Riding above the level of mediocrity

A "duffshot" is an improperly planted sapling, planted too shallow in scree and not deep enough to reach the life giving top soil. It is usually a sign of laziness and means having to replant an entire plot. It is a reminder to me of doing things with integrity.

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Thursday, June 29, 2006

LEAVING YOUR MARK

Video version of this blog

It seems to be a common human trait, posessing the desire to leave some sort of impression, a legacy expressing who you are, in the present time or even at a time when you are no longer around. Like the time, as a young boy, I inscribed my name into the freshly poured concrete in front of my house. Or another time, when no one was looking, I spray painted my initials onto one of the walls inside the (former) warehouse at Mississauga Chinese Baptist Church. (yikes, vandalizing a church?!?!) Many of my visitors to Camp Timmys have noticed some large, white numbers etched onto the side of a hill just south of where I live.









How big are the numbers? The screen capture on the right is a Google Maps shot from outer space!

This is Battalion Park, created by Canadian soldiers during WWI. While these soldiers where waiting for their next mission, they were stationed here for training. During their days off (read "for fun"), the soldiers would carry sizeable white stones up the hill and form what would be the numbers corresponding to their battalion. So, troups 113, 51, 151, and 137 have permanently left their marks on Signal Hill. In total, over 16,000 stones were carried up to accomplish this!

While patiently standing in line for a much needed double double fix, I notice a family who has just picked up their order and is about to exit the coffee shop. They stop at the door and notice a colourful strip posted just beside it, bearing the markings that indicated specific height levels. The son is the first one to stand with his back against this strip while the father notes how tall he is. Then the father takes his turn. The mother, who was carrying all the food, whips out her camera and snaps a few pics. They were having a blast! I didn't have the heart to tell them that they already had their pictures taken by the security camera and that the height strip is meant to help police catch would be/successful robbers by providing an accurate height description!

And it's not just humans who like to leave marks. I just had one of the most bloody beach volleyball experiences. And it wasn't from all the diving that I normally do, although there was an incident where my shin collided with my partners big toe, leaving a healthy gash. I'm talking about mosquitos. I have never experienced being assaulted by some many aggressive mosquitos! THEY JUST KEPT COMING!! It got to the point where I gave up trying to swat them because I had to focus on the game. I think, at one point, my entire left arm felt like it was being stung all at once. Once the last game was done, I sprinted to the car and dove in, not even bothering with towelling down and not really caring that I was dumping all this sand inside. Only after I had rolled up the windows and closed the sunroof did I even dare to look down at the carnage. Blood smears everywhere, on all my limbs from the very few times I successfully swatted one of these blood thieves. It really looked like I was in a fight or something. The sight after showering off all the sand and blood wasn't any better. Bumps of varying sizes landscaped all my exposed skin area, including my (hair deficient) head because these buggers managed to get underneath my cap!











Well, here's a kid who will definitely leave his mark!


Friday, June 23, 2006

FANTASTIC REALITY: GUNS, SOCKS AND HYGENISTS!

After carefully placing my coffee on the raised table near the window, I flip open my laptop . As I usually do when not thinking hard about anything, I'm running a scenario through my head. I was thinking about how it would be neat if the guy sitting at a nearby table decided to strike up a conversation with me, having seen me open my laptop. I envisioned him asking me if I was using the laptop to connect to the Internet. I would tell him that, unfortunately, this coffee shop doesn't have a wifi connection. He would then reveal himself to me as the owner of this Second Cup, one of those savvy entrepreneurs who likes to connect with his customers (the type of entrepreneur I imagine myself being), conducting some covert customer surveying to help improve his business. He would then exclaim: "Surprise! I just installed a wireless router!" As I was just concluding that heart warming thought, a message pops up on my laptop, proclaiming that there was an unsecured wifi connection nearby. I snap back to reality from my thoughts to confirm that this message was real. Sure enough, this Second Cup now has wifi. How weird is that?!?!? Anyways, my fantasy of this business owner implementing some altruistic gesture remained just that, a fantasy. For it will cost me $6 an hour to use their Internet here. Grrrr!

Only in Cow-town, a recent announcement at a church I attended: "We want to thank everyone for coming out to the gun range with us yesterday. The highlight of the night was when we got to fire off a 357 Magnum hand cannon!"

As a runner, I go through socks. Now matter how gently I wash them and even if I switch them from foot to foot, they inevitable get "hole-y". I especially like the technical socks which seem to cause less blisters and last a bit longer than your typical cotton socks (though costing at least double). I'm so delighted when J&P return from a recent trip to Portland and gift me 3 pairs of Airmax socks from their visit to Nike Town. Yah!

