No. 300

A busy, busy month.

Bought the new goat. She's an Alpine, giving us about two quarts of milk every day. Will loves the stuff. John hates it. I saved up enough milk to make a two-pound wheel of goat's milk cheddar over the weekend that's ready for aging. I'll provide a report when it's ready.

Garden worked out OK. The corn was flattened by what was left of Hurricane Ike, but we have more than 100 pints of tomato sauce canned and ready to go. We've got about 50 pints of salsa verde with tomatillos and onions from the CSA. We've got about 50 pints of carrots and about 50 pints of green beans. We've got onions, scallions, blackberries, blueberries, peaches, nectarines, celery, broccoli, bell pepper, herbs and pesto in the freezer. We'll soon have 50 broilers -- they're getting huge -- and three pigs.

I'd say we're ready for winter, but not quite.

The chainsaw blew a piston, and fixing it ran about $200. I took a few days of vacation from the Day Job to finish up this week. The blade was getting a bit dull -- that'll happen when you pinch it in a tall beech tree, like I did -- so I took it to the shop for a quick sharpening. Turns out the replaced piston now needs replacing. Ack. Anyway, at this rate, I'll have our winter wood done by April or so.

We're certainly not ready for the Greater Depression.

But it's not winter just yet, nor has the Greater Depression totally kicked off. And it is gorgeous. The leaves are peaking in southern Vermont this week:





A nice story from this week's WSJ that reminds me I need to get off my ass:

• OCTOBER 7, 2008, 9:52 A.M. ET

Crash Survivor Scores Rare Triathlon Invite

Wall Street Exec Trains for Legendary Ironman Race

• By JEN MURPHY

A.C. Morgan will line up among 1,800 other racers to test his body's physical and mental limits in Kona, Hawaii at the Ironman World Championships Saturday. The grueling race is the Super Bowl of triathlons, consisting of a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and 26.2-mile run in crosswinds that can reach 60 miles per hour and temperatures that can reach 95 degrees with 90% humidity.

A.C. Morgan

A.C. Morgan, seen during a triathlon in Rhode Island in July.

Ten years ago Mr. Morgan wasn't even sure if he'd ever walk again. A plane crash left him with two broken vertebrae in his neck and 30 percent of his body covered in burns. "I had a 50-50 shot at life," Mr. Morgan recalls. "I had to learn everything all over again -- how to brush my teeth, walk, go to the bathroom." Mr. Morgan's entire left arm was burned except for one spot. "I have a complete outline where my Timex Ironman watch was. It is the only spot on my arm where I have hair." The outline reminded Mr. Morgan of Timex's old ad, "It takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'." He called the company to pitch himself as the subject of its next ad only to discover the campaign had been discontinued. But company representatives said if he ever wanted to do the Ironman he should call back. Mr. Morgan recalls thinking, "I can't even go to the bathroom by myself."

Before the accident Mr. Morgan had competed in sprint triathlons. After physical therapy he returned to the gym five or six days a week to lift weights and ride the Lifecycle bike for 30 minutes. In 2006, Mr. Morgan found himself listening to a client describing how he had competed in the Ironman and it made him remember the Timex offer. He wrote the company to retell his story of the plane crash and his watch "tattoo." In June 2007 he received a surprising call from Herbie Calves, Timex's vice president of sports marketing, asking whether he wanted an Ironman World Championship number for 2007 or 2008. He opted for 2008.

The 38-year-old Mr. Morgan, who co-manages U.S. equity sales trading at J.P. Morgan in New York, has since reprioritized his life to focus on training. He lives in Darien, Conn., and is married with two children. He stands 6-foot-1 and weights 180 pounds.

The Workout
Sponsorships allow many Ironman competitors to train full time. Mr. Morgan doesn't have that luxury. Before he began training for the race, he awoke at 4:30 a.m. to catch the 4:50 a.m. train to midtown Manhattan. Now, he wakes up at 3:20 a.m. three days a week to ride, run or swim for an hour before work. In January, Mr. Morgan hired a personal trainer who creates workouts he can download to his Blackberry. He can call her any time he has questions or needs motivation. "The other day I wasn't feeling the 22-mile run and she tells me, 'Think 22 miles plus 100% humidity on black lava.' I pay for that," he says. In addition to his morning workouts, he sometimes tacks on an additional run or bike ride after work, depending on what his trainer recommends.

On weekends, Mr. Morgan swims at his local YMCA and bikes 100 to 120 miles, followed by a 30- to 40-minute run. In bad weather, he puts his bike on a trainer so he can cycle inside while watching episodes of the HBO comedy "Entourage." According to the Ironman media guide, the average competitor trains between 18 and 30-plus hours per week: about seven miles per week swimming, 225 miles per week biking and 48 miles per week running. Mr. Morgan says his typical week sees him swim five miles, bike 150 to 170 miles and run 30 miles. To prepare himself for race day, he competed in two half-Ironmans, one in May and one in June.

Sample Workout

Mon. – Rest day

Tues.-Thurs. – 60-minute run, bike or swim

Sat. – Bike 120 miles followed immediately by a three-mile run.

Sun. – 20-mile run; swim.

Mr. Morgan hit a hurdle last October when he developed plantar fasciitis, a painful inflammation in the foot most often felt in the heel. "I can't get rid of it," he says. "You really have to walk away from [training] for it to heal, but I can't afford to." He goes to a doctor in the city once a week for laser treatment to break down the scar tissue and has also ordered custom orthotics for his sneakers. He stretches daily to ease the pain.

The Diet
Eating more and more often is Mr. Morgan's new dietetic challenge. "I could go home and eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's every night and still lose weight," he says. Mr. Morgan estimates that he has lost 15 pounds since he started training. To maintain his energy, he tries to eat every three hours. In the morning he has Raisin Bran topped with a banana and skim milk, followed by a cup of coffee and an energy bar. After his workout he has a recovery drink. He eats lunch at his desk, usually a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, which he orders in. "I probably eat chicken, vegetables and pasta seven nights a week, 365 days a year," he says.

Many athletes drastically change their diet during training. "I don't have free time to weigh everything and I'm not a bad eater," says Mr. Morgan, who instead paid Trismarter.com, a company that specializes in designing nutrition and exercise programs for triathletes, to create a diet plan specifically focused on the two days leading up to the race and the race day. He says it recommends hydrating every 10 minutes during the cycling portion. Mr. Morgan set his watch to beep every time he needs to rehydrate or refuel, ingesting calories from Gu, an energy gel, and Fig Newtons. During the run he ingests Gu every hour and drinks water or Gatorade at every mile marker.

The Cost
Tens of thousands of athletes try to get one of the coveted 1,800 spots through a lottery or by winning a spot at one of the qualifying events held around the world. "Spots are sold on eBay for up to $60,000," Mr. Morgan says. Timex covered the majority of Mr. Morgan's costs, including the $300 entry fee, and provided him with his jersey, hats, and a Timex team Trek bike.

Since January, Mr. Morgan has bought four pairs of running sneakers, costing between $80 and $110 per pair. After his wife pleaded with him, he also bought a new pair of cycling shoes, which he wears without socks. Triathlons are a gear geek's dream sport. "It's like a different version of golf," he says. "I could come home every day and go on one of 30 sites and buy a new water bottle holder or Gu or visor." Timex supplied Mr. Morgan with his bike, which could run from $3,000 to $20,000. He spends $250 a month on his personal trainer and paid $300 for his Trismarter.com nutrition evaluation. Membership at the YMCA is about $100 a month.

The Effort
Mr. Morgan says his biggest issue is time management. Making time for family and staying on top of his game at work have been a challenge. "I'm struggling to prioritize it all," he says. "My wife is so done with this." He works out at 4:30 a.m. on weekends to get in his training before his family wakes up. Mr. Morgan started at J.P. Morgan in June. "Any time you start in a new environment you have to prove yourself again," he says. "If I had been there six years it might be easier to take more luxury, but I pride myself on my work ethic and am one of the first people there in the morning."

