Garrett M. Vonk

I’ve paid my registration and I am set to compete in the 2008 ING Georgia Half Marathon. My hope is to shave at least twenty minutes off my finish from last time, but maybe three hours works as a nice, round goal.

That said, the training effort is back. I’m making another attempt at daily exercise, but doubling the timeline from last year. Instead of 12 weeks, I’m doing 24+ weeks, which should help with the overall level of fitness. I’m starting with a mix of walking/jogging, which is really a lot easier now that the temperature is approaching that which we would expect from fall weather. I’ve had enough of this 85-degrees-in-October business; I’m ready for it to actually get cold. I’ve added my workout log (wlog?) to the blog, but suppressed it from my RSS feed so that I don’t clog up your tubes. (Thanks, Category Visibility plugin!)

I’m also back in the saddle in another sense. In college, my favorite mode of transport was my 1987 Honda Elite CH250 scooter. I bought it for $900 and sold it for $800 two years later, so you can’t beat the value. It got 50 mpg and would get me around campus comfortably. Plus, I could park it at the bike racks around campus, subverting the wholly infuriating parking situation on campus that I understand has only gotten worse. At any rate, I definitely got a lot of enjoyment out of tooling around campus on the step-through beast, and I jumped at the opportunity to do so again. Living in midtown, I’ve never been convinced that we needed two vehicles, but Heather’s lease and my loan still had some time left on them. Finally, her lease was up and my vehicle had enough equity that we could both get into new rides.

Yes, I’m back on the scooter. I’m now commuting on a 2006 Yamaha Majesty from home to the office (about 2.9 miles). It’s a whole lot of fun, and between parking for free much of the time and getting 75 miles to the gallon, I’m really having a blast on my second scooter. We are now a 1.5 car family. There are a few logistical issues having only one proper car, but it’s absolutely worth commuting on two wheels and being able to fit in tiny, non-existent parking spaces at work. And despite what the photo below might indicate, I do wear a full motorcycle jacket with pads, long pants, and a helmet each and every time I ride, and I recommend that everyone else do the same. Dress for the crash, not the ride.

Buy a pound of fudge brownies for only a buck! Also, watch out for diabetes!

I just saw this quote in an article about the Virginia Tech shootings. Does this send chills down anyone else’s spine?

Some news accounts have suggested that Cho had a history of antidepressant use, but senior federal officials tell ABC News that they can find no record of such medication in the government’s files. This does not completely rule out prescription drug use, including samples from a physician, drugs obtained through illegal Internet sources, or a gap in the federal database, but the sources say theirs is a reasonably complete search.

It doesn’t really surprise me that they have a huge, privacy-invading database of our prescriptions, but what is unnerving to me is how definitive they consider it. I can just picture a Shadowy Government Official at his computer… “Why, he must not have been on antidepressants,” *clickety-clackety* “I don’t see it anywhere in our records.”

Edit: Someone at Boing Boing noticed the quote too and has a little more information on this database.

We finished. Heather and I crossed the finish line on Sunday at 10:25:44 AM. Our time of 3:13:34 was by no means remarkable, but we had a really incredible time doing it and I’m proud of us just for finishing.

The day started early Sunday at 4:45, when we wedged ourselves out of bed and attempted to function. Actually, our upstairs neighbors started it for me at 4:15 with their post-drinking, noisy return to the house. I think the people who own the unit above ours generally sleep most of the day and then strap on hiking boots and recreate scenes from Stomp whenever they think we’re sleeping. Anyway, just a few moments after I finally tuned them out and got back to sleep, it was time to arise. We took Marta down to Five Points–presumably a Smarta choice than jockeying for parking spaces with 12,000 other participants–and milled around in the pre-dawn confusion on Alabama Street near the starting line.

