Nobody ever accused me of being excessively bright or technologically competent. I have never figured out how to add a video and an internet link to a Facebook post. I will have to ask Mark Zuckerberg next time I am at his house for dinner. Nobody ever accused me of being too tightly tethered to reality either.
I wanted to add the video of last month's winner in the Let it Snow Jukebox and the link to this month's Head Above Water with more of the foolishness the wonderful members of the Head Above Water Nation have come to love.
So, here is the video announcing last month's winner.
A song that, as far as I can tell, doesn't even mention snow. But, it has a lot of wind, rain, fog, and thunder. And it is a rockin' little number, too.
And here is this month's HAW (or #HAW, which has a nice ring to it, don't you think?).
Dylan makes his first appearance. It is from "Under the Red Sky" and I know there are people who say that anything after "Blood on the Tracks" is not really worth the time. But, I don't agree. In fact, I think "Time Out of Mind" and "Love and Theft" are two of the best albums ever made by anybody. If you can listen to "Standing in the Doorway" without feeling pain you haven't really lived, or at least lost. But, that is not what I wanted to tell you.
What I wanted to tell you is; Tomorrow I am going to write a post about my wife. Who is not crazy about being constantly referred to as "my wife." She does, however, like it much better than being called "the wife." Though, I don't think, in all my rambling I ever used the term.
Not "the mountain" but "a mountain."
Anyway, my wife, who is a determined person, has picked a Fire Lookout Post in Montana for our next vacation. It is at the top of mountain. There is no running water, no electricity and you have to park a mile away. So, we are going to have carry three days worth of food and water up the side of mountain. And she is so excited. She hates using a treadmill, but now, she drags me over the treadmills, and raises the elevation and "climbs the mountain." You can see the smile on her face. And it makes me laugh.
But, more on that tomorrow, if "the wife" doesn't deep six the idea.
I had my appointment with with the Orthopedist And, I was wrong, he was not a surgeon, he was something else. Maybe he was An Orthopedist, or maybe he was an Orthopedic specialist, but he was not going to operate on my knee. It was a relief. He did say knee replacement was an option, a voice in my head whispered; “not really.” And then he went over a few more. Most of which revolved around giving me a shot. In my knee. It sounded terrible. But, he seemed convinced it would help and I was already miserable and my wife was there, so I had no choice. Besides, what’s a little more pain?
Then, I saw the needle. He could have gone through my other knee. So, I did what any true man would have done, and looked the other way. It didn’t hurt at all. My wife said he used a topical analgesic to deaden the area, maybe it was my sobbing. He wrote a prescription for physical therapy, and I started treatment.
During my first appointment he asked what problems I was having.
“Inclines kill me, I can hardly navigate them. Driving is torture, my leg being stuck in one position sends pain coursing through my whole body, waves of agony.” He continued to type on his computer, and since I was nervous and the silence was terrible I went on for over five minutes about the things that make my knee feel bad. I might have told him about how I cry at the videos featuring acts of kindness that haunt my Facebook page.
“Stairs?” He asked, probably in self defense.
“I hardly use them. The doctor told me not to.”
“I go to the gym three times a week.” I said.
“Good,” He replied. “A good rule of thumb is if it hurts don’t do it.”
Then he gave me some exercises that really hurt.
“That hurts.” I said.
“Tough, suck it up, buttercup.” He replied.
Not really. They didn’t hurt much at all, though they were exhausting, (which was humiliating considering how easy they were) and he was very polite and kind. Which was surprising, since he was so muscular and intense it was easy to picture him eating a bowl of nails and bolts for breakfast. The fluorescent light reflected off his shaved, polished head, and his leg bounced nervously through the whole appointment. Plus, the poor man was born without the all important ability to smile, or he didn’t find my attempts at self deprecating humor worth the effort, which doesn’t make any sense.
He gave me some advice for being stuck in a car, “move your seat forward, so your leg is at a different angle.” And printed out the exercises and sent me on my way. I have to go 12 times over six weeks, and already have seen improvement. My second visit was last Wednesday, and they said I had achieved increased mobility. A proud moment.
There is still pain, and there are times, stuck in traffic I think I might abandon my car and walk home, except I love my car. The other night I was stuck behind a minivan with a “resist hate” bumper sticker, and we were inching along, and my knee was starting to ache, and my whole personality was beginning to transmogrify, Dr. Clark and Mr. Hyde, and I started to hate the driver of the minivan. “Yeah, well to hell with you, buddy.” But, eventually he took the ramp to I270 and I took Route 62 and we were friends again. Life has its ups and downs, doesn’t it?
Yesterday I made my annual trip to the Arnold Schwarzenegger Fitness Expo. A few steps with a destination. Most times I just walk, try to get some steps, if the walk sign is lit at the intersection, I walk, if not I change direction. Exercise using the laws of fluid motion, harder to hit a moving target. My latest Fit Bit will remind me. "Only 175 steps to go this hour." if it thinks you are not trying hard enough. So, I change direction and keep moving.
"Where did you go?" Someone will ask when I return from my lunch time walk.
"I went south for a while, then turned west, then headed north along Front street then kind of headed back, a little east, a little north and a bit of south mixed in." I try to remember all the directions but it never works very well. I'm not good with directions, I haven't even mastered the basics of left and right. I'm probably lucky to make it back to work.
But, sometimes I have a goal, and I can shuffle along with a purpose. And shuffle back, too.
The Arnold Fitness Expo brings in people from all over. Some to compete, some to exhibit, others to dream. It is always the dreamers that I enjoy.
