So it’s been a year of swimming regularly. I started thinking about it as something to do to augment my regular exercise and after a year I’ve found that swimming has not only taken over but I just sent in a registration form to compete in an honest-to-God swim meet. And not some little fuck-around meet, either. A big one. With blocks and timing pads and everything! It’s kind of a big deal.

As I was sealing up the envelope with my registration form inside I started asking myself how I got here. What changed? And what had I actually accomplished along the way. I’m not sure what exactly changed, other than enjoying it. It was fairly simple to alter the workout routine to substitute swimming for my typical cardio work. As I re-familiarized myself with the pool, I did it more and more, and the elliptical less and less. I started off swimming 1000 yards on my lunch hour, two or three times a week. Now I’m swimming five days a week, three days on my own and twice a week with a USMS team. I’m averaging 14000 yards a week– about five times what I started doing.

So there’s that. What’s more I started keeping track of things as the year progressed. I mean, it’s swimming. You go up the lane, you flip around and you come back down the lane. Up and back, up and back, up and back. It’s not the most exciting of exercises.

For several months I swam the same workout each time. I started with five 200 Free on whatever it took to do them. When I completed five of them, I congratulated myself, got out of the pool and walked around feeling virtuous the rest of the day. As I got stronger, my times dropped and I could complete the workout in less time. Eventually I added a sixth 200 Free, but by that time I was pretty bored.

So I watched the clock. I started playing games with myself. Can I do this 50 in less than a minute? Can I string a set of three 200 Free on the 4:00 together without completely gasping out? Can I catch that guy swimming a lane over? I think it was that last one that did it. Having those little imaginary races in my head with other people in the pool. They didn’t know they were racing me. Or maybe they did; I don’t know. Maybe they were doing the same thing to me. We never talked about it.

I started tinkering with my workout. I tried to remember the workouts from when I was a kid– that was fruitless. I turned to online to look for help, and initially that was only mildly helpful. Workouts are all over the place in terms of intensity, distance and goals. Triathlons have become popular forms of exercise and there are a number of suggestions for workouts as part of triathlon training. I looked at some of those and mixed things up a bit, but nothing really fit right. Eventually I discovered a website run by some Kiwis out of New Zealand that provided customized workouts. Swimplan asks you to enter some basic information about yourself, your swim ability and your facilities and then kicks out up to five workouts every day for you to choose from. By this point I was swimming regularly five days a week: three times during the workweek and twice on weekends. I signed up, punched in my basic numbers and waited to see what it would suggest. It kicked out at 2200 yard workout, nearly double what I had been swimming on a daily basis. But the workout was broken down into sections: warm up, build up, core and warm down. It had sets. It had intervals. It suggested appropriate rest and intensity levels. It was, essentially, a stand in coach.

And I ate it up. I took that first workout with me to the pool and was through it much faster than I had anticipated. And I felt great afterward. I thought I would be completely gassed after doubling my workout. I wasn’t. Over the next few months I refined my information, added time trial data. I bought some paddles and a pull bouy so I could drill with those. Swimplan supplies appropriate drills depending on what equipment you tell it you have.

Swimming was very much part of my daily routine. Whirl commented that if I went too many days without swimming, I would grow crabbier and irritable. Complete a workout and I would return to calm, cool and collected. Endorphins are amazing that way. I got to know a few of the regular swimmers at the pool, people I ran into every week. In more than a few conversations, it was suggested that I look into Masters swimming. In mid-October I followed up on those suggestions and I’ve been very happy about that decision ever since.

The end of the year has been plagued by some facilities problems with my regular lunchtime gym. The pool has been intermittently out of commission starting in November. So an added benefit of joining the team is that team practice has given me another outlet while the gym tries to fix their pool.

My highlight accomplishment has to have been the Hour of Power workout in late December. The workout was very simple: swim non-stop for an hour. They kept track of our distance and recorded our time at the end of every 50. I swam 3850 yards in an hour, approximately 2.2 miles. And what is more impressive is that I kept a much steadier pace than I could have hoped for.

Some accomplishments over the past year swimming:

  • Weight Loss : 43 pounds
  • Weight Loss : 6 inches off my waist
  • One hour nonstop distance : 3850 yards
  • 100 Free : 1:13
  • 200 Free : 2:41
  • 500 Free : 7:23
  • 1000 Free : 15:26
  • 100 Back : 1:35
  • 100 Breast : 1:36

I plan to use those results to build some goals for the next year. But before that, it’s off to the races!