The Benefit
Mr. Morgan's family and friends will join him in Hawaii to cheer him on. They are staying four days after the race to enjoy Hawaii. "I may not move the first two days," he jokes. Mr. Morgan says one of the professional triathletes gave him his best advice yet: "He told me the biggest waste is running down hard that last mile to the finish line. He wasn't telling me to walk but just to slow down and absorb it because I'm proving the impossible possible."

Write to Jen Murphy at workout@wsj.com

Wowzers.

Puts my little issues into perspective, no?

August 29, 2008
U.S. Open ’08
Triathlete? Ball Girl? Amputee? All of the Above.
By JOSHUA ROBINSON

After every few dashes across Court 14, Kelly Bruno reached down to her right leg and flicked at something. It was a gesture so slight and so fleeting, she could have been swatting away a bug. It was also the only thing she did that was not in the protocol for a United States Open ball girl — nowhere does it mention popping the pressure valve on a prosthetic leg.

Bruno was born with several defects in her right leg and has been an amputee since she was 6 months old. By 18, she had turned herself into a track star among disabled athletes, with her own sponsorship deals. And as a world-class triathlete and Ironman competitor, she has raced in some of the most grueling events on the planet.

Now, at age 24, Bruno has scaled back her training for three weeks to shuttle back and forth across a courts at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center to scoop up balls at the net. In a job done correctly only by those who are barely noticed, Bruno has stood out by blending in.
“It’s definitely harder than I expected,” she said, flashing an easy smile. “For me the running is not as tiresome, but I didn’t think standing was going to be so exhausting.”

This coming from a woman who began her journey to the Open after a brutal 0.9-mile swim in jellyfish-laden waters, a 24.9-mile bike ride and a 6.2-mile run at the sun-baked New York City Triathlon in June. John Korff, the triathlon’s organizer and a member of the United States Tennis Association board of directors, suggested that she try out to be a ball girl to give disabled athletes more exposure.

Almost the Season

A question from a colleague reminds me that I haven't blogged in a while -- all manner of things going on. I'll try to list them sequentially:

*** New boss at work. Always fun trying to figure out what they want.

*** Major eruption of vegetables. We have picked 64 pounds of blackberries so far this year. We've got more than five dozen jars of carrots and green beans; a couple dozen jars of potatoes (already!); strawberry and peach jam; about a dozen jars of home-made salsa; and a couple dozen jars of bread-and-butter pickles.

The tomatoes haven't been totally washed out, lots of dry beans are coming up, our sweet corn is doing well, the potatoes might wind up being all right, and the chard and kale have exploded. We might do some fall broccoli, although we've got plenty in the freezer -- next to the five dozen bags of frozen pesto, celery, onion, scallions and bell pepper.

*** Quest for firewood. I took a week off just to cut firewood, and only made it five days before the chainsaw crapped out. I used a generic brand of two-cycle oil with an ethanol mix, and it ended very badly. I got maybe -- maybe -- three cords of good wood before the Dolmar blew a piston and head gasket. Repair is going to be about $260. Sigh.

*** The 50 broiler chicks are outside in the small coop. Obnoxious as hell, too. I'll be doing the universe a favor when I fill my freezer (bought a used Montgomery Ward 16 cubic footer for only $60!) with them. The 15 feather-footed bantams are still in the bathroom brooder, so I haven't yet gotten rid of the peep-peep-peep sound in the house.

*** Planning to get out Wednesday and pick up two dairy goats, a La Mancha doe and wether. They're only four months old, so it'll be a while before we get any milk. We're hoping they'll do some more clearing that the Three Little Pigs have missed. We'll breed the doe later this fall and hope for milk by early spring.

*** The kids start school on Wednesday, which means I'll be back into a morning running groove. The best thing about morning running is that there aren't any excuses; you run, and you're done. Can't put it off. And it'll be gorgeous here soon, which means I need to get going on more bike time.

*** I finished a book draft. We'll see if it's worth publishing. More about that later, though. On to the next book project ...

I'm Not The Only One Who Thinks This Is Weird.

From today's NYTimes:

Deaths Draw Attention to Triathlon Swim

Sonny Tumbelaka/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

Participants of the Indonesian Triathlon in June.

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By CHRISTIE ASCHWANDEN

Published: July 31, 2008

WHEN 60-year-old Donald Morehouse and 52-year-old John Hobgood Jr. died in different triathlon events last weekend, they became at least the seventh and eighth triathletes to die during competition this year. Those deaths came just one week after Esteban Neira, 32, died during the New York City Triathlon.

While this does not imply an epidemic — triathlon deaths remain rare — the deaths do share a puzzling resemblance: Like all of the triathlon deaths recorded by USA Triathlon at its sanctioned events in the last two years, they happened during the swim portion of the event, which also includes biking and running.

It is always striking when an athlete dies during an endurance competition, especially a young or well-conditioned athlete presumed to be at the peak of fitness. When Ryan Shay, a 28-year-old marathon champion, collapsed and died during the Olympic marathon trials last fall, even his closest friends and family were shocked. (Tests later determined his death was brought on by an irregular heartbeat that stemmed from an enlarged and scarred heart.)

But what makes the triathlon deaths more mysterious is that they all occurred during the first part of the race. Deaths during marathons tend to be more evenly distributed over the course of the 26.2 miles, with the largest grouping in the last mile, said Dr. William Roberts, a professor of family medicine at the University of Minnesota Medical School and the medical director of the Twin Cities Marathon, who has studied marathon deaths in the United States.

An initial autopsy on Mr. Neira was inconclusive, and the New York City Medical Examiner’s office is awaiting further test results. The death of Mr. Morehouse, at the Spudman Triathlon in Burley, Idaho (an event not sanctioned by USA Triathlon), was ruled an accidental drowning after an initial autopsy, said Scott Slaymaker, the chief executive of Slaymaker Group Inc., where Mr. Morehouse was a top executive. (The family did not want to pursue further tests, Mr. Slaymaker said.) Mr. Hobgood’s death, at the New Jersey State Triathlon, was also ruled an accidental drowning after an initial autopsy, said Lt. Carl Walsh of the West Windsor Township Police Department, with further toxicology results pending.

Hundreds of thousands have taken part in triathlons over the last four years, and with just 23 deaths recorded by USA Triathlon since 2004 (not including last weekend’s deaths), the timing could be a statistical anomaly. But this much is clear: 18 of those 23 deaths occurred during the swim.

“There have been some striking similarities among recent fatalities,” said Kathy Matejka, the director of event services at USA Triathlon, which does not track the number of triathlon participants. At least seven of those who died this year, she said, were men with “some measure of experience with the sport.”

Despite these similarities, a precise cause of death remains elusive in many cases. News reports suggest that at least three of this year’s deaths were linked to heart problems, but it is unclear whether those problems were primed to happen imminently or may not have happened until later without the race as a trigger.

No one knows why deaths are more common during the swim portion of triathlons, but researchers have some intriguing theories. Public accounts of this year’s fatalities indicate that the athletes seemed outwardly healthy, and in some cases autopsies turned up no obvious cause of death, such as blocked arteries.

The combination of apparent good health and a negative autopsy suggests a death caused by abnormal heart rhythms, said Dr. Pamela Douglas, a Duke University cardiologist who has studied triathletes.

Evidence suggests that swimming may trigger a certain type of cardiac arrhythmia caused by a genetic condition called long QT syndrome, said Dr. Michael Ackerman, a cardiologist and the director of the Windland Smith Rice Sudden Death Genomics Laboratory at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn. About 1 in 2,000 people are born with a heart condition that causes a glitch in the heart’s electrical system, and the most common of these is called long QT syndrome, after the tell-tale interval on an electrocardiogram.

The long QT heart recharges sluggishly between beats, setting up the potential for a skipped beat, Dr. Ackerman said. When the problem strikes, a heart’s electrical system can go haywire, degenerating into a possibly fatal arrhythmia.

