The Eccentricities of Hobbies – Things about Which One Can Find Themselves Jazzed

You’ll have to forgive me; this blog isn’t about politics or some hilarity from my youth. No, it’s a subject I was thinking about recording as I walked one-half mile back to my house after my run last night.

My run last night was fantastic. For some background, while I am an assistant coach with a running group here in Boise, Boise Run/Walk, I’ve taken it upon myself to engage a personal coach to improve my marathon time. My coach is the head coach of the running club I run and coach with.

Thus far, engaging a personal coach has worked for me on a few levels. One, I’ve found myself resolved to work harder at my runs. I am not necessarily running harder, but I am even more mindful of certain things I would normally take for granted. As an example, this last Saturday, during my eleven miler, I made a real point of taking hydration and nutrition during my run and not skipping them, like I so often do. Of course, another component was that I spoke at my group about ensuring one is properly taking in energy and water whilst running; nevertheless, I’ve said those things before, and not practiced what I preached. With a coach and a personal program, that’s right, I’ve found myself actually doing what I know I am supposed to do.

Wow, Matt, that’s great. I know. I know, here I am prefacing the point on which I was going to write. Well, what I just wrote was more or less the point; however, what has me so motivated was the run I took last night. Mike, my coach, on Wednesdays, has my program set up for “speed work.”

For you non-runners out there, “speed work” integrates some different sorts of training into one’s run. There are different types: interval training, hill repeats, striding, tempo running, Yasso 800’s, etc… Long and short, there are lots of ways to practice speed work, and there are lots of good reasons to do it. Rather than bore you with the sports physiology, we’ll say I am motivated to do this, both to improve my marathon time and to shake up what is normally a nice gentle Wednesday-night eight-mile run.

Last night, I ran 4.16 miles from my house to a street just east of Warm Springs golf course in Boise. There, I crossed the street at the ped-way, and came to the hill at Wind Song St. Wind Song is a beautiful steep hill, with a sidewalk, leading up to nice affluent homes. It’s rather rural, but it’s not in the middle of nowhere. I believe technically it is still in Boise-proper.

There at Wind Song, I did 8 x :30’s. Essentially, after running 4.16 miles, I stretched a bit, and ran 8 trips up this hill, turning around to return to the bottom. When I got to the bottom, I’d prepare my Garmin again, and take off up the hill. That took me between five and ten minutes. I don’t recall exactly (when doing hill repeats, one isn’t turning around to run them the second they get to the bottom).

Anyway, after I completed those hill repeats, I took off back to my house. My head felt great, and my run started quite strong. At that point, I think my body was accustomed to the challenge of running up hill. Needless to say, I ran back to my house, and cut it short at eight miles, which left me about .8 miles to walk back to my house. The walk was quite refreshing, and I did so with a great amount of self-satisfaction.

It’s quite amazing, this human experience, pushing myself to do something I would have considered “conditioning” as a teenager. Now, I dig on the fact that I am going to be a better runner, and that I was motivated to do that on my own. Coach Mike left me a voice mail while I was in a meeting earlier, and wondered how it was going. I think I’ll send him this link.

Thankful

First, my apologies for a long overdue post. I suppose that’s one way to keep readers from hitting one’s blog too often—quit posting. If you are here in spite of iterant lapses in posting, I thank you. Sincerely, it’s nice to have one’s thoughts read.

I was thinking about what to write, because at the moment, with the holidays, the free time I’d have had at work last week was spent on vacation to Phoenix. Phoenix was quite nice, and I had a great time spending lots of quality time with my family. My Auntie Pat was a terrific host, and I had all too much fun and leisure from which to leave. I suppose we all have to return to normal lives, leaving vacation, but it is what it is. In short, I had a wonderful time, and I’ll sound all too cliché saying this, but the six days I was in Phoenix went much too quickly.

While I was there, I had a bit of an epiphany. I was there at my grandparents’ retirement community, which provides for meals and care, if care is needed. There we were guests in the dining room, and the people of Royal Oaks, the community where my grandparents live, couldn’t have been nicer. My wonderful Grandma Phyllis is quite well known at Royal Oaks, largely because she is on the board. My grandmother is a sharp lady, and it’s fun to see her doing so well with their community.

I apologize; I digress. There we were in the dining room, and on more than one occasion friends of my grandparents would marvel at how well I’m doing, when they would realize I was “Phyllis and Mel’s grandson.” It’s not very often that I hear people refer to parts of my life that have since passed by a few years, but it happens from time-to-time, mostly around the holidays. At one point a woman said to me, “Matt, we sure did pray for you.”