Note: twelve thousand is an insane number of people. Overweight husbands kissed their wives, wished them good luck, and then painfully forced their way through the morass of stretching runners to get to the sideline and unfurl their signs reading “WE LOVE YOU TAMI”. Runners with that über-serious I-have-vaseline-on-my-nipples look on their face pushed past us in an attempt to start closer to the front of the pack. I don’t know why it really mattered, since we all wore chips that tracked our progress to the second. I suppose you get more of an adrenaline boost being at the front of the pack.

The adrenaline was something I didn’t expect. I remarked to myself several times over the course of the race that if I had this kind of encouragement every time I exercised, I’d never have motivation problems again.

The route was absolutely gorgeous and–for the most part–well thought out.

Highlights:

• Mile 1: The multitude of secluded bushes for the, ahem, gentlemen runners with a need to relieve themselves. It’s not illegal if you’re in a race, right? Right?
• Mile 3: The gospel singers on the side of the road near Inman Park. How these people could get that excited at 7:30 in the morning still eludes me, but I cracked a big smile jogging past them swaying gently in their robes, so I guess they served their purpose.
• My iPod Shuffle, which was a tremendous aid in my motivation and concentration. “Eye of the Tiger” and “The Final Countdown” both came at appropriate moments in the race, but I did end up skipping “Don’t Stop Believing” when it came up in Mile 4. (Too soon.)
• The portable toilets with the moniker “Happy Can” situated at convenient points along the route, including Mile 6. These seemed to be frequented mostly by the female participants, probably because the bushes I mentioned earlier proved much faster for the men. I’m not sure how the serious runners–who are often trying to milk every precious second out of their time as possible–handle this matter. I guess they probably just let loose whenever, or more elegantly, pace their fluid intake precisely in order to never exceed the volume they lose through sweat.
• Around Mile 7, we were passed by the male leaders in the full marathon and I marveled at the fact that they had already completed a staggering 20 miles and showed no signs of stopping.
• Mile 8: The “Beer Table” set out by cheering revelers along Virginia Ave near Piedmont Park. I was pretty tempted to grab a plastic cup of cold beer, but I was worried this might not be the best way to stay focused.
• Mile 9: Several of the runners (probably actual athletes, who, you know, tried and pushed themselves and stuff) chose scenic Piedmont Park as the spot to forcibly heave their Clif Bars and Gatorade back out and onto the grass. Meanwhile, I saw cameras with particularly long lenses in use throughout the park, and made every attempt I could to sprint in a picturesque fashion whenever I detected one aimed at me. Hopefully, I can geta photo out of them that makes me actually look like a runner.
• Mile 12: For some reason, as we got closer to the finish, more and more people started reading our names off of our bibs and offering anonymous-though-personalized encouragement. We probably did a double take a half dozen times to an onlooker shouting “Go Heather and Garrett!!! You can do it!” before we realized that we didn’t know anyone in the crowd.
• Mile 13.1: Crossing the finish line was euphoric. I don’t know if I’ll be able to justify $15 for the 60-second video download, but the moment itself was priceless. Heather and I decided months ago that we were going to do this crazy thing and lo and behold, we achieved our goal.

Sweaty and aching, we piled onto the ridiculously packed train and made the short trip home, where we sought to obtain the greasiest pizza and coldest alcohol we could find. Now, if we can just make it through the week and slowly heal our joints and muscles, we leave for vacation this Friday and all will be right with the world. More on that later.

Update: Thanks to an intrepid geotagger on Flickr, I actually found a photo of the gospel singers that inspired us to keep going at Mile 3. Thanks, semantic web!

I am excited to be able to announce that Heather and I have registered for the ING Georgia Marathon.

Garrett, you say in a polite-but-condescending manner. A marathon is like twenty miles. You generally have to stop and catch your breath after pumping gas. How can you expect to complete such a feat without collapsing into a coma 100 yards in? First of all,we’re doing a half marathon, which is a paltry 13.1 miles, and second, we have a plan. We’re actually training nearly every day and doing increasingly-longer weekend jaunts so that by the end of March, we’ll be ready to at least walk the full 13 miles.

