Godspeed, Jason Collins

[image credit Talking Points Memo and Sports Illustrated

 

I'm not much of a "Godspeeder" but it seems appropriate to wish Godspeed to Jason Collins, the first male player ever in a major sport to come out as gay while still playing.

 

And to all the gays in my family, whether in or out of the closet, and in other families everywhere, let's hope the day comes soon when this event will be totally unremarkable.

 

In Jason's own words:

 

I realized I needed to go public when Joe Kennedy, my old roommate at Stanford and now a Massachusetts congressman, told me he had just marched in Boston's 2012 Gay Pride Parade. I'm seldom jealous of others, but hearing what Joe had done filled me with envy. I was proud of him for participating but angry that as a closeted gay man I couldn't even cheer my straight friend on as a spectator. If I'd been questioned, I would have concocted half truths. What a shame to have to lie at a celebration of pride. I want to do the right thing and not hide anymore. I want to march for tolerance, acceptance and understanding. I want to take a stand and say, "Me, too."

 

 

Volunteer Trail Work: Reese Hollow Shelter

[Reese Hollow Shelter; photo by Gary]

On Friday, Mister Tristan (the 5-year-old human being, not the blog) and I (Gary) met a couple other volunteers for some work over at the Reese Hollow Shelter.

This shelter serves the Tuscarora Trail in south-central PA via a 1-mile yellow-blazed trail that comes down from the Tuscarora Trail up on the ridgetop, to the shelter and spring.  This is just west of Mercersburg, PA.

The main task this day was to relocate the fire pit, which was a tad too close to the shelter and not big enough, say, for a group of scouts to gather comfortably around.  We scraped away the leaf litter and soil in a 10' radius, then dug down another foot or so to bare mineral soil in a 3' circle for the pit itself.  Then we lined the pit with large (say 100 lb) rocks and extended the rock apron another couple feet wider.  Last step was to create sitting benches of downed locust logs from up the slope a bit.

This was my first organized work trip since assuming overseer duties for the shelter and trail in Dec 2012, and I learned a lot.  I expect to be spending many happy, pleasantly tiring hours doing this volunteer work.  I can truthfully say that this day was one of the best of my life.

I was hoping to post a photo of the firepit--which is the best firepit I have ever encountered along any trail, seriously--but all my shots of the firepit included recognizable facials of Mister Tristan himself.  So I'll take some other photos next trip.

 

Cats in Art: The Cat (Dufy)

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I'm using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi.

 

Image credit The Fire Lizard.  The Cat, Raoul Dufy, 1909, a xylograph print made from a woodcut, published in Guillaume Apollinaire's book Le Bestiairy.

 

Zuffi tells us that at the beginning of the 1900s, the cat rose in popularity:

 

It was more a case of the domestic pussycat developing new aspects of its character, reasserting its multifaceted aspects, giving its name to famously shady or fashionable nightspots in Paris (Le Chat Noir) and Barcelona (Els Quatre Gats), and appearing more frequently in poems and paintings as well as leading artistic and intellectual trends.  A true modern, feline renaissance was underway, which at times had the aura of an exclusive or private club; cat lovers felt "different" and privileged compared to dog lovers.

 

Amen, Brother Zuffi!  I love how the cat is under the lampshade, as though no one can see its hiding place.

 

In the book for which Dufy provided this image, we find this poem to accompany the illustration.  Apollinaire's poem gets it exactly right:

 

     The Cat

 

     In my house I would like:

     A woman in command of her senses,

     A cat gliding among my books,

     And always friends

     Without whom I cannot live

 

 

Emptying Bedpans: An Appropriate Result

My posting plan for today was to go for the trifecta--a third scatological post in a row--by resurrecting a post from a couple of summers ago that dealt with the causes and cure of chafing related to, well, poop.

I will do that reposting below, because it was one of my most popular posts in terms of hits, but first I felt obliged to make a comment about the grand opening on Thursday of the George W. Bush presidential library in Texas.

It strikes me as ironic--or unjust is perhaps a better term--that this joker, who by any sane definition is a war criminal, is walking around today a free man.  He should have a life sentence of community service emptying bedpans in VA hospitals for the soldiers he is responsible for maiming.

[click to enlarge...image credit Daily Kos, Iraq War Ten Years Later]

 

Enough politics.  Without further ado, the repost of Chafing and Pooping:

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Chafing and Pooping: An Ultrarunner's Guide

This'll be easy and you'll thank me profusely someday.

Warning: this is somewhat graphic, but hey, we're all athletes here trying to solve a mechanical problem, right? No need to be embarrassed.

On long runs, particularly in warm weather when your clothing gets wet from sweat, some chafing is inevitable. Such chafing usually affects the inner thighs, the butt crack, the nipples, and/or the armpits.