The Family of Man They come, thinking it is time to start getting fit. But, nobody, none of us, are ever sure how to get started. A whole convention center filled with displays, booths, competitions all built around the central goal of getting fit seems like a good place to start.
So they come, a pilgrimage from Tennessee, Virginia, Michigan, seeking guidance. And they carry out bags of stuff. Big, bulging bags of powders, and neoprene compression sleeves, and videos, and hope. Mostly hope.
Most of the people with the biggest bags look as though they need the most help. Aging, heavier, and probably under orders from a doctor to get in better shape. Hypertension, heart disease, diabetes, they hammer away at us with these terrors, and tell us we need to get in better shape, and then they schedule our next appointment. And we walk away, feeling fat, lazy, suicidal and lost.
I fight back by going to the gym three times a week, and chasing my steps limping through the streets and parks of Columbus with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Others seek the aid of the professionals. People bulging with muscles, who've made a life out of chiseling their body into a rippling monument to exertion.
I see people working toward that end at my gym. They have all of the protein and pills and wonder devices, but they also are screaming with exertion, and pushing themselves and each other without mercy. They work hard, harder than I would ever be willing to work. I salute them.
It is the dreamers and worried souls that draw me to the festival. A chance to see others who are a little worried, and trying to improve, who want to live better, feel better. Those are the competitors I want to watch, I want to win.
I decided to start exercising. Getting older, heavier, more liable to suffer the effects of health related illness, or injury made it seem a wise choice. The only choice. Aging is difficult, aches, pains, constant worry and concern. It is impossible to escape the gripping fear of doctors, tests, and the terrible results waiting after every blood draw, x-ray, or scan.
“My knee hurts. Has for weeks.” I will tell my wife.
“You should go see the doctor.” She will reply. No thanks, who needs that kind of pressure. Who knows what he will dig up, what he will find, if he goes looking deep enough. And he will dig, and probe, and ask until he backs me into a corner from which there is no escape, no hope of rescue. I will be forced to confess, rat myself out just to avoid any more accusations.
“I did it, Doc, I didn’t take my medicine, and I have been drinking soda pop, and eating potato chips. I’m guilty.” That’s when it gets bad.
So, it seemed much smarter to just get in shape, cut down on the doctor visits, and take better care of myself. So, I joined a gym. The YMCA. I know, it’s not a real gym, it’s not where real fitness guys go, it is workout lite. But, we got a discount, since my wife works at a school, and since I have never been to a gym before and had no real plan and assumed that my zeal for fitness would not last long, it made sense.
I am still going, every other day. And I love it.
At first it was very difficult, I didn’t know what to do, or how to do it. And I was sure it was only a matter of time until someone said “hey, you’re not a workout person, you don’t know how to use this stuff, beat it. Come back when you don’t look so ridiculous.”
It was more like guerilla exercise, sneak in, work out, run out the door, don’t make eye contact, try to blend in. Get in, get out. Too bad I couldn’t go in the middle of the night. “Who owns the night?” I do, kind of, if no one else is there.
After a couple of weeks I noticed that I didn’t have to rely on subterfuge, camouflage. Nobody cared I was there, nobody even noticed. Everybody was just exercising, and not paying attention to anybody else.
And you know what, there were all sorts of people. Young, firm, fit people. So athletic, doing exercises the seem impossible, lifting enormous weights, Atlas like weights, bouncing jumping, twisting, contorting in ways that make me hurt just watching. Old people who limped in, carried themselves all the way to the treadmill in the back. Hooking their cane on the rail, resolutely piling up the steps. You wonder why they put them so far from the entrance. And all the types in between my category, the type in-between. I realized this was the perfect gym for me.
There are groups, mostly older people, who come, hang out together, drink coffee, work out a little, and talk. They seem very close, a special bond of friendship. Forged in carrying Styrofoam cups, conversation, and occasional forays into the world of exercise.
There are groups of younger guys. Serious about lifting. Staying mostly at the free weights, encouraging each other, in manly, macho ways. “One more, One more, C’mon!” Their dedication shows, they are big, muscular, and lift insane barbells loaded with huge plates. They spend a lot of time adding and subtracting weights, preparing for the next assault. It almost seems a symbiotic relationship, lifter, and weights in harmony, forever.
Groups of women gathering at the door, chatting excitedly, waiting for the current class to end. They work in unison, to music, and at the direction of a leader with headset microphone. A leader who, from the safety of the open exercise room, can sound sound dictatorial, harsh, unforgiving. “Up, reach, higher, higher than that.” You almost expect the instructor to start swearing, Iron Mike Ditka teaching Jazzercise, “Move it, you worthless **#$%%++!”
I made my long suffering wife start going, so I would have a workout buddy. Poor girl, but she is starting to enjoy herself, or has accepted her responsibility anyway, and pretends. So, she goes. And since she is so charming, and outgoing a lot of people know her, and talk to her, which makes it look like I have a lot of friends. Nobody knows they are just waving and smiling at my wife. Man, do I look popular, as long as she is there.
My wife does not stay for the cardio portion of the work out. I don’t know why, and have never asked, not a good idea to mess with your workout “gang.” I plug in my headphones, select a machine and rock and roll my way to better health (sometimes I listen to audio books, thanks to the Columbus Metropolitan Library), and occasionally it will be a podcast, but mostly it is music. It is so easy to get lost in a song.
