There's a parable out there that goes something like this: If you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will jump out. However, a frog in a pot that is gradually heated will be peacefully unaware of its surroundings and will be cooked alive. This metaphor often finds use in describing a reaction to change. Abrupt changes are met with an immediate response, while gradual changes, playing on our innate ability to forget and acclimatize, often go unnoticed. Not being one to accept things at face value, I decided to put this to the test; not metaphorically, but literally.
My local pet store was more than willing to oblige; PetSmart was running a special on Northern Leopard frogs at $14.99, buy one get one free! Perfect. Two frogs in the bag and I was on my way, but not before the clerk tried to sell me on a small terrarium for my two little buddies. She seemed overly concerned that these two find a good home. Not wanting to blow my cover, I reassured her that I had just the place for them.
I rushed home with Hippity and Hop, as I had named them, riding shotgun. As I drove, I began to formulate the method for my experiment. I would begin by testing the second part of the anecdote; Hippity was going in first. He was quite at home in four inches of room temperature water and a pasta-pot, but homeboy knew something was up as soon as I cranked on the burner. The gig was up and Hippity was having none of this. No longer sitting on the bottom, he swam around the pot faster and faster as the temperature rose until finally climbing up the side and leaping out. That wasn't supposed to happen!? Like any good experimenter and wanting to ensure that this was no fluke, I repeated the test, this time with Hop. No difference (though Hop proved to be a trooper--that little bugger lasted way longer than I thought he would before bailing)!
Hop had the extreme misfortune of being first up in the boiling pot part of the experiment. I set the burner on high and got a solid rolling boil going. After I was sure that the water was heated uniformly, it was time for Hop to perform his best Greg Louganis impersonation. Plop--in he went! I stood back, half expecting a scalding frog to come jumping back at me. Not so much. Hop gave a few kicks but the temperature proved too much for him. He nearly instantly went stiff as the life fizzled from him. By the time I got him off of the burner and out of the water, he was all puffed up like an amphibian pierogi or something. Weird!
Even weirder was the outcome; the results of my experiment were completely contrary to that of the parable. Who knew? So, the next time that jerk in your office uses this stupid analogy, you can tell him how I dispelled that myth. As for Hippity, I opted to return him to the store. What was I going to do with a frog anyway? They give me the creeps. Someone else can get some enjoyment out of a slightly used $7.50 Northern Leopard frog.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Mind Blow
How about a not so little thought experiment? One that will leave you not only questioning your being, but the existence of everything that there ever was.
Take the smallest things in the known universe; the molecules, atoms, protons, quarks, bosons, muons, and those that are still not known. Now grow them into peptides, proteins, RNA, and DNA capable of replicating themselves in cells which divide and multiply to form life-forms of all kinds, some with seemingly infinite complexity. This is you (though you probably don't think of yourself this way). You (we) are nothing but an assemblage of chemicals that have gained consciousness of themselves and their surroundings; having gained consciousness, we are able to think, ration, and reason. Formed from the Universe's common elements, we have come to dominate the tiny dust spec that we inhabit. Because of our self-consciousness and our pretend dominance of Earth, we deem ourselves kings of our dominion. The one and only intelligent being. Masters of the Universe. Humble yourself. Look skyward.
Those dots you see are other stars. Starting to feel small? If you live in the right area, you may see what appears to be a strip of clouds. That is an arm of the ten billion year old Milky Way, our Galaxy, and there are many like it in our Universe. It is even suggested that there are many universes! Fifteen billion years ago events, as we know them, were set into motion that lead to life as we know it. Though it likely exists, the laws of physics may prevent us from ever knowing if life exists elsewhere (it likely does--although it may not be as we know it).
Why did it happen? Where did the original matter for the Universe come from? What was going on before that? When does it end? Where does it end? What about the other universes? Can we find another suitable place to continue our menial and ultimately doomed existence?