Chafing: Possible solutions that work for me. Your mileage may vary, and you may feel free to mix-n-match my solution with other body parts. Repeat as needed.

1. Inner thighs: I now use biking type running shorts in the summer for long runs--chafing problems are eliminated. If you use traditional nylon running shorts with a built-in brief or panty, lube up with a roll-on product like Body Glide.

2. Butt crack: Apply Body Glide, and also lube up with a 1" dab of A + D Ointment (see here where I call it the Magic Elixir)

3. Nipples: Forget lubes, slap on a waterproof Band-Aid. Done!

4. Armpits: Lube up with a 1/2" dab of Vaseline or A + D Ointment.


Pooping: This stuff is caustic. Ever see a baby's butt with diaper rash? You probably will need to poop in the woods sometime. While it really is no big deal, you do want to minimize any possibility of rash. So do this: forget carrying toilet paper, just do your thing and then use a stick or leaves to scrape off the excess. Then wash your butt with water from your bottle or a mud puddle (your hand will obviously then also need washed). Then apply a 1" dab of A + D Ointment. Repeat as needed.

 

 

"Removed by a Dysentery"...and Ultrarunning

 [image credit Vast Public Indifference]

I'm on a 2-day roll with the body waste theme, it seems.

Via Boing Boing (always a great read for the inner geek in all of us), we land on the blog Vast Public Indifference, where we find a great series of posts on the various euphemisms used for "died" on tombstones dated pre-1825.

Of the 101 euphemisms, I gotta go with the one pictured above and reproduced below as being at least in my top five: "...removed by a dysentery," although "Rose Upon the Horizon of Perfect Endless Day" has a certain ring to it.  See text in red below:

Memento mori

Mrs ABIGAIL KENRICK

Widow of CAPT. CALEB

KENRICK left her

pleasant habitation

in Newton and come to

her Daughter Dana's

in Groton, on account

of ye civil War; and Sept. 5.

1775 AE 76 was remov

ed by a dysentery to that

place where ye wicked cease

from troubling and ye weary

are at rest.

 

 

Here are the first 25 of 101 euphemisms for "died":

Part 1: Died
Part 2: Departed This Life
Part 3: Deceased
Part 4: Entred Apon an Eternal Sabbath of Rest
Part 5: Fell a Victim to an Untimely Disease
Part 6: Departed This Transitory Life
Part 7: Killed by the Fall of a Tree
Part 8: Left Us
Part 9: Obit
Part 10: Slain by the Enemy
Part 11: Departed This Stage of Existence
Part 12: Went Rejoycing Out of This World
Part 13: Submiting Her Self to ye Will of God
Part 14: Fell Asleep
Part 15: Changed a Fleeting World for an Immortal Rest
Part 16: Fell Asleep in the Cradle of Death
Part 17: Fell Aslep in Jesus
Part 18: Was Still Born
Part 19: Innocently Retired
Part 20: Expired
Part 21: Perished in a Storm
Part 22: Departed from This in Hope of a Better Life
Part 23: Summoned to Appear Before His Judge
Part 24: Liv'd About 2 Hours
Part 25: Rose Upon the Horizon of Perfect Endless Day

 

Again, go here for the complete list.

 

Oh, and the link to Ultrarunning?  Many posts here have concerned themselves with the notion of immortality (here's one that's kinda representative).  I guess if I were to try to make the case, seems to me that our happiest hours here on earth are what I might imagine immortality would be like (of course, it's just as likely to be simply nothingness).  So for me, it'd be endless happy hours running in the backcountry.

Or, the easier connection?  Drink the wrong water in the backcountry and you, too, will enjoy the pleasures of dysentery.  If it's real severe (i.e., fatal), you could get a really cool tombstone with a suitable message just like that above: "removed by a dysentery."

 

Motorcycle Crashes on Human Waste

Sometimes these blog posts practically write themselves.  From the Chambersburg Public Opinion newspaper on 23 April 2013:

The Pennsylvania Department of Transportation on Monday closed southbound Interstate 81 for about an hour near Carlisle when a motorcycle slid on human waste.

A PennDOT employee discovered the slippery spot near Hanover Street (Pa. 34) Exit 47 when a motorcycle crashed, according to a PennDOT spokesman. The employee alerted the Cumberland County maintenance office, which shut down the road so a crew could clean up the mess.

The motorcycle crash was relatively minor, according to PennDOT spokeswoman Fritzi Schreffler.  "Our guys helped him get up and get the bike up and I think cleaned off, and he left after talking to police," Schreffler said.
 

I'm no journalism expert, but guys, don't you think that a discussion of the possible cause of the spill belonged in the article?  I doubt that somebody took a dump on the highway, but we don't know for sure.  More likely that a septic tank cleaning firm's truck had a leak or spill.

