Training Log Archive: CleverSky

So you think about unlikely possibilities, and then a cab driver mentions a $25 lottery ticket for a teetotaller. What a stereotype! Nothing doing at the Quahog as far as I'm aware, the action is down with the misplaced kangaroos. If anybody were asking, I could provide legality and prudence and who knows where that would lead, but I'm not going to go campaigning. This is the realm of terrible odds anyway; the revival would probably be better. Or I could just go get some exercise in the dark and maybe end up perforated.

OK, so how did 2014 go? (This seems to be the popular thing to do today.)

Somewhat surprisingly, I appear to have logged more training this year than any previous year. Other than a slight dip last year, it's actually been a steadily upward trend since 2008 (I didn't check against the old log). This probably means that I've been increasingly creative in finding bogus things to log.

2014 actually had something of a target, that being the WRC in South Dakota. My training "plan", which I had indicated to Clint was something that existed, was simply to do something loggable every day, not counting exercises like situps and pushups, even if it was just a run around the block. In this I failed miserably. My first gap was on January 2, and it just went to pieces from there. I did manage some slightly longer runs by starting this effort to run/hike the MidState Trail unsupported, in sections. That's been pretty fun, and I look forward to doing more of it next year. If I've counted right, I've done about 58 km so far, but that includes the section north of the border up to Windblown.

The WRC itself was unspectacular. I wasn't overly thrilled with the map or the terrain, and we ended up bagging it early, not due to fatigue, but foot problems. (Clint had the worst of it, but I was completely ready to be done because of blisters -- I would have regretted it if I had soldiered on.) It was, however, quite pleasant to spend the time out there with Clint and Ernst, and our navigation was damn close to perfect.

Only 29 orienteering races this year, which other than the anomalous 2009 is the fewest since 1987. I ran M35 at all A-meets except for the North Americans, and the one-day DVOA meet, where I ran M21. Silver medals all three times that I ran Red, including the US Champs (Colorado). I missed the Rochester US Champs due to car troubles. One first place result, at the Ratlum Summer Picnic relay.

No Triple Crown this year, because a) I was meet director for the Billygoat, and b) there was no Highlander. The Billygoat went okay. I shortened the course at the last minute, which was a good thing because it was still marginally too much - warm weather contributed to that. It was also touch and go as to whether the shirts would be ready, but they arrived on Saturday morning. (And I have quite a few left over.) Having Mom there (on Mother's Day!) to help serve refreshments was pretty nice.

Compared to hang gliding (and lighthouse hunting), how did things go?
Months: HG: 9, O: 8, L: 7
Days: HG: 20, O: 24, L: 12
Flights/Courses/Lights: HG: 25, O: 29, L: 27
States: HG: 5, O: 9, L: 8
Time: HG: 19:09, O: 46:30
Distance (straight line): HG: 28.2 km, O: 250 km
Distance (path): HG: 686+ km, O: 193 km

Just a little tour around the neighborhood, including side excursions through the middle school parking lot and down Cushing Lane. Perhaps the coldest conditions I've ever done this in; I don't recall ever having to wear warm gloves before. Took a lot of tries to get started, and I had one fall on Oak Ave (dropped the unicycle) and a dismount doing a U-turn. Didn't realize how much north wind there was until I headed into it.

Piano, pizza, unicycle, Autoliv, flying, April, hearts, mac-n-cheese, autolil, breakfast... who's got the line on all this, Riley King or John Gorka?

I'm one of several who had an ambiguous name. My mother says she runs into Mrs. Thaxter from time to time (is she the one who has a car cover?). I wonder how things have been going for Mrs. Bridge.

I had a rendezvous with a young lady who was interested in doing some dancing. We did some prohibited things, and she got my heart rate elevated. Which is all not what it probably sounds like, but was a fine time nonetheless.

C • A fine time 1

Mostly not firewood, but cleanup of limbs that came down at Mom's over Thanksgiving that I didn't get a chance to get to until now. Primarily worthless white pine that I dragged up into the woods, but there were a couple of maple limbs that I'll cut up into stove length when I get a chance.

"What, like all four?" Four?! And from so close a source. I gotta let this go. It's another question of how long you remember things. And maybe a lesson in how easy it is to screw up. Too much caution is surely its own hazard as well, though.

Waiting for the postcelebratory informative perambulation brings in its own chapters, although probably not the one I might have anticipated. Who knows what lurks when there's the potential of both tiny projectiles and the most enormous one available? All probably quiet on the southeastern front, though. Unexpectedly, CMCs came closer today than they have in years, but that's entirely unrelated, except in the literal sense.

There's a saying that for every pilot a day will come when one of two things happens: a) he will walk to his aircraft realizing that this will be his last flight, or b) he will walk to his aircraft not realizing that this will be his last flight. Something along those lines is true for all sorts of things, and today may be an example: this could be my last running of the "classic" Mystery Blazes loop. The reason is that the closing on the property is scheduled for January 9, and instead of trespassing on the Lane property, I'll be running on public land, and will probably start entering via a different access point, where the new parcel has a small bit of frontage. The way I have been going in is adjacent to a lot that has been cleared and leveled and now has a For Sale sign up. In other news, the section between the Powerline trail and the Friendly trail has been recently marked with bright yellow-green paint blazes, so it's easier to follow. I'd suspect that mountain bikers might deserve the credit except that I saw no evidence of tire tracks. There's also a side trail blazed in blue that goes off to the right near the north end which I should explore at some point. I didn't notice whether the Shorter branch has also been refreshed, but I suspect it has. There has also been some rerouting in the Hickory Hills property, probably to avoid a wet area.