And here is another great thing about working out at the YMCA. I rock and roll. Tapping the handles in time to the music, I probably sing along. Jerry Garcia and me crooning;
“This heart of mine, could never see
What everybody knew but me
Just trusting you was my great sin
What can I do, you win again”
Man Hank Williams understood pain, torment, and the Grateful Dead could turn it into a long, sad, melodic anthem that will push you through the most painful “rolling hills” selection on the elliptical machine. And nobody cares that I am singing and tears are streaming down my face. Occasionally someone will come along and say, “don’t worry, everything will be ok.” Invariably, they will offer to buy me a beer.
One week from today, actually a week from Monday, is Memorial Day. It is a very solemn day for many good reasons. Most of which I ignore, I am excited by the three day weekend. I like my job, and right now it is pretty easy, but a three day weekend is a gift from the gods of leisure. It is a holiday provided through the beneficence of the US government, which almost makes me a little sorry for all of the bad things I've said about them over the years, almost.
But, my plans involve yard work, a trip to the gym, and a new video about going to the gym. I have been working on the various sequences, and effects, and transitions. It is going to be great, I just bought The Greatest Hits by Hot Tuna. So there will be cool music, if you like Hot Tuna.
Speaking of Hot Tuna, Jorma Kaukonen is from Ohio, and runs a guitar camp in southern Ohio. Which is cool if you want to play guitar with a legend and you can make it to southern Ohio.
Another interesting Hot Tuna fact, one time time when were visiting family in Sioux City Iowa, and we were staying at the Stony Creek hotel. We happened to be there during a festival, I think it is called Awesome Biker Nights, and Hot Tuna was playing at the festival, and stayed in the same hotel. Which is kind of cool.
I went to get some ice, and actually saw them come in to the lobby. It was a little sad, because they could hardly walk, they looked exhausted, touring as often and as long as they have takes a toll I guess. Still it was cool, if you like Hot Tuna, and happened to be in the lobby. If you were I didn't see you, sorry about that I wasn't ignoring you.
So, I will be busy as will Jorma Kaukonen, and I am sure you have things to do. But, if you see me say hello, and if you are Jorma Kaukonen thanks for all the great music, maybe I will run into you again, and that would be very cool.
A lot of people don't know I am whimsical, and easily distracted. It has always been a curse. I get lost in things. Normally it only bothers the people who expect me to do something, I am usually pretty happy. It does not take a lot to start an "episode," almost anything will do.
Yesterday +Jeremy Crow and the Quote Whacko featured the wisdom of Lou Reed, a legendary rocker. Lou Reed was a shining star to many, and the quote took me back in time. On the drive from work to the gym I listened to White Light, White Heat, and Heroin, then whatever came on, which is smarter than getting in an accident going 60 miles an hour.
And I remembered a movie from the 80s with Lou Reed playing an aging rock star (go figure). I don't remember too much about the movie, but it involved a lot of rapidly escalating, ridiculous predicaments, and a lot of people smoking a lot of pot.* Lou Reed was trying to write one last hit song using anything that happened as fodder for the lyrics.
When a limo was taking Lou Reed somewhere, something absurd happened and the driver and front seat passenger started screaming "We're all going to die!" And Lou Reed started strumming his guitar in the back seat and started singing softly "we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die." I started laughing driving down the freeway, that scene still kills me. It is the only part of the movie that I remember well. And I thought, 'the Quote Whacko can be pretty cool.'
After lifting I went to do cardio. Last night it was the rowing machine I cranked the resistance to high. Visual imagery is an important component in the successful use of cardio equipment, otherwise it is a boring slog of painful repetition. Last night I decided to row around Ellis Island, and what the heck I would listen to the Velvet Underground classic Rock and Roll while doing it. On my phone is the live version from Lou Reed Rock and Roll Animal. A great song, wonderful tempo, and fantastic guitar. But, it is about two hours long.**
When they hit the bass solo I had been around Ellis Island several times, left the Upper Bay and was out past Montauk. When the guitar and drums kicked in to signal the end of the solo I was halfway to Europe, my arms, legs and back were cramping, and my lungs were starting the self destruct sequence. There was too much pain to reach the resistance knob and turn it down.
On and on I went, into the darkness, engulfed by agony, no end in sight, "round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perditions flames" and I saw a white light, it called to me, and I had to strap myself to the mast to resist the temptation. And I cursed the Quote Whacko, and the hate drove me. ***
But, I made it, and today limp is hardly noticeable. And I have found it in my heart to forgive the Quote Whacko. And there was much rejoicing.
* Though that might have been me.
** Not really, but it is long.
*** Please accept my apologies for the abuse of reference and metaphor in this paragraph, but I need to wrap this up.
Recently I started exercising, real going to the gym, picking up heavy stuff, sweating, grunting (well, I don't really grunt, normally I am too winded), pushing myself to the limit exercising. Last night, there was a new machine, and I asked one of the trainers "hey, is that a new machine?" Genius, right?
He said it was, indeed, a new machine. "Have you used it?"
"No," I said, "I will wait."
"Go ahead, try it. It has all these different grips and adjustments for the cables. Give it a shot."
"Far out, thanks." I said. It was so exciting to use a new machine, thrilling. And it hit me, oh my God, I am a gym geek.
But, I am nothing if not enthusiastic. I threw myself into my workouts. Enthusiasm is good, but keeping track of what you are doing is good, too. Looking blankly at a machine or weights and trying to remember how much you lifted last time takes a lot away from a work out.
So, I got a fitness app. And it is great. It tracks my workouts, and the weights and reps, and now I know. But, I am still kind of new at this whole fitness gig. And there are a lot of exercise machines and exercises that I do that are not on the app. Or maybe they are, and I am just using the wrong words.
No problem, it has a robust, easy to use Custom Exercise section. Unfortunately, standing in front of a machine typing instructions on the virtual iPhone keyboard is not really much of a workout.
