The Frog Blog

Oh Canada

2007-01-19T17:53:00.000-07:00

Most of us would go merrily through life knowing that Canada never loved tea parties, makes great syrup, and has a population smart enough to refuse to claim either Quebec or Celine Dion as part of their heritage.
I have to admit that without Cupid’s intervention, my knowledge of all things Canadians would have been limited to these tidbits and I, most likely, would never have had to seek therapy for this blatant culture void.
However, when your froggiancée is Canuck, you have to expand your knowledge and learn more about her origins. And since total immersion is the best (unless you are a triathletes…sorry, the insiders’ joke have to be present), it was time for me to embark with her in a journey to Alberta, where my frogginlaws live.

Just like Lewis and Clark, our experience begun at the port of call. We made it to the airport just in time to be astonished, once again, at the marvels of US education: Our friendly check-in agent, an employee of the friendly skies, asked me what my nationality was.
While I shall make no claim to talking good England, I assumed that such a question required an answer that would use an adjective to describe where my wonderful accent was from; henceforth the very predictable answer of “French”.
Apparently my retort did not satisfy my luggage checker who, with a frown getting deeper than the Grand Canyon, proceeded to franticly type on her keyboard. After a long and uncomfortable silence that made me wonder if my country had been annexed by Lichtenstein, she finally asked from which city I was from...I briefly considered answering with my registered address in Neuilly or some places I consider home such as Allemont or Balesta but rather opted to simplify the existence of this great scholar of the Magna Carta and answered Paris.
Another few minutes go by when she finally exclaims: “Oh! Paris! As in France? Your nationality if France then; keep it in mind for the next time it will save you some time” she says returning my passport.

Still recovering from the discovery of my true origin, I was astonished to make my first find about Canada. There is a very good reason why Canadians are so fast on the ice rink or on the track (Yes, Ben Johnson was framed, he is Tyler’s long lost twin): Canada has mastered the art of teleportation.
We arrived at our gate at 7:30 and information told us the plane was on time for 8 pm. Neat. Except for the fact that the PA system enlightened us by telling us that we had to wait for the crew before the plane could depart. And while the crew was still in Toronto, the plane’s departing time would stay the same so “Please stick around here so you do not miss your flight”. Apparently Air Canada only needs 30 minutes to go from Toronto to Chicago. Teleportation it had to be or the super stealth supersonic jet. However, we forgot that the United States has strict travel regulations and neither supersonic flight nor DNA alteration is authorized so our flight was delayed until 10:30 pm.

There are few sexier places than the luggage arrival room at the Edmonton airport at two in the morning. This place is so radiant with beauty that all the passengers, and the border agents, decided to wait there for another 90 minutes. It seemed that our luggage decided it was too cold to leave the plane’s cargo space. The actual wait was caused by labor as the zeal of the Parisian baggage handlers is only matched by the one of the Edmonton handlers since only one crew was available to unload all the incoming Air Canada flights.

Thankfully, the froggdadinlaw was kind enough to wait for us and it was after much delay that we finally arrived in Ponoka.

You are not much of a rodeo lover or an environmentalist if you do not know of Ponoka. The two things that the locals talk about the most in this sprawling metropolis are the Rodeo and the Country Dump. Unbeknownst to most, Ponoka, boasts the largest rodeo in Canada, outside of the CFR. If you are clueless as to what CFR stands for and cannot go to Google, well I cannot help you because my knowledge of all things Rodeo is not up to spurs yet. As I was trying to make a good impression, I simply mirrored the best moves from the Madagascar’s penguins and “smiled and waived” when the CFR topic came up. I am guessing it has to do with cows because there are lots of them in this part of Canada.

The county dump is also a must see when you are visiting town. The locals are most proud of it as several mentioned it to me. What makes a dump better than a favella you ask? Well besides that you do not have to speak Portuguese to dump your trash at the Ponoka dump, it seems that this county dump rocks because, unlike the city one, you do not have to pay for it and county employees help you unload your car. Such remarkable it was that I found myself producing more and more trash at the house, just to be able to go back to this wonderful place. My parade was rained on, however, when the frogmominlaw had to let me know that the dump was only opened twice a week and we were running out of space in the house to store my fake garbage.

To console me, froggiancée took me for a run in the countryside. It was a gorgeous and balmy negative 20 Celsius and my mind quickly shifted from the dump to mastering running on ice while trying to keep pace with someone who outpaces me the minute she starts walking. Thankfully the cows came to my rescue.
As we ran through the frozen tundra, a few cars almost came to a halt and the drivers stared at us. I knew better than to believe they were admiring my stride and was rather hopping they would offer us a lift as the pace was getting a bit hard.
Alas, they kept driving away.
Finally a driver stopped and asked us if we had seen any cows. At this stage, we had been running by cattle farms and to make things worse, my mind was stuck in French mode (also known as life support mode when I run) so I could not help but ask this modern day wrangler: “what do the cows look like?”
That I was not immediately sent to the nearby psychiatric ward is a testimony to the Canadians' tolerance. Of course I was not asking for a mug shot or whether the cow was more interested in Sydney Becket or Louis Armstrong but was rather interested in the color, shape, and general demeanor of the fugitives.
I was informed that we should be on the lookout for reddish, four-legged cows which really narrowed down the field to about seven million potential candidates within a 2 miles radius.

I wish I could have some accounts of us finding the cows and doing our best John Wayne impersonation but we did not. We later heard that they had made an appearance at froginlaw's place. I am sure the cows wanted to see what a frog looked like!

I was mad as a cow and devastated to not being able to spot fugitives but I had another growing concern. Ever since I had set foot in Canada, I had been feeling slow, sluggish, not functioning at normal speed. Yet, I was not feeling ill and was sure that, for once, I was not missing any limbs. Since my idea of doing drugs is snorting Gatorade, my condition could not be attributed to my partying habits either. It had to be something more pervasive.
Then, one morning, it hit me. Literally. I hit my head against the shower, looked up and saw a warning sign in both French and English about the low ceiling.

Yes, everything in Canada, except for the froggyancee of course, is bilingual so every time I would see an inscription, it'd take me twice the time to understand it. Granted, I may have a very strong case of Language Attention Deficit Disorder but let me tell you that once you go bilingual, you cannot go back! You see the sign and its translation and then you get drawn into the game faster than you can even imagine. Is the sign translated properly? Does it really reflect the intent of the other language? Would there be a better way to translate it without losing meaning? Next thing you know, you realize that you have been staring at a sign that points you to the bathrooms for the past 20 minutes. Very bad for the bladder I tell you.

As our time in Canada was coming to a close, I was able to get over the bilinguals oddity to indulge into one of my major “to-do” item on my list: Watching Hockey
I’ve been following hockey for many years now and really enjoy the game, however, like all the fans in South of the Great Lakes, I had never been able to experience “Hockey Night in Canada”.
And what better an introduction to hockey frenzy than watching with the frogdadinlaw. As Edmonton was getting trounced by its opponent, I learnt several new things about the fastest sport on earth not involving red necks driving around an oval:

No matter what the ref sucks. Especially if he is making calls against the Oilers. Of course one could think the Oilers’ losing streak was mostly due to the fact that they could not score as often as Paris Hilton or that their goalie could do a commercial for Swiss cheese but I opted out of mentioning this and decided that blaming the ref was a better option for me than sleeping with the cows.
Montréal is the prince of darkness; even Detroit is not as hated as Montreal which to me speaks volume. I wonder if it is an east coast vs. west coast type of conflict or if there is still some bitterness at Patrick Roy for not coming to a place where cars have electrical outlets to plug in heaters during the winter. Another question that I kept to myself to avoid doing a remake of the nativity scene.

This report would be quite incomplete were I to fail to mention the West Edmonton Mall; the biggest mall in the world; yes proud citizen of Minneapolis, your mall is not as big and not as cool so now you really have no excuse for staying there; move somewhere warm!
The WestEd (as the locals dearly call it), is a 3 stories behemoth that includes an amusement park, a tidal wave pool, 2 hotels (one with theme rooms), and even an ice rink because this is Canada and by law you cannot be more than 50 feet away from an ice rink. Given the size of the monument and the pool attached to it, they could have a neat triathlon inside the mall; come to think of it, they should really do it, that would generate quite some interest. The aid stations could be at the numerous food courts. The seals could do water safety, and the parking ramps would make for some serious climbs, Molson would gladly sponsor I am sure.

Eventually we had to pack our bags and depart this wonderful piece of the world to take a leap over the pond. This trip was an incredible experience and another reminder that travels are the best way to open one’s mind to new cultures and ideas. I left with great memories, new friends, new experiences, however, I still don’t know who will ever claim Quebec or Celine Dion.

Dispatch from Houston

2007-01-19T17:51:00.000-07:00

Dearly beloved,

I am sure that you are getting more and more concerned about us in Houstonsince the weather is degrading faster than our president's popularity.
I would like to reassure you.

First of all, as soon as the temperature drops below 40 degrees, the entirecity goes into high alert and slowly shuts down.
As of 10 pm tonight, withthe temperatures still above 40 and no rain in sight, several schools andbusinesses have already announced that they will close tomorrow because ofthe potentially freezing temperatures.
A cab driver advised me to not travel tomorrow and walking outside will apparently lead me to do a remakeof Shackleton's expedition.
Even Erin's company may shut down since it could be cold enough to freezethe pipes. Yes folks, they have enough money to hire her to make sure thepipes do not get too obstructed but cannot keep their pipes from freezing soshe can do her job.
Note for self, sell shares in Rohm and Hass...

Our apartment complex just handed us several instructions on how to keepwarm (basic gist of it, turn the heater on) during the next 21 hours. One must understand that the temperature may drop to a frost-bite inducing 32degrees Fahrenheit which, apparently, means that hell will freeze over.

Erin and I are well prepared and are using our experience of extremeclimates to weather the weather. Our first and foremost concern is food, of course, as we cannot imagine the horror of being famished for 21 hours. We have stocked up on chocolate mousse and beef burgundy.

Worse comes to worse we will eat the local dogs who are fat enough that they can now get diet pills. If you think I am joking, you have not read the local paper that hadan entire article on it.

Coming up on Pyrasports.track your dog's exercises...We also need to make sure we have some ways to read at night so should electricity fail on us, I will go and slaughter our neighbor and use her fat in our oil lamp. I figure if a whale's fat can keep a lamp lit up for 37hours, our neighbor should give us about 9 days of radiant incandescence.

As you see, we have everything covered but our derrieres.

Your tax dollars at work

2006-12-07T22:16:00.000-07:00

While reading the news on CNN tonight, I came upon this snippet:

"Shuttle computers are not designed to make the change from the 365th day of the old year to the first day of the new year while in flight. The space agency has figured out a solution for the New Year's Day problem, but managers are reluctant to try it if they don't have to do so."

So...at no point in time did anyone think that a shuttle may be up in the air on New Year? Ever?
No one at Nasa figured out that it may be a good thing to add 3 lines of code to handle this case? Especially in light of recent shuttle events where extra time was spent in orbit to repair the orbiter?
God forbids astronauts have to be in Orbit when the party is on in Time Square; I hear the dark side of the moon is not that happening a place in late december!

What concerns me the most is that these brilliant minds will soon be my neighbors in Houston...

Houston - Where have all the cowboys gone?

2006-11-07T20:37:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, while staying in a hotel room in Berkeley, I caught part of a program on the discovery channel that talked about how planets formed billions years ago (or on Tuesday if you do not believe in Darwin) and how the larger masses would engulf the smaller masses to form an even bigger entity.
Thankfully this only applies to inanimate bodies or Erin and I would never have returned from our exploration in Houston as we would have been phagocyted (no, I am not insulting any one’s sexual orientation here) by locals.

Since Erin’s job is located in God’s Country, we spent the weekend looking for a place and I have to say that I can now relate to how Marco Polo felt when he first set his eyes upon the far reaches of the Mongol empire, or, for those who limit their Polo’s consumptions to Ralph, let’s say that I understood why Dorothy was no longer in Kansas.

Everything is bigger in Texas, even underwear. I left Boulder 3 days ago wearing large size underwear yet, less than 24 hours later, I was floating in my newly acquired, medium-size, briefs from Walmart.
I was first tempted to think that my newly slimed-down figure was either the result of my strenuous 90 minute run of the morning or, possibly, the high humidity level acting like a sauna on me. But alas…I often do 90 minutes run and it was not humid at all.
In fact with blue skies and the temperature barely reaching 62 degrees on the Imperial thermometer (think of the irony of the name if you will for a minute and then come back to this article), the locals were freezing. During our run (in short and short-sleeve shirt for us tourists), we passed many people sporting long pants, long-sleeve t-shirts, wind breakers, and a few occasional hats.