Dr. Ackerman’s research team has identified several genetic forms of long QT, and one seems especially bothered by swimming, he said. He’s not sure why, but sees clues in a Japanese study several years ago that found that irregular heartbeats occur more commonly during swimming than during the same level of aerobic activity on land.

“It’s not that swimming is horrendously dangerous and running is not,” he said.

“We know that swimming is one of those triggers,” Dr. Ackerman said, “but it’s not going to be the absolute trigger.” An expert could detect most cases of long QT syndrome on an electrocardiogram, he said.

In any type of competitive racing situation, Dr. Douglas said, the adrenaline rush at the start could aggravate conditions like long QT syndrome, because adrenaline and its related hormones can make the heart more prone to arrhythmias. Physical exertion won’t create a heart problem where none existed, she said, but it can create problems for people with underlying cardiac disease.

Sudden fainting remains the classic warning sign of an underlying arrhythmia problem. “If you faint while running a race and your heart snaps back into sync 10 or 30 seconds later, you wake up,” Dr. Ackerman said. “If it happens in the water, even if your heart regains rhythm 30 seconds later, now you’re underwater.”

Many triathletes point to the swim as a triathlon’s most stressful segment. Most swims take place in open, often cold, water with hundreds or thousands of other swimmers vying for position. “Nothing can prepare a newbie for the start,” said Russ Evenhuis, a triathlete in Olympia, Wash. “It can be like jumping into a washing machine. You will get swum over, kicked, hit and banged into.”

A triathlon’s open-water swim hardly resembles the pools where most triathletes train, said Neil Cook, a New York City based triathlete and coach. “There is no wall 25 yards away, you can’t see the bottom and the 50 to 150 people around you are more than you’ve probably swam with in total during your training,” he said. “Oh, and you are wearing this wetsuit that’s tighter than a girdle.” Raise your heart rate and blood pressure under those conditions, he said, and “any weakness you have will become apparent.”

FABIAN QUESADA, 42, of Brooklyn prepared for the New York City Triathlon by taking part in an open-water training session with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training program. Still, he had a bout of anxiety his first time in open water. “Even though the wetsuit keeps you buoyant, it’s very restrictive, and you panic because it’s tight,” he said. “It can be an overwhelming experience.”

Triathlons normally brief participants on safety procedures, some of which are standard practice. For instance, “If you’re in the water and you have a problem, you’re supposed to stop and raise your hand,” said Dr. Doug Hiller, the chief medical officer for the International Triathlon Union, the sport’s worldwide governing body.

Ms. Matejka of USA Triathlon said her organization is committed to safety and will ask its experts to look for lessons in this year’s deaths, but as of yet, the group has no major changes planned.

“Speaking as a 20-plus-year triathlete, I wouldn’t change a thing,” said Andrew Hunt, the medical director for USA Triathlon.

“Do I think open-water swimming is inherently dangerous? No I don’t,” he said. Regarding the number of swim deaths, he said last week: “You can’t just look at the numerator, you have to look at the denominator — my guess is that that number is probably in the six figures. Six out of a hundred thousand isn’t that many.”

But no one really knows what the denominator is, because USA Triathlon does not keep records of race participants. While the number of USA Triathlon members has risen from 53,254 in 2004 to 100,674 in 2007, that doesn’t account for everyone who races because nonmembers can buy a one-day license for individual events.

There’s no way to regulate away risk, Dr. Hunt said, and some triathletes say that’s part of the appeal. “We want to push the limit of our comfort zone and experience life,” said Joe Bator, 37, of Boston. “Sure we want to minimize those risks,” he said. “But when it is time to race and put on that number, we need to be willing to push just a little bit more and get just a little bit more uncomfortable. If we don’t, we will never know what we are capable of achieving.”

Vicki Vila contributed reporting.

Holy Crap.

Here's hoping everyone had their helmets on (though it doesn't look like it):

MONTERREY, Mexico (AP) -- A car plowed into a weekend bike race along a highway near the U.S.-Mexico border, killing one and injuring 10 others, police said.

The 28-year-old driver was apparently drunk and fell asleep when he crashed into the race, said police investigator Jose Alfredo Rodriguez.

A photograph taken by a city official showed bicyclists and equipment being hurled high into the air by the collision.

Rodriguez said Juan Campos was charged with killing Alejandro Alvarez, 37, of Monterrey.

Authorities said the wreck happened 15 minutes into the 34-kilometer (21 mile) race Sunday along a highway between Playa Bagdad and Matamoros, across from Brownsville, Texas.

Campos said he is an American citizen living in Brownsville. The U.S. Consulate could not immediately confirm that.

"We are looking into the incident in terms of whether American citizens were involved," consulate spokesman Todd Huizinga said.

Again.

I don't know, but I think 1,000 people swimming together might be too many. I'm wondering if the sport might not be better off with some sort of pre-qualifications across sports. Something like, you can enter if you've run a 5K in 24 minutes or less in the past year, or swum 500m in 10 minutes or less, that sort of thing.

Here's the story from the Conroe Courier:

Conroe triathlete dies

Elliott Cochran
Courier Staff

05/04/2008

Email to a friendPost a CommentPrinter-friendly

A Conroe resident died while competing in the swimming portion of the 2008 CB&I Triathlon at Northshore Park in The Woodlands Saturday morning.

Randolph Parnell, 51, an experienced triathlete, competed among 1,000 participants in the race. He died from undetermined causes in the swimming portion of the race, according to officials at press time.

Chris Nunes, director of parks and recreation for The Woodlands, said rescue personnel were present at the time of the incident, and information and details of the occurrence are ongoing.

“We’re still collecting a lot of information and debriefing our staff,” he said. “There were personnel on site as part of the race, including between 12 and 14 lifeguards in individual kayaks and on the shore, as well as The Woodlands Fire Department on one of their rescue boats.”

The triathlon included a 500-meter swim, a 15-mile bike ride and a 5k run.

Bret Strong, a participant in the event and friend of Parnell, said Parnell appeared to be prepared for the event, and was enthusiastic.

“I talked to him a little before the race and wished him luck; he seemed happy and ready to go,” he said. “We’ve known him and his wife and their son for 18 years now. When we first moved to The Woodlands, they were one of the first families we met.”

Parnell previously competed in the 2006 CB&I Triathlon, finishing 281st overall, and 25th in the male 45- to 49-year-old division.

The body was taken to Memorial Hermann The Woodlands Hospital.

... And Busted Again

From another blog:

Top Ten Newbie Mistakes

In the military they say that all the action happens at the tip of the spear. The sharply pointed end where the winners and losers are sorted out. For us newbie and amateur Clydesdale triathletes the tip of the race is only a distant skirmish. We live and race at the other end of spear; the round curvy end which, as it happens, tends to be shaped like many of us. These are some of our some of our stories:

They say the best way to learn is to make mistakes. As a newbie and Clydesdale, in my first year of competing I've made my share of mistakes Here is my Top ten list of Newbie mistakes:

10) Wearing a black swim cap. On the face of it this one might seem a bit silly but true. "You are not gonna wear that black swim cap," the guy standing in the water next to me at the start solemnly said. "I was planning on it" I replied a bit confused. "You don't want to do that," he added with a knowing nod. "Why" I said a bit wide eyed? "Because they won't see go down when you drown," he added and swam away. I looked into the dark murky water where he had been standing and considers this, removed the cap, and threw it to the shore. Only after the race, I realize that I have dark hair.

9) Butt Burn...otherwise know as the Lack-O-Glide factor. It took me about a year to discover the joys of lubrication. The leg pain after a marathon is nothing compared to the searing pain of taking a shower with raw nipples. However, nothing identifies a Newbie triathlete like the Charlie Chaplin butt-burn wobble walk after an especially long session on the bike.

8) The Clydesdale Category. I'm a big guy 6'2 and well over 200 pounds. I've always considered myself big in a gladiator sort of way. But according to the official rules I'm big in a huge, wide-butted, beer wagon-pulling sort of way.