When going to certain places to conduct business, one expects to see a certain age range in the people providing the service. You would not be surprised to see a high school aged worker if you, say, went to a fast food restaurant. Perhaps a college aged barista at the local coffee shop. As is usual before any first appointment at a dental office, I had to fill out an information and consent form, which was handed to me by college-aged-looking receptionist. Nothing unusual about that. The door opens as they are ready to receive me and I am greeted by this girl (and I use this term in a very respectably accurate manner) who looks like she could be the daughter of said receptionist. Except, she's wearing scrubs and a surgical mask hangs around her neck. She is my dental hygenist! It's not even how young she looked, but by the way she asked me how I was doing, I was ready to tell her to stop playing hooky and go back to school right that instance! All throughout my session, I was just lost in the irony that, as my dental hygenist was cleaning my teeth, she was chewing gum the whole time! Mind you, she did a really good job. She took her time, making sure that she got to all the hard to reach places. Still, as she was working, I couldn't get the image out of my head of someone sitting in a classroom carefully colouring in a map of Canada.

My legs hate me. The weather in Calgary changes every 10 minutes and weather forecasts are useless. So, whenever a window of "non-rain" opens up, you have to take advantage of it. So, after finishing a long run yesterday, I noticed the nice weather this morning and decided that this would be the perfect time to try a long ride. So, I hop on my bike and ride out to Bragg Creek, some 34km away. By the time I finished this near 70km loop, my legs are spazzing out. I am beyond hobbling, and I drag my legs along like 2 useless stumps. Still, it was worth it: while riding to Bragg Creek, the mountains loom towards you, getting larger and larger with each pedal stroke. You need to focus, though, because you are riding on the shoulder as trucks and cars are whizzing by at 100km/h. Then, you need to dodge the curious pocket gophers who like to crawl up to the shoulders, pretending to be hitchhikers, then dart away at the last second!

Video version of this blog

It looks like I've been blogging for some time now. Like anything else, something that starts to become a routine makes the mind lazy. So, in order to keep my creative juices fresh, I've taken on the challenge of creating a matching video log to each blog. This will allow me to express myself in ways that written text could not allow. It will also have me practice "public speaking", although in this case, my audience is a camera.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

MATT

A great video. An even better story: www.wherethehellismatt.com

Friday, June 16, 2006

EYE HEART TENNIS!

1 week.

That was the last time I took off my contact lenses. What!?!? Am I wishing for blindness? When I was younger, I had a problem with contacts: I wore them for longer than I should have. The eye, craving for more oxygen would deploy blood vessels to the surface. When enough oxygen was received, the vessels would retract. However, in doing so, my vessels became entangled. That really scared me and I was much more careful about my eyes from that point on. So, when visiting with an optometrist recently, he tells me about how contact lens technology has vastly improved in the past few years. To the point where people can now wear contacts that are so permeable that you can sleep in them. In fact, you can leave them in your eyes for an entire month before replacing them. So, every time I've woken up in this past week, I've had to take a second as I get over the shock of not having blurry vision as I reach for my glasses! Actually, my glasses have sat in their case for all this time. Sure, my eyes are a bit dry when I wake up, but nothing a drop of Refresh Tears in both eyes can't fix! And no, the lens has never escaped to the back of the eyeball!

So close!

Ever since moving to Calgary, my Babolat racquet and my Prince shoes have sat in my tennis bag. Not meaning to neglect them, I've been trying to get out in this warmer weather to play. Alas, this is not an activity that you can do very long by yourself. Most people I ask here are not into tennis. Until one day when I had a conversation with one of my colleagues. He seemed really excited about playing, so we were just about to set up a time to play. That is until I find out after that weekend, he broke the tibia and fibula in his right leg after almost successfully executing a trick on his motorcross bike. Almost. So, he's off work for a couple of weeks and won't be playing tennis anytime soon. :(

Just booked my tickets with Westjet. So, I will be visiting Toronto from August 9 to August 22. Maybe I can fit in some tennis then!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

GENUINE COMMUNITY

To the zoo and back.
Up John Hextall Bridge, to 85th and underneath the tracks.
Up and down the hill.
Up and down the hill.
Flies and mosquitoes as my snack.

It's June, and it looks like it's snowing,
Poplar trees sneeze out cotton snowflakes when the wind starts blowing,
Up the nose, in the mouth.
Up the nose, in the mouth.
Must stop running, because now I'm choking.


This sums up most of my runs in the past couple of weeks as the marathon quickly approaches, whether it's a short run, hill repeats, Fartleks (no farting involved) or long runs. The geese have stopped hissing, as I notice the young'uns are nowhere to be seen, probably off learning how to fly.

I was out for my long run this weekend, a 35 km route that was sure to take me to "the wall". It was a quiet morning and I was going at a decent clip, just enjoying the solitude. There are a few segments of the Bow River Pathway that split into 2 sections. A narrower path that has a pictorial sign indicating no bikes or blades allowed. Then there is a wider path with a yellow dividing line, headed by a pictorial sign showing a person in forward motion (one foot in front of the other, arms swinging) with a big, red circle/slash around it. I interpret this as "no pedestrians" on this wider path. What a brilliant idea! Except, on this particular morning, I was informed that my understanding of this system was incorrect!