How'd you like to be the motorcycle rider?  This accident will likely cause him to be shunned forever in the macho world of biking.

 

"Like Watching the Weather Channel...."

This past week's nonstop coverage of the Boston Marathon terrorism story brought home the fact that we truly do have a 24-hour news apparatus that tries harder to outdo the competition than doing true journalism.  The endless speculation and getting basic facts wrong finally drove me to reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

This quote summed it up for me:

"It's like watching the Weather Channel, except with cops and guns."
 

Via the Earth Bound Misfit, who added:

That was the comment that a friend had about the televised coverage of the doings in the Boston area today. If anybody uttered a new syllable, it was breaking news.
 

 

 

Godzilla Acts Out...and Ultrarunning

Some of Mister Tristan's (the 5-year-old human being, not the blog) toys [image credits Mister Tristan].

 

Shortly after the happy group photo above, Godzilla (second from left), went on a destructive rampage.  He totally destroyed a bridge constructed using a vintage Kenner's Bridge and Turnpike Set #8 as seen in the sad image below:

Oh, to be 5, where your full-time job is simply to play, and not have to worry about all the crap happening in the world.

Wait...we can do that, on our trails.  Go have a good run and clear your head.  Nature is putting on quite the show here in the Mid-Atlantic as things wake up for spring.

Cats in Art: Raminou and Pitcher With Carnations (Valadon)

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I'm using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi.

This is part 7 of 7 of a multiweek study of the cat art of Suzanne Valadon. A French painter (1865-1838), she had quite the interesting life (summarized from Wikipedia):

Suzanne Valadon became a circus acrobat at the age of fifteen, but a year later, a fall from a trapeze ended that career. In Paris, she pursued her interest in art, first working as a model for artists, observing and learning their techniques, before becoming a noted painter herself. She modelled for Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (who gave her painting lessons) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir....Valadon frequented the bars and taverns of Paris along with her fellow painters, and she was Toulouse-Lautrec's subject in his oil painting The Hangover....Valadon painted still lifes, portraits, flowers, and landscapes that are noted for their strong composition and vibrant colors. She was, however, best known for her candid female nudes. A perfectionist, she worked on some of her oil paintings for up to 13 years before showing them....A free spirit, she wore a corsage of carrots, kept a goat at her studio to "eat up her bad drawings", and fed caviar (rather than fish) to her "good Catholic" cats on Fridays....Both an asteroid (6937 Valadon) and a crater on Venus are named in her honor.

 

Image credit Wikipaintings, Raminou and Pitcher With Carnations, 1932, Suzanne Valadon, oil on canvas, held in private collection.

 

 

So, as we saw the last two weeks (here and here), Raminou is lounging, and at the same time relaxed, yet alert and eager for human interaction.  Like he's saying, "I'm a good kitty, please play with me!"

 

The pose is one the bride and I call "conserving," where Raminou's front paws are tucked under to stay warmer.  I don't know in what month Valadon painted this, but I'd assume it was a bit chilly.  Otherwise Raminou would have been sprawled on his back to dissipate heat.

 

So as we reach the end of the Suzanne Valadon series, I can say that I've really enjoyed putting these up and thereby enjoying the paintings myself.  Her style is simple yet with a a lot of subtle detail that you only notice when you spend some time with the image.

 

And, of course, Raminou has been a real delight.  I would like to have known that cat.

 

 

Iraq Vs. A 100% New Power Grid for the U.S....and Ultrarunning

In a piece called Iraq War Could Have Paid For 100% Renewable Power Grid, we learn of what we could have done instead of squandering our blood and treasure in a war that was ginned up and executed just to show that we could kick some Mideastern butt.  It's the old guns versus butter discussion, and as usual, the guns prevailed; that's why we can't afford nice things anymore.

The piece begins by discussing the estimates of Paul Gipe:

Wind energy expert Paul Gipe reported this week that – for the amount spent on the Iraq war [$3.9 trillion] – the U.S. could be generating 40%-60% of its electricity with renewable energy.
 

Then the blog goes on to explain why that $3.9 T figure is actually low, and why, using the upwardly adjusted data, we could have paid 100% for a new renewable power grid.  One hundred percent.  Let that sink a moment.

Nobel prize winning economist Joseph Stiglitz estimated in 2008 that the Iraq war could cost America up to $5 trillion dollars.

And the Brown University study actually concluded that the Iraq war could end up costing $6 trillion dollars over the next 40 years.

Since $6 trillion is one and a half times as much as the $3.9 trillion estimate used by Gipe and Freehling, that means that the Iraq war money could essentially convert 100% of U.S. power to renewable energy.

It is ironic, indeed, that the Iraq war was largely about oil. When we choose subsidies for conventional energy sources – war or otherwise – we sell our future down the river.
 