The next morning, still recovering from the shock of having lost a full size in a day, I decided that I could not possibly let myself go to waste. Leaving all my pre-conceptions behind (and remember, I have a skinnier behind now), I elected to emulate some of the behaviors displayed by the neighbors to regain my figure.
I decided to conduct a social experiment and copy my breakfast neighbors. Forget my usual toasts, fruits, and cereals for breakfast; I was going to emulate what the locals did.
My role model was chosen in a similar vein to the methods of the cattle traders: Pick the largest one, shadow him, and oh yes, always stay upwind.

Meet Bob, test subject A. Bob first went through 4 glasses of coke from the machine while waiting for his second waffle to get ready. After putting the required honey and maple syrup on the waffle, Bob then went back to the buffet and loaded a few plates containing delicacies such as scrambled eggs, sausages, potatoes, gravy, French err sorry, Freedom Toast, grab some more coke.
Ok and to wash it all down, let’s grab a few donuts.
You think I am joking, you hope that I am joking, but I am more serious than a heart attack. And while there are lies, damn lies, and statistics, it was even more gut-wrenching (pun intended) to realize that Bob is the norm, not the exception.

So where were the non-future heart-disease statistics people? Well we looked hard for them. Erin even went on a run but the usual whistles and cat-calls sent by the drivers were replaced by very audible “eat something” chants! So we looked elsewhere:
- At Perry’s. Perry’s is a high scale restaurant in Houston and my theory is that it is so expensive to eat there that people starve themselves for a few months on lettuce and water to make sure they can afford the bill. And my observation was backed by the fact that, of the couples who were on an apparent first or second date, the skinny one was the one who picked up the bill.
- At Panera, of all places. It seems that the entire staff is anorexic there which is really counter intuitive to me because how can you be anorexic and working in a place where the smallest item on the menu contains 4928 calories? It’s like making a vegetarian work in a meat packing plant. Somehow, it does not make sense.
- Our relocation agent. A lovely lady but for the fact that she did not eat nor drink anything during the whole 8 hours she was with us. She claimed to be on the Paleo diet and took it to heart!

However, the highlight of our trip happened in scenic Kemah in one of the “quaint” antique store. Of course antique in Texas means circa 2005 but this is not the topic of this blog. As we meandered through the aisles of finely crafted artwork, I stopped, mesmerized. Right there in front of me, in between the fudge and the smoked lard (again, you hope I am joking but I am not), there it was…a brand new Felt (expensive bikes for those of you who are smart enough not to tri) all decked out. It even had a new and expensive GPS unit mounted. With the same anticipation as a pilgrim approaching Mecca, we went to the counter to meet with the owner of the black stallion. Surely such a fine instrument was handled by a virtuoso of the road, a Stakhanovist of the pedals, a sultan of the spandex…Unfortunately the owner turned out to be more of an Emeril of the handlebar or a Michelin-man of the saddle.
Apparently the Felt gets ridden around once in a great while and I am assuming that the GPS is to locate the local Luby’s or Chick-Fill’A to refill as quickly as possible.

In a sense, we started to feel like the Losties when they met “The Others”, who are these people?

At first, you cannot ever discard aliens or some other scary creature. I quickly put aside the option of them being an evolved form of belugas or other mammals because I have seen both Houstonians and Belugas in a pool and I can ensure you that they do not move at the same speed.

It may be the result of a culture of driving and convenience and I have to say it is easy to go native. We used our car to go to Perry’s and our hotel was literally a block away. Of course we had to starve ourselves so much to afford it that we could not walk there.

Or maybe it’s something in the water…or better the Nachos. We hit a recommended restaurant and had interesting nachos. They were floating in a substance that can, at best, be described as over-saturated oil, then the chips were smothered in cheese (the “cheese in a can” kind) and of course we were given a hefty side of sour cream. Our waiter seemed quite disappointed when we only ordered a salad to go along with the nachos as apparently we should have gone with the ribs, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

I am looking forward to further investigating the natives and to do so, I am going to buy me some chaps, boots, and a shotgun.

Until then, eat up y’all!

Caught for doping

2006-07-30T22:28:00.000-06:00

San Francisco, CA.

The worlds of triathlon and track and field are under shock. Mere hours after the release of Justin Gatlin’s positive doping test, it was disclosed that French running legend, Gregory Menvielle, had failed a doping test at the conclusion of the San Francisco Half-Marathon.

Race officials became extremely wary of the popular athlete’s result when they realized that he just improved his personal best by 8 minutes.

Another tipping point was Mr. Menvielle spending 2:30 minutes in the bathroom during the race for an allege break.

Mike Kowalesterretziksi, the race organizer, told the Chronicle: “We became extremely suspicious of the result when looking at the bathroom incident. No one stays so long in a bathroom, especially someone whose style of running has been compared to a beached whale chased by starving Japanese fishermen. We therefore ordered the test to be conducted at the end of the half. After the results got leaked to the press to ensure public humiliation, we notified the athlete who now has the customary 5 business-days to require an analysis of the B sample and come up with a valid excuse that will make WADA look like a bunch of wankers.

While Mr. Menvielle was not available for comments, his attorney Reed Mimiranda issued this statement: “There is no doubt in my mind that my client is absolutely innocent because he told me that he was and will stop paying my fees if I disagree. He is cleaner than Clorox. It is a conspiracy, it is a disgrace to mankind, and never such a sweet fellow would do such evil things.”

Mr Mimiranda was unable to tell us the whereabouts of the running frog.

News of the doping scandal at the marathon has spread through the airwaves faster than the avian flu in China. So far, there is an overwhelming show of support for the athlete. “I choose to believe Gregory, says one fan, because while I’ve never met him, we live on the same planet so I am comfortable calling him by his first name.”

Others have been doing some research via Google and have come up with some intriguing options: “Everyone knows that on the day before the run, Greg disastrously bonked in the hills of San Francisco. He was devastated and wowed to not give up the fight. He was then spotted drowning his sorrow at the top of the Hyatt bar and we all know that a few shots of alcohol can make you positive, especially if you are in a negative mood.”

Another armchair expert, who belongs to Seeing Search, a multisport, training group, ads: “Doping tests are unreliable at best. Clearly, it targets innocent white athletes, who get caught, while guilty African American baseball players roam the streets free”.

Doping tests are far from being fool proof. As many people know, WADA scientists are utterly incompetent people who do not even have a G.E.D education, and have not read any studies on blood doping or other methods. They have not read them because they so stupid, they cannot even read. Besides, they use protocols that are, well, so XXth century.

There may be more to the story, however, since the disclosure (mere minutes after the test results) of Mr. Menvielle biological past: Few people are aware that Mr. Menvielle is a perfect Chimera with a twin brother long believed to have been dead at birth but who actually made a return on “All My Children” and spoiled Mark and Marjorie’s wedding. Furthermore, at the young age of 3, Mr. Menvielle suffered a terrible crib accident. Apparently, his mother rocked him too close to the wall. Because of his unique genetic structure and god-given talents, no blood donor could be found and he was barely saved thanks to the sacrifice of his pet Lab, Record. Record’s blood donation saved the day and, according to un-named sources who may or many not be close to the allege doper, Mr. Menvielle still runs with a dial of Record’s blood around his neck.

Our investigative team was able to reach Joelle Menvielle, the victim’s mother. Joelle was quick to point out that his son was not the sharpest tool in the shed and, should proven guilty, ought to lose his rankings and be banned for a while. She believes that it would be a shame and hopes that his son proves his case since “being disqualified and dropped by all his sponsors would be a real bummer.” Interestingly enough, she was not able to tell us how to contact him as the two have only spoken a handful of times over the past 10 years.

A website has been setup: www.IbelieveGreg.com where donations are accepted. It is important to note that these donations will not be used to fund Mr. Menvielle’s defense but rather to help a cause close to his heart, the preservation of the Albino Gerbil. Donors will receive a pin that they can proudly display.

A vigil will be held in Boulder to show the world that “if the pee does not fit, you must acquit.” Everyone is encouraged to attend and test-cups will be distributed to the first 500 people to show up.

Given the gravity of this situation, we will call our reporters back from Iraq and Lebanon as we want to focus on covering news that matters and hope that such a nice fellow be quickly acquitted.

-----frogonawire, news as they transpire---------

It's all in the details

2006-07-23T21:12:00.000-06:00

Today I raced the Boulder Peak Triathlon. An olympic distance. For those of you who expect the full report about my splits, hr and epo dosage, move along because it's not included here. I had a good race given the past few months and it's more that I could bargain for.
Really, I am healthy enough to race, can afford the race, and do not have missiles being dropped over my head so who would I worry about the result!

One thing I've done today was to pay a lot of attention to the race organization (and ok, maybe it's also because I am really interested in the topic) so here is a list of why I think Barry is one of the top RD in the world (no, I do not get any comped entries!!!):

- Huge goodie bag. Lots of products (regualr size, not just sample size), drinks, food. Awesome stuff. Well except for some electroly chewable thing that made me want to puke but the sports drinks and other goodies were great. A really nice long-sleeve t-shirt completed the package.

- Transition area. Not only did we have lots of space to setup camp, we also had bike racks where you leave your backwheel into the rack. 2 bikes per side. Really easy. Well marked areas.

- Pre-race activities: Lots of information before the race, and plenty of time to get ready. Sky divers bringing the US flag down as the anthem was being played...even for the foreigner that I am, I had goose bumbs.

- Fanatical volunteers. Cowbells on the bike, smiling, encouraging. People forget that without the volunteers we simply could not race and these are awesome.

- Well stocked aid-stations. Every single drink was cold since ice was all around. Given the temperature, I could not have appreciated this more. Since the heat stroke I have to be a lot more careful and to have so much cool liquid available was big plus.

- Post race food: Pasta, burritos, salad, fruits, bagels, soft-drinks, beer, water...I've never seen such a spread at any race!

I would think (and hope) that Barry makes some good money out of the series but I am sure they are passing on greater profits for the sake of running a top-class event. This is why people come back and this is also why the pros are there.

Details and great customer care are key!

Live from 40000 feet

2006-06-22T20:25:00.000-06:00

I was going to write about how amazed I am that I can be at 40,000 feet
testing a wireless connection for Lufthansa by emailing and also having a
live web-cam connection going on. It is amazing, it works great.

However, the cramped seats, smelly things, and lousy video entertainment
(Fun with Dick and Jane, Bridget Jones and shall we dance? and no parachute on board) are keeping my
senses very awake and am I thinking there are opportunities out of this new
system.

So I want to run a few ideas by you, who wants to fund me?

- A prize to the first passenger caught downloading porn; how long will it
take?
- In flight showers to cleanse certain passengers. Well, hang on…cleansing, showers, German airline..that may be an issue.
- Download songs from kazaa while over the pole, by the time they figure out
jurisdiction they have to sue your heirs
- In-the-air dating. Think of the potential: 10 hours to connect and a
potential certificate into the mile high club. (does not apply if you live
in Denver or vicinity)
- Rate the pilot: Instant feedback on how dude looks like a lady and flies
like Wilbur (see, "the rescuers down under" for details of what I am
enduring at the moment)
- Donation systems: With a screen that says: If you do not want us to jam
your plane's avionics, please click here to access our Paypal secured
payment system.
- Stealing trade secrets: Or why you should always, always, always secure
your laptop and the information contained therein (the things I could say
about the gentleman in 27 D...just kidding...kinda. Well he is a lousy coder, that’s for sure)- Flight attendant idol...to plagiarize a friend's comments, all the flight attendants were hired when the airlines started lying props, there has to be a way to recruit better candidates.
- Email reminders from your coach to tell you that you have no excuse for
not running up and down the stairs of the A340 after you've been slacking in
Chicago all week.
- Live chats with representatives of different religions if things get
really hairy (ok...bad joke...sorry God...)
- In-the-air food delivery. If they can refuel Air Force One, they should be
able to give me a decent ham and Swiss sandwich.

Among my favorite songs today (on the computer, rest assured, they only have
Enya on the PA system)
Soy (Gipsy King): Because soy lucky to be here :-)
When you say nothing at all (the Allison Kraus version) if only the bratty
children could understand that one sentence.
Vertigo: U2...40,000 feet now that would be a jump!
Mama mia: or why you do not want your mother to know how to use i-chat!
Ahum (Zucchero): Just gels with the clouds.
Legs: Something the flight attendants are sorely lacking

Alright, I have to go, I hear they are going to give us an extra serving of
peanuts in 3 minutes, I have to practice saying thank you in German, I feel
like I am waiting online for rations.

Flying Frog.

Horribly Hilly Hundred...The musical

2006-06-19T08:49:00.000-06:00

Needless to say my mind has been on the other side of the pond for obvious reasons.

However, before the storm started in Paris, Erin had told me about a fun bike ride she was doing with other people from the tri club in Wisconsin.
All I really knew about the ride was that it was 200k (125mi for those of you in the rest of the former English Empire). My longest ride until then had been 75 miles…so clearly, I had the distance in me.
It turned out to be perfect timing as I have to go home in a few days.

Now, rather than going through long and excruciating details about my nutrition, pace, rpm, inclines, urine color, and weather condition, let me tell you what I was thinking at the key moments of the ride!