This hour-long music video serves as a nostalgic look back at a half-remembered, plastic childhood. Edited over the span of six months from conception, to mix, to cut, to final reassembly– the creator intercuts images he felt might be visually interesting, whether he enjoyed the source material or not, and sets it to propulsive modern music. All together Skinemax provides a fascinating look at the culture from the 80s and early 90s and all the imagery that defined a generation.

There was no real definite plan aside from certain segments where you see a theme for more than a few shots, such as electricity, fire, explosions, babes, guitars, flying, et cetera.

(Timothy Clary/AFP Photo)

In January I started swimming regularly for the first time in about twenty years. When I wrote about it at the time I said that I wasn’t swimming for competition; I said that I was just doing it for myself. And I think I meant that. Now it’s ten months later and I’ve been steadily adding more and more to my workouts and swimming has pretty much taken over from my other exercise routine. I started off swimming 1000 yards three days a week. As I got more comfortable, I added a fourth day and then a fifth. Then I started edging up the distance. I was swimming faster and requiring less time to rest. I started keeping a log of my distance totals and every once in a while I would time myself. You know, just to see how I was doing. Nothing serious.

Of course there was absolutely nothing vaguely competitive about any of this. Racing never crossed my mind– not even when I caught myself secretly trying to pass the guy in the lane next to me. I found Swimplan and punched in some of the statistics I’d gathered over those first few months to establish a profile. I have really appreciated Swimplan and have recommended it to several of the other regulars I’ve met at the pool. That first workout added fifty percent more to my regular workout, and it’s kept steadily increasing ever since. Up until last week, I was averaging a total of 10000 yards per week. I’ve fallen into a comfortable routine — five days on, two days off — swimming Friday through Tuesday. On the three weekdays I swim over my lunch break; The pool is just two blocks away. On the weekends, I try to swim first thing in the morning.

Then a couple of things happened in rapid succession that altered my thinking. In one week at the pool I had three people ask me if I swam competitively: two mentioning the US Masters Swimming program, and the third talking to me about triathlons. At the time, this seemed like coincidence, but now I can say with some confidence that it probably wasn’t entirely coincidence. The Chicago Triathlon, the Wisconsin Ironman and the Chicago Marathon were all scheduled to run within about a month of the comments, marking the culmination of the summer triathlon season.

A goal is not always meant to be reached. It often serves simply as something to aim for. — Bruce Lee

I had a new goal. I’d accomplished most of what I’d sought out to do. I was comfortable in the water again. I was getting stronger and continuing to lose weight. I was feeling better about myself. The objective data was there for anyone to analyse: times were quicker, distances longer. It was time to step it up again.

So last weekend I signed up for Masters swimming. I joined a team and last night I attended my first official workout. The Chicago Blue Dolphins practice out of the UIC facility about a mile and a half from home on the southeastern corner of the campus. It has two gorgeous pools in the building. The large pool is a huge pool: eight lane 50-meter by ten lane 25-yard pool and a large diving well offset on the deep end. The small pool is a more typical six lane 25-yard pool. The workouts are challenging, effectively doubling the longer workouts I’ve been doing on my own through Swimplan. New drills, new techniques and coaches there to help make adjustments and provide encouragement.

From what I can tell, the competitive swim meet season starts in January, so I’ve got a bit of time left to practice before then. Regardless, it’s a powerful motivation and one I’m really excited about undertaking.

Neuromancer, by William Gibson, is over twenty-five years old. It won the Hugo, the Nebula and the Philip K. Dick awards — the first novel to accomplish such a task — and forever changed science fiction.

I read Neuromancer for the first time my sophomore year in high school. That was 1986 for those of you keeping tabs on my arrested cognitive and emotional development. In the intervening twenty-five years I have watched, and even participated in realizing, a number of the technological and socio-cultural changes speculated upon in Gibson’s work. So perhaps we do not yet have corporate arcologies, or Squids. But we have decks, and cyberspace. And we call Ono-Sendai “Apple”. Or “Google”.

I’m rereading this book for the first time since high school first to see how well it holds up. And second to see how well I’ve held up in the face of such overwhelmingly disruptive change.

Six weeks ago NASA concluded its final shuttle mission, STS-135. At the time, I found myself rather conflicted about the whole thing. Space and all the things that go along with that — rockets, exploration, astronauts, the planets, moons and asteroids — have fascinated me from an early age. (That and dinosaurs, of course, but near anyone knows, there are no dinosaurs in space.) So to see NASA give up the last remnant of human spaceflight was saddening. No more rocket launches.