Decent effort, respectable time.

I should indeed promise myself to not say certain things, because in the past I've said things that I wish I could unsay. I even made a list once to try and deal with the regret for having said them, because they haunt me. But do the people I said them to even remember? Probably sometimes yes, sometimes no. Did they even take notice in the first place? Same answer. But today I was on the other side of that and I did notice, though I don't know if I'll remember. The speaker may not even realize that the comment was regrettable. The worst of these are the ones that betray an underlying attitude that goes beyond the simple statement.

C • Who? 4

Lest I be thought to have anything in common with Samuel Miles, I'll note that the first thing I did this morning involved keeping my tinder dry by advancing my aims, if you will. Though I've at times not been in favor of this sort of advance planning, I went ahead anyway. It's a cinch, as opposed to a gasket.

It's difficult to order when you don't have the menu, and you're not even in the restaurant. You might be thinking that you want ice cream, but the place in question serves barbecue. On another topic, what would one spend a week or two thinking about? A week might just be wordsmithing, of course. Maybe another week would be pondering. Or maybe talking things over with others. Some things I should probably promise myself to never say.

The dreams clearly show the anxieties, what with the obvious proxy of the woodman, the questionable attempt to ask about the salteater, the awkward face-to-face situation, and the slipup regarding negotiation details. The daydreams show different things, though probably no closer to reality. Meanwhile, the Mad Dog has had his day. Ain't got time to ride no fast train, indeed!

The resurgence has been undeniable. The foundation in xylophones and snare drums and a mysterious belt buckle surely has more stones, which may or may not be unearthed. Hard to know what to make of thoughtfulness, but it sounds pretty good. And the rain, well, it's a virtual certainly by now.

Ya gotta admire a well-placed semicolon, as well as the enhanced exercise descriptor. Wait, what? This actually has to do with exercise? Maybe. And with the laminar outlook, further complications are possible. It may all have a veneer of nothing out of the ordinary.

Some minor variations on a more or less standard route, temperature right around freezing, I think. Got outdoors, at least, better than loafing. I found a better way across the stream by going upstream a few steps and using some stones. Might not work in high water, and it involves going through a little bit of green, but it's better than balancing on the log. Nice time to be in the campground: no campers, no snowmobiles, no mud.

Most metaphors about dramatic occurrences seem to be disastrous, like earthquakes and hurricanes. I guess there's "winning the lottery", but that doesn't suit my fancy. So, while wondering whether you remember where you planted the land mines and inadvertently stepping on one, imagine an earthquake hitting. Except instead of bad things, have them be just as powerful, but entirely neutral events, that are whatever you manage to make of them. You know what that's called? An exaggeration, that's what. You have to have some admiration for Tom O'Tedious, though, because he got at least something for his persistence. I wonder where he came from, or where he went.

I will blast off into the empty spaces, marked by trails of incandescent purple stardust, and when I meet my valkyrie voodoo chile she will decide, and if it is life we will lay down upon the Neptunian rings and gaze down upon a scattering of moon blonde stratocasters orbiting the sun, dazzling our ears with chords that are somehow brittle and yet lushly sweet...

...no, wait...

There was an earlier allusion to an auburn/auburn foray, but contingent on an unfulfilled negative fulfillment criterion, and that will be honored. It doesn't preclude a later more modest and localized period of alternatives, maybe with the present realization of futuristic promises. Although a couple of additional global about-faces could bring the unexpected.

In the winter of a typical year, those of us in New England give some thought to snow every day, but the springtime comes, and eventually we have a day where snow never crosses our minds. This is probably true of most things. I give some thought to food every day, but there must have been some day in my life when I went the whole 24 hours without any mental nod to any of my family members. I have no idea how often that has happened. Some things I think of nearly every day, but there may come a time when they will nearly fade from memory, Attackpoint being an example. And sometimes an idea comes along that can be like an obsession, and it's interesting to see how long it takes for it to just evaporate.

In my judgment, the threshold has been crossed into dog-waggery territory. Of course, there is a secondary tail/tale to take into account, which complicates matters a bit, and could so even more depending on wind and tide.

It kind of feels like singing a song over and over until the lyrics have been forgotten and supplanted by other unrelated words. It's also surprising how opinions seem to differ, with the least favorable coinciding in part with the most important. There's something to be said for proper focus, but ignoring holes doesn't really make them go away.

A tetrahedron as a model would fail because although it won't balance on a point, it will come to rest on a face rather than an edge. But the real point is that at some point it will be beside the point. Of particular note: Mr Swartz spells his name with a K. Who am I not letting down here?

