Saturday, October 3, 2015

Running From The Dentist

Because my dentist is retiring this month, I decided to take care of my dental problems before she leaves.  She's excellent, and how could I trust anyone else?

Got an extra six grand this year?  Send it to me.

There's a reason I don't go to the dentist, unbidden by an actual problem.   My dentist wryly commented that my pattern of dental health was emergency management.

Well, yeah.  It hurts and it's expensive.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Final Dental Visit

I'm in Dr. Lipscome's dental office on Staten Island as a 10-year old over half a century ago, getting seven cavities filled without novocaine; this is not so uncommon back then, either the shocking lack of sedation as teeth are drilled or the lack of a parent present, as confirmed by friends my age from the same region.  It took in my psyche as an adult as a refusal to go to a dentist unless it was absolutely necessary.

But stuff happens with your teeth.  It's even promoted that you should go get your teeth cleaned twice a year (!) by persons who scrape metal sharp-pointed prongs around your teeth.

Ever felt that metal pronger touch somewhere on a naked tooth that produces the Jolt?  It is enough to catapult you out of your seat, even if you are sedated.

Now the next century over, no dentist would go a step further when s/he sees you jerk in pain without stopping, shooting you up with more with novocain, and waiting for it to take effect.  Today I went to have three permanent crowns emplaced.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Heathcliff Is the Model

I'm reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.  Here is a quote from it that I dedicate to the mother of my three children who, during our divorce proceedings last decade, acted in concert with a coterie of agenda-driven "professionals" to overbear the wills of these tender young minor children, the end result being that their dad was ripped away from them extra-judicially.

On the night she dies, narcissistic Catherine bespeaks her true inner self to her paramour Heathcliff, the dark foundling who bestrides the pages like a super egoistic Iago.  All will be destroyed at the altar of self-worship.

"' I wish I could hold you,' she continued bitterly, 'till we were both dead!  I shouldn't care what we suffered.  I care nothing for your sufferings.  Why shouldn't you suffer?  I do!  Will you forget me?  Will you be happy when I am in the earth?  Will you say twenty years hence, 'That's the grave of Catherine Earnshaw.  I loved her long ago, and was wretched to lose her, but it is past.  I've loved many others since; my children are dearer to me than she was, and, at death, I shall not rejoice that I am going to her, I shall be sorry that I must leave them!'  Will you say so, Heathcliff?'"

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

My running buddy puts me away

Yesterday was overcast and temperate but exceedingly humid.  My running buddy and I started out our six-mile noontime run by going up Capital Hill and around the Capitol at the outset.

Since she's a busy professional and a mom as well, she doesn't have a lot of time to get ready for the MCM, which is next month, so she's been throwing down long runs in the teens mostly while I've been running alone mostly and doing 10Ks, feeling like I've been increasing  my speed for the distance these past few weeks.

She's been complaining about how tired she is and how slow she's getting while she concentrates on LSDs, which she claims are killing her at the end.  Indeed, we ran an eight-miler together about four weeks back and she was unable to finish it without a walking spell.

Come into my lair on this six-miler, I thought, and I'll show you the view from the back.  An hour later it was I who had the view from the back mostly, especially on the Washington Monument hill, and, my clothes soaked and sopping through and through with sweat, I caught up with her at the end as she slowed and I was exceedingly glad to get this up-tempo run over with.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

My Running Buddy Is Back

In 2011 two lapsed runners in the same office started a weight-loss regime of workday noontime running on the National Mall two or three times a week.  My reason for the extra weight (lots of it) was a chronic, seemingly permanent injury to an ankle, and hers was the more reasonable excuse of a recent childbirth.

Our first attempts were pretty pitiful.  Practically every other run I broke down, or she broke down, and we walked it back, from a mere 1 1/2 miles out.

Four years and a century loss later (practically all of it from my frame) I'm fit enough and run five times a week, and she's fit, runs with me at noon often and does cross training on the hockey rink where she's famously known by the other players, because she'll take anyone on who crosses the blue line (she seems to be the only one who can skate backwards), as "The Goon."  A year ago we ran a half marathon and she killed it with a 1:50 and I exceeded all of my hopes with a sub-1:55.

Now she's gearing up to run the MCM next month with her husband, and I think she wants to beat him.    She's asked me to jump in at the end and run the last six miles with her, so I have been practicing six milers for a few weeks solo (she's been away or busy) while she's been doing 14, 16 and 18-mile long runs on those weekends.  Today she ran a six miler with me at noon and I was going to show her my stuff, having been practicing at the distance, but, well… .

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Going Green Turns Brown

How going green becomes brown.  How being sustainable caused waste. 

Sometimes to address stains or odors in my running clothes, I soak my running clothes in Biz, upon the suggestion of a running buddy of mine.  But I noticed that this seemed to streak my tech shirts brown, and I complained to my advisor about her suggestion.
She was stumped, because she uses Biz and it has never had this effect upon her clothes.  I proudly told my friend how Sustainable I was, because not only did I eschew using my dryer and I hung up my clothes on a clothesline in the basement to dry, but I also emptied the water collected in my dehumidifier into my washing machine rather than pour it down the drain.

She knew then what the problem was--the concentrates and sediments in the collected water had ruined my technical shirts, not the Biz.  She commanded me to stop recycling water and to discard the irrevocably stained shirts (but the shirt on the left in the picture is from when I ran the infamous 2006 Chicago 26.2-mile Fun Run!).

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Barefoot Running

Barefoot running is the title.  No, I don't do it, my friend Markus does it.

He swears by it, something about how that's how humans ran back then on the African veranda.  Me, when I run with Markus, I'm in my broken-down Aisics but I notice the looks we get from runners running past, even those cacooned within their earbuds.

Markus called on Friday and I ran 5 miles with him, a tempo run for sure since he's faster than me.  It was good, probably the pace was in the mid-8:30's per mile.

Markus is a former, and infrequent current, running buddy of mine.  I worked hard to keep up, in my dotage.