The connection to Ultrarunning, of course, is that despite our focus on a very rewarding pastime and sport, none of us are immune from stupid decisions from the top.  If you don't think that the nation's power infrastructure affects you directly, you are quite mistaken.

Of Red-Tailed Hawks and Eagles...

Via Mike the Mad Biologist (which if you do not check out at least a couple times a week, you should), a link to a video on the site 10000 Birds.

The site provides the following introduction:

Pro-tip: If you are a Red-tailed Hawk don’t attack a Bald Eagle on its nest. Such an idea when put into practice will not end well for you.

Don’t watch this video unless you want to see a Red-tailed Hawk getting dispatched by a very angry Bald Eagle.
 

The key action is immediately at the beginning and is all over but the shouting by 1 minute:

 


As a lover of birds and particularly of raptors, seeing these two duke it out is absolutely fascinating.

What was the red tail thinking?  If it were human, I'd recommend an nomination for a Darwin Award.

Your Republican Platform

Via Rising Hegemon, something to keep in mind as we head towards the next cycle of national elections in 2014:

   Your Republican platform:

   Jobs - No
   Taxes - No
   Gay Marriage - No
   Birth Control - No
   Civil Rights - No
   Pain - Yes
   Guns- OH YES!

Uh, It's Not About You, Dude

I can't believe I am actually going to type his name.  Just seems like something I'd never have occasion to do...until now (via CNN):

"Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."

That is what Justin Bieber wrote in the guestbook of the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam last Friday.  Anne Frank, of course, died in a Nazi concentration camp in World War II, but became known to the world through the posthumous publication of her diary.

Actually, Bieber's first 2 sentences are fine, it's just the last one--"Hopefully she would have been a belieber"--makes it pretty clear that in his world it's all about him.  And some of his recent actions seem to bear that out.

I really don't know what it's like for Justin Bieber; I'm sure the fame and fortune is a two-edged sword, bringing loss of privacy and continual public scrutiny.  So I don't want to pile on, except that I'm just saddened by his lack of historic awareness.

I've been to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp site where Anne Frank was imprisoned and walked the grounds with my German family members, the bride, and our then-2-year old son.  There were numerous large earth mounds scattered throughout, with small plaques or markers on each one saying things like "Here lie 5,000 dead."

Anne Frank is buried there somewhere.  A teenager murdered by the Nazis.  Who never had the chance to have a normal childhood.

The place has a cold sadness about it.  I found myself alone for a few minutes in the small visitor's center.  All at once I felt so creeped out that I had to practically burst outside to get some air and sunshine.

When I emerged what I so vividly remember is that our son and my cousin's son--both 2--were running around the walks and up onto the mounds, blissfully unaware of the monumental tragedy that took place there. Having the laughter of children seemed a good antidote to the evil that once reigned there.

 

Refuse to Be Terrorized

As usual, Bruce Schneier gets it exactly right.  Below is a short excerpt (complete with Bruce's hyperlinks), please read the entire post here.

And refuse to be terrorized.

As the details about the bombings in Boston unfold, it'd be easy to be scared. It'd be easy to feel powerless and demand that our elected leaders do something -- anything -- to keep us safe.

It'd be easy, but it'd be wrong. We need to be angry and empathize with the victims without being scared. Our fears would play right into the perpetrators' hands -- and magnify the power of their victory for whichever goals whatever group behind this, still to be uncovered, has. We don't have to be scared, and we're not powerless. We actually have all the power here, and there's one thing we can do to render terrorism ineffective: Refuse to be terrorized.

It's hard to do, because terrorism is designed precisely to scare people -- far out of proportion to its actual danger. A huge amount of research on fear and the brain teaches us that we exaggerate threats that are rare, spectacular, immediate, random -- in this case involving an innocent child -- senseless, horrific and graphic. Terrorism pushes all of our fear buttons, really hard, and we overreact.
 

Again, continue reading the rest of Bruce's piece here.  It's worth it.

I've never been fast enough to run the Boston Marathon, but I have run on the streets of that old city.  I cannot imagine the fear and the, well, terror, that must have flashed through everyone's heart who was there.  Sending all the good vibes I can muster.

 

Barbie Without Makeup

[image credit here]

I've long been of the opinion that if men don't "need" makeup--which most people would probably tend to agree with--then women don't either. 

Yet the use of makeup by women has become the default in our society so that if a woman opts out of makeup, her appearance is almost seen as abnormal.

But it's devil's advocate time.  I don't wear a beard, I pluck errant eyebrow and ear hair, I use deodorant...so much for me being "natural."  Thus natural is more of a continuum than a discrete black/white distinction.  And so it could be argued that my appearance is no more natural than the Barbie on the right.