7) MAX, ADE, OX, GU, BOOM, GEL. There is a bewildering amount of performance enhancing drinks and supplements on the market. They have one thing in common: a fluorescent Day-Glo color. I tend to judge them by the stickiness factor. The more they make my hands stick to the handlebars of my bike, the better they must be.

6) Transitions are NOT free time. For all of the pros out there they may be free time, but for newbies they are a time of profound confusion and terror. Mistakes happen all the time. "Why am I wearing my swim goggles?" I think as I power out of the transition area on my bike?

5) A wet suit will kill. Try to remember to Valero the wet suit zipper pull leash to your wet suit. The first time I wore my wet suit didn’t know to attach the leash to the wet suit. About five minutes into the swim the leash wrapped itself around my neck like a viscous python bent on my death. The more I struggled to disengage myself from its death-like grip, the tighter it got. My flailing only seemed to encourage it. I finally did manage to free my throat and continue the swim. Five minutes latter, it was back.

4) Big girls on mountain bikes. Big girls on mountain bikes are surpassingly fast. Do not take it for granted that just because you are on a big ring, carbon fiber, aero bar out-fitted, race-tuned tri-bike that you'll easily pass that big girl up ahead. Make this mistake at your own peril and your self-esteem will suffer.

3) Du vs. Tri. Don't confuse a Du with a Tri when racing or checking the results. My first Olympic distance Tri was almost my last. I watched the awards ceremony with a mixture of terror and awe as the results and blazingly fast times were read out. I was amazed at the speedy results. Needless to say I was not the slowest triathlete in the world....just the only one at the DU awards ceremony.

2) Twelve year-old-lap counters. When competing in a pool, avoid the 12-year-old lap counters. I wondered out loud to the twelve-year-old "why do I have to swim two more laps when the other two racers in my lane are done." This seemed especially odd since "I had lapped both of them." The twelve-year-old was not moved by my logic. Math must not have been his best subject in school.

1) Beer. Avoid all triathlons that are not sponsored by a brewery. Not only does a post race beer greatly help in the recovery process, but it also helps one forget all the mistakes. Plus as a added benefit after enough beers, that big girl on the mountain bike don't seem so big anymore.

Doing The Happy, Happy Border Collie Dance

Busy weekend.

Had seven dozen eggs for Gordon's market on Friday. One of his cashiers told me that the green eggs are lasting a little longer -- they don't sell out now until the middle of Friday, rather than by lunch Friday. One nut job keeps coming in and asking people when I'm going to get the chickens to lay more so she can buy six dozen at a time.

Worked, worked, worked on the day job. Took a break at lunch to run to the post office, where my Lehman's cheese press had arrived. Reminded me to sign up for Ricki Carroll's intro to cheesemaking class in late April. Here's the cool thing: The class is in Ashfield. There's a whole milk diary exactly halfway between Dover and Ashfield. So I think there's some sort of cosmic sign that I need to take this one.

Grabbed John late in the day and ran to the school to pick up Will from his play rehearsals. We went by the Agway in Brattleboro to get chicken feed, corn and hay, then motored into Keene so they could spend Christmas money from Grandpa.

While the boys made jihad upon the Gamestop, I went to a shoe store and got a new pair of shoes for Will. I'll have to take pictures of his old ones; to say they were battered is a bit of an understatement. Full of holes and embarassing is, I think, a far better description. He was mightily annoyed, but I told him when he was old enough to be as poor as his dad, he could wear duct-taped shoes all he wants. I also grabbed some reading material for the early rehab days from the discount shelf:

The United States of Arugula
Five Acres and Independence
The Good Good Pig
Deep Survival

That'll go with my other books on order:

Pastured Poultry Profits
You Can Farm
Gardening When It Counts
Barnyard in Your Backyard
Seed to Seed
In Defense of Food

Should be enough to keep me busy for a week, anyway. I saw a magnetic bike trainer that I just lust after at the sporting goods store, but it was $200, and I'm thinking I've spent just about enough on books. Besides, I'm going to need another brooder if I'm ordering 75 chickens (25 more Aruacanas, and 50 broilers). Believe I'm just going to have to suck it up and spend time on the stationary at the gym.

Woke up at a reasonable hour this morning and sighed. I haven't been able to catch up with my plow guy this week, and I really need the driveway cleared -- big -- before I can get a propane refill. We're using damn little, since we're heating (and drying, and doing a bit of cooking) with the woodstove. Alas, the woodstove ain't that great for hot showers.

I just knew I wouldn't be able to track him down. I called, got his wife. Sigh. Looked like I was going to have to get outside with two boys and shovel another 650 feet, except much wider, for the truck. My left elbow is killing me. Tendonitis is really settling in, since I'm having to become left-handed for the next six months or so. His wife gave me his cell phone. I called, got his voice mail. Damn. I was heading out the door when he called and swore he'd be here on Monday, which resulted in ... the Happy, Happy Border Collie Dance.

The dogs weren't too sure what the hell it was about, but they seemed to enjoy it, anyway.

The lucky break gave me enough courage to do several jobs that I've been putting off for, oh, a few months now. Cleaned out the woodstove really, really good. Vacuumed dog hair off the stairs. Moving up in difficulty, I cleaned three bathrooms and finally shoveled out the chicken coop, which was an extremely vile task. I've just been piling hay layers up in the coop, one on top of the next. I believe I peeled off about five layers this afternoon. Even the fact that it's going to be superb compost (if somewhat nasty to make) didn't take away from the foulness of the job. Had to take a second shower after I was through.

We're in the midst of a thaw. Listened to a VPR podcast while mucking out the coop and got some startling news. Thought about it, and it's not unusual -- just never expected. Every January in Vermont, we thaw for a couple of weeks, according to the good people at the Fairbanks Museum and Planetarium in St. Johnsbury. Anyway, it's supposed to get up to 50 later this week.

Should probably get to sleep. It's late, and I'm going to be up all hours tomorrow night since Lisa's flight gets in late.

Walkabouts and Bad Dogs

Quiet Christmas. Boys got books, video games and clothes, mostly. I got Lisa a plane ticket to see her father in Florida and another Bohus sweater kit; she got me a workshop at the New England Cheesemaking Supply in Ashfield, Mass. Looking forward to it, though it'll have to wait until April. I have a feeling my shoulder's not going to be up to pulling mozarella and cutting mascarpone in time for the February class.

Been walking quite a bit lately, two and three walks a day. Don't feel like running, swimming, or biking. It's been nice outside, not too cold -- about 30 degrees or so -- and no snow, sleet or ice expected until tomorrow. Big full moon and quite a few stars. We've got about a dozen houses on our block (two full-time residents), and only a couple of families up for the holidays. Always amazes me that people will shell out hundreds of thousands for a place and never visit. Not that I'm complaining.

The good deal about the walking is that it's helped me sleep a bit better. I generally get to sleep around midnight, and my shoulder wakes me up around 430a or so. The walking put me out like a light last night -- went for three walks -- but the shoulder got me up around 5a. That, and the sound of chomping in the kitchen. Went downstairs to investigate, and the collies had managed to get on top of the kitchen island and chow down on the Christmas ham bone.

Bad dogs. Very, very bad dogs.

Went by the post office today. Seems like the garden catalogs are as bad as the Christmas ones. Probably won't see spring for another four months, and they're already flooding the mailbox. I'm pretty sure it's Seed Savers Exchange for us this year.

Lots of work to do this week. Taking vacation from the day job, but I've got a couple of book deadlines looming, a computer monitor that needs fixing, and a ton of cleaning to be done.

I also want to take some walks and not think about the shoulder.

This, That, and Some Other

Slow day today. Beautiful outside. Did some odds and ends around the house -- laundry, cleaning, grocery run for Diet Coke.

Good news, bad news on the chicken front. One of the New Hampshire Reds is sick, wheezing a lot. I put him in a separate cage and will keep my fingers crossed that he doesn't pass the crud along to the rest of the flock.

Got two eggs today, one of which is a green egg! The Aruacanas are finally coming through.

Dug out the last of the potatoes. There weren't many. Had a couple of frosty tomatoes on the vine that I tossed to the peeps as a reward for the green eggs.