When she said that, as one would expect, I said, “Thank you very much, those prayers certainly made the difference.” I said that quite sincerely.
The evening continued on, and we went on with dinner. At a later point, after we had left the dining area, I was commenting on being flattered and caught off guard that my circumstances were a topic of discussion. Again, it’s something that I have the good fortune I don’t have to think about very often.

During that discussion, I made the following statement, and it put me back for a moment. I said, “Following such an ordeal, we should all be so fortunate, as to be able to thank those who have prayed for us.”

Reading that after I just now wrote it, for me, again brought in that same meditation. Odds are good if you’re reading this, you too prayed for me a little more than two years ago. For that, I am most thankful—God bless.

Without the Presidential Campaign, It’s Tough to Write

My friend Martha today was curious as to why I hadn’t posted anything as of late. It’s interesting why I haven’t. I had to think about it a bit. Realizing that I’ve not had anything viciously political on which to write, I’ve been left with little to write.
Is that the case? Am I not doing anything? Of course not; truthfully, I’ve been quite busy being a new homeowner, and with a vacation back to Illinois starting Friday afternoon, I’ve not had a lot of interesting stuff to write.

In short, while I would be self-conscious about writing about just me, writing about the minutia of what I am right now doing is just not that interesting.

However, I can write about the following: Here in Boise, I have a dear friend, Betty. Betty is noteworthy because of what a great friend she is. Betty and I met at our church about a year ago. Betty is also known as “GiGi” to her great-grandkids. Betty knows me well, and a few Sundays ago, asked me what had me fidgety. I explained that I was in the process of moving, was going to try to meet up with a friend for coffee, and I had to clean a bunch at my old place.
From there, Betty insisted on helping me move my kitchen supplies. What a dear friend! Betty came over to my place, and was an absolute help! For Betty to just come over and keep me company; that would have been enough, but she packed so much of my flatware, silverware and dishes! Because I had bought brunch a few Sundays before hand, Betty insisted that Sunday of doing the same! I know. I know. I was having the hardest time accepting, and not stealing the check; however, I know better than to mess with my friend Betty. Betty is not to be messed with, so I relented!

This past Sunday, without having any signs of being fidgety, again, Betty insisted on helping me clean. I already had the majority of my cleaning done, and just a little bit to move out. Nevertheless, Betty came by and helped! As I am leaving a few days from today, I wanted to see Betty prior to leaving for Thanksgiving, so I could take her something nice.

Last week, after the first Sunday, I took Betty some potted begonias; provided that, I was going to bring her something else. As I went over to Betty’s to say “goodbye” prior Thanksgiving, I dropped by my PO Box. There I was, at the post office, and I saw in my PO Box an envelop with Betty’s return address. There I was, about to take this dear friend a gift for helping me more than she already had, and I was receiving such a lovely card.

From there, I went over to Betty’s, and she had made a nice dinner for us. I seldom, if ever, eat prior my evening runs. In this case, I was more than happy to dine with this dear friend, and the gesture itself was ever so generous and wonderful. Betty is truly a great and dear friend, and I am fortunate to have her as a friend.

It’s such a wonderful thing, friendship. I was concluding a conference call I organized with some engineering students at the University of Illinois yesterday and Village Hope, the charity with which I am working to put irrigation in Sierra Leone, and I noted that what we were doing was far from being zero-sum. That’s the amazing component with great friends and family, all wonderful people; it is quite far from zero-sum. Great family and friends are instances of “win-win” – truly great things.

Remiss and Good People

As of late, I’ve been feeling remiss about not writing more than I have. I don’t know that I can articulate very well my feelings of neglect on posting to my blog, but I suppose I’ll take a stab.

If you read this very often, you know that I just joined facebook this last weekend. In doing so, I’ve been rewarded with a compliment on this blog by my dear friend Wendy. Wendy is a wonderful and quite down-to-earth woman, for those of you that do not know her. Receiving a compliment on my postings was both flattering, and for me, it highlighted that it has been a bit since I last posted. On that note, I should dedicate this blog to my dear friend Wendy. To further that, I should note, Wendy, Idaho is full of people from Wisconsin.