So, I had this great idea. I find exercises I like online, and take the picture and move it to Dropbox, and then download it onto my camera roll, and put it into the fitness app. Simultaneously, almost, I copy the description using Microsoft One Note clip tool, which syncs automatically to my phone, and the paste that into the correct field on the Custom Exercise portion of the app. It works great, sitting at my computer, getting ready for my next workout..
Then it hit me, I have become such a nerd. How the mighty have fallen.
Joining a gym is sort of intimidating. People walk with purpose and intent, stern and efficient. Finishing one set of exercises, striding to the next, a straight line of exercise geometry. Nobody smiles, or stops to talk.
Until recently the only time I had ever entered a gym was to play basketball, but age and injury forced me to retire. Now, the gym is where I go to exercise. But, it still has to be fun, I need to enjoy my time. I don't want to become a person who glares from station to station, unwavering, looking like he is being sentenced for a crime.
I am starting to work on a plan, "tonight I will do ab crunches on the ball, then cable rows, and dips, and curls, and, other things that I can't think of right now." But, truth is, planning is not a strength of mine. Life has taught me that learning to flow with change is more important, or maybe I am just not very disciplined. Take your pick. I will not be offended.
Honestly, some of the exercise machines are still a complete mystery to me, so I watch other people use them and then I try to imitate what they did. There is one machine in the free weight section that is completely alien looking, and I still haven't seen anybody use it. It stands right in the middle, and people walk around it, and take weights off of it for barbells or other machines, but nobody ever sits, or leans on the apparatus, and starts lifting. It has become an obsession, I will watch until somebody uses it.
And, while drifting from place to place, headphones in, Dylan, or the Dead, or Tull or somebody
rocking and rolling through the workout with me, I smile at people, and say hello. And sometimes they smile back, and sometimes they don't. Dylan and I don't care. We are there to improve ourselves, and that includes being nice to people.
I am at a loss as to why all of these people with the same goal, exercise, aren't more open, and friendly. We are all working towards the same goals, being healthier. But, we are not going to make eye contact, or acknowledge each other.
In many ways it reminds me of my time in a Catholic high school. I was not a good student, and was only biding my time until I could reach escape velocity. But, I wasn't a real trouble maker or problem, either, but when trouble came, it came in the form of an angry principal. And his anger and loathing were palpable, and the air was thick with rage. I always wondered how he could be so angry, we were both Catholics, we were not that far apart, and yet it always seemed that he hated me intensely. In all fairness, I did deserve to be talked to, I was lazy and apathetic, but in my own defense I was not mean, violent, or a real distraction for anybody.
My gym, technically not my gym, (but sometimes it is so empty that it might as well be my gym) is located in the school building where my wife works. It is kind of small, and has limited equipment, but employees, their spouses and retired employees can use it for free. Someday I may outgrow it and have to move up to a membership gym, but until then I love the place. There are weights in there I have yet to lift.
Since it is so small just a few extra people can seem like a crowd. And a couple of times a year there are several extra people. Right after New Year there is always a big crowd, people who have decided to really whip themselves into shape this year. I always root for them, silently, hoping they have the fortitude, and desire to stay the course. But, by the end of February they have thinned out, and it becomes the Life Explained Memorial Gymnasium again. It is nice to have the place to myself, but the promises dying makes a sad sound.
When school starts there is always a wave of fitness seekers. It is mostly young teachers, and they are young, brash, and confident. It is a magic time and I feed off their enthusiasm. Waves of enthusiasm flood the small room, you can almost see the good cheer. They come in together, talking, smiling, joyful, and it really boosts the atmosphere. Soon the groups get smaller, and then stop altogether. It makes me a little melancholy, like losing a friend.
But, I keep going, and think to myself, if these people would commit a few more weeks, they would understand the way it makes life seem a little better, things are a little easier when you exercise regularly. Last time I had my blood pressure tested it was 121 over 71! I was walking on air!
Here is my advice, exercise, regularly, and you will feel like Richard Thompson and me.
+S. Bradley Stoner Here is the rough draft of the ABhancer ad. It needs a little work, and we have to talk to Kris, but, I think he lives in Texas, do we have anybody down there? For the music I thought we would go with something hip and trendy, until the realization I don't know anything, hip, or trendy. So I chose Wipeout, by the Surfaris, because I have been grooving on some surf guitar lately. Check it out,
The end needs some thin, happy people, but most of the thin people here are pretty cranky, probably hungry, so we may need somebody with some photoshop skills. And a sunset.
In a disturbing turn of events an airline is going to start weighing passengers. One more reason to hate flying. Apparently it has to do with flight safety. They don't want their precious planes carrying too much dead weight. While there is no mention of reaching a limit, or what they plan to do with the information, it seems natural they are going to stop letting people on at a certain point, or charge more above a certain threshold.
It is an incentive to lose some weight. Let's face it, it is bad enough you're carrying around a few extra pounds, and now you get bumped to a later flight. Worse than that it will be filled with a bunch of thin, fit, healthy people, eating kale, and drinking green crap. "no thanks, I'll just walk to South America."
Or, maybe they will allow you, but not your luggage. "OK, you can get on lardass, but you will need to buy new clothes."
But, if they insist on doing this it seems like they are stopping short of really taking advantage of the opportunity. They should screen your blood pressure, and serum cholesterol. Nobody wants to be on a flight with a potential heart attack or stroke victim, that would make flying even worse.
And what about a complete psychological workup. Crazy people are the least comfortable people to fly with. I have a pie chart, and a list proving the phenomenon.