This goes along with the perennial discussion we have on the perimeter about Survivor.  I think that the woman on the island look better au natural.  When they reconvene back in civilization for the results show, and the woman are all glammed up, it somehow seems like a step backwards (but do I notice whether the men are also glammed up...hmmmm?).

So let's boil the discussion down to what is relevant.  The overriding principle is that I am a staunch advocate for women's agency and freedom.  Thus my particular preferences in what I happen to find attractive are irrelevant: a woman can opt in or out of makeup as she wishes because it's her body...just like she should have the agency and freedom to decide whether or not to be pregnant.  It's just another facet of human female existence.

Actually this entire discussion could be considered as inappropriate, as it is none of my business how a woman elects to present. 

But I found the Barbie images interesting and wanted to put them out there.

 

Cats in Art: Miss Lily Walton (Valadon)

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I'm using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi.

This is part 6 of 7 of a multiweek study of the cat art of Suzanne Valadon. A French painter (1865-1838), she had quite the interesting life (summarized from Wikipedia):

Suzanne Valadon became a circus acrobat at the age of fifteen, but a year later, a fall from a trapeze ended that career. In Paris, she pursued her interest in art, first working as a model for artists, observing and learning their techniques, before becoming a noted painter herself. She modelled for Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (who gave her painting lessons) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir....Valadon frequented the bars and taverns of Paris along with her fellow painters, and she was Toulouse-Lautrec's subject in his oil painting The Hangover....Valadon painted still lifes, portraits, flowers, and landscapes that are noted for their strong composition and vibrant colors. She was, however, best known for her candid female nudes. A perfectionist, she worked on some of her oil paintings for up to 13 years before showing them....A free spirit, she wore a corsage of carrots, kept a goat at her studio to "eat up her bad drawings", and fed caviar (rather than fish) to her "good Catholic" cats on Fridays....Both an asteroid (6937 Valadon) and a crater on Venus are named in her honor.

 

Image credit Wikipaintings, Miss Lily Walton, 1922, Suzanne Valadon, oil on canvas, held in private collection.

 

 

Last week's post featured Raminou, and we see him again here.  Although he occupies but a fraction of the canvas, Raminou is clearly the focal point of this painting.  Truth be told, Miss Lily Walton is merely a prop for the kitty.  The title should have been Raminou Sitting on Some Lady's Lap.

 

The differences in facial expression between the two subjects is marked.  Raminou seems relaxed, yet alert and eager for human interaction; Lily, on the other hand, appears distinctly uncomfortable.  She just must not be a cat person, and that's her loss.

 

 

Dehydration: Think 7-Up, Not Mountain Dew

No, not your beverage of choice when you are super thirsty.  I'm talking about something pretty personal here: the color of your urine.

 

It's getting warm and it's time to consider running safely in the heat.

 

 

Image credit

Image credit

 

Once in a prior life I was on a long telecommunications survey project to Fort Sam Houston, in San Antonio, TX.  In July.  90+F plus 90% humidity. 

Where if you laid your manhole cover puller (kind of a crowbar) down in the sun, you'd better be wearing gloves when you picked it up, or you'd blister your hand.  Where according to the heat and humidity tables, you were only supposed to work about 20 minutes before taking a break in the shade.

Anyway, the base safety officer gave us a safety briefing required of all workers about working in the heat.  She told us something that always stuck with me: you can easily gauge your hydration levels by the color of your pee (and indeed whether or not you are even peeing).

She said, when you observe the color of your urine, you should think 7-Up, not Mountain Dew.  Your pee should be more on the clear side rather than a heavy, yellow color.

If your pee is too dark (or being produced in very limited quantities) you need to be drinking water.  Indeed, when you know conditions are such that you will be sweating, you need to be drinking well before you even get thirsty.

I have consistently applied this rule of thumb to Ultrarunning.  When Nature calls along the trail and you pull off for a bio-break, observe the color of your urine.  It may keep you out of serious trouble. 

This observation comes from the the school of hard knocks.  Once in a road race I was trying to PR on an ugly hot and humid day.  I didn't scale back my expectations but instead doubled down and ran even harder.  That worked OK for about 5 miles...then I remember suddenly feeling disoriented, unable to run straight, then nothing.  I woke up in an ambulance and had to be treated at the hospital for heat exhaustion.  So it's a big deal.

Think 7-Up, not Mountain Dew.

 

Your Tax Dollars Pay for This

Via Rising Hegemon, in a post called At What Price?

There was never any doubt that eventually the moral vacancy of the US Drone program would be put in the starkest light:

An American military airstrike in eastern Afghanistan near the Pakistan border was reported to have killed 18 people, including at least one senior Taliban commander but also women and children, raising the thorny issue of civilian casualties for the third time in roughly a week.

Of those 18 reported deaths, 11 were children.