Lot to do this week on the day job front. And run, bike, swim. Etc.

Whew.

Taking a brief break before diving back into the day job until ... oh, midnight, if this past week's history has been any indicator. But I'm making progress. Swear.

Miscellaneous tidbits:

*** I've moved the baby chicks out of the brooder and into the new barn. All I have to do now is add the trim and build the chicken run, and I can put everyone (except the ducks) in the new addition.

*** In another chicken-related vein, we put a light in the current coop. Hopefully, the chicks will decide it's back to summer and start laying. Chickens generally lay at 22 weeks, and the older chickens are ... 22 weeks. Lisa made me an egg basket in an uncontrollable burst of optimism.

*** Biofuels, The Good. A Charlie Rose interview with Luiz Lula da Silva of Brazil:




*** Biofuels, The Bad: A Reuters story about Jane Goodall's take:



Jane Goodall says biofuel crops hurt rain forests
Wed Sep 26, 6:08 PM ET


Primate scientist Jane Goodall said on Wednesday the race to grow crops for vehicle fuels is damaging rain forests in Asia, Africa and South America and adding to the emissions blamed for global warming.


"We're cutting down forests now to grow sugarcane and palm oil for biofuels and our forests are being hacked into by so many interests that it makes them more and more important to save now," Goodall said on the sidelines of the Clinton Global Initiative, former U.S. President Bill Clinton's annual philanthropic meeting.


As new oil supplies become harder to find, many countries such as Brazil and Indonesia are racing to grow domestic sources of vehicle fuels, such as ethanol from sugarcane and biodiesel from palm nuts.


The United Nations' climate program considers the fuels to be low in carbon because growing the crops takes in heat-trapping gas carbon dioxide.


But critics say demand for the fuels has led companies to cut down and burn forests in order to grow the crops, adding to heat-trapping emissions and leading to erosion and stress on ecosystems.


"Biofuel isn't the answer to everything; it depends where it comes from," she said. "All of this means better education on where fuels are coming from are needed."


Goodall said the problem is especially bad in the Indonesian rain forest where large amounts of palm nut oil is being made. Growers in Uganda -- where her nonprofit group works to conserve Great Apes -- are also looking to buy large parcels of rain forest and cut them down to grow sugar cane, while in Brazil, forest is cleared to grow sugar cane.

*** I'm amazed at this one. I mean, what are the Chinese doing here? Don't they know better? How can they say they made a mistake? Without spin? Or bullshit?

Clearly, they have a lot to learn from, ahem, the other side of the Pacific.

CHINESE officials who previously defended the giant Three Gorges Dam as an engineering and economic miracle have admitted that the world's biggest hydropower project is at risk of environmental disaster if accumulating threats are not dealt with promptly.

A forum organised by State Council, China's cabinet, on Tuesday to discuss the dam's accelerating environmental problems concluded that "if no preventive measures are taken, the project could lead to catastrophe", the official Xinhua news agency reported, quoting senior officials at the meeting in Wuhan.

Wang Xiaofeng, the director of the Government's Three Gorges construction body, said that while China had largely overcome many challenges - including funding, technology and the huge displacement of people - it now had to face up to the increasing ecological threats.

These included erosion and landslides around the dam, pollution and "ecological deterioration" caused by "irrational development" along the river, he said.

"We absolutely cannot relax our guard against ecological and environmental security problems created by the Three Gorges project," Mr Wang told the meeting. "We cannot sacrifice our environment for short-term economic prosperity."

*** A very good NY Times story about running, biking and swimming:



http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/27/health/nutrition/27Best.html?adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1190931264-nnDw5BOmGlWt5jXcOXvfmA



Here's the money graf:



The rules of physics say that distance cycling and distance running are for small people. Rowing and swimming are for people who are big. The physics is so exact that when Dr. Secher tried to predict how fast competitive rowers could go, based only on their sizes and the weights of their boats, he was accurate to within 1 percent.



Explains a lot. Although I'd still like to have seen a graf that explains lazy people who have so much going on at the day job that they haven't been able to get their act together and get back into some serious training.



I'm just sayin'.

Things Always Take Longer Than You'd Think

Worked my ass off this weekend on the chicken barn.

And all I've got to show for it are the walls. Still need to trim and roof. And since my walls are actually 8'6" apart, and the roofing panels are only 8' long, I'm going to have to get another panel and tin snips. Ack.

Aggravation.

Bottom line is, looks like it'll be another week before the chicks can be sprung from their brooder in the bathroom. I'm not too charmed by it, either.

Busy week ahead. Have to wrap up one project on Monday and start doing the heavy lifting on another. Major pending issues with job opportunity. Have to finish a book chapter this week. Must put together a PowerPoint presentation, also known as one of my least favorite things to do. Ummmm .. a few other things.

Run, bike, swim.

On a slightly different front, couldn't help noticing oil hitting $80/bbl. So here's a trivia question: What do my father, a former Rolling Stone writer, the former chief geologist for Shell, and a bestselling investment banker/writer have in common?

Try peak oil.

Jim Kunstler, who used to write for Rolling Stone, can be pretty damn mean-spirited -- it's like he's looking forward to some sort of apocalyptic scenario involving Cheetos-deprived NASCAR fans in the southern suburbs -- but makes some pretty salient points in his blog.

Colin Campbell's Association for the Study of Peak Oil has a no-frills web page. He's the former chief geologist for Shell. Strikes me as strange that someone who climbed the corporate ladder that far would be willing to do anything besides paint lipstick on this particular pig.

Matt Simmons, a Houston investment banker, has been banging the drum about peak oil for more than a few years. If you want hard facts and figures on where we're going with oil, you've got to check out his page.

And, of course, there's my dad, a petroleum geologist who's been agitating for oil to hit about $200/barrel since 1973. Dad's got three reasons for wanting oil prices to go insane. In reverse order of importance, (a) he would make a lot of money because domestic exploration would be encouraged, (b) he wouldn't have to fight so much Houston traffic, and (c) there might be enough left for his grandchildren to get two miles down the road by the time they're driving.

On a slightly weirder note:

Saying 'I'm hungry,' man rips head off St. Paul hotel's duck
Denver man, 26, arrested after domesticated bird is cornered and killed early Saturday
BY DAVE ORRICK Pioneer Press
Article Last Updated: 09/22/2007 11:45:40 PM CDT

He ripped the head off a live duck inside a hotel lobby.

That's the accusation St. Paul police made early Saturday against a 26-year-old Denver man staying at the Embassy Suites Hotel in downtown St. Paul.

The hotel's spacious lobby atrium features an ornamental pond that at one point contained eight domesticated ducks.

Shortly before 2:35 a.m., Scott D. Clark, who had told hotel employees he was in town on business, chased a duck across the area and cornered it, according to St. Paul police Sgt. John Wuorinen.

I'll admit to having similar fantasies about ripping the heads off a few of my ducks -- they do tend to be a bit obstreperous -- but I doubt I'd do it out of hunger. Duck meat, eh. And at an Embassy Suites? Maybe a slightly lower-end chain ...

The Whole Work-Life Balance Thing

It just sucks right now. Another night, another wrapping-up around 130a. This just cannot be good for me. I need to blow through this project and get things a little better organized. I've got kazillions of things that I need to get back to people about, a few dozen projects on the burner. In no particular order:

*** Finishing the damn chicken barn
*** Getting my butt whipped back into shape
*** Another job opportunity
*** Book chapter for speech
*** Book outline to publisher

And a few other odds and ends, for sure.

Wah. Poor me.

But I'm having a better day than this person:

Panel: Landis guilty of doping

By EDDIE PELLS,
AP National Writer
12 minutes ago

The verdict said "guilty."

Like so much else in the confusing, contentious Floyd Landis doping case, though, none of the answers are really that simple.

Landis lost his expensive and explosive case Thursday when two of three arbitrators upheld the results of a test that showed the 2006 Tour de France champion used synthetic testosterone to fuel his spectacular comeback victory.