It has taken us about five billion years to get here, and if our species lasts that long, we will have about five billion more to figure it out. It will take our descendants 30,000 years to travel to what is thought to be the next nearest habitable corner of the Universe. The odds that we would come to exist were staggering, but the odds of something like us not existing somewhere else are even more staggering, but can we make it there?
Suddenly our understanding and mastery of our surroundings seems horribly lacking. Pathetic.
Take the smallest things in the known universe; the molecules, atoms, protons, quarks, bosons, muons, and those that are still not known. Now grow them into peptides, proteins, RNA, and DNA capable of replicating themselves in cells which divide and multiply to form life-forms of all kinds, some with seemingly infinite complexity. This is you (though you probably don't think of yourself this way). You (we) are nothing but an assemblage of chemicals that have gained consciousness of themselves and their surroundings; having gained consciousness, we are able to think, ration, and reason. Formed from the Universe's common elements, we have come to dominate the tiny dust spec that we inhabit. Because of our self-consciousness and our pretend dominance of Earth, we deem ourselves kings of our dominion. The one and only intelligent being. Masters of the Universe. Humble yourself. Look skyward.
Those dots you see are other stars. Starting to feel small? If you live in the right area, you may see what appears to be a strip of clouds. That is an arm of the ten billion year old Milky Way, our Galaxy, and there are many like it in our Universe. It is even suggested that there are many universes! Fifteen billion years ago events, as we know them, were set into motion that lead to life as we know it. Though it likely exists, the laws of physics may prevent us from ever knowing if life exists elsewhere (it likely does--although it may not be as we know it).
Why did it happen? Where did the original matter for the Universe come from? What was going on before that? When does it end? Where does it end? What about the other universes? Can we find another suitable place to continue our menial and ultimately doomed existence?
It has taken us about five billion years to get here, and if our species lasts that long, we will have about five billion more to figure it out. It will take our descendants 30,000 years to travel to what is thought to be the next nearest habitable corner of the Universe. The odds that we would come to exist were staggering, but the odds of something like us not existing somewhere else are even more staggering, but can we make it there?
Suddenly our understanding and mastery of our surroundings seems horribly lacking. Pathetic.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Fate
I killed a black snake today; I know, terrible isn't it? I like snakes, but this one happened to be six feet long and was meandering slowly along my winding route home. As a general rule, I do not swerve to miss animals and don't get in my way when I'm driving home from work. I'm pretty sure that I got it with both tires, though I don't think it died quickly.
As I drove away, I could see it writhing in pain in my rear view mirror. Flopping and twitching on the hot tarmac, this snake was destined to suffer a fate of: slowing being cooked on the South Carolinian asphalt, being eaten by buzzards, possums, or wild boars, or getting the mercy-kill from another passerby. I contemplated turning around and doing the latter myself, but that would've delayed me from getting away from work as quickly as possible. So as I raced for home, my contemplation soon shifted to that snake's fate. That snake was snuffed out early.
While I don't think wild animals' life expectancy is anything like that of domestic animals, I doubt that Mr. Black Snake awoke on this morning thinking "today is a good day to die." In fact, I'm sure it was quite the opposite. One wrong move and nature's course of history was changed forever, but are we that different from the snake? Sure, we're our own sort of wild-domesticated animal; engrained with preserving ourselves, but no longer hell-bent on survival. We're all going to die sometime and hopefully we can make our peace beforehand, but what if we happen to be as unlucky as the black snake?
I first became aware of my fate at a young age. I pulled the string on my sister's explanation of the dinosaurs' extinction and the ball quickly unraveled. I wasn't going to be six years old forever and, as it turns out, I wasn't even going to be around forever. I've recently become more conscious of my own mortality and, quite frankly, it sucks. I'm never going to get to do all of the things that I want to do. At some point, my being will abandon those that I love and leave them with only memories.
Live life to its fullest, leave nothing to chance, and have no regrets.