• My rental bike and stage one:
“I don't believe in Peter Pan
Frankenstein or Superman
All I wanna do is
Bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle
I want to ride my bicycle”

Since I am flying out to Paris soon, bringing the bike was not an option. Many people in CTC were kind enough to volunteer their machines but I was afraid to not have enough gearing for the adventure, so I rented a bike.
The frame was nice. The bike got a lot nicer after we fixed the brakes, got the wheels trued, put some air in the tires…and oh yes, tiny detail, rebuilt the front derailleur during the first stage of the ride.
The hills were fun throughout the ride. A few steep ones but nothing crazy or long enough that you’d consider investing in an excavation company just to make next year’s ride more enjoyable.
We made it to stage one and found out that Heed is still as nasty as ever. I was definitely glad that I brought my infinit with me.

•Stage 2:
“First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side”

I was a bit ahead on the road when Erin and Renee failed to show up…after 10 minutes I started riding back and did not see them but ran into a rider who claimed to have not seen them either.
Given that Erin’s direction-skills are only outmatched by mine, I assumed they got lost and took a wrong turn. So I proceeded to the next stop to send the search and rescue team, along with a crew from the discovery channel so they could tape another episode of "I should not be alive"

Since I had the car keys, I was not all that concerned about not seeing them (just kidding!) What really concerned me was that my bike rental did not come with any save-a-ride kit so blowing a tire or screwing up the derailleur would be a bad idea. I was planning on Erin being my SAG support for this ride, that went out of the window, new plans had to be made!
For the rest of the stage (and the ride!) I focused on avoiding debris and stuck to the 42.

•Stage 3:
“Life's like a road that you travel on
When there's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend and sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your head to the wind”

I started to miss by bike and my aerobars when it got windy. It was not as wind-stupid as Perth but the ride was a lot more scenic . The local road-kills here seem to be deers and racoons as opposed to Kangaroos.
The hills were actually a nice change of pace to get out of the saddle.
By then I had lost any hope to see Erin and Renee ever again and was expecting to be dragged onto Geraldo or Maury Pauvich for a show-and-tell about people you’d never want to ride with.
I did manage to make a bunch of friends on that stage: People are really nice when you have a house at the bottom of Alpe d’Huez!
I was also really psyched to break my streak of getting hit by a car while riding with people from Trek Travel. Change is good!

•Stage 4:
“Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?”

That was the question as I got to the rest stop at the end of stage 4. The nice people at the aid station were…watching the World Cup! So, the question was: Do I keep on going or hang out here to see most of the game…in Spanish…75 minutes and a few nice goals later, I was ready to get back on the bike when Renee and Erin showed up. The scene was quite reminiscent of any reunion scenes in movies…think War of the worlds for the way we looked…sometimes it is all about capturing the moment!

•Stage 5
“Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I’m waiting for you”

Half-way through the stage, Renee was smart enough to call it a day which left the idiotic foreigners out on the road, riding in the middle of a storm, getting ready for the final climb.
Erin, who by all account is a really nice girl 99.9999% of the time, got hit by a mild case of bonking and started to turn into Chewbacca (without the capillary issues thankfully for her) when I dared suggest that she eats something. Thankfully she came to her senses…or sensed that I’d lose mine (!) and refueled before the final climb.

We made it up the last hill and passed the finish line a bit after 12 hours of riding. 12 hours of slaying dragons, fixing bikes, having skies parting on us, lamenting at the officials at the world cup (still betting on Brazil for the record). So much can be done in 12 hours. Officially you can do Denver – Chicago on Amtrak (but we all know how well this works), or you can fly to Fiji, or simply ride 200 km though scenic Wisconsin.
Overall it was a great day. A lot of fun and an entertaining ride done with great company and awesome rider support.
And now, forward and eastward!

The cup of life!

2006-06-08T20:15:00.000-06:00

In a few hours 32 teams are going to be playing for the biggest trophy on earth...the FIFA World Cup.
While in the US the football teams become world champions after a 12-games season and 3 playoffs games, the 32 teams have had to play against other national squads for the past 2 years to have the right to qualify.
Then they play 3 games over 2 weeks, to the right to go to the elimination rounds.

Who is going to win?
I have to give up my citizenship and new official residence to go with...Brazil. And my reason for picking them is darn easy: while most teams talk about tactics and are very serious before big games, these guys play the cariocas and dance on their way to the stadium.
Oh and the fact that they could field about 2 teams and still kick most people's butts...

Other things to watch for...
Ivory coast: they stopped a civil war for a month so that people could watch the games...
France: Can someone other than Thierry Henry save the world? I wish that I could be as fast as this guy is on the pitch, absolutely insane!!!
US: Are they really the 5th best team in the world?
Sporty Spice: Can he redeem himself this time around?

And thank you Telemundo for broadcasting the games!!!

Shoot the darn horse!

2006-05-22T06:42:00.000-06:00

6:45 am here in Boulder Colorado. The Kuwaiti parliament is on its way to being disolved. Hamas fears (love the irony) a civil way in Palestine. 5 cops were shot in New Orleans...and still...The Horse is on the top page!
For the love of Secretariat, make some glue out this animal !!!

CNN addendum

2006-05-21T20:07:00.000-06:00

oh wait...following up on the previous post, CNN just outdid itself, here is the headline running as of 8:05 pm MST:

Derby winner Barbaro survives surgery

Mind you today Montenegro voted to become independent from Serbia but no, a freakin' horse makes the cover of CNN...For breaking its leg! It's a horse!!! I'm baffled!

What is news?

2006-05-21T07:05:00.000-06:00

So yesterday I went to the CNN page and was greated by a huge picture of...Barry Bonds passing Babe Ruth in the number of home runs (That'd be baseball for you in the rest of the world)
Which really got me wondering:
- Was it really the only big news of the day? I mean a new PM in Nepal, attacks of translators in Irak, new countries in the Euro-zone, space shuttle going to the launch pad, elections in New Orleans...and still Bond's on top.

- Mind you, he is not the new record holder, he simply passed #2. A US company making a spectacle of second place, now that's a new thing! I thought it was all about being #1!!!

- With all the allegations of drug use and a grand jury investigation pending (which reminds me...when is the UCI going to release it's findings on the Amstrong case?), you would think that Barry would not be front page news...

I wonder if the winning team at the world cup will get the same treatment...

Triglycerides update

2006-05-12T08:21:00.000-06:00

(guess the tune!)

Livin’ easy, trainin’ lots, still on triglycerides' hell
Givin’ blood, testin' cells, takin’ my super lipitor
Don’t eat fat, don’t eat cheese
Do nothing but train my ass
30 pounds, made the cut, can eat carbs again

I’m on the highway to Roth
Highway to Roth
I’m on the highway to Roth
Highway to Roth

Saucisson, camembert, ain’t gonna slow me down
muscle cramps, side effects, ain’t gonna mess me around
Hey Wolfgang, can train now, joinin’ a tri club gang
Hey Mumma, look at me, I’ll get to Kona when I’m 70

I’m on the highway to Roth
Highway to Roth
I’m on the highway to Roth
Highway to Roth

Science to the Rescue

2006-05-07T17:28:00.000-06:00

A few months ago I signed up for a "Power Max" class to improve my cycling abilities. While the title sounds straight out of a Mel Gibson (pre-religion awakening) movie, it can be summarized to this: humans looking like hamsters: Your bike is attached to a complex apparatus that would make Leonardo proud, and your instructor changes the resistance (via a computer of course) while waiving some gels or goodies in front of you. In the midst of the effort you forget that your bike is no going anywhere, yet the gels seem so close!
One of the great benefits of the class was the opportunity to do a Lactate Threshold test. For those of you who are not obsessed with saving 3 seconds for your next Ironman, let me describe why LT is important. Picture yourself running while someone is trying to choke you. As long as you stay under a certain pace, they do not squeeze. Once you get pass a certain rate they squeeze and, unless you are Jacques Mayol, after a while you’d pass out. Acid Lactic work the same way with your muscles. You want to know when they are going to choke you.
There are 2 ways to get the test done. Either on your bike or on a treadmill. Since the test requires being poked in the finger every four minutes, I decided to confront all my fears at once and do it on the treadmill.
So last Wednesday, Hamster-Froggy went to get poked…the results were quite interesting:
• I run too hard (in actual competitions) but ride too easy.
• I can still freak out physicians with my heart rate.
• No matter what they say, getting poked on the finger hurts a lot! I am making a donation to the diabetic association because these people really have a tough life: not only do they have to stay away from Nutella but they also have to pierce themselves. Technology has to rescue them.

So armed with my new knowledge of when and how my muscles work, I headed north to the exotic city of Fort Collins to do a 15 miler, also known as the Fort Collins Mini-Marathon. Why not have a half-marathon as a mini marathon you may ask? Well it turns out that the mighty park district thought that having 1500 runners in an area for 20 minutes would create more damages to the environment than 1500 runners dropping paper cups, t-shirts, gel wrappers, peeing, and spitting for another 3 miles. So 15 it was.

We hopped on buses to go to the start line and managed to get lost. Apparently our driver confused us with an army of stampeding Kenyans and proceeded to take us to the start of the marathon. While a few of us realized early on of the upcoming mishap, none of us dared to speak us since the driver was a cross between the Rock and Willie Nelson…in other words we would not even dare look at him in the eyes.
But all was good since the other 8 buses made the same mistakes. So the start of the half got delayed a bit.
The run itself went well. I tried to apply the new findings from the LT test but I am not sure that I followed the recommendations properly. I think that for the next test I need to have a few cute girls just ahead of me, it seems that it makes me pick up the pace just enough.

A few mental notes that I made during the race:
• Tales from the Port-a-pottie. Next time I am doing a race, I am bringing a voice recorder while standing in line for the port-a-potties. The stories there are incredible. We are talking about people who managed to lose their race t-shirt around the port-a-potty, or are going to run slow because they just overcame some terrible paper-cut injury…the drama will never cease to amaze me.
• Braggers…The gentleman next to me (waiting in line) could not stop telling me about how great a triathlete he was. He had done 2 sprints last year…in other words, know your audience!
• Why do people complain about the drinks at the aid station? This is not a 5 star restaurant and yes, GU2O does taste strange. Then again, show me a drink that does not. Anyways, these 2 ladies yapped for a mile about how limited the selection (water, gels, and gu2o) was at the aid station. All I could think of was: meanwhile in the Darfur region a kid could survive for 3 years just with the entry fee we paid for the race.
• The winner of the marathon came in 2:50…to put things in perspective that is about 46 minutes than Paul Tergat at the London marathon or, more amazing, 2 minutes slower than Faris Al Sultan at Kona. Of course Faris had done a small 112 mile bike warm up. I cannot fathom running at such speeds. I think my DNA would be altered.
• Oh yeah…going for a ride after a run is comical!

Notes from L.A.

2006-05-01T09:32:00.000-06:00

A few things that crossed my mind in LA:
* Bloddy nipples. While my career as an endurance athlete has been quite short, I've never came close to bloody nipples until my run in Santa Monica. As to the kicker: For the past few weeks Boulder has been dryer than Maytag with a great 3% humidity level which resulted in me waking up with blood coming out of my nose.
So when I saw blood on my shirt yesterday my first thought was that it was coming from the nose...which would have worked had I turned into Pinoccio....nope. So I went with option 2: It's LA...did I get shot? no, I was merely acquainted to the wonderful world of bloody nipples caused by (sorry to disappoint, nothing S&M) my running shirt.

* It's quite sad...when your 6 years old god-daughter can do cross-word puzzles faster than you and the puzzles deal with Australian animals...I suck at cross-work puzzles...it's puzzling...puzzzzzzz.

* It's quite funny...when the same 6 years old tells you that you became skinny!

* If I ever move back to LA and have a kid, I've decided that it's not a college fund that I need to get but a boob-job fund. It's ridiculous here, there's enough silicone to lubricate the entire space station.

Froggy's Guide to the Spam Box

2006-03-20T20:41:00.000-07:00

A few days ago an acquaintance of mine was updating me about his personal life and, given the circumstances, he was feeling pretty down.
I have learnt that in such times it is best to simply listen and let a person talk. Yet, when I got home, I wondered about what could be done to cheer him up. Or what would I do to feel better in such a situation?

This morning it became clear. To feel better about life and, if required, make changes, simply check your spam email-box because all the answers are there for you.
So without further due is the Froggy guide to the Spam Box.

Rule number one. Don’t panic.
However, just like French grammar, there is an exception to this rule. If your mailbox has 666 messages you must take action. The recommended way is for you to find the nearest, small, unsuspecting animal (toddlers are an acceptable substitute), pluck 7 strands of hairs and one nail. Mix them with The Rouge Bourbon from Marriage Freres while repeating this chant: “Bill Gates is my fearless leader and Steve Jobs is my Pod”. Once the potion reaches a boil, give it to the animal. Go back to your mailbox and voila, you will have more than 666 messages.