The decision means Landis, who repeatedly has denied using performance-enhancing drugs, must forfeit his Tour title and is subject to a two-year ban, retroactive to Jan. 30, 2007.

Not that it changes his opinion of who the rightful winner was.

"I am innocent," he said, "and we proved I am innocent."

The majority of the panel disagreed.

According to documents obtained by The Associated Press, lead arbitrator Patrice Brunet and Richard McLaren voted to uphold the positive test with Christopher Campbell dissenting.

In its 84-page decision, the majority found the initial screening test to measure Landis' testosterone levels — the testosterone-to-epitestosterone test — was not done according to World Anti-Doping Agency rules.

But the more precise and expensive carbon-isotope ratio analysis (IRMS), performed after a positive T-E test is recorded, was accurate, the arbitrators said, meaning "an anti-doping rule violation is established."

What a circus. I'm thinking the Tour people should make the riders suit up as clowns and give them fish to smack each other. Maybe someone can figure out a way to charge $39.95 for pay-per-view rights to this WWF-like fiasco. Asshats.

Truly, this whole Tour mess is up there with "Kid Nation," as far as outrages du jour. I'm not as careful as I should be about what my kids watch, but at least I'm not pushing them into this (description from the NY Times):

The show takes 40 children, ages 8 to 15, and places them in a “ghost town” in New Mexico to see if they can build a working society without the help of adults.

But after the production ended in mid-May, the parent of a child in the production complained about her child being injured and about working conditions on the set.

...

New Mexico had passed a law limiting the number of hours each day that children could be used on a film project before production on “Kid Nation” was started.

But by the time the state began its first investigation into the show, the production had ended and state officials decided the issue was moot.

Most states have even tougher laws than New Mexico’s regarding children and labor. And the attention that has swirled around “Kid Nation” could render it too hot for any state to handle, one CBS executive said.

That executive, who asked not to be identified because he was not speaking for the network or the show, said it was conceivable CBS could look to some location outside the United States.

Asked if the show could be relocated to Mexico or elsewhere, Mr. Forman said, “Nothing is off the table.” But he insisted that he expected to be able to produce a second edition somewhere in the United States.

And how did the show do?

The premiere of the new CBS reality show placed first in two of Nielsen’s hard-to-measure demographics (children ages 2 to 11 and children ages 6 to 11), the network announced today, citing preliminary data.

Some grown-ups were tuning in, too. The show also placed first among adults ages 18 to 49, but it came in second to NBC in households and total viewers (9.07 million). Marc Berman, a columnist for MediaWeek, called it a “slow start” for the show, given all the talk surrounding the no-parents-permitted premise.

CBS said that “Kid Nation” won more viewers in the 11- to 22-year-old category than any other CBS show in the same time slot since the 2006 Grammy Awards, which aired in February, 2006.

I'm with this person:

Yes, it is an interesting concept. Exploit children by putting them in a dangerous and unsupervised situation so that the grownups can make money. What a country we have become.

As long as I'm in a dyspeptic (a fine word) mood, a selection from another late great, H.L. Mencken. Who shouldn't be confused with my late cat of the same name:

Democracy is a pathetic belief in the collective wisdom of individual ignorance.

Democracy is the art and science of running the circus from the monkey cage.

Every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods.

It is even harder for the average ape to believe that he has descended from man.

Nature abhors a moron.Say what you will about the Ten Commandments, you must always come back to the pleasant fact that there are only ten of them.

When you're quoting Mencken, you know it's time to get a freakin' life.

Now, I'm Sacrificing.

So I'd entered to run the Bar Harbor marathon, but I think I'm going to give my entry to charity. You've got to respect the distance, and I just don't feel like I've put in the miles. I could theoretically finish, maybe even do respectably. But dammit, I want to do better.

I've also got a work-related conflict that would put me in Vermont one day, New York the next, and then Bar Harbor. Not exactly a good idea to run a marathon after driving overnight (and that's what I'd have to do) from New York to get to the starting line in time.

I could rationalize that. But dammit! there's now a meeting not too far from the house that weekend (http://www.postoilsolutions.org/) that I really wanted to make on using cold frames to extend the growing season, and I have to be in New York. And since I've been able to haul a couple of old windows from driveways, I was really looking forward to it.

Sigh.

On the plus side, an embarassment of farmer's market riches -- Brattleboro will be open through the winter!

http://www.postoilsolutions.org/2007wfm

Speaking of food, this I like:


¶
Sneaky Mac
¶
2 cups cauliflower
2 medium zucchini
1 tsp lemon juice
4 tbsp water
1 cup grated Swiss cheese
1/2 cup cheddar cheese
1/2 cup skim milk
1/2 pound finely chopped Andouille sausage
2 boxes macaroni and cheese
1 tbsp white pepper
¶
Steam the cauliflower. Mix raw peeled zucchini with the lemon juice. Add the cooked cauliflower and mix with zucchini, adding water as needed until mixture is pureed. Do not allow children in the kitchen.
¶
Use two boxes of standard, macaroni and cheese noodles. Boil, drain and rinse noodles. Finely chop, then sautee Andouille sausage while noodles are boiling. Grate 1 cup Swiss cheese and 1/2 cup cheddar. Make children leave kitchen if necessary. Throw away the cheese packets that came with the macaroni and cheese, taking care to ensure they are at the very bottom of the trash and will not be discovered. You can also hide them in the vegetable bin of your refrigerator, where they are not likely to be discovered.
¶
Mix macaroni noodles, cheese, pepper, skim milk and sausage in pot over low heat until cheese is melted. Check again to make sure children have left the kitchen. Add cauliflower and zucchini puree. Stir very thoroughly. Clean bowls and/or blender, and hide copy of Missy Chase Lapine's "The Sneaky Chef."
¶
Leave macaroni and cheese boxes on kitchen island for suspicious children. Serves four.

***

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Spent yesterday cleaning like a banshee. We got the first floor pretty well mucked out, which was no small accomplishment. Ran out in the afternoon and bought a dozen sheets of 4 x 8 plywood for the barn walls, and a dozen 1 x 3s for the barn rafters, plus more chicken food. Rolled the plywood out to the car, which raised an interesting dilemma:

How do you put a dozen 4 x 8 plywood sheets into a Subaru?

You don't. I took the kayak rack off the top and used the Thule straps to tie down the plywood. This being Vermont, I had a good dozen helpers and assorted onlookers, including one of the hardware store clerks who must've spent 30 minutes lashing the plywood down. We spent a good 15 minutes discussing route possibilities and the likelihood of the plywood peeling off and decapitating someone. Yeesh. I could've driven 80mph into a wind tunnel, and I don't think it would've moved an inch. Anyway, got home, unloaded, did some more cleaning and threw some hay into the chicken run since it's been wet and was getting disgusting.

Got up early this morning and hauled all the trash to the dumpster, went to the hardware store and got some stain (Penofin -- it's wonderful stuff, as long as you're not interested in having any more children) for the coop panels. Came back and couldn't find my work gloves. So I puttered out to the store to get work gloves and some new jeans for Will; he was very appreciative, as always. I swung by the hardware store again and grabbed a half-dozen roof panels, plus some more 1 x 2s for the chicken run.

I didn't get home until 5p, which meant I could only spend a couple of hours working on the new barn. I got the area around the building trenched with a pickax, then cut wire and staple-gunned it to the two short sides. If I lose a chicken, it'll be one determined weasel that digs through a foot of rock and wire to get its meal.

Will be taking the next two days off from the day job to get most of the barn done. I'm hoping we can spend tomorrow staining, trenching the chicken run and assembling the chicken run panels (it'll be a 12 x 16 space with chicken wire stapled to 1 x 2 frames, and a foot of chicken wire running into the ground). I'll spend a chunk of Tuesday, hopefully, putting the walls up. It's going to be kind of tricky, since I've got to cut for two doors and two windows. If I get well and truly lucky, I might even be able to put up rafters and the roof by Tuesday, but that's really pushing it.