But I'm sure reportedly getting that one senior Taliban commander TOTALLY offsets killing 11 children. Another American success.
 

We kinda sorta turn our heads and pretend that the drone strike program is one of those necessary evils in a tough world where there are bad guys.

But you and I just killed some children.

No, we didn't pull the trigger ourselves but we are responsible nonetheless.  The truth is that when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.  So the mere existence of a drone strike program practically guarantees that it will be used...and there will be "collateral damage."

I.e. children.

 

The Shadow of Turkey Vultures

[all photos by Gary]

On Tue day I took went to inspect "my" Reese Hollow shelter and trail to make sure their were no maintenance issues as spring gets fired up here in the mid-Atlantic.

I found the shelter fine and only one 8" blowdown tree along the trail that I will have to deal with next trip.  The spring at the shelter was running strong:

 

 

Then I took a run up the Reese Hollow Trail to the main Tuscarora Trail at the ridge top and turned south.  By this time it was noonish and warm, about 80F, and as I ran I was soon startled by a shadow suddenly darkening me and my path. 

 

It was the shadow of a turkey vulture hovering very close by overhead, virtually motionless in the wind.  The bird seemed unconcerned about me, but I was ecstatic over the nearby encounter.  It was so close--less than 50 feet--that I could have counted individual wing feathers.  After a few seconds of hovering, it broke off its equilibrium with the wind, turned up a wing and rode the air current down the slope of the ridge. 

 

By this time I had pulled out my camera and tried a shot.  The vulture is pretty much invisible here (the TINY speck to the left of the snag) but the opposite ridge to the east shows up well, all the way down to the southern end (right of the snag) where it drops off for the Potomac River water gap.

 

 

 

Enlarging the image above yields this parting shot of my friend, the vulture:

 

 

 

 

 

Fox News...and Ultrarunning

My in-laws, otherwise kind, gentle people with a lot of common sense, have Fox News on constantly in the background.  As a result, whenever we discuss anything having to do with current events, their immediate attitude on most topics is one of, well, outrage seems to be the best word I can think of.

Outrage about this.  Outrage about that.  Oh, and the outrage is always directed at those on the left, or progressives, or President Obama.

Rising Hegemon had a post the other day called "Have to admit, I'm starting to like Jim Carrey."

Clicking back thru to the original at the Huffington Post, it seems that Carrey released a video calling for stricter gun safety measures.  He immediately became a target for--you guessed it--outrage.

Carrey then responded to the blitz from the right with the following (I particularly think the colostomy bag reference is priceless):

Since I released my "Cold Dead Hand" video on Funny or Die this week, I have watched Fux News rant, rave, bare its fangs and viciously slander me because of my stand against large magazines and assault rifles. I would take them to task legally if I felt they were worth my time or that anyone with a brain in their head could actually fall for such irresponsible buffoonery. That would gain them far too much attention which is all they really care about.

I'll just say this: in my opinion Fux News is a last resort for kinda-sorta-almost-journalists whose options have been severely limited by their extreme and intolerant views; a media colostomy bag that has begun to burst at the seams and should be emptied before it becomes a public health issue.

I sincerely believe that in time, good people will lose patience with the petty and poisonous behavior of these bullies and Fux News will be remembered as nothing more than a giant culture fart that no amount of Garlique could cure.

I wish them all the luck that accompanies such malevolence.
 

  Oh, and the obligatory connection to Ultrarunning?  Outrage just isn't my thing.  About the only time I feel something along those lines is whenever I see litter in the backcountry.  I just cannot fathom, I will never understand, how anyone can think that their convenience and desire to be rid of a piece of litter by tossing it on the trail can trump the rights of the rest of us to live in a litter-free world. 

Sometimes These Blog Posts Just Write Themselves

On Friday the Today Show ran a Cadillac commercial.  Now normally I would not have paid the slightest attention to it, for there will never be a Cadillac in my future, but for some reason I actually paid attention to the words.

I copied down the narrative to share here because it seemed overtly suggestive to me.  I imagine the demographic the ad agency is going for is the "age 61-80 active seniors imagining kinky sex in the roomy backseat of our status symbol automobile" crowd.

Actual quote:

 

“Everywhere you look there’s legroom, leather, and wood.”

 

 

A Day of Firsts

[image credit Greencastle Flyers running club]

On Saturday for the first time is probably 7 or 8 years I ran a road race; this one was a local 5 miler, the 2013 Martin's Mill Covered Bridge Challenge.  I only ever run trail races nowadays, and very few of them.  But this race was close and I just felt like it.  Plus it crosses the now-closed-to-traffic bridge at about Mile 4, which is way cool.

When I looked over the app I noticed that for the first time I would fall into the last age group, 61-69.  The last age group.  Now, that's a bit disconcerting.