The bar near where I currently live, it flies a Packer flag on Sundays. In addition, there is a great young family at my church, both the mother and father are officers in the Air Force, and are around our age. Anyway, they have two children, one of whom is a little girl between three-and-four. The little lady came to church a few weeks ago in a dress modeled after a Green Bay Packers’ Cheerleader’s outfit. It was undoubtedly precious. The father is serving off in the Middle East, which must be so challenging to care for the two kids with her husband being far off; nevertheless, like a good Wisconsin woman, the mother brings those two kids to church every Sunday.

In addition to that, another means of motivation for writing today was the pleasure that I had in running with my friend Jenny Stinson last night. You can see Jenny’s blog up, just to the right of this posting “Runny4yourlife.” Jenny and I ran the trails by where I live, which are a lot of fun, but they are continuously challenging. I admitted to Jenny last night, the trail I run for my Wednesday 8-miler, “Lower Hull’s Gulch,” has two-and-a-half miles of substantial uphill. That uphill is marked with rocks, and it definitely builds up one’s soleus muscles, ankles, and gastrocnemius. In any event, it’s a great run, which always reminds me that no matter how much I run, or how strong I am, challenges are always out there, and I can always improve my running.

I guess that’s the sort-of-meta thing I think about running, right? It’s a sport in which progress is so immediately quantifiable. I suppose one could say the same thing about swimming, cycling or golf, but the act of running is something so minimalist, it is ultimately reduced to two areas: physicality and mentality. The simplicity and determination of the sport are two things I absolutely adore about it.

I digress. Running with my friend Jenny was a terrific Wednesday-night run, and Jenny, right now, is training for a 50k. A 50K is thirty miles, which is four more than a marathon—err, 3.8. Anyway, it’s a 50k trail run, which is why Jenny thought of being a rare improvement on the enjoyment of my Wednesday night run. Beyond that, Jenny flattered me by noting things I had said in my blog.

It’s tough to express just how flattering it is to speak with a friend about something random, like having met a lovely woman in a coffee shop, by the coffee shop’s specific name, and for the friend to ask a question citing a past blog post. In this case, Jenny was spot on, which was quite flattering. My friend Jenny, a fellow Chicago transplant, is a dear friend of mine to have here in Boise. Not only are Jenny’s daughter, son-in-law and Grandson Marshall terrific people, but she has lovely friends, current Chicagoland residents, with whom I had the pleasure of dining before the City of Trees Marathon, and her beautiful golden Fremont. In short, Jenny keeps great company, has a wonderful family, and a great puppy dog.

Lastly, I should conclude with what a pleasure it is to have my friend Ben in town this week. Ben was in Eastern Idaho with other friends for the end of last week and beginning of this week; they were there hunting elk. Ben is here in my place until Sunday, about which I couldn’t be happier. In coming days, I’ll probably post something, which will further indicate why it is all the more fun and important to have a dear friend in town.

I guess on that note, I should be off to take care of some things for the remainder of the working week. In any event, I wanted to ensure I put up a good post, and noted some of the most immediate joys around this week.

Working on a Saturday, and all the Thoughts that Come into One’s Head

It’s funny, I don’t know if I am into writing about thoughts as much as I am thinking about the various websites I’ve been visiting today. Right now, my Shuffle is playing “Check Your Ride,” by Tribe Called Quest, but I was last reading an article about Memphis-rocker Jay Reatard—that’s how he spells it.

Anyway, as I was reading about Jay Reatard’s latest album on Pitchfork, I was thinking to myself, third-person, “Wow, what is Matt doing right now, but sitting for his twelfth hour on a Saturday, at his work desk.” Of course, admittedly, I did run seven miles from about 7:30 to 8:35, plus the time back at my place to shower and change. That involved leaving work where I was earlier and coming back. That’s my Saturday, and of course, because I had to open a conference bridge and run this morning, I went to bed wicked early last night.

Apologies, I’m not trying to whine. My point in writing that is to note, I’ve had a lot of time to think. Of course, seemingly, I always have time to think. I live alone, run alone, and do most everything else alone. For some reason, however, being at the office alone has provided ample time with fewer distractions to update myself on media.

Of course, if you read this blog ever – bless your heart, you probably know that I spent the bulk of my time reading http://www.economist.com/, http://www.cnn.com/, http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/, http://www.espn.com/, http://www.slate.com/ or http://www.salon.com/. Yeah, politics, tunes, or sports, I am an action-packed man—a man of action.

