Territorial of the Treadmill

In an apartment complex of at least 700 adults our exercise room is usually deserted. The room itself doesn’t hold much – a treadmill, stairclimber, two cycling machines, and a monstrosity of metal appendages that promises a thorough workout of any muscle group. Even the availability of free equipment and recent New Year’s resolutions can’t seem keep the room in use. So with the expectation that the room will usually be empty, I’ve managed to become territorial about the treadmill; all of this in the matter of one short week.

I got to the exercise room about 7:15, fifteen minutes later than I had planned, and found the treadmill in use. Of course she had every right to be there, but I casually glanced at the time she had been walking. 15 minutes. What were the chances she was going to be done anytime soon? Pretty much none at all since I was so too eager for my own turn.

I decided to go with my next best option and use the stairclimber and the cycling machine:

Stairclimber: 8 minutes, 103 floors, 140 calories
Cycling Machine: 20 minutes, 5.5 miles, 260 calories

I don’t know how to compare that to my jogging workout.

Jog Log

Last Friday my brother Jon told me about a cool website sponsored by Nike that makes use of a digital chip (about $30) which you sync up with an iPod Nano to measure how far you run. [http://nikeplus.nike.com/]. On the website you can join a jogging team, start a competition, or run for a cause. Even though I don’t have an iPod Nano I got excited about the thought of competitive running (not for speed but for distance), so off I went the next day.

Saturday I ran 3.5 miles in 33 minutes and burned 250 calories.

Monday I ran 4.25 miles in 30 minutes and burned 300 calories.

[I have serious doubts about the ability of the treadmill I used to tell me how many calories I burn; it doesn’t even ask your weight.]

Officially I am on a jogging fad. My plan is to make it a habit, but until I’ve gone four straight weeks I don’t think it qualifies for more than a fad.

When I next go to San Diego at the end of February for business I want to run from our hotel in Pacific Beach up to where the sea lions gather in La Jolla. I’ve been there once before and have wanted to go back. It’s about 8 miles round trip and slightly uphill on the way to La Jolla.

With four weeks before the trip, I expect that jogging three times a week should get me there. I’ll have to increase my distance by a mile each week in order to handle the full 8 miles. And I’ll have to practice running at a slight incline for at least the first half. And I’ll have to get used to stopping and starting at street lights. I can do that.

I might try another run the morning before I leave to come back. Heading south from the hotel you can run along the boardwalk all the way down to the inlet to mission bay which is only about 3 miles one way and relatively flat.

But for now all this running doesn’t get recorded to any teams on this Nike website. There are so many worthy causes to run for! I need a sponsor. Anyone want to sponsor me?

(…crickets chirping….)

Maybe we should wait and make sure this isn’t just another fad.

T minus 6 months to CPA

I did it. I sealed my fate. A week ago I paid for my CPA exams. Now I have to schedule them, study for them, and pass them. The easy part is done. Back to school mode.

I have a goal to pass at least three parts of the four part exam successfully by the end of July. If I can stick to that goal, I have a good chance of making CPA before the end of my company’s fiscal year (September 30). I don’t think I’m up for promotion by the end of this year, but this could help towards next year.

Close encounters in seedy San Francisco

My sister and I were shopping in downtown San Francisco in November while in town for a family gathering. Both she and I have no qualms with walking across the city rather than taking buses and cabs. We were in search of several bead and fabric shops that my sister wanted to check out. Armed with maps, walking shoes, and all our luggage (we had no time to return to the hotel that evening) we hiked through San Francisco.

One of our walks took us through a hilly and seedy part of town. We turned a corner and started up the hill following a middle-aged black man wearing frayed denim and sporting a confident swagger. He looked like he lived on the streets. No, he looked like he thrived on them. As another pedestrian (another vagrant we think) came walking down the sidewalk, the man in front of us stared him down. We glanced at each other with a look of curiosity and noticed that the man ahead of us followed the other man with his eyes for even a few seconds after he passed him. Then unexpectedly the man in front of us punched directly behind him. His fist came about 6 inches from our faces. We immediately gave the man another couple of paces distance and we stared at each other with disbelief. Just then he spits over his shoulder and narrowly missed my sister's shoe. We almost stopped in our tracks. By now the look on our face would best be described by the phrase "how the heck did you get that bean stuck up your nose?" At the next corner we waited until he decided to cross the street and purposefully made a right turn.