When going through your mailbox, you need a system, you need an approach. You need to remember that all you want in life is right in front of you. You must become a cross between Tom Peters, Anthony Robbins, Doctor Phil, Oprah, and Gene Simmons.

First, take the opportunity to work on your physical shortcomings. As an example, this morning, I am blessed with the opportunity to get a bigger penis while discovering abs of steel, and growing breasts without implants.
And that, my friends, is opportunity at its best. You can cater to several groups just by pressing the reply button.
Of course if surgery is not your cup of tea, no need to worry. Scroll down about 4-5 messages and you will see plenty of ads for Viagra or other natural stimulants that will turn you into the Barry Bonds of the bedroom.
If you are in my situation and already are popping Lipidor as if it were Pez tablets, do not go with the Viagra option, you'd be taking too many chances.

Next, you need to improve your finances. I urge you to reply to Jerome Mamoudou from Nigeria who went through great lengths to contact you to request your help in moving his dead uncle’s money. Besides the opportunity of making millions by simply providing your bank account and social security number, do you realize what you mean to this man’s life? He probably had to spend 7 years worth of salary just for a chance at spending some time in front of the computer to send you this touching message. You cannot let him down. Act now and become so rich that Bill Gates will come and kneel in front of you.

Because once you get the uncle’s millions, I have a plan for you. See email #45? No, not the one about participating in an experiment to mate with a black widow, the one about the up and coming stock in Europe that trades under the symbol SUKR.
It’s money, it’s golden, it’s a sure thing. Personally I am going to short my shorts on this company. Granted, I am not sure about their offerings as I cannot grasp what the demand for ham sandwiches is in Algeria but the review looks stellar so let’s buy.

If you have followed my advice and replied to these emails, you are now a cross between George Clooney, John Holmes, and Pamela Anderson…oddly enough you start to resemble Felicity Huffman. So now, let’s work on your personal life.

If you are stuck with a spouse, get rid of them. They are not the right ones for you and besides, this nice lawyer is ready to help you through the proceeding and will vary her fees based on your partner’s financial statements.
Worse comes to worse, there is always Gino (Email #21) who specializes in cleaning difficult stains or if you want to go for the jugular, simply email the USCIS and claim that your spouse is in the country illegally. Gino works for them anyway.

At this stage though you need to do a little soul searching about who you seek in life.
If you are like me and have very low requirements (Sub 12-hour ironman, graduate degree, tall, smart, trilingual…and if she is cute… well. I’ll deal with that setback) then you will be fine. If not, just realize that sometimes you need to lower your standards a bit to make things happen.
And as you start looking at the emails from Match, e-harmony, couples-r-us, quickie international, and the mail order bride network, you will realize that your future is looking rock solid (especially when on Viagra…)
Take the time to read the email. The prey…err I mean your future ex-spouse, is new to the area and a very complex algorithm, named Brilliant Useof Lisp Lingo, has selected you and you alone to be the first one to respond.
This is faith, this is the bolt of lighting that you have been waiting for. Press reply now!!!

What? You do not want someone to keep you warm at night but merely find things to occupy you? Not a problem, look at your inbox again.
There is one to help a humane society by adopting some rare albino gerbils. Of course you may be concerned about these adorable creatures since Richard Gere has had some issues with them but I ensure you that the new ones are absolutely harmless and will bring you hours of endless entertainment.
If you are more interested in helping a two-legged one, check out the email about helping a kid in the Sudan. Now, let me reassure you. The $3000 minimum donation may seem a bit steep but it is well worth it. After the staff has done it’s job and reached the kid, they will give him 2.3 cents and a bible. It’s a bonanza for him. 10 years worth of salary and a way to feed himself on the Word. The catholic in me can only urge you to open up to the possibility.

There you have it. From dashing new looks, to a stellar career, and rock solid relationships, all you ever dreamed of is waiting for you in your inbox. So go to it and answer its call, it’s waiting for you. You can change your life. Hit reply now!

You know you are in trouble…

2006-02-27T07:56:00.000-07:00

First of all, I need to quickly revisit the last posting and clarify things since I got a few emails after the post: yes I really got bit by a shark, yes, it went through my wetsuit but no, my skin is not floating in a shark’s stomach at the moment. Treadmills are way more dangerous as I will get to in a moment…

When asked what my plans for triathlon are this year, I have been, at best, non-committal. I like to hide behind the fact that I have many things to focus on, including acquiring a taste for wine in preparation for the Medoc marathon.

The non-official reason is that I am freaked out about getting back into full training mode! It’s hard, it hurts, it’s scary…then again it’d allow me to spend time with my one true love, Nutella.

I should have seen it coming from miles away, the moment you say you are not ready for something is usually when God (or Dave Scott in this sport) finds a way to hit you on the back of the head and makes get out of your comfort zone!

After being conned into doing a (short!) 30 mile ride on Thursday, I got an invite for a 50-miler for Saturday; since I have not been on a bike since IM and have spent a grand total of 75 minutes on a spin bike since then, I had only one answer…”Sure, let’s do it”.

When trying to explain the rational to a friend the night before the ride, it went like this:

Friend: So doing anything fun this weekend?
Me: Nothing major, just bike riding tomorrow.
Friend: What’s the weather like?
Me: High 40’s maybe 50s
Friend: And you are not training for anything?
Me: No
Friend: How far are you going?
Me: 50 miles
Friend: Ok, you are not training for anything, the weather is in the 40’s and you are going for 40 miles…what’s wrong with you?

Unfortunately, we got cut-off so we could not finish our thrilling conversation.

Saturday morning came around and I was getting really nervous. Going from zero to 50 is not a good idea, you keep on remembering about all the times you’ve been there and it hurt…and my chest was still revolting from being impaled by a treadmill.
But I was given the assurance that it would be a low-heart rate ride…

10 minutes into the ride, I was briefed on my “real” role: Being a timer during an all out Time Trial of 6 miles…so let’s think about it…untrained frog needs to time (meaning go along!) an ironman in training for 6 miles…I hung on for dear life (thank God…err I mean Dave, for drafting) and barely survived, all the while wondering what I was thinking.

Right after I started to recover from the effort (mile 28) we decided to ignore a sign that said “road closed” because really, how closed can a road be?
Well, here is a tip. If you see a sign that says road closed, don’t go there, eventually it turns into the prairie.
This little detour added 14 other miles to the ride.
I can honestly say that the thought of pulling into a convenience store and calling for a cab crossed my mind a few times but thankfully we did not run into any convenience store!

After 64 miles, my apartment’s floor never felt as good!

When the evening came, I was looking forward to a nice night of recovery…think again frenchie! I woke up in the middle of the night with some very interesting pain in my chest. A quick trip to the hospital in the morning revealed that the treadmill did bruise more than just my ego and actually gave me a hairline fracture and a torn pectoral muscle…things you’d like to know before getting on your aerobars for any period of time!

Now here is the sick part. I should just pack it and let it be but this ride got me convinced otherwise…
I had fun. I absolutely stretched my comfort zone and did not stop being nervous until after the facts but it reminded me how good cycling can feel.
So while I am still scared and in denial about training and getting back into long-distance, I think I will answer the next call for a ride, who knows, may be I even start buying Nutella again!

One thing for sure though, next time, I will check the route in advance!!!

Reality Bites…

2006-02-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

As you may know, in my spare time, I like to volunteer for an aquarium owned by a seafood restaurant. The irony is not lost on us and when brining sea-weed down to 20 feet, as we cannot help but think Sushi as we cross-path with Nemo.

The awesome part of diving in my exhibit (yes, I am part of it!) is that we get to interact with somewhat large sharks…the problem is that, well, we get to interact with large sharks.

Over the past few weeks, one of the Zebra has taken a liking to me and tried to make several moves on me. You know how it goes. First eye contact, then a little fin brushing, and then the obligatory attempt to kiss me on the regulator after the 3rd dive...
While all this attention was extremely flattering, yesterday, I had to tell Zebramore, that I was not interested in becoming her personal chef as I’d rather consider other options.
She decided to get even…and get a piece of the frog.

Prior to the dive, my dive-buddy and I were discussing options such as using the high-pressure cleaner to keep the sharks away or simply to poke them in the eyes to get them disoriented. Before you rush to call PETA, please know that we would never do that, just goes to show how friendly the sharkies are with us!

So after thoroughly vacuuming the proper section (with such a precision that I wonder why I cannot do the same here at home), I proceeded to entertain the visitors and feed the fish.
Because we are very high-tech, we place the little shrimps (think of them as the Christians in Roman times!) in Nalgene bottles and them open the bottles at depth. It’s awesome. All the fish come to us and start feeding.
The part that is not as awesome is that the small (frozen) pieces of food have the tendencies to drop on our equipment.
While I have no issue with a blue tang giving me a little peck, the results are somewhat different when a 10-footer does the same.

All I felt was a little pull of my wetsuit. I was looking at the kids on the other side of the glass and saw:
- 3 looks of sheer terror.
- 2 kids dropping their drinks.
- 1 chaperone putting her hand over a kid’s eye.
That’s when I realize that the pull was a bite. Since nothing was coming out of the area (You know, bones, blood, major organs…) I was not worried.

After we finished the dive and got out of the water, I got to look at my wetsuit: Shredded over 10 centimeters and almost pierced through (.8 mm at that location). I’m glad that they don’t have any longer teeth!

After reporting the incident, I got this funny email from our DSO:
“Thanks for the input Gregory. Also, thanks for handling being bitten by a shark well. Some people would make a mountain out of a mole hill.”

While I will go back and dive next month, I am definitely having a talk with the Zebra to let her know how I feel about her!

My valentine’s day.

2006-02-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

People who know me well realize that there is only one thing that scares me more than bats: Immigration Services.
So when I got notified a few weeks ago that the state of Illinois was investigating my payroll deductions, I could not help but link it right away to my green card process.

Yes, when it comes to my status, I am more conspiracy-theory oriented that Mel Gibson. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to be loaded on the Air France flight that is catered to cons.

Needless to say it was with many concerns that I made it to Chicago for my audit last night. Of course the nerve level was in no-ways helped by a friend (or so she claims to be!!!) who kept on needling me about being deported.
And lest not forget my dear mother who left me a message this morning asking if she should start sending packets to Guantanamo…Feel the love on this Valentine’s day

To calm my nerves, I decided to hit the gym and run on the treadmill…something that I have not done in 4 months…between the anticipation, the early hour, and the age of the treadmill, I did not realize that the mat slowed down and went flying off the machine.
End results: A very large scrape on my left leg, a bit of a black eye, and some very painful ribs…that sure got me prepared for the meeting.

The audit went well, thanks mostly to my wonderful accountant and the payroll service that I use…sometimes you can’t make it on your own!

I got to learn (people love to tell me about their lives, I need to start a side business) about how some auditors get treated: objects thrown at them, spilled on them and other threatening devices are very common it seems…People’s stupidity will never cease to amaze me. But love was all around when I was told that the company was clean.

The rest of the day was much nicer meeting with old friends and enjoying a glorious Chicago-weather day.

Happy Valentines Day to all the Hallmark Shareholders!

Finding my running self...

2006-02-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

I’ll never be able to run…
Somehow, at some point in my life this has become a matter of fact. Mind you, I am not stuck to wheelchair, have all my limbs, and am overall in good health but still I cannot think of running as something that I look forward to.

In my great classification of things I enjoy, running is very close to any doctor’s visits that involve plastic gloves.

Of course, I have mitigating circumstances that grant me the right to self-defeat: between a water-polo frame and my running history, why would I think that running can be enjoyable?
Doubting me? Let’s look at my marathon's experience:

Chicago 2002: busted knee at mile 14 (still finished.)
Madison 2003: Got so sick that I had to ride the bus back from the half-mark.
Chicago 2003: Tried to run with the flu (kids, don’t try this at home…unless you want to piss-of the baby sitter or the cleaning crew)
And lest not forget the running leg of ironman and heat stroke; also knows around the world as…”Why do they have Australian Flags here?”

So really, the more I think about it, the more I should pick-up bridge and stay away from all and any race entry that comes my way, because, even if it’s a 5K to “Save the stuttering albino lab rat”, there is no way it’s going to work out.

…or could it? Am I really right to deprive myself from running; an activity that goes all the way back to the beginning of times? Why can’t I feel the runner’s high of the caveman running away from the T-rex , or the thrill of victory experienced by Phillipides?

To test the limits of self-stupidity, I went on a run in San Francisco today. It opened my eyes, and lungs, to a few amazing facts:
- If I ever switch teams, I won’t have any problems finding a date; apparently my unshaved legs are awesome!
- It’s a lot easier to run at sea level that at 5000 feet.
- If I take it one step at a time, it can actually be enjoyable.

As I made the left turn by Ghirardelli’s square and started to catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate, it suddenly hit me that I only thought I did not like to run. I am really preventing myself from enjoying it.
Now, far from me the idea of going Doctor Phil on you here (I don’t eat enough cheeseburgers for that) but sometimes there is a huge difference between how we want to feel about something that used to be unpleasant and how we actually feel about it once the filters are off.