But, this is only fair if they let the passengers have a say. We should be allowed to see what everybody else weighs, and the results of the Rorschach tests, particularly the pilots, and flight attendants. We know they are nuts, it would be nice to know the extent.
I have the perfect solution. Everybody who is scheduled to fly has to meet the day before and have dinner together. We can have the weigh ins, and the examinations as a group, Kind of a meet and greet, it could be fun. Something fun, the person with the highest LDL cholesterol gets a free bag of Pork Rinds. The heaviest person will
In December of 2014 I decided to start going to the gym and exercising. My wife had a new job, and she was taking the stairs everyday instead of the elevator and walking every night, and had become noticeably happier, and more energetic. That was all the motivation necessary. So, off I went.
It was new, and being a little (or a lot) flaky made it uncomfortable. "Sweating with the strangers." But, I didn't give up. Week after week I would drag myself, sometimes unwillingly, to the small gym, and exercise. Soon, it became a treat, recreation. With a slight change in diet (mostly just more fruit, vegetables, and water) I started making real progress. Clothes that hadn't fit for a long time were comfortable, I felt better, happier, and I was hooked.
Then, I started reading the Health Whacko, and +Jeremy Crow's advice on exercise, and +Rachel Rennie's encouraging posts on determination, and choices, and the benefits were immediate, and manifold.
Now walking into the gym is fun, and walking out brings a sense of accomplishment. Of course, there are people who will try to lessen the experience by talking about the terrible experience, or injury they had working out. Or criticize the gym (it is small) and its lack of equipment. But, I don't care. My doctor actually smiled when he heard about the new routine. And there are many people who say "I wish I had time to work out," and I just tell them "so do I" but I leave off the part about how they might not be such a jerk. That wouldn't help.
If you are even considering beginning to exercise, do it. But first subscribe to the Health Whacko, it is a constant source of technique and encouragement.
Here a brief video tour of my gym.* I didn't snap any photo's of the weight area, as there were several girls in workout clothes, and it might have been uncomfortable for all of us. I will add those later. So thank you Jeremy, and Rachel, I am happy to say I, too, am a Health Whacko.
*Thanks to Halftone the app, "Bad Moon Rising" thanks to 16 Horsepower, a band I love, but am never really sure why. They are very intense.
I don't normally do this, but I feel strongly about smoking, more accurately, not smoking. I quit four years ago in July, so every year I have at least one post about quitting. And, I go back to the About.com forum where I received a lot of support, and made some great friends, and write what they call a"milestone post." Since I have not done anything here, yet, and this post was featured by the moderator, I thought I would just put it here. Saves a lot of typing, you know
Four years ago today (actually, it was yesterday) was the last cigarette. It was a lonely feeling at the time, a little scary, and clouded with uncertainty. I liked smoking, people are going to say I didn't, it was just an illusion caused by the addiction, ok, but it felt like I liked smoking. Heck, I looked cool smoking, ok I probably looked almost as stupid as I was, but smoking was the dumbest thing I ever did and it would be awful to look that stupid. Whatever the case, I quit, and it was the smartest thing I ever did, my doctor said it was the best health care decision a person could make. He was right.
Today, I feel too good to be this old. Happy, cheerful, free, and healthy, and it started with a decision to quit smoking. Making the decision was easy, following through could be tough at times, but every day got easier, every week was a victory. And they piled up, faster and faster. Soon it was a year, a year without a cigarette, wow! That was amazing. Who knew it was even possible?
It is liberating being an ex smoker, no more stopping to buy a pack, no more making sure there is a lighter handy, no more washing up in an attempt to cover the odor. Life is simpler, and better. I work downtown in a medium sized midwestern city, and walk around after eating lunch, and the little clusters of smokers, huddled together, outposts against the coming sanity, brings feelings of sympathy (for them) and pride (for me).
There are so many problems with smoking, least of which is the ridiculous expense. A person could probably fund a presidential campaign on the money spent smoking. It is a hideously expensive, and that is the least of the problems. Smoking kills people, slowly, insidiously, painfully, humiliating them, bankrupting them, destroying them. And I did this by choice?!
My Mother quit when she was 85 years old, her doctor told her she had to, or it was going to take her vision. After many years, I don't even know how many, she quit. She carped, and complained, and griped, but it was a source of great pride, that she managed to quit, at 85. But, she had no idea, nor did I, that smoking is terrible for your eyes. 85 years old, smoked most of her life, and she quit, so can you, and you should. An interesting anecdote, my mom was kind of a handful and made my younger sister promise to tell everyone she died prematurely (if that is possible at 91) because they made her quit smoking.
I exercise, real exercise, three times a week, at the gym, treadmills, elliptical machines, weights, resistance training, real exercise, and I feel great. Better than I have in years. Happier, healthier, nicer to people, a little wealthier, and all because I quit smoking.
Think about it, quitting smoking will help you see better, live longer, feel happier, and have a little more money. Yes. there are moments of difficulty, temptation, even longing, but they pass. There is an old saying in the fitness world (imagine that, me in the fitness world) "If the question is not hunger food is not the answer." What question could possibly have the answer "smoking a cigarette."
Here is a song about freedom, it is old so some of the imagery is a little dated, and it might not be exactly appropriate for freedom from smoking, but these guys are cool, and I am sure would be very happy to help you quit. Besides, no matter what the question, "Rock and Roll," is always a good answer.
As part of my new, fit, healthy life style I walk at lunchtime. It is a good way to add a few extra steps, and see some different things. I work right on the edge of Downtown, not too far from the arena district. There are a lot of businesses around there, and a lot of restaurants, and there are always a lot of people around. It is filled with life and energy, and easy to get lost in the sea of humanity.