The final first this day was that I managed to actually win said age group, with a smoking hot time--wait for it--of a mere 45+ minutes!  My shoes practically ignited from the friction. 

Of, course, the depth of the 61-69 field was small; in fact, I don't recall seeing any other old guys around, so maybe I was the age group. 

Nevertheless, I am happy to admit that it was a cool experience to snag the trophy.  The victory was all the sweeter because I was able to share it with my good running buddy Jody, who unexpectedly showed up to run the race with me. So technically I had a pacer--hope they don't strip me of the trophy when this gets out!

 

Cats in Art: Raminou Sitting on a Cloth (Valadon)

From my continuing weekly Sunday series of cats in art. I'm using some ideas from the coffee table book, The Cat in Art, by Stefano Zuffi.

This is part 5 of 7 of a multiweek study of the cat art of Suzanne Valadon. A French painter (1865-1838), she had quite the interesting life (summarized from Wikipedia):

Suzanne Valadon became a circus acrobat at the age of fifteen, but a year later, a fall from a trapeze ended that career. In Paris, she pursued her interest in art, first working as a model for artists, observing and learning their techniques, before becoming a noted painter herself. She modelled for Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (who gave her painting lessons) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir....Valadon frequented the bars and taverns of Paris along with her fellow painters, and she was Toulouse-Lautrec's subject in his oil painting The Hangover....Valadon painted still lifes, portraits, flowers, and landscapes that are noted for their strong composition and vibrant colors. She was, however, best known for her candid female nudes. A perfectionist, she worked on some of her oil paintings for up to 13 years before showing them....A free spirit, she wore a corsage of carrots, kept a goat at her studio to "eat up her bad drawings", and fed caviar (rather than fish) to her "good Catholic" cats on Fridays....Both an asteroid (6937 Valadon) and a crater on Venus are named in her honor.

 

Image credit Wikipaintings, Raminou Sitting on a Cloth, 1920, Suzanne Valadon, oil on canvas, held in private collection.

 

 

So, as we did last week, we see the kitty Raminou, who must have figured prominently in Suzanne Valadon's life, since he appears by name in the title of at least three of her paintings.

 

Raminou--which, by the way, seems to have no English translation--looks eager and interested in human interaction in this painting.  Or maybe he's just ever-so-pleased to be sitting on that ever-so-fine piece of cloth. 

 

There's a kind of game the bride and I play with our cats: you place something new on the floor or on the bed, anything new, and the cats are powerless to resist sitting or laying on it.  They just can't help themselves, and while of course they know their catness is being exploited and manipulated, they just don't care.

 

I bet to get Raminou to pose, Suzanne Valadon made a big deal out of placing this cloth on the chair or table (I can't quite make out which).  Whereupon Raminou promptly hopped right up there and looked insufferably pleased with himself.

 

 

Where I Run: Compensate Much?

[image credit Gary]

The founding fathers who named the features and local governmental entities near Mercersburg, PA, seemingly had something else on their minds.

This shot is along Church Hill Road just east of town.  I've run by here a couple times.  This site will be on the route of the Flannery's Pub Run half marathon to be held on 13 April, right near the start, about a third of a mile into the race.

 

 

Local Homophobia, Reversed

[a courageous young woman, 16 year old Tiffany Bechtel, vice-president of the newly approved Gay Straight Alliance club...image credit Chambersburg Public Opinion]

Well, at least the official school board position was reversed last week (27 March), though I doubt the underlying homophobia was.

Back on 1 March I blogged about the 5-4 decision by the Chambersburg School Board to not allow a Gay-Straight Alliance club in the high school. This vote despite the warnings of the board's solicitor and pleas from students to allow the club. 

Then the ACLU threatened a lawsuit and the board backed off--or at least one formerly opposed member backed off--rendering the revote a narrow 5-4 approval of the club.

The local Chambersburg Public Opinion newspaper reported:

Board member Carl Barton reversed his initial vote on Feb. 27, when he helped reject the club. Also voting to approve the club Wednesday were Anne Boryan, Philip Miracle, Kim Amsley-Camp and Joan Smith.

Board President Stanley Helman and members Norman Blowers, Joe Tosten and Fred Rice did not vote to approve.

Barton read a statement prior to asking the board to rescind the previous vote. The board voted to rescind the decision by a 5-4 vote.

"There is no question that this board has a right and responsibility to approve and regulate non-curricular clubs," said Barton. "Like any other action of the board, a decision to approve or not approve can sometimes be followed by revelations that come to light only after the vote and challenge original assumptions upon which the decision was made."

Barton also said there is a need at CASHS for both a multicultural society and a GSA.
 

A big round of applause for Carl Barton and his changed vote, as well as to Anne Boryan, Philip Miracle, Kim Amsley-Camp and Joan Smith for their approval votes.