I am not sure how to remove the filters…well shaving my legs is probably the first thing to do but beyond that, I am sure there is a path!
So I am on a new mission in the months to come: Learn to enjoy running so that I can go sub 12 at Roth next year!

The Frog is going to hit the road!

Surreal...

2005-12-20T20:41:00.000-07:00

when your Spam filter shows 666 emails in the box for 2 days in a row it's time to look for an exorsist.

Australian top 10

2005-12-18T06:11:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine just asked me what my top 10 was for Australia,,,tough question but after some pondering, here it is:

1. Australians:
Aussies are awesome. Genuinely interested in the rest of the world. They work hard and play hard. Great people.
2. Kings Canyon:
In the middle of the red center, this place feels like a cross between a labyrinth and an oasis.
3. Cape Leuwin:
Where the south ocean meets the Indian Ocean. What a sight of crashing waves and fierce winds…and to think that people circumnavigated this point centuries ago on tiny wooden boats…that is exploring!
4. The Pinacles:
Stone outcrops in WA that make Carnac in France look fake; well Carnac is man-made so that’s a different story! It’s seeing nature at work over millions of years.
5. Uluru:
Looks like a spaceship from above and stands out in the flat and desolated landscape. Amazing to see how much of a significance it has for the locals and how they used it for multiple purposes.
6. The quality of Lamb, Beef...and Mangos!
Seriously…it’s awesome!
7. Longitude 131:
2nd best hotel I have ever been to. Every room has an Uluru !
8. Ironman:
Pure fun. Cannot wait to do another one.
9. Cervantes:
Little town 4 hours away from Perth. The last “civilized” point to stay at when visiting the Pinacles. One hotel that looks like the Bates Motel and yet is really comfy and welcoming (well, Bates motel was as well but the service was bloody)
10. Freemantle:
I want to move there!!! Close to Perth (15 minutes). At the other side of the world yet so in touch with the rest of the world. This part of Australia is about to boom.

And then in no particular order: the southern cross, kangaroos, Manly beach, cricket…And no, vegemite is not part of this list!

King Kong

2005-12-17T02:21:00.000-07:00

Saw King Kong tonight and I have to say that Peter Jackson is on a roll. After his last 3 little movies about some vertically challenged men looking for a ring to make an elf and an ork (sp?) hug, he did an amazing job at using technology to recreate a post-war era movie.
Only 3 problems with the movie:
* 3 hours and 7 minutes is long.
* Naomi Watts gets thrown around in the jungle, runs through rocks, water, broken glass...and not a single cut on her barefeet nor any sign of dust on her face. She cleans up real fast and I guess her outfit was made out of dry-fit fabric because after taking a plunge in the water, she is dry in the next one. She should market the fabric, the tri crowd would go bezerk.
* A guy who never handled a rifle can grab a semi-automatic and hit small creatures moving at a great speed. However, trained military with heavy equipment cannot hit a 25 feet gorilla...something is wrong here!

Awesome movie besides these little details!

dispatches from Down-Under

2005-12-09T06:14:00.000-07:00

• The Magellanic clouds…you read about them, you dream about them…but when you see them, it’s absolutely unreal. They do look like clouds in the night sky; only they are constellations.

• The W hotel in Sydney has all the amenities for the traveler. One hilarious feature is found in their goody packages (you know the ones they leave in your room and charge you and arm and a leg if you use them): Next to the peanuts, the chocolate, the Pringles, and the fruits are…a box of condoms…Hum…maybe I should get my own room!

• Odd moment in Alice Springs while looking for a Chemist (“a pharmacy” does not sound colonial enough) and encountering a sign telling me that I am 13500 km from Paris and 16300 km from Denver. I was not able to tell where home is…fade in to the Dido song!

• In Kings Canyon, they have a spot called the garden of Eden. Adam and Eve have been replaced by 3 ducks…ménage a trois…maybe Eve would not have been tempted by the apple!

• 6 hours of bus between Kings Canyon and Alice Springs. All I have to say is thank you Steve Jobs, thank you for inventing the I-shuffle because:
a) “I still haven’t found what I am looking for” and “On Ira” in the middle of the Red Center are simply astounding.
b) The bus driver seemed to have a fixation for Kelly Clarkson.
c) Unlike my laptop, it does not die after 63 minutes of operation.

• Not once did they ask for any form of ID at any of the airport check-ins or hotels.

• Did I mention the Southern Cross?

• Aborigines: The first ones we saw where in The Alice and it was really a clash of two worlds: The natives were wearing native clothes, walking barefoot through the streets, speaking their tongues…and all of a sudden they take a cell phone that would make a Japanese school girl green with envy.

• While having diner at Ayers Rock it was quite a reflection of different cultures when different people asked me a few questions:
* Aussies: Where have you been in the world?
* French: Where is the best food you’ve ever had?
* Italians: Where are the most beautiful women?
* Japanese: Where is the best place to shop?
* American: How much money do you make?

• Now that I have seen the locals, I understand why they have condoms in the rooms! lol!

Cultures...

2005-12-04T23:04:00.000-07:00

Live from Uluru...If you want to know more about Uluru, I highly recommend hitting google and learning more about the history and geology of the site. It is mind boggling and the near-by Mount Olgas are equally impressive.
What I found amazing today is to see how different cultures approach different aspects of life.
In ancient Egypt, preserving the name of the deceased was paramount to that person's soul to survive in the after-world. So much so that Hatshepsut's name was taken away from most monuments by a bitter succesor and it was not until a few centuries later that her memory was brought back when a later king re-engraved most of her ceremonial sites.
In the aborigine culture, you do not speak, nor keep images, of the deceased for a certain amount of time based on that person's status. But this is where it gets interesting: The more "famous" a person was, the longer you have to not bring up their names nor memory. To the point that a very famous elder may not ever been spoken about again. ever.
So this was an interesting factoid...I was also suprized to learn that many people still climb Uluru despite the pleas of the natives to not do so.
It is a very sacred ground and they do not want it disturbed. I had to ask our Japanese companions why they were so set on climbing it. After all, as far as I am concerned, do not mess with Karma! But in their traditions, climbing mountains is actually a sign of respect for elders and the deceased...interesting.
I still do not know what they will do as they were still discussing their options but it was quite interesting to see that they were torn between respecting the Aborigines' wish and, as a result, completely disrespecting their elders...

Other things that I have seen/learnt in the Ayers Rock region:
- 700,000 wild camels in Australia, largest camel population in the world and a lot easier to deal with than the flies (has to be the largest population of flies in the world as well.)
- The water-bed underneath the desert has enough water to feed Australia for centuries, this is a shocker when looking at the landscape; yes, as Midnight Oil said, the Western Desert lives and breathes in 45 degrees.
- Uluru has made it to my exclusive list of places I would like to go back to in the world.
- The flying doctors are just incredible; and no, I have not tried their services yet!

G'day!

Terra Australis

2005-12-02T06:20:00.000-07:00

Notes from the Novotel Langley (appreciate the irony!) in Perth:

* Distances: Australia is huge. Bigger than the US, bigger than continental Europe...it's a huge continent and going from one place to another takes time, at times on unpaved roads; that's the Bush for you!

* Kangaroos: Up until today we had met 7 kangaroos: 6 as road-kills and one in my mom's plate (dead as well as you could have guessed!). This morning, we fared much better since we ran into 40 of the in the wild. I am quite disappointed, however, because many crossed the road and I do not have a Kangaroo yet in my record...I need to work on this!

* Cape Leuwin: Amazing, simply amazing. The South Ocean and the Indian Ocean meet and the spectacle is simply breathtaking. What is even more admirable is that people were brave enough to sail these seas 400 years ago.

* Mondialization: In the middle of nowhere in Cervantes (yes, that's the name of the city, complete with Don Quixote and Iberia street...but lacking windmills), in the one and only motel within 200km, we go to the restaurant and are treated to music from Kenny Wayne Sheppard and The Corrs. While I love the musical selection of the locals, it's quite funny to hear this when you expect songs from the Bush.

* Strombolites: Tiny structures from which life started millions and millions of years ago (please ignore the latest statement if you don't believe that Darwin was right!). And only a few places in the world where they stil exist is a fwe miles from Cervantes. When you see life at its simplest form, it does put things in perspective.

* The Southern Cross: Is there anything more beautiful in the night sky? I think not.

* RoadTrains: Australia does not have an extensive train system to carry fret in the bush. Instead it has trucks that tow wagons of merchandise. On average these trains are at least 35 meters and can go up to 60 meters (that almost 2/3 of a football field). Try passing these on a one-lane highway with traffic coming on the other side. Brings back memories of calculus: Knowing car A passes Truck T at 60kph and car B is coming on the other side...

* Vegemite: If you've tried it and aren't Aussie, you know what it means; if you do not, go to the nearest grocery store at once and change your life forever (or at least a bite!)

* Australians: Curious, genuine, funny.

* Sports: They not only talk about it, they also go out and do it.

* Cricket: It's actually not that complicated to understand the rules and the Indian commentators are simply hilarious!

Off to the red center!

Under a Busseltonian Sun

2005-11-28T01:35:00.000-07:00

This is a report live from my bed, the day after Ironman. I’m still running a fever from the heat stroke that got me pulled out of the run course but this race was a blast none the less.
As I recall, here is how it went!

It all started the night before at 1:30 in the morning when I got awaken by lighting and thunder. For the rest of the night I got treated to a light show over Geographe Bay; so much so that I was wondering how they would be able to start us on time; if at all.

The answer came quickly as we got to the transition area and were told that the start would be delayed by 30 minutes as the storm system was moving out. It should have been an indication that the winds were probably quite strong to move the storm away but ignorance is bliss!
So under a heavy rain and keeping an eye on the storm, I got my bike ready, and got ready for the swim

At 6:15 they had us get into the water; the water temperature was 18 degrees and the air temperature was 5 (all Celsius by the way) so it was…cold!
The Royal Australian Air Force did a few fly-byes and the cannon went off at 6:30.

The first half of the swim was on (soon to be discovered) the calm side of the jetty. I cannot remember getting hit or having any problems; it was mostly clean water and I got to the turn around in just under 30 minutes; it got interesting from there…
Prior to the start the lifeguards had mentioned 2-3 xxxx swell, since I had my race cap on, I took it as feet and thought it’d be a nice swim…they were talking in meters and the minute we hit the turnaround we got slapped silly by a bunch of waves.

While I have been scuba-diving in worse conditions, this was scary. When diving I have a tank of air on my back, here…uh…well….I came up for a air a few times only to find water. The highlight of the swim was getting caught in a wave with 3 other swimmers and being thrown toward the jetty, the guy next to me hit the wooden frame and was out of the race.
So it was with great relief that I made it to dry land in 1:15 or so. Very slow but alive!

On the bike the winds were blowing mostly at a 45 degree angle except for an out and back section where it was straight on/back. On the course they told us the winds were in the 40-50km/h range but I have no way of knowing for sure.
Basically until the first turnaround it was wind in the face, then in the back. My goal was to do the 3 laps in even splits and to stick to my nutrition plan and effort plan. It went well. I did 2:15 on each lap and did not feel too tired coming off the bike. I was (that’s scary) looking forward to getting on the run.

I ran for a while out of transition (2-3 miles) but was feeling a bit “out there”…I should have known that I was getting in troubles when I caught myself wondering why they had so many Australian flags on the course…yep, heat stroke had hit by then and I had no clue. In another “hum…that’s odd moment”, I noticed that whenever I was running (and by then it was not that often!) my heart rate would not move; which I simply blamed on my heart rate monitor that, clearly, was not functioning well!!!
The way the course is designed, when hitting the 10-12k mark, we ran by the start line where volunteers were doing quick checks on us; that’s where I failed miserably (and usually I am good at taking tests!!!) and ended up on the medical tent. My body was above 39c so needless to say, that was the end of the day!

The part I appreciate is that I did not even have the option of going back on the course. While volunteering at IM-Wisconsin, I saw lots of people who were in a similar shape that I was in (read: out of it and not knowing it) and yet, we could not make them stop. Here in Australia, it was not even an issue. It’s a good thing. Looking back, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have passed out on the course. I could not cool my body down and it would have been ugly.

What did I learn today?
• Under these conditions, the course is much, much, much harder than advertised. The pros were expecting to go sub 8 hours. At the pasta party, they said that because of the wind the winner should come in about 8:15…turns out the winning time was close to 8:40.
• My body cannot handle extreme heat. I had a heat stroke a few years back and now I am more susceptible to them. The change in temperature from start time (6c) to the run (37c) was simply too much. I was not prepared for such conditions.
• I am finding muscles I did not even know I had!
• I need to become a better cyclist not too waste too much energy out there.
• Australians are incredible: The entire town was out on their lawn with race programs screaming your name every time you came by. And to think that in other places of the world they put tacks on the roads…
• 2 awesome signs on the road: ‘Dad you are my hero” and “You guys are all crazy”…on the same piece of paper written by the same person!
• The aid stations were better stocked than my kitchen: water, cola, energy drinks, cookies, fruits, ice….yes, ice: every where on the course (run and bike) they had ice and cold drinks. For having worked an aid station, I appreciate the beauty of it!