I can’t promise that I’ll do it very fast, but I will make it the full distance. I just need to find out if they’ll let me bring my iPod.

The Route

It’s so crazy, it just might be possible!

Weaving Your Band-Aids Keeps Your Booboos Clean, apparently.

I’m going to go home right now and slice up my hands just to try it!

In coming days, KFC will have television commercials ready to reassure customers that its chicken is safe to eat if there is a bird flu outbreak. The chicken chain said Tuesday it hopes the spots never have to air, but it’s taking no chances in the face of a potential threat to business.
[...]
“The message is to reassure consumers that eating cooked chicken is perfectly safe,” Blum said. “As our investors would hope, we are being proactive in preparing the materials in the event that we need to use them.”
-KFC Plans TV Ads to Respond to Bird Flu

Weasels, they’re not at all related to measles! - The American Weasel Council

Really, since the Avian Flu virus can’t be transmitted through cooked food, by killing and cooking these birds, KFC is doing its part to protect us from the virus, Pamela Anderson be damned!

I can’t help but wonder what these ads look like… Do they show an Asian family ripping off their breathing masks and chowing down on a bucket of Extra Crispy? Is there a famous actor on screen to assure us that the food is safe to eat? (”Hi, I’m Troy McClure. You may remember me from such public safety ads as Tylenol — Now Cyanide Free! and Where Did Those Bananas Come From, Curious George?“) Plus, is this really a unique selling proposition for KFC? Are they going to claim that their competitors’ chicken is utterly laced with bird flu?

Heather and I had physicals this morning, and found our new doctor. Our insurance plan doesn’t require us to choose a primary care physician; we can go to any damn doctor we want in our network. This actually makes it harder to choose one, because unlike with plans that might lock you in to a certain provider, I feel like I need to make a wise choice since I have so many options.

The physical went well; I’m not quite as fit as the president, but my blood pressure is healthy and I don’t seem to have any abnormalities.

The doctor did recommend I undergo a sleep study, to investigate some snoring and breathing issues I may want to address. I’m intrigued at the idea of sleeping overnight in a lab, with wires attached to me and cameras monitoring me.

• Will they be able to analyze my somnambulatory killing sprees dream patterns?
• Will the bed be as comfortable as our bed at home, or will it be an unforgiving hospital bed, thus tainting their results significantly?
• Will they allow me to hit the snooze bar in the morning? If not, I’ll mumble “You’re screwing up the experiment” and throw pillows at them.
• From my reading on the web, it appears that most sleep labs require you to shower before you leave. Is there a reason for this? Do they study me in there, too? Why can’t I shower at home?

Robotic Legs
Originally uploaded by Garrett Vonk.

[The prosthetics] rely on sensors to monitor how the leg is being placed on terrain and microprocessors in the knees to control how the limbs’ hydraulic system creates a natural step.

These limbs are amazing. I can’t wait to see more people out and about with robotic appendages. I wonder if the stigma will last, with the solutions being so technologically advanced. In the past, prosthetics were often ugly and clunky (I mean, who wasn’t scared by a guy with a hook as a kid?) and the wearers had little grace to their gait. But now, if these legs really are as smooth as they sound, the only staring I’d do would be out of awe.

I can’t wait to check out some video of these limbs in action.

Also from the article:

In a book he wrote, “Rebuilt: How Becoming Part Computer Made Me More Human,” Mr. Chorost recounts how he went to an electronics store to buy a cable to plug his compact disc player into his implant’s sound processor. When he explained to the salesclerk that he had a “bionic ear” and showed how he planned to jack the music directly into his head, the clerk nodded and turned back to the cables on the wall.

One day, we will all have stereo minijack inputs: movie theaters will be dead silent, Ipods will no longer be bundled with headphones, and airlines will still charge us $4 to watch a movie.

Being sick is no fun. NO FUN!

Apparently it’s a sinus infection.

NO FUN!!!