For the next block we made comments about how bizarre the whole experience was and guessed at how close we came to instigating a street brawl. By the time we got to the next store we were laughing about it and doing our best to immitate the swagger while punching out in random directions. I'm sure several of the pedestrians we passed were wondering how we got beans stuck up our noses too.

Our Christmas tree is still up. We seem to be running five to ten days behind schedule this year. The cold weather came late in November so October didn't seem like it was in fall. Thanksgiving came too early this year so we held onto it until December. Now it's January and we haven't gotten around to putting the decorations away.

Have you ever experienced the six-month slump at a new place? It's the point in time when the newness of your place wears off and you aren't as excited about it. Dishes seem to pile up in the sink more quickly (or stay there longer). How do you get around that? Maybe it's time to move.

Happy New Year

It was suggested to my by a friend that one of my New Year’s resolutions should be to blog more regularly. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment. Instead I have resolved the following:

1. Say thank you more often
2. Reach out to others in kindness and show a sincere interest in them
3. Pay more attention during conversations I’m having by sitting down and focusing on the person (i.e. my wife)
4. Eat more healthy and exercise regularly
5. Share stories of my growing up years and family with my wife and children
6. Stop taking myself so seriously

I’ve often heard that the best goals stretch you, are attainable, and can be measured. All of these will take more than a couple of weeks to complete and will take some effort, but I’m not exactly sure how to measure all of them. What kind of metric do you use to measure the level of kindness you are showing others? When do you know you aren’t taking yourself so seriously?

I think when a change involves your personality or attitude the progress is measured by how much you like your new self and whether you are actually creating a new you. And perhaps the best measurement is if other people notice a change. For example, if my wife notices that I’m less uptight than I used to be, I’ve succeeded. If others want to be around me more or are friendlier maybe I’ve succeeded in being kinder and saying thank you more often.

I’m actually excited about my resolutions this year. But I’m still dreading this year somewhat.

This year I’m turning 30 in June. I didn’t think it would bother me. My hair is already falling out, I have three children, I’m already softer than I was a year ago. What else can happen to make me feel older? However, somehow 30 still seems like a threshold to something threatening. I think turning 30 is all about perceptions. I have perceptions that people over 30 are supposed to settle down. They should have mortgages and join the PTA. They don’t have as many adventures, are more responsible in their careers and even in their casual associations. Basically, unstructured time is over! Now I know these thoughts aren’t realistic and that these changes aren’t abruptly instituted when you turn 30, but it still seems scary.

But when I think about the other seemingly scary thresholds in life, 30 doesn’t seem so bad. Graduating high school and going to college was one of the first big ones. I remember thinking that somehow I was going to have to take care of myself if I got sick, feed myself, earn my own keep, etc. I would have to set my own rules and get myself out of sticky situations. But it was equally exciting. So was going on a mission out of the country for two years. So was getting married. Actually getting married didn’t seem so scary to me. Sure I committed the rest of my life to one person, but Stephanie is perfect for me. She’s the Yin for my Yang. On the other hand, having kids was a bit scary at first. Children were something we both wanted right away (and we got it right away too). Figuring out how to raise a child and be a parent was the daunting part. But like anything you’ve never tried before you’re rarely very good when you first start. Now that we’ve had some “practice” things don’t seem so daunting (true, no teenagers yet). It feels like determining how well my children turn out will be kind of like my New Year’s resolutions – it’s hard to measure success on a day-to-day basis, but you can tell if you’re doing a good job with your kids if people comment on how nice they are, and if you enjoy being around them.