A strange way to finish a first ironman but it was none the less a great experience. I am looking forward to doing another one and finishing it in style! Plus this experience has given some pointers to prepare in the future.

It was the night before Ironman…

2005-11-26T03:59:00.000-07:00

In 12 hours the cannon will go off and launch us into Geographe Bay. Yes a cannon; not a gun, not a flag…a cannon…I guess that’s Australian for “Signaling Device”

A few words of non-wisdom before I head to bed:

- People should not sing a-capela, especially when they are not professional singers (this advice extends to the backstreet boys and In-Sync). And no, it’s not me being me, I am merely relating one of the several nuggets Joelle mentioned at the carbo-party…I will spare you the other ones but she is popular now as people during the swim training told me to say hi to her…

- My only expectation is to finish; it’d be awesome and it would make me feel good about raiding the souvenir shop!

- Goal-wise…I’d like to be off the bike before the leaders finish the race. If I can finish before dark then it’s a bonus.

- I’m not nervous. Definitely anxious to get going but I cannot say that nervousness is here. For one I think I am too dumb to be nervous but more likely I think that no matter what happens tomorrow does not define who I am. Also it has really helped to have been able to tap into some awesome resources to gain tri-experience…which leads me to…

- A ton of people I want to thank. People without whom I would not have made it to the start line and who I will think about during the race:

Joelle, Claude, Georges, Dondi, Emmanuel, Tara, Bridget, Olga, Catherine, Mike, the gangs at BTC and CTC and all the great friends who have put up with me during the training.

Wolfgang. When one of the top triathlete in the world is brave enough to take a total newbie under his wing and give him advice and guidance, it makes training a lot easier and race week a lot smoother!!!

Maggie and Ericka for giving me inspiration when the goings get tough.

Erica and Molly for helping my muscles recover quickly.

Annie and the awesome bike fit.

Emmanuel, Tara, Daniel, Dondi, Shawn, Wolfgang, Joelle, Claude, and Georges, my bike sponsors!!!

Terri, Tim, Mark, Iona, Kevin, and Phil for dragging my butt on the BTC runs

Maureen, Jim, Marcus, Eric, and Will at UCLA and UCB for finding me a place to train when traveling (and preventing me from having any excuses tomorrow!!!)

I am sure I am forgetting many others but fear not, I will make it up to you!

It’s time to race!

Froggaroo

Abducted by Aliens in Perth

2005-11-21T02:30:00.000-07:00

So last night, as I was flipping channels to avoid another rerun of Australia vs West Indies (well I am hoping it was a rerun or these cricket players are really resiliant), I ended up on the National Geo channel and the topic was:
Alien Abductions...
It was really entertaining, especially the part about encounters of the third kind which result in the subject waking up with bruises and not knowing where they came from...
Really hilarious until I woke up this morning with a huge bruise on my forearm (we're talking a good 10 cm long!) and no idea as to how I got it.
I was hoping I got some super alien power as a result but my bike ride convinced me that it was still normal me!
still...the mystery endures...

Pictures

2005-11-20T00:59:00.000-07:00

ok, here are the first photos.
http://pyrasports.mysite4now.com/ngallery/albums/19.aspx

Also a quick notes:
* Aussies love sports!
* If the wind stays this way, IM will be a mix of frying and getting blown away..cool!
* For most Perth is at the other side of the world but I loved the hotel clerk's reaction: "Colorado? That's on the other side of the universe"
* This city is about to grow...mark my words.
* I will never understand cricket!
* Scary when people in the streets talk about Pierluigi Colina and how he would not have made certain calls...after their teams qualified for the World Cup (first time in 30 years!)

In the land down under

2005-11-18T15:33:00.000-07:00

made it to Sydney and now I am waiting for the last leg of the trip. One thing that hit me right away when I got to the airport was the smell...yes, that incredible, sweet and particular smell of...Krispy Kremes! Yes, they sell them at the airport and I think it is just a test of my will power.
Of course it is ironic that you have to declare all the food that you bring in; you also have to declare any sort of soil (good for me I had cleaned up my bike) just in case you bring some bad stuff in but yet, KK is in the airport!

D-10

2005-11-16T20:21:00.000-07:00

10 days to go before the gun goes off and the sharks are released into Geographe Bay!
The bike is packed, loaded, and ready to go and so am I...well I am not loaded but you knew that already.

Tomorrow I will fly from Denver to San Francisco to Sydney and then onto Perth.

I cannot say that I am getting nervous...if anything I am getting extremely aggravated at the race management: They keep on sending me emails telling me about the great deals and discounts they are going to have at the race; unfortunately they have not received my memo telling them that the INS (or should I say USCIS) has been pulling a Jesse James on me...
For those of you who have not had to deal with immigration, let me just say that winning the green card lottery and being able to afford the green card are two very different things...so there goes my budget for the skimpy speedos...Can you tell how bummed I am !?

Also, I have not had any of the ironman nightmares yet. Some of my friends dreamt of being chased by sharks or Freddy Krueger, only to get to the bike transition and find their saddles missing from their bikes...I have had none of that. Knowing me, when it hits it going to be along these lines:

I am getting to the finish line, the crowds are cheering, the French are ligthing cars on fire, it's a huge celebration; I pass the line and bam! Horror sets in: No more bagels...now that would really suck!

Last but not least, I do not have my race number yet, nor do I know what I am going to wear. But stay tuned!

It's time to fly!

First snow!

2005-11-14T22:39:00.000-07:00

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
Not staying on the ground but really nice none the less!

Song list

2005-11-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

So in 15 days, the big bird is taking me to Australia which means that I am ready to taper, which also means that it is time for my training song list to be published! Here is what I ran to this month:
- Let's get it started (black eyed peas)
- On ira (jj goldman)
- Highway to Hell (acdc)
- Restless (a krauss)
- Come together (john, paul, ringo and george)
- Irresistible (the corrs)
- Hangin' around (counting crows)
- The bitch is back (e john)
- We will rock you (queens)
- Au bout de mes reves (jj goldman)
- Pain (jimmy eat world)
- Dig in (lenny kravitz)
- Why can't I? (liz phair)
- Push (matchbox 20)
- The Middle (jimmy eat world)
- Gimme all your lovin' (zz top)
- Learning to fly (tom petty)
- Baila (Zucchero)
- Under pressure (queens)
- Soy (gipsy kings)
- Angels (robbie williams)
- Diavolo en me (zucchero)
- You can't always get what you want (stones)
- I will follow (u2)
- Hey Ya (outkast)
- I'm a believer (smashmouth)
- Drift away (uncle Kracker)
- I still haven't found what I am looking for (u2)

ok...time to go and run now!

Change of plans in Wisconsin

2005-09-12T23:40:00.000-06:00

You cannot control nature. As physically and mentally prepared as you can be, if Mother Nature decides to go all out against you, the odds are not in your favor. At best you can try to manage and weather the conditions.

When things do not go as planned, it is really interesting to see how people adapt to new, challenging, and uncertain situations.

Today is September 11th 2005 and we are in Madison, WI for the Ironman. In and out of itself, the ironman is quite an event but today, more than ever, it became more of a story of personal resilience and adaptation. If tv was involved, letπs say that there could have been many Kleenex moments.

It was hot, really, really hot (above 90f, 30c), humid (above 75%) and, to make things even better, windy (20+ mph). Far from ideal conditions.

Along with friends from the Chicago triathlon club, I was volunteering at an aid station on the bike course. When volunteering your role is usually limited to handing out drinks to cyclists as they ride by. Every now and then you may get a dirty look because you refused to step into 30-mph bike traffic to handle a bottle but most of the time people are nice. You have a good day, and get a nice t-shirt of out it. Oh yeah and a hot dogägood times!

With the weather conditions as they were today, our role quickly changed from "domestiques" to first aid providers, nurses, and psychologists. On any given years, maybe 10 riders will stop to rest and 1-2 may even quit at this aid station. Today the place turned into a mini-triage center and based on their different conditions racers were dispatched to different areas. The divemaster in me got to see more textbook examples of dehydration and heat-induced conditions than in any of my classes!

As volunteers, we cannot tell a racer to stop racing. We can ask them to talk to the paramedics (say if they ask us if we had seen their cats on the course) but even paramedics are not in the position to pull them out of the race.

If an athlete wants to keep going, there is very little we can do but put him or her on medical watch and hope for the best.

Well, there are a few things we can do. Volunteers this year had to juggle ever diminishing water-supplies, shortage of ice, and having to invent ≠on the fly- ways to help athletes. Sodas and pretzels appeared at the aid station (must have been Christmas for sure). 8-10 years old kids did not stop helping us, despite the heat. Heck it was even hard to get them to drink since they were saying that the riders needed the bottles more than them!

We also talked to the athletes a lot. To some it was just a brief exchange to make sure they were as comfortable as they could be. To others it was a mix between assessing their condition and trying to make them understand that stopping could (or should!) be an option. However, this is a lot harder than one would think because regardless of their conditions, these are racers who have invested (physically, mentally, monetarily) a lot. They are so dedicated, and often times so unaware of their dire conditions that talking is a lost cause. No matter what, they will get back on the bike to try to make the cut-off. Today, with 3 minutes to go before the cutoff time, there were still about 200 cyclists out on the course. Most of them will not make it and this is heart breaking.

Talking to people as they were taking a break, I was really surprised to not hear, or see, any displays of anger. Often times, when athletes get hurt, hell breaks loose as they want to go after anyone who even dares talking to them. Not today.

If anything, it was quite striking to hear people not being disappointed for them but rather devastated at the thought that they were "failing" the people who came to cheer for them.

I fail to see, and I believe everyone at the aid station felt that way, where these athletes were failing anyone. They had made it to the start line after many sacrifices, worked through terrible conditions, and were still in good enough spirits to remind us (love the irony) to keep hydrated because "it is hot out there"(while of course you are handing them bottles after bottles of fluid to replenish their reserves!)

With 11 weeks to go before my ironman, I could not help but think "Man it could be me laying down here close to passing out". But these athletes taught me that after being prepared, after having planned for different situations, one has to always remember that there is another day, there is another race, and there are always people who care about you and would rather see you with a DNF next to your name than a debilitating injury. Sometimes these people are just volunteers you'll never see again.

Riding Amtrak

2005-06-10T06:18:00.000-06:00

I have lived in the United States for over 11 years yet, had never set foot in a train until this week when I am traveling from Denver to Chicago via Des Moines.
Why not simply fly, one may ask? Or even drive? Well, taking the train is something that I have always wanted to do but never really had a primer for. An invite from Iowa and a wedding in Chicago provided the required motivation. It is similar to Ironman in the sense that I have been thinking about it for a long time and, like Ironman, I am finding out that riding Amtrak is a test of endurance, both physical and mental.
Also, there is something really fascinating about train travel in the United States given that the state of train technology here is about as advanced as the striving field of nanotechnology in Somalia.

The first leg of trip between Denver and Osceola was a crash course in Amtrakology. I hear there are English as Second Language classes offered in schools; I believe there should be TAAT (Train As Alternative Transportations) courses, especially for those of us who have been used to bullet trains for the past 20 years. Amongst my learning:

• There in only one set of train tracks in most places in the country. Of course one set makes passing or being passed quite difficult. It seems that the rule of thumb is that the freight trains have priority, which leads me to think that goods are more perishable than travelers.
• Train-food is more expensive than movie theaters food and snobby French restaurants combined but I guess you are paying for the view and that makes it OK…unless the view is the cornfields of Nebraska in which case you may be entitled to a discount.
• If you wonder where flight attendants go when they are no longer cute enough…hop on a train.
• People snore a lot louder than in airplanes. Granted this is based solely on one set of data gathered in a few hours in one train car…but that’s statistics for you! My theory of that the rocking movement of the track reminds people of their early years whereas airplane engines solely remember the passengers that the only things between them and the ground 30,000 feet below are the laws of physics.
• Amtrak is like the evil landlord apparently. They pay their station mangers $7 and hour for 2 hours of work no matter what the delays are. Very similar to wages in nanotechnology’s firms in Somalia.
• American cows do not look at the trains; it must be a European cows thing.

And then there are the delays. Based on some more informal surveys, I have come to the conclusion that saying “My train is running on time” rings about as true as Mini Vanilli saying “We love to sing live”; interestingly enough, they both blame it on the rain.