But, not so easy that I haven't noticed strange things, dark things happening on the periphery. Things that the average person may not see, or comprehend, things that only an experienced blogger with an eye trained in the art of observation would notice.
One of the things I've noticed is how many people are exactly the same. Not just remarkably similar, but identical copies. Or, possibly can move in ways that defy natural laws and human abilities.
For example, I'm walking south down North Front Street, and I see a person, dressed in a particular manner, carrying a particular purse, pack, bag, or satchel, walking north on North Front Street. No big thing, a lot of people like to walk up Front Street in the Arena District, though I am not sure why, all of the action is on High Street, just a wide, long block over. Including the Chicken Truck, serving chicken for lunch, and being actively advertised for by a giant dancing, singing chicken.*
But, then I go left on West Spring Street and am now heading east, and see the same person, wearing the same clothes, carrying the same accessory. Either that person is exactly like that other person, or that person pulled some enormous feat of speedy travel.** The block at the intersection of Spring and Front is huge, and it takes almost 2,000 steps to get around (OK, I just guessed, I will check the actual I will check the actual steps nest time I walk that way. Isn't technology wonderful?). But, something is definitely amiss here.
The theoretical physicists, and the forensic biologists are working on the problem now. But, Dr Dawg has a theory. Between the late 50s and the early 70s, coinciding roughly with the end of the baby boom, they ran out of molds, or forms, or whatever they use in the production of humans, and they had to start recycling. So, there are many people who are cut by the same die. Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose.
Either that, or maybe there are not nearly as many people as we thought in this town. It is just a few people moving around a lot, and pretty quickly, in an effort to win more federal money.
Either way it is a little creepy, right up there with a giant, singing, dancing chicken. And people eat that stuff?
*I am pretty sure it is just a guy dressed in a chicken suit. Since we all know birds are direct line descendants of dinosaurs I am not really keen to get close enough to find out.
**We haven't ruled out time travel, yet, but we haven't quite figured out how to do that, and we are pretty smart.
After two weeks of vacation, endless hours sitting in the car, not eating as well as I should have, and not exercising at all it was back to the gym last night. Since it was kind of introductory, I decided to forgo the podcasts, and "kick out the jams, brothers, and sisters."*
Hitting the treadmill, starting slowly, Van Morrison singing "Jackie Wilson Said (I"m in Heaven when you smile). A nice tempo to start, cruising along, me and Van, and when he sang "honey child, you make my day" we were hitting our stride. Breathing and moving, blood flowing, heart beating, sing it Van!
"True Love" by the Del Lords was next, it was a great way to start the high intensity part of the interval training, and we were cruising. Turn up the speed, turn up the volume, and go.
"Found a parking spot, all right,
Tonight's gonna be my night."
Man, those guys are great, and when the song ended and the speed was reduced, the heartbeat was up where it should be, and things were great. It is a song with a driving beat, and a happy, positive message, a song that can make a person smile. It is about a guy who goes to work, comes home, and goes out to find the love of his life. He can "feel it any minute, gonna look up and find a true love." Call me naive, but that kind of hope flying in the face of desperate odds is powerful magic.
The Del Lords write from a variety of places, anger, sadness, desperation, and joy equally well, and they can drive a song with hammering drums, and blazing guitars, and I love those guys. They are the ultimate in cool.
But, it was time to cool down with the mellow sounds of "One more cup of coffee" from Bob Dylan. A song about, well who knows what it is about, but the message is universal, undeniable, and customizable. To this day that song gives me the chills.
Not really my gym, and not really Patty Smyth.
This cycle repeated for twenty minutes, and it seemed wise to finish big. My last high intensity burst was set to "Goodbye to You" from Patty Smyth and Scandal. A song written by Zach Smith. A scathing diatribe against the vanity of mankind, and the excesses of modern relationships. Yes, it was written and performed in the eighties, but mankind and relationships don't really change much. And in evolutionary terms, the eighties were only minutes ago, so neither has changed at all.
It is not a long song, less than 4 minutes, so the speed was cranked up on the treadmill, and we were off. Four minutes, at that pace, that far into my first workout back from vacation was like an eternity, and when she sang, "Goodbye to you, so long darling," she could have been talking to me, my life was slipping away, one gasping, painful breath at a time. The room was getting darker, but that may have been the motion activated lights, since I was the only one there, and I was set to expire. Maybe the sensors can tell, but that is another blog post.
And, then it hit me, Patty Smyth and Scandal tried to kill me. It is not clear why, but I forgive them. Tolerance, acceptance and forgiveness is what makes life worth living. So, Patty, we are still friends, and you are still one of the greatest voices in music, and I will see you Wednesday, at the gym, earlier in the workout.