Festivus for the Rest of Us

This year our office decided that for our holiday party we would celebrate Festivus. For those who don’t know about Festivus, you need to watch this episode of Seinfeld. It began when one of my coworker team leads brought in a 6 foot tall 4 inch diameter aluminum pole mounted in a cardboard box. By the end of the day it was decided that our holiday celebration would begin with a potluck lunch where we brought dishes representing our respective heritages or cultures. Then we would have the airing of grievances over lunch (more on this later). After the grievances, feats of strength and a gift exchange. We all did our research on Festivus which means we recorded and watched the Seinfeld episode. The same coworker team lead offered to collect grievances to be shared anonymously for those who couldn’t be there or who didn’t have the moxy to air them personally.

The date was set for Monday, December 17th. With a couple of weeks’ notice everyone had time to think over what to bring and what to air. My mom’s side is half Swiss-Italian and half Finnish/Swedish. I decided to bring in some Northern Italian fare and some Swedish Fish. I was out of town the week before our office party so I planned on having everything ready by Saturday mid-day. Events conspired against me with a red-eye flight that got me home at 6:30 am on Saturday, my cousin visiting from Philadelphia and my firm’s holiday party that night. I ran out of time.

Monday morning I grabbed some Swedish fish from the drug store on my way in. One of my coworkers is Czech and of course made Czech cookies from scratch. She saw my Swedish fish and immediately ridiculed me for bringing them in, noting specifically that they were manufactured in Canada! Who cares??? By about 9:30 am it was apparent that 70% of the office had brought dessert. (Why does everyone bring dessert to a potluck? Is it because you usually don’t have to reheat it? Are they inherently easier to transport? Are desserts cheaper to make/buy? ) Myself and two other employees decided to make a last minute run to the grocery store for some meal items. I found some Swedish Meatballs at the deli along with some pasta and spinach in a garlic sauce. Whatever. If my coworker had anything more to say she was going to take a meatball to the skull. It was close enough for me.

The potluck came off pretty well. Fortunately someone had been thinking the same thing and came back with three buckets of fried chicken. The lead at our client began the airing of grievances. This wasn’t an unusual habit for him so it didn’t take him more than a moment to really get into it. Ten minutes later we were actually starting to feel reprimanded. At that point he said it was someone else’s turn and proceeded to point his way around the room demanding we state our grievances. Everyone laughed nervously and some tossed out a grievance or two. I kept mine general and not targeted towards anyone specifically and definitely not related to the office. For instance, I hate it when I write a check and the recipient doesn’t cash it for 3-4 months. Really. Why would you wait that long? If you lost it, tell me. I’ll write you a new one. Back to the story:

About two thirds of the way around the room, the client got to one of his own employees who is known in the office for being a target. There isn’t a better word to describe him. In order for the story to flow we’ll call this guy Dan. Dan is a nice guy who doesn’t like confrontation and is a bit oversensitive. He is often the object of jokes in the office. He once asked a meeting be rescheduled to accommodate his lunchtime yoga class. People love to tell that story. Dan wanted business cards like some of the other employees so the client lead made him some spoof ones with extra large print and a ridiculous title. Dan took it poorly. A couple of months ago the client personnel were accompanying some of my coworkers on a visit to one of the client’s other locations. Dan wanted to come to. The client lead told him to get his supervisor’s permission and he could go. Dan acted like his mother said that after he cleaned his room he could go play baseball with his friends. There is a lot more.

So the client lead called on Dan. Dan spoke up and said his grievance was Festivus. Dan didn’t like Festivus. He likes Christmas with the attendant peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Dan didn’t like the airing of grievances. He went on for another moment at which point the client lead broke saying, “Oh, shut up Dan! Who’s next?” The room erupted in laughter and Dan’s complaints and protests were quickly passed over.

The feats of strength never happened for some reason. Maybe we were all too full from lunch.