As I drove away, I could see it writhing in pain in my rear view mirror. Flopping and twitching on the hot tarmac, this snake was destined to suffer a fate of: slowing being cooked on the South Carolinian asphalt, being eaten by buzzards, possums, or wild boars, or getting the mercy-kill from another passerby. I contemplated turning around and doing the latter myself, but that would've delayed me from getting away from work as quickly as possible. So as I raced for home, my contemplation soon shifted to that snake's fate. That snake was snuffed out early.
While I don't think wild animals' life expectancy is anything like that of domestic animals, I doubt that Mr. Black Snake awoke on this morning thinking "today is a good day to die." In fact, I'm sure it was quite the opposite. One wrong move and nature's course of history was changed forever, but are we that different from the snake? Sure, we're our own sort of wild-domesticated animal; engrained with preserving ourselves, but no longer hell-bent on survival. We're all going to die sometime and hopefully we can make our peace beforehand, but what if we happen to be as unlucky as the black snake?
I first became aware of my fate at a young age. I pulled the string on my sister's explanation of the dinosaurs' extinction and the ball quickly unraveled. I wasn't going to be six years old forever and, as it turns out, I wasn't even going to be around forever. I've recently become more conscious of my own mortality and, quite frankly, it sucks. I'm never going to get to do all of the things that I want to do. At some point, my being will abandon those that I love and leave them with only memories.
Live life to its fullest, leave nothing to chance, and have no regrets.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Piedmont Triad: An omnium in four acts
I'm a little late in reporting on this, so rather than boring the three people that read this blog with details (details which I have largely forgotten at this point), I will briefly summarize my weekend in four acts. Not so coincidentally, The Piedmont Triad Omnium is a great weekend of four races in and around the small, barbecued town of Lexington, NC. The Omnium, which benefits local charities, has grown since my first participation two years ago, and continues to be one of my favorite races and venues. Here goes.
Criterium
Your basic rectangular course, wide streets, and a nice little uphill through the start/finish; very straight forward. Leave it to the race organizers to throw some twists: a nighttime crit with just enough rain to make the roads really greasy. Racing in the dark was actually pretty cool--the greasy streets were not. The bike's rear end was getting a little squirrelly in the bumpy turns, but I was able to hold it together. I sat in the front of the field most of the race and managed to avoid some early carnage, but wasn't so fortunate on the final lap. The peloton was bombing hard into the final turn and two guys in front of me went down hard. I lost only a few spots, but I was stood up behind them in way too big of a gear and I was totally gassed; so gassed I didn't (couldn't) even sprint. Though I was still able to finish sixth, in retrospect, the crash and lack of sprinting probably cost me a top five in the overall.
Time Trial
The time trial (or TT) is often referred to as the "Race of Truth"; sometimes the truth hurts--this was one of those occasions. Having never done a TT before, I wasn't sure what to expect. All that I kept hearing was, "it's going to hurt" and "just go out and make yourself hurt." Okay, I guess I can do that. Fortunately, a friend let me borrow his TT bike, otherwise it may have been even uglier. At the four miles point, I was making some gains on the guy in front of me and feeling pretty good; feeling pretty good until being passed by my 30-second man, then my minute-man, and finally one more. I knew I was now conceding at least a minute-thirty to these guys, but no matter. I finally caught my lead-out, and knowing he was right behind me, motivated me to go even faster. Where I had been deflated earlier, now I was inspired--not even dropping my only water bottle would dissuade me now. I finished with a strong uphill and a sprint to the line for thirteenth. Not too horrible and not too good.
Street Sprints
This was another interesting first for me. Start from a dead stop, sprint 300 meters up a slight incline, and if you finish high enough, you get to do it again! Did I mention that the "World Famous" Hooters' Girls hold you and your bike at the start? Okay, well my Hooterette had a little difficulty holding me and I damn near fell over. The concept was great, but having a chick two-thirds of your weight, wearing white Reeboks, leg-warmers, '80's-style pantyhose and who doesn't know their left from right trying to hold you is a bad idea. The track-stand start was by far the most nerve racking portion of the whole event. Though I didn't make it to the finals, I did advance to the second round for a ninth place finish and more points toward the overall. Timing for this event is everything and something that I won't forget for next time.