And yet, I’ve grown increasingly critical of the shuttle program since the Challenger explosion in 1986. I never quite understood why we were investing so much time, money and effort into a program that was I believed was essentially a pick-up truck to low-earth orbit. Of all the places we could possibly go in the solar system, low-earth orbit has got to be one of the most boring. I now count going back to the moon to be a close second place. — At least from LEO, you’re halfway to a huge number of very interesting places. I think of LEO as something like the St. Louis, Missouri of the high frontier. It may not be particularly interesting or exciting in its own right, but you do have to go through it if you’re headed out to the territories. And the territories are exciting.

So I tend to view the Space Shuttle program as a very expensive, somewhat unreliable ride to St. Louis in a pick-up truck. I can think of far more exciting trip to take.

Like Mars.

The Case for Mars: The Plan to Settle the Red Planet and Why We Must is a detailed examination of manned space exploration of Mars by Robert Zubrin. It was first published in 1996. Now, fifteen years, three presidents, and a number of successful robotic exploratory missions later we have a wealth of additional information about the viability (both technical and political) of a manned mission to Mars and Zubrin has updated and republished his book with those additions. The book details Zubrin’s Mars Direct plan for manned exploration of Mars. The plan utilizes existing technology currently ready-at-hand for a budget a fraction of original NASA proposals for the first human landing on Mars. The plan focuses on keeping costs down by making use of proven automated systems, and chemical processes via in-situ resource utilization.

Like Buzz Aldrin, I am critical of NASA’s goal of sending astronauts back to the moon. Aldrin said it was “more like reaching for past glory than striving for new triumphs” and has advocated for his own Mars to Stay program of human space exploration.

So it is now, that the albatross of the Shuttle program is off our neck that I hope we may be able to refocus human space exploration onto a goal that is challenging, rewarding and ultimately possible. Let’s go to Mars!

Okay, okay, okay. I know all I’ve been doing on this blog is writing on and on about this incredible series of books by George R.R. Martin: The Song of Ice and Fire. I just finished the third book last night and picked up volume four, A Feast for Crows, on my way home tonight. I have just a few words to say about the last book, because I really want to get to reading. So, here you go. All you need to know about A Storm of Swords is summarized in one scene: The Red Wedding.

Remember how you felt about poor Ned’s beheading way back around page 700 of A Game of Thrones? Yeah. The Red Wedding is better.

And now here I am, almost 3000 pages into this epic, and I’m not even halfway done! All kinds of people are dead. Characters that I thought were wearing black hats are actually wearing white hats. Characters I thought were undoubtedly wearing white hats have traded them in for black ones. The cast has swelled tremendously. Dickens would eat his heart out. But Dickens never had dragons running around his Great Oven.

I gotta go!

Okay, so that was interesting. As tempted as I am to talk about the various plot developments that took place in A Clash of Kings, I’m going to leave off and just encourage you to pick up this series for yourselves and enjoy it.

I truly think there is something in this series for everyone. Just don’t demand that any one character remain alive, intact or unmoved. George R.R. Martin made no such promises with the first book, and he reiterates the point with dramatic success in the second. And now, we move onto the third installment.

A Storm of Swords is the third of seven planned novels in the fantasy epic, A Song of Ice and Fire. The Seven Kingdoms are in the grip of civil war. Five Kings simultaneously fight for control of a continent: Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy, Joffrey Baratheon, and Stannis Baratheon. But those are not the only armies in the field: winter is coming and ominous signs light the sky. Monsters walk the earth, or at least the earth beyond the Wall.

I was amused to read Martin’s comments after A Storm of Swords lost the 2001 Hugo Award for Best Novel to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He said: “Eat your heart out, Rowling. Maybe you have billions of dollars and my Hugo, but you don’t have readers like these.” Is it a bad thing that I’m a huge fan of both authors? Must I choose?

So I recently found myself asking myself, “What do I do when I finish the end of the first volume of a huge multi-volume fantasy epic and the author has just beheaded the oh-so-noble-minded protagonist?” Should I throw the book into the fire in despair, join an online forum and curse the author’s sudden but inevitable betrayal? Or should I just turn the page and find out what happens next? I chose the latter course. And before you consider posting your own angry, anonymous screed in response to my alleged spoiler with that first sentence, let me gently remind you of two things: First, A Game of Thrones was published fifteen years ago. Fifteen years. Second, the first season of the HBO series Game of Thrones concluded a week ago. The first season very closely matches the story of the first volume of George R.R. Martin’s ever-growing, multi-volume epic. Besides, Benioff and Weiss took Stark’s head off the week before in episode 9.

Ned’s dead. He wasn’t alone. It happens. What now? — After all, that’s really the point. To learn what happens next. To turn the page and continue the story. Because like it or not these books are not about one character. Or even one family. They’re about hundreds — thousands — of major and minor characters caught up in intrigue and magic and mystery well beyond most of their understandings. And likely beyond even the capacity to fully comprehend for the best of players.