On the first leg of the trip the delays were of comical nature as we had:
• The gentleman who between falling down and dropping his burger decided that the cost of Amtrak food was such that breaking his head open was a better deal. We stopped so he could get some stitches; he ate his burger while waiting for the medics although I think he complained a lot about it having too much ketchup.
• An elderly person had some problems breathing so we had to stop and wait for an ambulance to arrive. This makes much more sense than carrying oxygen on board of course because people feeling light headed while traveling at altitude are very rare occurrences.
• A few days before the train had to stop because someone was trying to jump off the train (they must have got the bill for the deluxe hot dog). Which really makes me wonder how helpful Amtrak is in assisting its passengers reach their destinations.
• And my favorite. The 20 year old, pot-stacked dude, who decides that the Amtrak food would prevent him from buying a smoke and, in an act of self –preservation that would make Darwin proud, decides to cook some tomato-soup on an open flame next to his seat. I wonder what was the most entertaining: the look of terror on the conductor’s face or the look of sadness of our Chef as they confiscated his utensils. I, too, would be devastated to see my tomato-bisque (sounds expensive but really it’s all soup, trust me) being escorted off the train by a burly conductor.

Today, for the second leg of my trip, I am experiencing delays caused by act of God. Rains and landslides of biblical proportion have apparently been hitting the tracks. Mind you there are no plane delays but Amtrak cannot make it. I guess a plane at 20,000 feet can handle tornadoes and lightning much more efficiently than a multi-ton object on the ground. I am also questioning the whole notion of “Act of God” when it comes to Amtrak. I know that corporations are evil entities driven by greed and a quench for power (yes, I am still a principal for a corporation!) but really, who in their right mind would think that God would unleash Gabriel after the California Zephir 6?

Regardless of who is responsible for the delay, my 8 am train is now my midnight train. Well midnight if nothing else happens in the mean time; I hear the catfish over the Missouri river are planning an old-fashion train robbery…

This delay has actually been nice as far as I am concerned. Since my taxi driver left me alone at the station (that will teach me to not tip well), I set out to discover Osceola, Iowa. Of course, I did my best to be stealth, which in my case would mean not talking to strangers but I always fail miserably at it. So I met with the locals, meandered around town, and took pictures…my observations:
• This area of Iowa has many “Kum & Go” gas stores, I wonder if they sponsor any family planning programs.
• When at a John Deer, classic trailer convention, do not mention you are French and that some of your close friends are gay. Either statement may fly, but both will have you reminisce of a time when tar and feathers were used.
• Most people are nice. If you smile and don’t mention that you are a Freedom Frog you will be offered food and drinks. If you do, you will be charged for them.
• If people see you with an attractive taxi driver, they will automatically ask you if you are either engaged or married, and comment to how nice a couple you make.
Trying to clarify things will only lead to suggestions on how you should start dating the taxi driver. My next blog will be: Osceola Resident’s Matchmakers techniques.
• Always, always, always be nice to the train station attendant: Pat is only paid $7/hr for 2 hours, no matter how long she has to work. And yet, she’ll take a few minutes to call your cell phone to let you know that the midnight train will really depart around 10 pm after all…

Being delayed and chatting with my fellow inmates, err I mean travelers, got me view time a bit differently once again. Interesting enough, no one got impatient, annoyed, or aggravated so either train people are a lot more mellow than other travelers or, we might change our expectations as the traveling medium changes.

I fear to think about what would happen should such a delay happen with an airplane. After a 25 minutes delay, cells phones would have been drawn, at the 45 minutes mark, the lawyers would start distributing the affidavits. 90 minutes into the delay, the flight attendants would have to use their “Customer Management Skills” (also known as “pepper-spray the SOB”) and 180 minutes into it…well forget it, 180 minutes into it, the pilots would have gone over their taxi time and everyone would be inside the terminal complaining about how travel is not longer what it used to be.

Patience is golden and as I am updating this blog from outside the station of the striving metropolis of Osceola, I am convinced that we have forgot how to take things slow and enjoy life. When you travel by train you are pushed back a century. It’s time travel at its best: While in Denver, I could not help but think back to when the station was first build in 1881. A quick interview of my tailbone revealed that the benches were still the original ones and for all I know, I was sitting in a spot that was once occupied by Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, or even Mark Twain.

Looking at my fellow travelers though, the gunslingers are long gone. The colts have been replaced by cell phones (almost as lethal based on some studies), the fashion has gone away from leather towards spandex, and the waist lines are getting wider than the Rio Grande.

You also get to meet people and learn about their lives, or at least the lives they want to disclose. I wonder what type of characters Mark Twain would have come up with if his only source of inspiration had been air travel. Comes to think of it, it could have been quite interesting.

From my trip, I will remember the gentleman from Little Rock who cannot wait to get back to his 3 kids and spends quite a bit of time talking to the father and son duo who is heading to the Wisconsin’s Dells.
There is the computer aficionado who just purchased a GPS and spends the entire trip looking at the train move on a screen while talking to the gambler who is returning from Reno.

It’s now 5 in the morning and I have made it to Chicago. I will definitely remember this trip for quite a while but just to make sure that I am on time, I am riding my bike next time!

All this for a nightmare?

2005-05-23T20:19:00.000-06:00

Warning: If you are amongst the 7 people on earth who have not yet seen the new Star Wars just yet or if you are a member of the International Space Station awaiting the next Soyuz to get your hands on the DVD, please do not read this post. Failure to comply will not only lead to a major disruption in the force but will also prevent the release of Indiana Jones 4 in the next 2 years. While I can live with disruption, the absence of Indy would force me to unleash Darth Froggy after you.

For the past 30 years or so, we all had visions of a terrible disaster leading young Annikan to turn into Darth Vader. Then “Episode 3” came out and we got the answer. Tons of rebels sliced, planets exterminated, droids reprogrammed, and Ewoks barbequed (well maybe that one is not so bad) because…of a nightmare?

Yes, the dark side entered Darth V because he has a nightmare about his pregnant wife (by the way, anyone noticed the size of the ring on Princess BadHairdo? No, me neither…so being a Jedi does not pay I guess) and cannot go get a glass of water in the fridge to shake it off?

My (Sith) Lord! I was expecting something grandiose such as an encounter of the third kind or a vision quest. Heck, even the death of his favorite hamster would have done the trick for me. But a nightmare? That’s just wrong.

The Brochure Never Lies

2005-05-19T13:01:00.000-06:00

I love playing golf with my friend Christophe. He has been one of the top Amateur player in Europe for years, even had a stint on the pro-tour, and could kick my butt playing left handed, blind folded, in a wheelchair.
Besides his uncanny ability for finding the balls that I lose in the rough, what makes playing with him so enjoyable is that he understands that, to me, golf is just something I do for fun. As a result, he does not try to coach me all the time, every single shot. Mind you, when asked, he will dispense some of the best advice ever but he wants to make sure you are out there having fun,

I take the same approach in the activities that I lead, trying to make sure people have a good time. Of course it is a bit problematic when my answer to “how do you attach the scuba tank to the regulator?” is “No worries, it’ll be all good, you’ll love finding Nemo by the third anemone.”

Yes, people do things for a wide variety of reasons and often times, being the best at the activity is not one of the reasons.
Unfortunately, there are some people out there who not only believe all activities should be done to be number one but who will also gladly coach you.

Years ago I remember being on a golf-course with Christophe when we got stuck playing with a 3rd person. To put things in perspective, it was a few weeks after Christophe had won the European Amateur Cup. All he wanted to do was to have fun. So he played some left-handed shots, half-shots, goofed around while I was scrambling to keep the ball on the course. Our playing partner though decided that Christophe, not I, needed serious guidance with his swing. This gentleman (who might have broken 100 the day he realized how to use an eraser on his score sheet) managed to make life miserable for us until, out of desperation, I pulled the latest issue of Golf Magazine with the picture of my friend on the cover. That took care of the peanut gallery.

See, that is the nice thing about French people. We have several ways of being obnoxious:
- The open way. I.e.: “No, we will not go and look for weapons of mass destruction”.
- The subtle way, also known as “Resistance”.
- And, the plain obnoxious way, which consists of giving the impression that we are following directions, yet subtly changing a few things for the mere purpose of inflaming the order-giver.

A few days ago I used method 3 for sheer entertainment. I recently got conned into trying Birkham’s Yoga.
For those of you who are not living in Boulder, let me tell you a bit more about this type of Yoga. Reading the brochure the “studio” (gym sounds too common and would not warrant the cost), gave me, I was happy to learn that this form of Yoga was invented by mister Birkham after he had a terrible car accident and wanted to regain his yogi status.
Whether said status would have been regained quicker by attending a D.U.I class is not mentioned and we are left to investigate what terrible event would shake Mister B (as I like to call him – not that we have ever met) enough that he would want to set-up his exercise routine in a room heated to 105 Farenhet (that’s about 41 C for the rest of the free world).

However, reading the brochure some more, one learns that this approach to exercise is the answer to mankind's most complex problems and could have potentially saved Egypt from the 7 plagues. You dare doubt me? Let me give you a few examples:
- Birkham’s Yoga will help you relax.
- Birkham’s Yoga will help you lose weight.
- Birkham’s Yoga will make you more attractive.
- Birkham’s Yoga will help you decipher Linear B.

All hail to Mister B, I thought as I entered the studio.
Since our Yogi (a.k.a person who teaches so she can pay for her GED) was different than last time, I went and exchanged a few words with her, mainly to let her know that my right knee is, well fucked-up. Unfortunately, I did not use such terms but rather told her about limited range of movements due to damaged ACL’s. This medical disclosure seemed to confuse her enough that she told me to simply take a knee if I got tired.
Hum…yes, I could take the knee and go to the hospital…but not wanting to confuse my Yogi some more, I thought it best to simply go to the room and wait.

But for a few experts (i.e.: attractive and in shape), the room was mostly made up of fat filled, ugly, and stressed people in spandex. As well as 3-4 Cretean archaeologists. The brochure was right…or was the heat already getting to me.

After laying down my mat (which quickly became my sweat receptacle), the course started with our mighty Yogi going through poses faster than Elizabeth Taylor goes through husbands.
All these poses have code names (in Indian, yes, you will also be fluent in Indian thanks to Birkham’s Yoga) and are carefully choreographed. Departure from the proper posture will not only get you comments from the Yogi-Meister but also bring doom upon you and your heirs.

If 6 inches (and don’t you dare question the fact that an imperial system is used, Mister B. loved the work done by the Commonwealth in his homeland) is the preferred spread between the legs then Vishnu helps you if you are at 6.3 inches. I hear the skies will part and Shiva will use all her assets to slap you until you see the light.

When you just want to have fun and are not like Kevin Costner wanting to hear advice such as ‘Go the distance” or “If you build it, they will come”, this type of dictator-led exercise can get old pretty fast.

Somewhere between the Hare-Krishna and the Hanuka pose, I lost it. Yogi-dearest was trying really hard to get me to be flexible as a slinky and had entirely forgotten that my knee cannot do some simple basic movements. Also absent from her brain cells were the facts that all I do not want to be a pro-yogi and that I really did not care for her attitude.

Really, I will not have to go to therapy because I cannot scratch my left nostril with my right little toe, and my life will go on quite well knowing that my ear will never be able to swat flies of my lower back. Mix that with the fact that I will never let any wellness (and I use the term loosely) instructor treat me as if I were their pet project (especially for $5 a session), and my nerves were about to prove the brochure wrong.

So rather than being a grown-up and doing the right thing (walking out), I decided to do worse: be French and annoy the daylights out of her.
Simple poses were butchered. One eye was closed when both were supposed to be opened. Snide comments made when the pose required “to touch your head with your forehead” (yes, yogi goofed up on that one).

It would have been really funny but for the fact that yogi-mia never caught on to my ploy and kept trying to correct my “mistakes”. So the masquerade went on for quite a while but something incredible happened during that process.

I was having a blast making fun of someone who had no clue about what was going on. Fat people around me were losing weight faster as they could see me struggling more than them. My mat-neighbor, who must be a sponsored Jenny Craig’s member, suddenly turned into Emmanuelle Beart, and lo and behold we were started to translate Tablet CX (the one describing life on Atlantis) into Indian.

Birkham’s Yoga was working. Miracles were happening. The brochure never lies.

So Long and Thanks For the Fish.

2005-05-13T12:39:00.000-06:00

I am often asked the difference between diving in the Ocean and diving in an aquarium. I do not even entertain the question of diving in a quarry since it is really similar to making chocolate mousse with Ghirardelli’s chocolate: High expectations, low rewards!

In the ocean the principle is easy: know where your buddy is at all times and enjoy the ride. In an aquarium it becomes: know where the sharks are and entertain the visitors.

Knowing where the sharks are would seem to be an easy proposition. After all we are talking about a small enclosure; it is not like sharks have perfected teleportation…yet.
The problem becomes that these amphibians can swim. And I do not mean in a Ian Thorpe kind of way but rather in a “how did they close so much distance in so little time”; come think of it, they swim in a Thorpe way.
So one minute the nurse shark is on the other side of the pond; the next one he is headbutting you because once again (the two-legged ones never learn) you are leaning on his favorite piece of gravel.