I've heard that a study showed that people could tell if someone was staring at the backs of their heads. Sounds preposterous, what would be the mechanism for such a thing? But then, the way things work out, maybe you stare at one person's head, and a third person gets the sensation of being watched. Probably only a fleeting feeling though. And undoubtedly overrated. But you never know with these things.

C • making sense 2

This morning I received a phone call regarding an international situation from a man with a heavy accent, whom I had never met, but whose name I have seen in solid gold letters. It was difficult to understand what he was saying in the noisy car, driving through an area where cell coverage is known to be not so great. I was able to refer him to someone who could in turn refer him to the person who could help him. But before I answered the call, I looked at the number it was coming from, and made an incorrect guess as to what the call would be about, based on the area code. Pffft!

Not much larger than the largest moths, really. And we know the speculative legend that a nonlinear system can exhibit large effects from small stimuli, such that a distant butterfly can ultimately wreak more havoc than an earthquake, although you can't blame it solely on the butterfly. You also have to take into account the actions of all the rest of the bugs. And damping is important. The unconventional folding could well be dismissed and generate no discernible ripples at all. Conversely, it could be missed, which would be degenerate. (And cernible?)

The thing to remember is that temporal balance must be allowed for. The transit is merely the pivot point, and 'tis the season for all sorts of busy commitments. Equal consideration is to be expected in both directions. This is all far too transparent, isn't it?

It's all imaginary at the moment, every bit of it, from the possibilities to the accusations. But as the cat both lives and dies, perhaps all of it is temporarily real. The likelihood of the opening has increased dramatically by now, to the point where I'd guess that pieces are in motion. But there is slack in the gears, so no immediate effects are to be expected. It may be a spot, but it's intentionally a very large one. The process could in principle take years.

Sometimes interstate or international or intercontinental can be a matter of merely a few steps. (But not interplanetary. ) That doesn't necessarily preclude delays and red tape. Either way, it's probably still too soon, but the window could open shortly. Likewise, the door could shut. I won't prepare for either, other than allowing for an April opportunity if any start would be undesirable. That, I'll allow, would be a disappointment.

It's my understanding that space vehicles on reentry go through a period of time during which there are no communications. Shaun's colleague is on stage now, and I have little doubt that he can avoid the poultry. After that, who knows?

The cryptic footnotes are more verbose than the text, which crawled in at 11 words per day, significantly less than the 64 that my initialsake managed. The duy is gaft. Just stay away from the locker and see how the disorigami evolves. A lanai isn't too far off the mark, I think.

RHIN-O #7 pretty serious rain, but I didn't have any trouble with being cold. The main problem I have at Ratlum is that since I know the area so well, I tend to look at the map, see where the control is, and just try to go there without looking at the map again. That can be okay in the daylight, but it's riskier in the dark. It bit me on the first control, costing me a couple of places. Easy enough to go to the pond, and maybe even safest to take Wleft Road to get there, but I went on the more direct smaller trails and managed to make a wrong turn at the first junction. Before long I was north of #15 and heading west, but even in the rainy dark I was able to recognize that it was wrong, realize where I was, and correct without looking at the map. But I was already down a couple of minutes. The rest basically went okay, though I was a little too far right on #3. Phil was coming out of #5 when I was heading in, and by #8 I had reeled him in. We were more or less together from there to #15, though sometimes on different route choices. We passed Rick DeWitt at #14, and then I went through too much laurel getting up to the trail. I had some trouble using my headlamp in combination with a hat, especially in the wet, as the headlamp fell off a few times when it got hit by branches. My prior knowledge did help me on #17, as I was able to blast to the trail, recognize the buttonhole, and had an easy attack from there. This is likely to be the last orienteering of the year, as it has been every year since 2008. Are there others who have done all seven RHINOs?

C • all seven 6

I don't think Rinehart did me much good, but I'll have to manage as best as I can. Silly of me to put so much theoretical effort into degenerate origami, but it looks like the dimensions are okay. At worst this should be benign, at best probably a bigger flaming tornado than I can handle, but what are the chances of that? Avoiding all hazards is not the point of the game. Maybe I should have gone with "eeyolpme".

I shouldn't even bother with worrying about whether the time of ebola would rhyme with fiction. Although I was once among those who needed at least a hint of a last name to resolve the ambiguity, I've more recently been widely known by just a pair of letters. But preparing the die, at least, holds some promise of being therapeutic. With proper care, what's the worst that could happen?

Half-measures would seem to be called for, along with reorganized perspectives, restrained imagination, and realistic expectations. But some realities seem unlikely until you acknowledge that they clearly are realities. Nevertheless, it can be better to strategically sneak up on things than to come into this world like a bulldozer and start ripping up the place.
nvng fhnwfl obts

C • Given the wording, I'd gues... 7

At least double the usual level of koyaanisqatsi. Gimli's assessment seems accurate, although his recommendation is suspect. Plenty of puzzle pieces lying around, but I'm not sure that any of them fit. Should I be clapping my hands for the tale? Would anybody? Let the water hold me down. Without a lot of unavailable telepathy, neither the odds nor the stakes are available. Several useless aphorisms and proverbs may apply. I can burn without fuel.