The group generally agreed that Festivus was a success. It was a fun break with tradition, and it inspired a lot of creativity. The potluck came off okay in the end. A team member of mine may Jambalaya! The gift exchange got a lot of laughs. I got an alarm clock shaped like an egg that wobbles around the desk when the alarm goes off. The grievances were sufficiently aired and were left at the table. Or so we thought.

On Wednesday we all received an email from our client lead stating that he had heard indirectly from someone that people were offended/confused/hurt/upset by our Festivus celebration. He welcomed discussion and apologized if anyone was left feeling offended/confused/hurt/upset. He also stated that we would not be celebrating Festivus in the future. I’m sure it was Dan.

The art of Procrastination

Ughhh... I am not a blogger. Why am I not a blogger? Because I am a procrastinator that doesn't like writing. I'd much rather avoid something I know I should do by filling my time with other less-important tasks. If I knew why I did that I could probably get myself to quit though even that might not help.

The ironic part about this entry is that I'm blogging as a result of procratinating finishing a work assignment that is overdue! But it seems so much easier to finally create an entry here than to get back into my work assignment. I know, it doesn't make sense. I have to finish this work assignment tonight, and putting if off only means I'll be up late getting it done. Yet, that knowledge isn't compelling me to re-order my tasks.

If I try to put my finger on the cause of my procrastination I would hazard a guess that I do it because I want to put off the distasteful task as long as possible and then condense it into as little time as possible. In a sense sqeezing the task into the space between a rock and a hard place so it's just one giant horse pill rather than a whole bottle of little ones. I know, still not making sense.

Memory Lane, Higley, AZ

While in Scottsdale, AZ for training for work I had a night free. Since I lived in what used to be Higley, AZ for 17 years, and since it's been 6 years since I've last been through I decided to make a visit.

The new freeway takes you straight to the entrance of my old neighborhood, but regardless I got lost immediately. You wouldn't recognize the place! What used to be corn, cotton, or alfalfa fields is now filled with strip malls, fast food restaraunts, and WalMart and Costco.

Once I found my way to our old street the oddest sensation came over me. Suddenly I was home. I felt as if I had just re-entered my life after having taken a 9 year break. Rumplestiltskin-esque. My neighborhood changed only in the small details and a few additional homes. It was familiar and comfortable all at once.

It was hard to resist the urge to pull into the old driveway and go in the front door of our old home. I was sure that if I opened the front door I would find the rest of my family there enjoying the after-dinner conversation and activities. (I'm sure the new owners wouldn't have appreciated the intrusion).

Instead I drove two doors down to our neighbor's home. It was awesome to see everyone. They were expecting me, and seeing everyone for the first time in six years was amazing! Everyone had changed in some ways, but then they were all still the same. The rest of the evening was full of conversations running into and over one another as we re-discovered our friendships. The term "reunion" doesn't quite cover the event. "Homecoming" is a little closer, but it still leaves me unsatisfied. Is there a word in the english language that captures the feeling of these moments?

In the end it was hard to leave. I wanted to preserve the moment and to return things to the familiar pattern of what life in Higley had been like. For the first time in six years I thought seriously about moving back to AZ. Again I thought about just walking two doors down to head to bed, but the rental car out front brought reality quickly back into focus.

Driving back to the hotel was a blur (maybe in part because it was almost 1 am). Returning to reality wasn't unpleasant, but it took the entire drive to fully extricate myself from the delusions I had entertained. I know I'll be coming back though the timing is unsure at the moment.

It seems as though places absorb and store up emotions that we experience there. When we return they begin to release those emotions back to us. The road I lived on for 17 years had stored up all of the youthful energy, hope, restlessness, love, and peace I had experienced. When I returned last night, the lane was expecting me.

Craigslist = scam magnet

I am learning that www.craigslist.org is a magnet for scam artists. Craigslist is very aware of what is going on, and since it is a public forum it invites its posters to report fraud to the FTC. Here is what Craigslist says about the scams its posters find: www.craigslist.org/about/scams.html