Bottom line, I'm hoping to have the chickens in their new home by next weekend. But there's a lot to do between now and then. Hoping for a few stray moments to run. And bike. And swim.

Another One of Those Days

At least I get to see the doctor tomorrow about this lump.

Worked like a banshee all day. I'm concerned my life is turning into a metaphor: The day job project started out great, and now I'm bogged down taking huge casualties (well, maybe Advil) with no exit strategy in sight.

Sigh. Maybe I'll ride the bike to the doctor's office.

I Usually Don't Read This Magazine, But ...

This is just about one of the worst corporate trends I've seen in a long time.

Wilmington, Del.
If you're a loyal employee like me, you occasionally check your company's Vision Statement to make sure all the T's in "empowerment" have been crossed, and the I's in "mission" have been dotted. But if you come across buzzwords like "excellence" and "leadership," you should know that your corporate culture is sadly behind the curve--those terms are as '90s as Reebok Pumps, Zima, and Total Quality Management. There's a new core value on the loose, and it goes by the name of "Fun."

Here's the link to the full article:

http://weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/014/081tidkp.asp

and here's an antidote:


In the interests of full disclosure, the above poster comes from a hilarious web site. I was scolded mildly by a since-departed, fellow middle-manager a few years ago when I worked in New York for not providing a "sufficiently motivating atmosphere," whatever that means. So I bought about a half-dozen posters from the above folks, put them in our little slice of cubicle heaven, and was commended for my attention to employee motivation.

In other news, I still have a nasty swollen lymph gland. Very much the Ted Kennedy look. Last time I had a badly swollen gland, it was in an extremely uncomfortable place, and I was having very bad dreams about a Lance Armstrong-type scenario ... except, of course, without multiple Tour victories. Turned out to be a minor, stress-related infection. But still. I'm getting it checked out Friday.

And Will is sick. Stayed home from school today and has been asleep all day. Worrisome. He likes school. And so does John, these days. He came up to my loft office last night and wanted to know what I could teach him about Spanish numbers. Caramba!

Going great guns on another day job project. The problem with it is, it's very complex, so I can't just blow the proverbial whistle and stop at 6p. Last night/this morning, I plugged away until I got to a stopping point ... which was at 2a. Sigh.

What else, what else? Oil, $80/barrel. Dad's in the geology business in Texas, and this is what he's been saying for a long time: It's gonna get ugly, people. No one paid attention until Matt Simmons -- who's a complete effin' genius -- came out with his book on dwindling supply, but I think we'll see a lot more attention paid to peak oil. And not just because I went through the Lehman's summer catalog and found, oh, about $18,000 worth of stuff that I really, really, really need. People just do not freaking realize what happens when oil gets tight. The gas lines are the least of it, people.

Going to try taking Monday and Tuesday off to get the chicken barn finished.

Gotta get back to work.

On the Trail Again

I'm back again, like a bad penny.

John and I had enough of civilization by Tuesday afternoon and had Lisa drop us off, back where we left off on the Long Trail. Things went considerably better this time.

First afternoon, we made it up Stratton Mountain and down a few feet before running out of daylight. You can't camp on the summit (though it would've been sweet), so we set up the tent about 200 feet below. I listened to airplanes go over for an hour or so before realizing I was listening to ... nothing.

Nice.

The next day was a bit of a haul. We made it down Stratton Mountain just fine, tooled along past Stratton Pond (biggest body of water on the Long Trail) and sat down for a rest. An older man came puttering along, and we got to chatting. He was old, had bad knees and was section-hiking, so we had that much in common.

"My 65th birthday was a dreary affair," he said. "So, my sons bet me $5,000 that I couldn't hike the Appalachian Trail. I'd get five years -- 182 days -- to do it all."

I tried to be encouraging.

"You're only about 500 miles from Katahdin."

"Oh, no," he smiled. "I've done it in bits and pieces. I've just got to hike to New York, and I'm done."

Wish I'd gotten his name, because I want to be him when I grow up.

We scooted ahead to the Spruce Peak shelter and had lunch. I sent John out for water; he came back and reported that the piped spring was "thinner than moose piss." I filtered heavily, just in case. While we were sitting around eating, a couple of southbound AT'ers came through with ... a ferret. Had a little nylon playpen, water bottle, the whole nine yards. We said, um, let's go.

John was pretty revved to be back on the trail, so I let him go ahead most of the afternoon. Told him around 3p just to wait for me at the main road and he scooted off. I walked for an hour or so and started seeing more southbounders -- none of whom had seen him. Uh-oh. Picked up the pace and made it to the main road in short order. No John.

Shit.

I figured he'd gone down a side road to Manchester that we'd passed, so I dropped my pack in the parking lot and double-timed it to the other road. Again, no John.

Double shit.

Hustled back to the parking lot, picked up my pack and ran up the mountain to the Bromley shelter, where we'd decided to spend the night. There were about a dozen Harvard kids for orientation ... and John. He'd gone down the side road, figured out his mistake, and double-timed to the shelter, figuring I'd get there sooner or later.

Whew.

The kids were noisy until about 1030p, and a couple of park rangers showed up. Turned out John had been a bit hot and crabby when he got to the shelter (and worried about me), so the orientation leader had called her supervisor to report in, and told him that there was an overheated 15-year-old at the shelter ... the supervisor called the park ranger ... who sent two people up to check. They looked at John -- who was tired and trying to go to sleep -- rolled their eyes and left. Then, the kids disappeared, and we had something resembling a good night's sleep.

We'd done almost 20 miles on Wednesday, so we slept a bit late. Got moving around 1030a, and it felt hot. We dragged our butts up to the Bromley summit, about a half-mile, and took an hour break. Came across a northbound AT'er, who told us the Harvard kids had gotten to the summit around 1130p ... and partied until 2a. He wasn't very pleased.

Puttered down the mountain to Mad Tom Notch and had a nice, long lunch. There's a great water well there, and we hated to see it go to any kind of waste at all, so we sat around until 2p or so before scrambling up Styles Peak. It wasn't supposed to be that tough ... but for some reason, we really struggled. Then it was on to Baker Peak, which was supposed to be very tough -- a 150-yard scramble up a rocky ledge. For some reason, we didn't struggle that much.

We got to the top and enjoyed the view, but it was starting to thunder and rain a bit. John grumbled.

"As much as I've been outdoors," he said, "you'd think I'd be looking more like Flava Flav."

(I may have misspelled that name.)

So we clambered down and headed for Lost Pond shelter, which had burned down in November. Moved along in the dark to Big Branch shelter and fell asleep next to a beautiful roaring brook. Woke up around midnight to find that we hadn't hung all our food, and a mouse was finishing up the last of the cashews. I hung John's pack, and went back to sleep. Heard more mouse-like sounds. Bastard found one of my Power Bars in a pants pocket. I hung my pack, and finally got back to sleep around 2a.

Enjoyed the view from the suspension bridge over the brook the next morning, then headed off into the woods. It was one of those tough days where you feel like you're fighting the entire time-space continuum just to get a mile or two, but we walked through some beautiful fir forests. Made it the Hinchey shelter just as the lights went totally out and found (wonder of wonders!) we had a shelter to ourselves. John was starving, so I put together a big fire with every intention of eating Uncle Ben's Ready Rice for dinner, when three northbound AT'ers showed up. One was the guy we'd met at Bromley summit, and the other two were a brother and sister from South Carolina we'd run into a few times. They'd had to hustle to make it to a post office before it closed, so we figured they'd be behind us. But they'd gone into town and picked up their winter gear for the final run into Katahdin.

"You made it into town, and brought us pizza! You guys are the best!" I said.

And so they had, and so they were. They had carried pizza about five miles. And shared it. Talk about trail magic.

We chatted and enjoyed the fire ("cowboy TV") for an hour before getting to sleep. Woke up the next morning feeling pretty good and headed out over some beautiful country, including the Airport Overlook above Clarendon before getting to the gorge. It was a bit early, but we figured the Clarendon Gorge just looked like a damn fine place for a leisurely ramen lunch. We enjoyed the view and laughed at some of the tourists (think people who carry poodles in sweaters out to the Long Trail) before heading over the gorge bridge and up the road.