Road Race
I felt pretty good heading into the final event and with a good result, had a decent shot at finishing in the top five for the omnium. Having friends in a race can do a lot to ease your nerves, boost confidence, and motivate you. The plan, as we discussed in the hotel the night before, was to play it cool for two laps, attack on the final climb of the third lap, and work together for the next fourteen miles. Plans as crazy as this often work, particularly in the realm of CAT 4 racing, but you have to be both mentally and physically tough. After two laps, everything was going as planned (albeit for a bit of sketchiness on the first lap). The three of us (Joachim, Taylor, and myself) held strong positions near the front and then it happened; an attack launched the base of the climb and Joachim had no choice but to go with it. In a second I had lost twenty places, my mental and physical spirit had been broken and I was being unhitched at the back. I spent the next five miles trying to close a 200-yard gap to the peloton and teetering on the brink of quitting. I finally regrouped and started pulling myself back together. Disappointed as I was to not be able to stick with the break, I knew that within the remaining group, I would have a good shot at the field sprint; but it was going to mean that I wouldn't do any work until I had fully recovered. So that's what I did. Sixth place. Good enough for twenty bucks and good enough for seventh in the omnium.
We finished out the weekend riding through the Triad in the blistering heat (I'll spare you the details of such lackluster towns as High Point and Thomasville) and then hanging out with the team. Overall one great time.
Criterium
Your basic rectangular course, wide streets, and a nice little uphill through the start/finish; very straight forward. Leave it to the race organizers to throw some twists: a nighttime crit with just enough rain to make the roads really greasy. Racing in the dark was actually pretty cool--the greasy streets were not. The bike's rear end was getting a little squirrelly in the bumpy turns, but I was able to hold it together. I sat in the front of the field most of the race and managed to avoid some early carnage, but wasn't so fortunate on the final lap. The peloton was bombing hard into the final turn and two guys in front of me went down hard. I lost only a few spots, but I was stood up behind them in way too big of a gear and I was totally gassed; so gassed I didn't (couldn't) even sprint. Though I was still able to finish sixth, in retrospect, the crash and lack of sprinting probably cost me a top five in the overall.
Time Trial
The time trial (or TT) is often referred to as the "Race of Truth"; sometimes the truth hurts--this was one of those occasions. Having never done a TT before, I wasn't sure what to expect. All that I kept hearing was, "it's going to hurt" and "just go out and make yourself hurt." Okay, I guess I can do that. Fortunately, a friend let me borrow his TT bike, otherwise it may have been even uglier. At the four miles point, I was making some gains on the guy in front of me and feeling pretty good; feeling pretty good until being passed by my 30-second man, then my minute-man, and finally one more. I knew I was now conceding at least a minute-thirty to these guys, but no matter. I finally caught my lead-out, and knowing he was right behind me, motivated me to go even faster. Where I had been deflated earlier, now I was inspired--not even dropping my only water bottle would dissuade me now. I finished with a strong uphill and a sprint to the line for thirteenth. Not too horrible and not too good.
Street Sprints
This was another interesting first for me. Start from a dead stop, sprint 300 meters up a slight incline, and if you finish high enough, you get to do it again! Did I mention that the "World Famous" Hooters' Girls hold you and your bike at the start? Okay, well my Hooterette had a little difficulty holding me and I damn near fell over. The concept was great, but having a chick two-thirds of your weight, wearing white Reeboks, leg-warmers, '80's-style pantyhose and who doesn't know their left from right trying to hold you is a bad idea. The track-stand start was by far the most nerve racking portion of the whole event. Though I didn't make it to the finals, I did advance to the second round for a ninth place finish and more points toward the overall. Timing for this event is everything and something that I won't forget for next time.