A big chorus of boos for Stanley Helman, Norman Blowers, Joe Tosten and Fred Rice, champions of bigotry.  They knew the vote had to pass, else the ACLU would rain fire on their heads.  They also knew that Mr. Barton's changed vote would mean the club would pass, thus they could still cast a meaningless NO vote with the minority...and maintain their "principles" and street creds with the local homophobic community.

Well played, but karma's a bitch, you know?

 

The Major Run That Wasn't

[image credit Gary]

Did you ever have a major run that wasn’t?  When you were all primed, prepped, and ready to go, and circumstances or fate conspired against you?

That was my yesterday.  I had planned a longish 20+ miler, using “my” trail and shelter (Reese Hollow) as a base of operations, and to be run largely on the Tuscarora Trail.

But first I had to do wound care of a family member (I volunteered so obviate the need for a home health care nurse to come in daily).  Next Mister Tristan (the 5-year-old human being, not the blog)  asked if I’d sit and snuggle him awhile. Then on the way to the trail, approaching from a different direction, I ran afoul of poor road signage (really, getting off course wasn’t my fault!) followed by a major road detour around a closed bridge that added 15 minutes to the trip.

The nail in the coffin was when I got to the trail and found the cable gate impassable.  It’s a long uphill (a mile) to where I was going to park and start my run.  As an overseer I have a key to the cable gate but so do renters who can use the Little Cove Cabin…and they locked the cable up wrong so that I could not open the gate.  Per attached image, the padlock on the right should have been through the hole on the opposite end of the short flat bar from the left padlock, not through the hole at the very end of the cable (this is actually a pretty ingenious arrangement for a gate that two separate entities access).

So I wound up spending an hour making multiple phone calls to report the situation and attempting to remedy it.

Bottom line?  I had a time window in which I needed to fit my run, and when the day unfolded as it did, the window had closed and I could not make Plan A happen.  Sure, I could have done a modified shorter run but when the planned one blew up, I was mentally done.  I threw in the towel and opted not to run at all.  Plan B was not an option--a modified run just no longer felt right, like a premonition that if I went ahead there would be some other obstacle or issue that I’d encounter, and if it occurred way up in the backcountry I could be seriously screwed.

 

 

Bush to Baghdad?

This post is actually a serious proposal, although it may come off as tongue-in-cheek.

March 2013 marked the 10th anniversary of the start of the war in Iraq.

There have been many, many retrospectives and analyses over whether the Bush administration lied about the real reasons for the war, whether that war was a good idea, how it was managed, etc. 

But by and large, 10 years later, most senior Bush administration officials remain unapologetic over the war, even while most Americans now view it as a mistake.

However, I have heard relatively little from the Iraqis themselves.  I'm sure their commentary is out there, but not making it into U.S. consciousness.  Perhaps here they have not been afforded much of a venue for making public comments.

So that is one of the reasons I am asking President Obama to tap former president George W. Bush to head up a special diplomatic mission...to Iraq.  Think of it as a listening tour or a series of town hall meetings, across the length and breadth of Iraq, to explain our justifications for going to war in 2003 and to listen firsthand to the Iraqi feedback.

After all, if you are going to throw this nation's blood and treasure into something like a large scale war, doesn't it deserve a full accounting to flesh out all the lessons learned to avoid repeats of any errors?

Of course, former president Bush could not refuse, for when a sitting president asks a former president for help, the answer is always, "Yes, Mr. President."

To assist Bush in his diplomatic mission, an entourage of experts would be required who were instrumental in war planning and management: Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Condoleeza Rice, Alberto Gonzales, George Tenet, Colin Powell, John Yoo, Paul Wolfowitz, and John Brennan, just to name a few.  Oh, and some generals, and the key cheerleaders in Congress at the time.  Plus there would be other individuals and disciplines not named here whose expertise should be represented as well. 

The press corps must, of course, include Judith Miller and Thomas Freidman of the New York Times as the senior correspondents.

Security would be provided by Haliburton or X-something.

It would be an interesting mission.

 

Shorts or Tights?

Although it's April Fools Day (I never know whether an apostrophe is called for there), I am woefully uninspired today.  And this is a legitimate post.

The real running question today is whether to go with shorts or tights, as the temp is about 40F.

I used to use the freezing mark of 32F as the dividing line between shorts and tights, but as my pace per mile has slowly raised over the years, so has that temperature threshold. I now use the 40F rule of thumb.

But I do know this, and often use it to argue in favor of tights when the temp is on the bubble: whenever it's 50-50 on tights vs. shorts and I opt to play it safe and go with the tights, I can say that I never have regretted the decision.  Unlike wearing too much on my torso, I have never had the sensation that my legs felt too hot.

For a strong recommendation of Race Ready tights, see my post of a couple months ago (disclaimer: I have no financial interest).