The scenery changed quite a bit that afternoon. Lots of apple trees and a few pastures. Looked something like this:
After a few days of Power Bars and raisins, I was ready for some wild apples. We plugged along, hoping to make Killington before night. Had to stop at one stream about midway between Clarendon and Clement shelters -- some incredibly thoughtful soul had put Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew cans in the stream. Even had a trash bag for the empties.

Talk about more trail magic. I was beginning to worry that we were using all ours up in a hurry.

We made it to the Clement shelter around 530p. It's a nice enough shelter -- stone, with a fireplace, in a clearing, but it's also off a dirt road. Given that it was a Saturday night on a holiday weekend, we decided we'd best push up the road three hours to the Cooper Lodge shelter on Killington. We double-timed it up an extremely eroding ridge, over the top of Little Killington, and made the shelter around 830p with no problems. Cold as hell. I'm guessing the wind chill was about 35. The stars made up for it, though.

Made it up at a reasonable hour the next morning and clambered to the top of Killington. John looked down at Rutland. "Rows and rows of people-boxes," he said. Scooted back down and picked up our packs. Headed down some really gentle grades, through a beautiful birch forest. Stopped for lunch and watched a hawk hunt for an hour or so. Had some good talks, and made it to the Inn at Long Trail in Killington around 2p. If you've never stayed there, you should. If you've never eaten there, you should. Hell, I think everyone should give them money just for existing. They'd held one of my boxes for nearly a month, so we were able to pig out and decided what to do next.




After an hour or so, we decided we were done for the week, but not with the trail. We'll pick it back up, hopefully sooner rather than later. For a 15-year-old, John can still come up with some pretty good observations.

"It's not the destination, it's the journey," I said.

"And the ramen," he agreed.

The hike got me into slightly better shape. I dropped three pounds, so I'm down to 149, and my body fat just plunged down to 14.5 percent. I've got to get the boys ready for school, which starts Wednesday. And finish the chicken barn. And do some cleaning. And get back into the day job groove. And get myself back on the road. And the bike. And the pool.

Which is, after all, why we're all here.

Odds and Ends. As Usual, Mostly Odds.

Finally, a moment to breathe. Up until 2a this morning, working on the day job. I suppose it's also been turning into the day-and-night job. But I'm getting stuff done. Including catching up on the blog and (just about) finishing the framing. Nailed in most of the cross braces early this evening. Work allowing, I'll throw up the roof trusses tomorrow during lunch, then (maybe) put some more corner bracing around the sides after work.

Random thoughts. Here's one, courtesy of Slate and NPR and Lt. Gen. Douglas Lute, the "war czar" who's deputy national security advisor for Iraq and Afghanistan:

NPR: You know, given the stress on the military and the concern about these extended deployments for an all-volunteer military, can you foresee, in the future, a return to the draft?

Lute: You know, that's a national policy decision point that we have not yet reached, Michele, because the —

NPR: But does it make sense militarily?

Lute: I think it makes sense to certainly consider it, and I can tell you, this has always been an option on the table, but ultimately, this is a policy matter between meeting the demands for the nation's security by one means or another. Today, the current means of the all-volunteer force is serving us exceptionally well. It would be a major policy shift — not actually a military, but a political policy shift to move to some other course.

And here's a gentle reminder from the Selective Service System:




Speaking of things military, the stepdaughter is back from a monthlong road trip. Don't see any huge rush to get to her Army recruiter.

A depressing story, courtesy of the Wall Street Journal:

OUT TO PASTURE
Why Deere Is Weeding Out
Dealers Even as Farms Boom

Some Veteran Retailers
Feel Betrayed By Shift;
'We Are Not a Family'

By ILAN BRAT and TIMOTHY AEPPEL
August 14, 2007; Page A1

MOLINE, Ill. -- For more than a century, Deere & Co. has relied on dealers to sell its iconic John Deere tractors and other farm equipment. Deere dealers like to brag that they "bleed green," the company's trademark color.

But even as the farm boom helps Deere harvest record profits, dozens of North American dealerships are getting sent out to pasture, including some that have passed through families for generations. Chief Executive Robert Lane says times have changed. In an age when tractors use satellites to track the location of every seed, he says, dealers must match the sophistication and size of agribusiness customers.

"For years we talked about Deere as a family," says Mr. Lane, a former banker. "The fact is, we are not a family. What we are is a high-performance team....If someone is not pulling their weight, you're not on the high-performance team anymore."

Deere's overhaul is one answer to a challenge faced by many large businesses that distribute their products through independent retailers. These retailers are supposed to know the local turf and market the product more effectively than a big corporation could. But if the retailers are too small-scale, their inefficiencies could outweigh the advantages.

To some Deere dealers, the transition feels like a betrayal. Raymond Warren spent 34 years working his way up from salesman to owner of a dealership in Wakefield, Va. In late 2002, Mr. Warren says he began receiving letters, emails and visits from Deere officials almost monthly urging him either to bulk up by acquiring another dealer or cash out. (Deere declined to comment on individual cases.) He finally sold to another dealer in 2005.

On the bright side, these next people really don't get enough credit. Again, courtesy of the WSJ. If you don't have a subscription ... buy one. Don't know what you think of Murdoch. Don't much care. Even at $99/year ($49 if you've got a print subscription), it's still a good deal. Here.

HEALTH JOURNAL By TARA PARKER-POPE

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Beyond Winning: A Team
With a Message About Health
August 14, 2007; Page D1

Most people view illness as a handicap. But cyclist Phil Southerland, who has Type 1 diabetes, believes his disease gives him an unusual advantage, both on and off the bike.

The reason? Type 1 diabetes has forced Mr. Southerland to take charge of his health every minute of every day. There is never a time when he doesn't think about the food he is eating, how much exercise he is getting and whether he has taken his medication. This meticulous attention to health is a matter of life or death for anyone with Type 1, which requires vigilant monitoring of blood-sugar levels and the balancing of meals, snack, exercise and insulin injections.

MORE

¹

Has a medical condition ever gotten in the way of your ability to exercise or eat well? What did you do to overcome the situation? Share your thoughts². Plus, Tara Parker-Pope answers reader questions in Health Mailbox³.

But Mr. Southerland, who was diagnosed when he was seven months old, believes the daily life of someone with Type 1 has lessons for all of us. "For people with Type 1, it's all about tight control of their health," says Mr. Southerland, who lives in Atlanta. "I want people to take charge and realize their life is in their hands, and nobody else's."

Mr. Southerland, 25, is hoping that he can do for diabetes care and prevention what cyclist Lance Armstrong has done for cancer, inspiring healthy people to take better care of their bodies and serving as a role model for kids with diabetes. He is the founder of Team Type 1, a cycling team made entirely of riders who have Type 1 diabetes.

Phil Southerland of Team Type 1

Team Type 1 is a force to be reckoned with in the cycling world. In June, Team Type 1 won the 3,053-mile Race Across America relay, beating seven other eight-member teams by cycling from Oceanside, Calif., to Atlantic City, N.J., in five days, 15 hours and 43 minutes.

About 21 million people in the U.S., or about 7% of the population, have a form of diabetes. The most common form is Type 2, in which the body doesn't produce enough insulin or the cells ignore the insulin. It is linked to obesity and often can be prevented and controlled with diet and exercise.

Type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease in which the body's immune system mistakenly destroys the body's ability to make insulin, a hormone needed to convert sugar and other food into energy needed for daily life. Type 1 cannot be controlled with diet alone. And because exercise can cause blood-sugar levels to drop precipitously, athletes with Type 1 face special challenges.

But new technology has made it easier for diabetic athletes. The cycling team uses continuous glucose monitors, which track blood sugar constantly and sound alarms if it goes outside of safe ranges. Team members also use wireless insulin pumps, which deliver insulin as needed without a tangle of tubes and wires.