Road Race
I felt pretty good heading into the final event and with a good result, had a decent shot at finishing in the top five for the omnium. Having friends in a race can do a lot to ease your nerves, boost confidence, and motivate you. The plan, as we discussed in the hotel the night before, was to play it cool for two laps, attack on the final climb of the third lap, and work together for the next fourteen miles. Plans as crazy as this often work, particularly in the realm of CAT 4 racing, but you have to be both mentally and physically tough. After two laps, everything was going as planned (albeit for a bit of sketchiness on the first lap). The three of us (Joachim, Taylor, and myself) held strong positions near the front and then it happened; an attack launched the base of the climb and Joachim had no choice but to go with it. In a second I had lost twenty places, my mental and physical spirit had been broken and I was being unhitched at the back. I spent the next five miles trying to close a 200-yard gap to the peloton and teetering on the brink of quitting. I finally regrouped and started pulling myself back together. Disappointed as I was to not be able to stick with the break, I knew that within the remaining group, I would have a good shot at the field sprint; but it was going to mean that I wouldn't do any work until I had fully recovered. So that's what I did. Sixth place. Good enough for twenty bucks and good enough for seventh in the omnium.
We finished out the weekend riding through the Triad in the blistering heat (I'll spare you the details of such lackluster towns as High Point and Thomasville) and then hanging out with the team. Overall one great time.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Run Hug
Anyone with kids knows the Run Hug. It goes like this: walk in the door, heads turn, followed by a pause and a moment of recognition, then a mad-dash ensues to see who can be the first to wrap their arms around your neck and wring out the love. Prepare for it and you'll likely squat down, recieve it with open arms, and be bowled over by it. Let it catch you off guard, and you'll likely be taken out at the knees, climbed like a tree, and then bowled over. Either way, it is the singular act the can wash away an entire bad day of work, road rage filled commute, or just about anything else.
My dog even had her own form of the run hug. When I'd get home from the night shift and enter into a pitch black house, I'd hear the thump of Sam jumping off of our bed. This was followed by a sprint down the steps, a slip-sliding scurry across the kitchen floor, and a lunge for my necktie. Panting frantically and firmly latched on, she would wag and look at you with her sleepy eyes until satiated, and even then, had to be pried off.
A Pavlovian reflex of pure love. It has been two weeks since I've seen my family. I'm waiting for my run hug.
My dog even had her own form of the run hug. When I'd get home from the night shift and enter into a pitch black house, I'd hear the thump of Sam jumping off of our bed. This was followed by a sprint down the steps, a slip-sliding scurry across the kitchen floor, and a lunge for my necktie. Panting frantically and firmly latched on, she would wag and look at you with her sleepy eyes until satiated, and even then, had to be pried off.
A Pavlovian reflex of pure love. It has been two weeks since I've seen my family. I'm waiting for my run hug.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Norf@*k
Long after the dust settles and intelligent life re-evolves on post-apocalyptic Earth, the future archaeologists will uncover a lost city of concrete and metal; a vast industrial wasteland. Among their finds will be empty Mickey's Cream Ale bigmouth "hand-grenades", fast food wrappers, those plastic Black and Mild cigar tips, and signs reading Norfolk, Virginia; my destination of the month.
Yes, Norfolk is a city long founded on the singular purpose of shipbuilding. Steel beaches surround as do the smells of diesel fuel, cigarette smoke, and dead fish. The city's limited green space abruptly and inevitably end in unkempt parking lots and its historic districts quickly transition into shanty towns. In my eyes, it seems as though the city's saving grace, its silver lining, is the food. Being a foodie, I can appreciate good eats, not pub slop, but really good food. Here's a sampling:
The Coffee Shop (High Street, Portsmouth, VA)
A simple name, a simple place, and quite possibly my favorite new breakfast sandwich. Raw peanut butter, granola, sliced apples, and organic honey on thick slices of whole grain bread; as simple and good as the shop itself (and their coffee is not bad either).