Now that I am working out (a lifter) it seemed only natural that I would attend the Arnold Fitness Festival. An extravagant, hectic, crowded assembly, packing the Columbus Convention Center from one end to the other. Attendees run the gamut from extremely fit to fitness challenged (I like to think of myself as fitness challenged Plus, working to physically fit light). Having never been there before I was not sure what I would see. What I did see was a little amazing, a little frightening, and a lot of entertaining. Convention centers share several characteristics. Most are designed around a long central hall, with large rooms, with big exhibition rooms branching off at more or less regular intervals. Often these rooms have pocket style walls allowing for adjustable sizes, and numerous configurations. But, if you want to take the pulse of an event you want the long central hall. That is where everybody congregates, where all of the meetings take place. When viewed from the proper perspective the central hall is like a combination of a parade, and a an airport terminal, mixed with a little bit of reunion, maybe family, maybe school, possibly even neighborhood. Hugs, handshakes, smiles, and laughter ring through the hall, repeated down the length of the hall, and echoing, inviting and warm, it can give you hope. This perspective is from above the fray. Climb the stairs to the upper hall, look down on the masses, and it looks happy and joyous. Of course, the view from the main floor is a little different. Down there it is competition, survival of the fittest, a mad dash to an imaginary finish line. Competitors weaving in and out of the slow moving traffic. Down here the happiness, and pleasantries are few, fleeting, and on the fringes where nothing is moving. Soon, the flow will even grab the celebrants, sweeping them along in flood of humanity, toward the next available eddy. Oddly enough, both views are correct. And when you go to these things you have to enjoy both. There is a sense of omnipotence looking down on the masses from an elevated position, safe and sound, but the real feel of the festival is among the throng feeling the energy of the crowd. If you are looking for insight, and exercise tips, though, you are probably in the wrong place. The body builders are doing a job, and performing a routine, the vendors want to sell their supplements or equipment, which is fine, because that is why they came. So, don't expect any revelations. If that sounds unreasonable ask yourself what advice you expect. Work very hard, and push yourself to the very edge, and then push yourself some more. Make lifting and exercising a life style, sacrifice, toil, slave, and work, work, work, and you can be muscular beyond belief. We all know that fitness requires effort, would that it didn't, but it does. There are no shortcuts, that's why people admire body builders, not because it is easy. If you have the opportunity go to the Fitness Expo, or anything similar, it is fun, and there are crowds, and a herd like solidarity, and all of the colors of life. People like you, and people who are nothing like you, and all of the types in between. There are exhibits, and displays and the energy of all that life crammed in such a small place. But, if you go to the Arnold Festival in Columbus, walk 3 blocks west and hit the North Market for some hot dogs and potato chips at the "Best Wurst," you will need the protein.
Last night was the start of the third month of going to the gym. It has been wonderful! My youth was an endless cycle of wretched, self-destructive behavior that often manifests itself in unexpected and painful ways. Yesterday while loading my "gym bag"* I felt a twinge in my lower back, on the left side. A twinge that turned, quickly, into a pang, and slid right into a debilitating ache of unbelievable agony**
After an internal debate that lasted most of the day I decided to go ahead and hit the gym. Reasoning that I could, at least, do my aerobic workout and then see how I felt. Oddly enough, the treadmill loosened up my sore back. And I managed to get my heart rate up and maintain the level for quite a while. In fact, things were going so well I had to stop and find a pod cast. Honestly, I thought it would be over so quickly that something new was unnecessary. But, soon things felt so good, I was on to "Sparta" from the "In Our Time" podcast series.
I am researching Sparta, and Athens (and the animosity and competition for supremacy that led to the awful excesses of the Peloponnesian war) for my new blog My New History Blog. I really like the "In Our Time" series, it is British, and the accent adds authority, but, the guests always have titles like "Ancient History Chair, at Oxford." So, it is not only the accent that gives the show credibility. Plus, they provide a lot of detail, in a way that keeps moving, and adds life to societies long gone.
After spending a good deal of time, and a great deal of effort, on the treadmill, I was feeling pretty loose, and ready for some resistance training. Since my back was still a little sore I decided to use the free weights. I have been meaning to branch out a little anyway, and the resistance machines really seem to require a whole body effort. Plus, I read that varying your workout provides increased benefits, so this was the ideal time.
After asking the attendant about the best way to start I jumped right in. Dang, it is a completely different workout! They have no barbells, only dumbbells, but it is crazy how difficult it can be to move those heavy, little units from one place (down by your body, laying on the bench) to the top of a path described by the full extension of your arms. Not only do you have to lift them, you have to control them, they wobble, and twist, and almost seem animated. It is less lifting weights, and more wrestling weights. It is a constant struggle to keep them from taking off and going wherever they want. It was an eye opening experience, and I loved it. This morning, it is still with me, in my shoulders, my sides, and my arms.
I have decided to make free weights part of my weekly routine. And, I have decided to start my history blog with Greece, it was going to start with Egypt, and Thutmose, but since I am in the middle of this podcast, and have a book about the subject, and it is my blog, after all, it will not be chronological, and proceed in a random order. Don't worry, when they publish the book, and make the movie we can arrange it in a more orderly fashion.
Since I am a "lifter" now I may go to the Arnold Fitness Festival this weekend, so keep your eye open for that post, it will be great, or at least different.
*Technically, it is a back pack, that pulls duty as my "writers bag" my "travel bag" and occasionally my "photographers bag," though almost all of my photos are taken on my iPhone™ so normally my "photographers bag" is just a pocket.
**Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it hurt, a lot.
This is the third month of "the new tim" regimen. In many ways it is going so much better than I had hoped, in others not so brightly.
Physically, I am thrilled with my progress, and effort. This is the start of my third month of exercise. And each week I push myself a little harder, and I feel so much better. Part of it is, probably, the healthier diet, vegetables and fruit with almost every meal, and the addition of a multi-vitamin as part of my evening pill popping adventure, which has now reached 4, and sometimes 5, if I take Ibuprofen (only sometimes).
I need that discipline in other areas of my life, I am still not dedicated enough to writing, and researching. Research is almost lackadaisical, ad-hoc, inconsistent, built around the things I want to study. To expedite this, and build good habits, I have started a new blog, located here,
It will be a jumping off point for all of my research into the past to support a novel I have decided to write, about a scientist, time travel, ancient, and future armies, the potential destruction of a treasured national landmark, and several small towns in Nebraska, Illinois, Iowa, and South Dakota.