Another problem in an aquarium in jackhammers. No, it is not a new type of fish. I mean the construction tool that is being used in areas near by my pool as the aquarium gets upgraded. Jackhammering drives the fish insane and they simply want to pick a fight with anyone and anything. Especially the leopard sharks.
In the space of 49 minutes, I was privy to 7 headbutts, 4 fins nibbling, 3 glove cuts, and a few tail whooping. And yes, I did retaliate at times.
I also believe I dropped the vacuum machine on one of the greys, hereby pissing it off to no end. That I can understand: if someone was to drop a hoover on me, I’d want to have a word with them. In this case I simply got out of the water and waited for Bruce to stop circling.

But there were kids, and parents, and chaperons, and it is always fun to entertain them. Kids love to waive at divers and we, divers, love to waive at chaperons; it all evens out! We had the customary fake hand-shaking, waving, and photo sessions. We also collected a few shark teeth (no, not the result of us hitting the sharks!) and showed that to the kids through the glass. And since we had to deal with nervous fish, it made for even more fun.

…another great day in the water!

On goals, time, and why we run our bodies to the ground…

2005-05-02T12:27:00.000-06:00

April 30th marked the return trip to Lake San Antonio. Most of the year, dears frolic in the park, only to be bothered by wild pigs and a few campers who come to enjoy the peace and serenity of the lake.
April 30th is not such a tranquil day! 6000+ people descend (literally) on the park to partake in the Woodstock of Triathlon.
Since I survived episode 1 last year, I figured I would come back for more punishment, only this time with clear and distinct goals in mind. 6 goals to be exact:

a) Have a great weekend with my friends!
b) Finish the race because finishing such an event is required for the Ironman in Perth later this year. I conveniently forgot to mention this little fact to friends and family to keep things simple!
c) Finish faster and fresher than last year
d) Test my nutrition plan for Ironman
e) Go under 7 hours if possible
f) Find the answer to a question a good friend of mine asked me a few weeks ago: Why do you train for an Ironman and how do you keep motivated?

…Let’s look at the different goals and whether they were met!

a) Total win!!! Bridget, one of my best friends, came to compete from Chicago. I got to see my adopted family from last year and also got to make some new friends I had only met via email so far.
From great food, to post-race celebration and great one-liners, it was an awesome weekend. While I cannot get into a full report of who drunk what on Saturday night, I can share 2 very funny comments I heard:
“This is the first time I go camping without an M-16”
“ (speaking to a tri-fan), you are the triathlon fluffler”

b) Checked. I can now get brutalized in Perth!

c) 7:14 vs. 7:34 last year. Researchers at DuboiStats further comment: “went from 1,561e overall to 1,394e and from 1,198e man to 1,129e man” which seems to indicate that there are still people who are slower than me…and that is a scary thought! While the few hours following the race were amongst the most painful I’ve had, my body has recovered extremely quickly and I even went for a little jog to keep the engine working this morning. So overall, I am quite happy.

d) and e) are closely related and this is where the my major problem was!
Since I have started to train for this race (and Ironman), I have been following a nutrition plan when I exercise, this is what I wanted to use on Saturday.
For the non-triathletes, let me give a bit of an explanation: When racing a half-ironman (or longer) you need to eat an average of about 400 calories an hour. Of course it’s hard to do that when you swim and also difficult on the run. So the bike is considered lunchtime; a rolling buffet where you can pick from your favorite gels and other power bars. You also want to consume a bunch of water and other liquids, of course!
That’s the theory and that is how I have been training.

That’s not how the race turned out! At mile 5 on the bike my stomach decided that it was going to run (pun intended) a few tests on me. Now, why do they call that “your stomach shutting down” I do not know because the darn organ was doing anything but shutting down.
To make a long story short, and to avoid getting into gastro-descriptions, all I could stomach was 1 powerbar, 3 gels, and 1.5 bottle of water. For those of you scoring at home that’s about 400 calories total…for the whole day. Thank God for my fat!!!

Obviously I got into the later part of the bike dehydrated, bonking, and loopy. How much loopy? Quite a bit! I knew I was bonking and was trying to play mind games with myself. By then, the only thing I could think of was food and more specifically Jambalaya with Polish sausage.
I do not have a specific attachment to Jambalaya, Poles, or Sausages (au contraire) but that’s what we had planed to cook at night. Given that one of our teammate is a vegetarian, all I could think about was: “We need to make sure we cook the sausage separately so that she can eat the Jambalaya"…and that was with me for 30 miles…only to be interrupted for 3 seconds each mile by the new lyrics I made for the song “She is a man eater” (heard playing at one of the rest stations):
“Oh hooo here the belly goes…it’s a mile eater”.

Yes, iron and half-iron people are sick puppies…I admit it!
But we are also a nice supportive community and have our support meetings while doing our events. Come to think of it, it is quite psychotic as well; how often have you heard of AA meeting happening during happy hours at your local bar?
Anyhow, we support each other…By the time I got off the bike, I honestly believed that I was going to be out on the run for at least 4 hours or (more likely) end up in the medical tent.
At mile 2 of the run, a perfect stranger ran by me telling me to "hang in there, it can come back at any time"...and it did somewhere around mile 8! At the end of the day, my run was 30 minutes faster than last year. Interestingly enough, I saw the gentleman outside of the medical tent after the race and went to thank him.

Which brings me to my f) goal…
At the start of the race, I was thinking that everyone around me was incredibly fortunate to be here. We had the financial means to travel here, the support of great friends and loved ones, and most importantly the health to step up to the start line.
That alone is incredible, yet taken for granted at times and is probably what keeps me motivated during a race. Some of my friends are not lucky as I am health wise and have (or have had) to put up with being hooked to machines just to have a chance to live. It puts things in perspective out there.
Long-distance triathlons also help me learn patience, pacing, and working through difficulties. For me, this race was an eye opener as it showed me that my body could be pushed a lot further than I ever thought possible. Not so much because my body is “prepared” or “fit” but rather because the mind shifted gear and simply focus on one task at a time.
It also gave me lots of good ideas for my next triathlon and how to properly prepare for it but that is for a later post!

so now...let's bring on Perth!!!

On the importance of the opening act.

2005-04-22T10:22:00.000-06:00

As I stepped into the Pepsi Center last night two thoughts entered my mind: “Hockey players are a bunch of cry-babies for sitting the season out” and: “I wonder who will be opening for U2”.

Yes, I had some U2 tickets and did not have to give up my next of kin or some redundant body parts to attend the concert. Just my credit card; thank you Bono for helping me contribute to the World’s debt.
Anyways, I thought the opening act would be important; something to setup the tone for the rest of the show. They could be the tuning fork of the audience, the Fred to the Ginger, the Laurel to the Hardy; Hardly…
They sucked. I do say “they” because I am not even sure of who they were. K.O.L was written on the drum-set but for all I know it had been borrowed from some local kids. So K.O.L was cold. I could say they that they sucked harder than Monica Lewinsky (and yes, our ears did get stained) or that their lack of musical talents run deeper than the Mariana Trench…but even that would be insulting to Monica or the hydrothermal vents.

But then I realized something…it was all a ploy: Instead of being in the stands, most of the audience was at the concession stand paying $6 for cocktails that involved a mix of sprite, diet-coke, pepsi, and a touch of Baccardi. Soft ice cream (with the perfect Brand Name of “Real Ice Cream”…) was served. Like Love, Hot Dogs and Burgers were all around. The KOL disaster was a blessing for the Pepsi center.
Moral of the story: Run them out of the arena into the money pit and you shall live happily ever after.
30 minutes into KOL’s act, the crowd was expecting U2 with more fervor than onlookers waiting for the white smoke to come out of the Sistine Chapel. Habeam Edgus, Habeam Edgus, could be heard throughout the concourse when the lights went out.

And U2 took the stage. Notes for Boys’ Bands and other wannabes, this is what will never happen to you. More energy than the energizer bunny, a great light-show (with a funky light-wall / screen display) and a solid song selection. And lest not forget 2 encores.
Throw-in a few Bono-ism to save Africa, Asia, Antartica, and Alabama…For old people who have been together for over 23 years, they still have it.
During some songs, you could literally count the number of people seating; even in the stands.

At some point during this concert I also came to the conclusion that triathletes are sick-puppies, especially during their taper period. Don’t think so? Then why on earth was I singing:
I want to run, I want to ride, I want to tear down my swim, that holds me from Kona as the first verse for: “Where the Streets Have No Names?”

Shark Bait.

2005-04-15T12:18:00.000-06:00

Diving in salt water is fun. Diving in salt water at a mile high is definitely out of the ordinary and a lot of fun.
As far as I am concerned, there are very few things that can top the rush of hitting cool water filled with nice little fishes. Some will say that a mass start at Ironman may be a bigger rush but I would claim that during the IM swim, the last thing on your mind is the grey shark; while, when diving at my aquarium –presented by a seafood restaurant-, the grey is the first thing on our mind!
As I was diving today, I realized that I had use the underwater vacuum in the pond more often than the one in my house…something has to change. Maybe I just need to wear a wetsuit to get motivated to vacuum my place. That’s a thought to ponder.
Every dive is entertaining in its own ways. Today it was all about sharks and how their IQ has to be a lot lower than some underpaid researchers want us to believe.

Exhibit A: Nurse shark sleeps at the bottom. You are about 4 feet away feeding small critters delicacies along the line of seaweed and lettuce. Suddenly you feel a bump but gentle enough that you do not think about it…then a second one, then a third one…as you turn around, you see nurse sharkie staring at you. You do what any sensible individual would do: offer her some seaweed. But no, sharkie pushes and then lays down and goes back to sleep…Sure, the gravel cover is much better here than 4 feet away!!!

Exhibit B: A high wire act is the feeding of the saw-tooth shark (which actually is a ray for those of you looking up their Britannica at home) because it involves feeding the shark a rather large (dead) fish with a pole. Oddly enough, other sharks (grey, leopards…) are also interested in the fish and the job of the back-up diver is to keep the sharks away from the feeder. To achieve that, we have 2 tools: A mighty pvc pipe and our hands.
I like the hand version better because there is nothing funnier than seeing the look on a shark’s face after it gets bitch-slapped (though, do not call PETA, no actual animals were harmed in the making of this blog). Well there is one thing funnier…
When the leopard shark decides to get “smart” and sneak behind you, then above your shoulder…and in between your air source (which is pretty much your back-up breathing apparatus attached to your vest) and your head. Needless to say, the shark will get stuck and start to freak out. Needless to say, the diver will wonder why he is stuck and thinks about freaking out.
What ensues is a cartoon-like display of contortionism and mean looks between both parties which this time resulted in the diver disconnecting the air source, letting the shark go, and then reconnection the air source (no, Padi does not teach you that until the rescue class!!!)
Given the look of confusion on the shark’s face, I can imagine the dialogue at night on the reef:
“Gee Bob, seems that you were in quite a bind today”
“I know Baitboy, I was going for the fish when I get stuck between a flexible thing and a bubble making machine…I tell you, this place is getting scary.”
“Yep. I think we should call the union. I heard the 2-legged ones talk about sending us to a place call the ocean, that sounds like a bad relocation deal;”
“Sure is…I wonder if the zoo is hiring…”
Another great moment in the pond is going behind the windows as people take pictures and make faces at them…just to get even for them using a flash!

Of course they’ve just told us that they now have a few black-tips in quarantine so now I am thinking about investing in a body armor…

Great Road Signs

2005-04-11T13:40:00.000-06:00

Colorado is an awesome place to ride a bike (the clean-engine, calories-propulsed type) because the scenery is incredible.
Off course, at times the wind becomes strong enough to pick you up from one side of the road to the other but on these days one simply remembers Genesis 6:12 "And on the fourth day, God created the DVD player, and the home trainer so that dumb ironman-wannabees can stay home nice and warm".
Anyhow, Saturday was a great day for a leisurely ride from Casa De Frog to Fort Collins. Along the way they had this awesome sign: "Game Crossing" and right underneath it a Pedestrian sign. Which led me to wonder...are pedestrians fair games, or simply an endangered specie that cannot understand that 2.5 tons of metal coming their way at 65 miles per hour is something that should be above herpes in the list of things to avoid catching during a weekend?

Aquariums

2005-04-08T13:33:00.000-06:00

I love the irony of the food chain. As I was playing janitor in my (current) favorite aquarium, I noticed that we were no longer feeding the fish with lettuce but with seaweeds.
Now of course we have to use the sushi kind (the thin sheets) and the fish love it.
Isn't it great!? Sushi wrappers, fish...in an aquarium owned by a seafood restaurant. I think I see the real business plan here.

Then some kids started looking at what we were doing. My guess is they were having some bets on when the sharks where going to come and take a big bite of me and my dive buddy. Or their instructir was probably telling me: "Kids...see what happens when you do not study in school? You end up cleaning windows with sharks swimming around you" Come to think of it, not studying in school and an MA in Egyptology may be closely related!

Welcome!

2005-04-07T11:05:00.000-06:00

Welcome to the Frog Blog!