The Bier Garden (High Street, Portsmouth VA)
Okay, so by now you have figured out that High Street and surrounding areas are about all Portsmouth has to offer. Street names like High, Washington, and Court quickly and nostalgically bring me back to a special place, but let your mind and feet wander and you'll soon find yourself in a not so special place known as "The Parking District"--apparently a neighborhood (emphasis on hood) set aside for parking your car; hopefully it'll still be there when you return. Back to The Bier Garden. This Bavarian gem offers authentic and homemade German dishes like Spatzle, goulash, and bratwurst, not to mention a beer list of over 350 (predominantly German and Belgian) beers. This makes choosing just a few difficult, but certainly guarantees a return visit to try more. I will be back.
Empire Little Bar Bistro (Granby Street, Norfolk)
A buck-fiddy gets you a water taxi across the Elizabeth River from Portsmouth to Norfolk and to the end of Granby Street. Granby will lead you to the artsy college town of Ghent and en route, you will find Empire; a tapas restaurant and yet another locale befitting of its name. I pass on the bistro's eight tables and opt for a seat at the bar. While enjoying the setting and my pint of BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout, I am ill prepared for the meal that awaits: quite possibly the best I have ever eaten. For starters a cool and refreshing jicama and cucumber salad, follow that with Fillet atop a seared lemon and goat cheese risotto cake, then cap it with lamb wantons and a blueberry-jalapeño dipping sauce and you have a smile in every bite--which is exactly what I was doing.
Good food aside, Norfolk still rates as a dead end in my book--sorry Norfolkers (pronounced Norf...well, you know how it's pronounced).
Yes, Norfolk is a city long founded on the singular purpose of shipbuilding. Steel beaches surround as do the smells of diesel fuel, cigarette smoke, and dead fish. The city's limited green space abruptly and inevitably end in unkempt parking lots and its historic districts quickly transition into shanty towns. In my eyes, it seems as though the city's saving grace, its silver lining, is the food. Being a foodie, I can appreciate good eats, not pub slop, but really good food. Here's a sampling:
The Coffee Shop (High Street, Portsmouth, VA)
A simple name, a simple place, and quite possibly my favorite new breakfast sandwich. Raw peanut butter, granola, sliced apples, and organic honey on thick slices of whole grain bread; as simple and good as the shop itself (and their coffee is not bad either).
The Bier Garden (High Street, Portsmouth VA)
Okay, so by now you have figured out that High Street and surrounding areas are about all Portsmouth has to offer. Street names like High, Washington, and Court quickly and nostalgically bring me back to a special place, but let your mind and feet wander and you'll soon find yourself in a not so special place known as "The Parking District"--apparently a neighborhood (emphasis on hood) set aside for parking your car; hopefully it'll still be there when you return. Back to The Bier Garden. This Bavarian gem offers authentic and homemade German dishes like Spatzle, goulash, and bratwurst, not to mention a beer list of over 350 (predominantly German and Belgian) beers. This makes choosing just a few difficult, but certainly guarantees a return visit to try more. I will be back.
Empire Little Bar Bistro (Granby Street, Norfolk)
A buck-fiddy gets you a water taxi across the Elizabeth River from Portsmouth to Norfolk and to the end of Granby Street. Granby will lead you to the artsy college town of Ghent and en route, you will find Empire; a tapas restaurant and yet another locale befitting of its name. I pass on the bistro's eight tables and opt for a seat at the bar. While enjoying the setting and my pint of BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout, I am ill prepared for the meal that awaits: quite possibly the best I have ever eaten. For starters a cool and refreshing jicama and cucumber salad, follow that with Fillet atop a seared lemon and goat cheese risotto cake, then cap it with lamb wantons and a blueberry-jalapeño dipping sauce and you have a smile in every bite--which is exactly what I was doing.
Good food aside, Norfolk still rates as a dead end in my book--sorry Norfolkers (pronounced Norf...well, you know how it's pronounced).
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