I have this habit (though probably a detriment to a better finishing time) where I wave to all runners that run towards me. It's meant to be a gesture of encouragement and camaraderie. As I was running on the "no pedestrian" side, there was another runner coming towards me on the "no bikes, no blades" side. I waved to him just as he shot out "you're on the wrong side!" to me. That took me by surprise because 1. people don't usually shout a response back to my greeting (usually it's just a smile or a return wave) 2. his tone was very terse. And then I went from being shocked to being angry. I would expect something like this if I was blocking a large portion of the wider pathway, posing a hazard to passing cyclists and bladers. Or if I was distracted from my running by talking on a cell phone (which I have seen), thus creating a danger to those near to me. I tried to understand the motivation of what seemed to me an increasingly silly remark.

Strange, the things that people will rise up to. Whether it's which way the toilet paper should sit on a roll, a silly movie based on a silly book, or "which side of the pathway you're running on". Is it that people need a cause in order to feel like they're contributing to the community? Or do people actually feel more "in community" when they are able to exclude others. I'd like to think that the real essence of community is more about making oneself vulnerable to those around you, so that others can adopt your joys and pains. If this is a valid definition, instead of relying solely on membership, then how many of us are actually in community? What a lonely world we live in... These ideas were galvanized in a recent message by Jeremy Duncan at Westside King's Church: Christ-like Community

I am embarrassed to admit that this had me steamed for most of this long run. Ironically, the mulling of this incident may have been a blessing in disguise. For it made the time pass rather quickly and I never did encounter "the wall" after 35km and finished in good time. So, I think I've discovered something! I need someone to get me worked up at the starting line!

Saturday, June 03, 2006

IT'S SAND IN MY CRACKS SEASON AGAIN!

One thing I knew I would miss from T.O. would be my weekly ritual of burying myself in sand, more often than not as a result of chasing a Wilson beach volleyball. Well, to console myself, I searched the internet to see if there was much beach v-ball action in Calgary. There's only 2 organized leagues and not that many venues to play at. I didn't really have much expectation because this city does not sit close to a lake. Hence no beaches. I stumbled across the Calgary Beach Volleyball Association, a non-profit league that plays out in SE. They host league games throughout the week, but Friday is reserved for "drop in". Well, I decided to drop in and check it out. I was a little reluctant at first because I didn't know anyone and most courts were already filled with people who seemed to know each other or were already playing a game. There was a couple that was just hitting around on an empty court and I asked if I could join. Before I knew it, others joined and, by the time I left, 2.5 hours and 4 games had passed. As I was standing in the parking lot, toweling off as much sand as I could, a strong sense of deja vu hit me. Except, in this instance, I knew that these feelings HAD happened before. The individual grains of sand grinding against my arms as I brush them off. The smell of sunscreen still lingering even after a couple of hours since its application. The sweaty top that acted as a magnet for sand. The dry gritty feeling between my toes as I walked from the courts in my sandals. SAND IN EVERY CONCEIVABLE PART OF MY BODY! It was amazing!

Although the venue is nowhere near a body of water (it's a field that has been designed specifically for beach volleyball, housing 10 courts - on one side sits a church, on the other side a school field), it's an amazing place. The wooden poles that support the net are straight and have nice metal brackets containing hooks at different heights, allowing the net to be adjusted depending on what competitive level is being played. Gone are the days when a net had to be secured by ratchet tie downs and having to use water coolers as stepping stools to reach the hooks: each pole has its own crank and a wooden block nailed to the pole that serves as a step! In fact, gone are the days where you even need to bring your own gear: at the entrance to the courts sits a shed where they keep the court kits, each one housed in a large canvas bag. Each bag contains a thick-taped heavy duty net, line tape, bungee cords and a Wilson AVP ball! As I was laying out the line (the net took less than 2 minutes to put up and can easily be done by one person), I noticed that there were ropes anchored to the ground at set spots near the boundaries. This is where you secure the bungee cord, which is connected to one of the 4 corners of the line tape. No hammering required, no having to shift the court because one side is longer than the other! And the best kicker: each pole had a speaker secured to it, so we enjoyed great music all evening as we played. It was awesome! Did I mention that drop in is free?

I was "high" as I was driving back when I realized what time it was. The car's clock said 9:05 (p.m.) But I was still wearing sunglasses. And it wasn't because of a fashion statement based loosely on a Corey Hart song from the 80's; the sun was still at a high enough angle that it was blinding my view of the road. In fact, it doesn't really get dark here until after 9:45 and we're not even in summer yet. JUST AWESOME!!