detriment of the human "touch." The virtual world with MMORPG's, Facebook, Twitter, Second Life, Zwinkies, etc, may improve connectivity and networking but sometimes leaves me longing for the days when people actually had to put on pants and leave the house to be social.
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