My cousin Mike has a Facebook page about a book he is writing, and I may try that, I don't know. I have enough trouble with focus, and one more thing to update would probably be too distracting.
Sitting here, thinking about this, the question that keeps hammering away, pounding, and burning "why?" Who knows, maybe it is the new Urban Armor case for the Surface Pro 3 (a wonderful computer, and a fantastic cover) it makes sense, trying to justify that purchase, almost $70.00 ($69.99). Maybe it is the new iPhone app, TextExtractor, which is fantastic, and free, it can scan text and save it as text, which seems like it should be easy, apparently it is not, though.
Maybe it is a midlife crisis, I love my wife, my car and my kids, so I need to do something to prove I am not old.
Maybe it is a natural phenomenon, a longing for recognition, seeking a small amount of immortality, some dream of not being forgotten. Maybe this is not unique, at all, maybe everybody wants these things. Well, they can start their own blog, this one is mine.
Or better yet, they can write guest posts for my new blog, located here. It is now accepting guest posts about historic battles, armies or conquests. If you have a post you would like to add, email me at tc.add3@gmail.com. It should be accurate, and focus mostly on tactics, strategy, weaponry, and leadership. The human costs were terrible, and the suffering was immense, but I would rather not cover that part.
It was a great workout last night. I have added 15 pounds to all of the resistance machines, and two new exercises. Today, I feel euphoric. Exercise gives a great deal of pleasure, but it does demand a little pain. It is worth every second, though. I do need to use the treadmill, elliptical machine, or exercise bike with a little more vigor. Tomorrow is my next trip, Look out Cardio, here I come.
This gym is fantastic, it is free for one thing, and when I go there is hardly anyone there. Plus, I am the only one who ever uses the resistance machines, at least during my visits. Most of the people who use the gym are in a condition similar to mine. They are older, and just trying to stay even with gravity. I fit right in.
Of course, it is in an auxiliary high school building, after school is dismissed, so occasionally you will have a couple of high schoolers winding up the treadmills to about 55 miles an hour, talking, and laughing, and just being all kinds of healthy and happy, and irritating as all hell! Punks! Just turn up the pod cast, wipe the sweat from my face, and think "someday that will be difficult for you, also."
Last night was the Mongol invasion of Jin China. And, this post was supposed to cover that, but there are a couple of problems. First, it was huge, way too big for one small post. Second, it was brutal. Since I have started working out, and listening to history podcasts, and reading to fill in details left uncovered, I have learned that people are animals.
Yes, the Mongols fought savagely, and won barbarically, but they were not really unique. Not in the results of the victory, certainly, they were probably unique in the number of conquests, but the results were unchanged.
From the earliest recorded times winners have been ruthless. There is no reason to believe that it was not the same before someone started cataloging the events. Assyrians, Huns, Vandals, Goths, probably as far back as Tuthmose, ("the Napoleon of Egypt) but I am still researching that. And, it doesn't seem we have changed all that much. Which makes me a little apprehensive about our future.
I do plan to write about these things, but, this blog was created for me to have a little fun, lately I have forgotten that. So, I am going to start another blog, for my headlong dive into the past. I will post a link, if you want to follow. And, I will get back to the nonsense that makes me happy here.
Thank you, all it has been fun, and I view you all as friends.
Yesterday work was physically demanding, lifting, carrying, moving stuff around, it was taxing. But, it was a gym day, and since I had my clothes with me, and it normally makes me feel better, I went. Intending to take it easy, and just work off a little workday stiffness, the treadmill seemed like a great place to start. Starting slowly, and picking up the pace quickly, it soon became obvious that the workout would be a good one. I pushed myself, driving my heart rate up, and maintaining it for quite a while. Repeating this several times, I was sweaty, warm and euphoric. My weights on the resistance machines were the highest they have ever been, and I pushed myself to the last possible repetition. It was exhilarating, and I felt great. Today, I am a little sore, and stiff. But, it is rejuvenating, I feel so good about my efforts. If you are thinking about starting to work out, you should jump in, slowly, steadily, and knowing you will not regret it. Last nights podcast was a repeat, "Prophet's of Doom" from Hardcore History, by Dan Carlin. This was the podcast that kicked off my whole, unhealthy obsession with history. Mr. Carlin is so enthusiastic about the past, it is unshakable. This podcast is about the city of Munster, in Germany, and the events that led to the execution of several people for heresy, and sedition. It was a pretty hideous execution. But, the events that led to the occupation, eventual siege and capture of the city were, to me, as compelling as the events in Munster. This podcast explains in some detail the reasons for, and results of, the Protestant Reformation. Dan Carlin is an expert at building tension, and a fantastic story teller who seems to love his craft. I have listened to his entire catalog. Looking back, the Protestant Reformation kicked over an apple cart filled with momentous events, and radical change. Luther set off a firestorm of change that had effects that are impossible to measure, even today. And, there are very few podcasts on the subject. That is the problem with history, there is so much of it. So many things happened, and all of them probably affected the world in ways that are still felt today. Even if you disregard the influence events had on our world there is still a lot of terribly interesting,l terrible, things that happened in the past.
Assyrians did not negotiate much.
That is the problem with podcasts, there aren't enough of them explaining things that happened so long ago. Yes, there are some very good series, but there they barely scratch the surface of times past. Take, for example, the Assyrians. A fascinating story of a state gone from merchantry to militancy, learning the best ways to reduce resistance and encourage compliance along the way. There are just not many good podcasts about them. So, I have to resort to reading books, printed on paper, like an animal. This is crazy. What's next, cave paintings?