Publisher’s Weekly writes:

The novel is notable particularly for the lived-in quality of its world, created through abundant detail that dramatically increases narrative length even as it aids suspension of disbelief; for the comparatively modest role of magic. […] Here, he provides a banquet for fantasy lovers with large appetites—and this is only the second course of a repast with no end in sight.

I am completely hooked by this series, Mooch’s warnings be damned.

A team of neurosurgeons out of Heinrich-Heine-Universität Düsseldorf have completed a comprehensive study on traumatic brain injury in the Asterix comics. I know this because they wrote a paper about it and had it published. The title of their paper is “Traumatic brain injuries in illustrated literature: experience from a series of over 700 head injuries in the Asterix comic books”. The publisher is the European journal of neurosurgery, Acta Neurochirurgica, the official journal of the European Association of Neurosurgical Societies (EANS). They publish papers on clinical neurosurgery: including diagnostic techniques, operative surgery, postoperative treatment and results.

And on at least one occasion they publish galgenhumor.

I have not read Asterix in twenty years or so. I remember them as being very funny. I first encountered the comic while living in Germany. I mostly read English and German translations. But there was a time when I tried my hand at reading the native French edition of the book as a way of supplementing my French coursework at the Tübinger Volkshochschule. That was funny, too.

(For different reasons. No, je ne veux pas besprechen.)

Now I want to get my hands on this paper. If it is anything like the abstract, I’m sure I’m going to find it hilarious.

Abstract
Background: The goal of the present study was to analyze the epidemiology and specific risk factors of traumatic brain injury (TBI) in the Asterix illustrated comic books. Among the illustrated literature, TBI is a predominating injury pattern.

Methods: A retrospective analysis of TBI in all 34 Asterix comic books was performed by examining the initial neurological status and signs of TBI. Clinical data were correlated to information regarding the trauma mechanism, the sociocultural background of victims and offenders, and the circumstances of the traumata, to identify specific risk factors.

Results: Seven hundred and four TBIs were identified. The majority of persons involved were adult and male. The major cause of trauma was assault (98.8%). Traumata were classified to be severe in over 50% (GCS 3–8). Different neurological deficits and signs of basal skull fractures were identified. Although over half of head-injury victims had a severe initial impairment of consciousness, no case of death or permanent neurological deficit was found. The largest group of head-injured characters was constituted by Romans (63.9%), while Gauls caused nearly 90% of the TBIs. A helmet had been worn by 70.5% of victims but had been lost in the vast majority of cases (87.7%). In 83% of cases, TBIs were caused under the influence of a doping agent called “the magic potion”.

Conclusions: Although over half of patients had an initially severe impairment of consciousness after TBI, no permanent deficit could be found. Roman nationality, hypoglossal paresis, lost helmet, and ingestion of the magic potion were significantly correlated with severe initial impairment of consciousness (p ≤ 0.05).

Links


This past weekend I picked up the first volume in epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin. I doubt it will surprise anyone to learn that I did this after enjoying the first few episodes from the HBO series that named after first novel: A Game of Thrones. After looking them over in the bookstore this past weekend I came to realize that I had seen this series before. There are four novels in the series published so far: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords and A Feast for Crows. Each is nearly a thousand pages. A fifth book, A Dream of Dragons is scheduled for publication in July of this year after a six-year interval and I have seen mentions of a sixth and even a seventh addition. The earlier books in the series have been around for serveral years — Game of Thrones was published in 1996. For whatever reason I never picked one up. Maybe it was Mooch’s insistance that I read Kim Stanley Robinson‘s Mars Trilogy.

In his 2005 review of A Feast of Crows for Time magazine, Lev Grossman declared Martin the American Tolkien and described Martin’s voice in this way with impressive praise:

What really distinguishes Martin, and what marks him as a major force for evolution in fantasy, is his refusal to embrace a vision of the world as a Manichaean struggle between Good and Evil. Tolkien’s work has enormous imaginative force, but you have to go elsewhere for moral complexity. Martin’s wars are multifaceted and ambiguous, as are the men and women who wage them and the gods who watch them and chortle, and somehow that makes them mean more. A Feast for Crows isn’t pretty elves against gnarly orcs. It’s men and women slugging it out in the muck, for money and power and lust and love.

So I’m looking forward to digging into this lengthy epic series. What I’ve read so far, combined with what has been adapted to the HBO television series has whet my appetite. I’m glad to hear there is plenty more out there: thousands and thousands of pages more.