As an aside, I thought of something as I wrote that. Thursday night, I went running in the dark, which meant I didn’t run the trails, instead I ran Hill Road, here in Boise. Hill is a great road, with a nice long sidewalk and a great amount of bike trails on it, both of which make it a safe and easy run, particularly in the dark.

I took Hill from Harrison Boulevard to 28th Street. I loved running down 28th Street! What was quite lovable about it was how running down it immediately took me back to both Memphis and Chicago. At times, it looked like running in the North part of Memphis’s Midtown. In the case of Chicago, it reminded me of my runs this last fall between Lincoln Square and Ravenswood.* Between the dark, the cool fall temperature, the age of the houses and buildings, and the era in which the street was expanded to what it is, I was reminded of these different areas.

28th St. Boise

Nostalgia is such an amazing feeling, isn’t it? Certainly, different senses initiate different components of nostalgia, but above and beyond that, once one experiences it, they then have the cognitive processing that takes place. For example, in this case, I was immediately reminded of Memphis and Chicago, but then I went into my knowledge of things and analyzed why I was so reminded of those two different places.

I guess that’s what one thinks of while they’re sitting at their office on a Saturday.


*For those of you that don’t know, Ravenswood, in a way, envelopes Lincoln Square on the East and West.

Flights to and from Phoenix

It never ceases to amaze me the disparities between cultures here in the United States. Flying to and from Phoenix this last weekend, Sky Harbor, Phoenix’s airport contains folks as diverse in style and attitudes as one might find in JFK or ORD. There are foreigners, East Coasties, Midwesterners, folks from the West and of course those tattooed and pierced from the “New West.” While traveling always offers great opportunities to see differences in cultures, those truly interesting components are reserved for what one can learn about her or himself at the destination.

This last Friday was my Grandma Phyllis’s birthday, the specific birthday that it was shall remain ageless, but let’s say that it was a milestone—one that required a special trip. What always amazes me, growing up in my family, are the things I learn growing further into my family. I say that, in that, growing up we continuously have an evolving perception of who our relatives are, and how they act as adults. Of course, as anyone that has grown up through these lives of ours can say, perceptions continuously evolve, and those things we learn about one another carry with them further dimension as we grow older through this life.

While I am quite sure that seems to be a rather odd, yet intuitive, stanza, methinks it’s the sort of component to life one can never truly comprehend until they have lived in this adult world for several years. What has me thinking in that direction, was seeing my Grandma this weekend, amongst my maternal family, all of the same folks whom went to Nicaragua for Christmas. The difference between this trip and Nicaragua was that it was in Phoenix, where my maternal aunts and grandparents live; therefore, it was more vacuous.1

Seeing my Grandmother there in Phoenix this weekend, I saw an incredibly vivacious woman, whom is joyful, intelligent, funny and well spirited. Grandma Phyllis looks years younger than whatever age she may be; her smile was bright and her eyes were lit up all weekend. What amazes me, among so many other things, is her involvement in the community in which she and my Grandfather live.

Not to brag on my Grandmother, or anything, but she is the chairperson of their board. No, this is not some Del Boca Vista-type organization, nothing of the sort. In short, what I am trying to say is that it is not a caddy club for ladies of the club, but a genuine Operational Organization, one which works to ensure the dining facilities are in good order, the security and the grounds are keeping the residents safe.

It’s noteworthy in that it dearly impresses me. Not that my Grandmother happens to be heading this board, no. Rather, the style and grace with which she speaks professionally about her involvement, particularly in casual conversations.

While I’ve managed to delve rather far into her work with her community’s Board, I should note the other component that did so much to impress me with her this weekend. My aunts, mom, grandma and I played a round of golf. Indeed I was playing with the ladies. As I arrived a day later than my folks, and it was surprise, my Granddad didn’t have the opportunity to book me with the “Bandits,” his golf team.

In that, I went joyously with the ladies, and we played a great round of golf. Again, playing golf, I couldn’t help but marvel at the terrific genes my Grandmother is bestowing on me, as her Grandson. Grandma looked terrific on the course, playing as youthfully as those of my mom’s generation or me.

Obviously, I could continue to go on about my Grandmother, but you’ve endured enough of my gushing on that. If you’ve made it this far, please humor me by reading about my complaints towards those here in the American West. Call me old fashioned, but I loathe ink and these odd spacers folks throw in their ears. Come on folks, hoop earrings are relatively obnoxious, even if one relegates them to something comical. I am lost on one throwing something like that in their ears. Certainly, if they are a Maori Tribeswoman or man, I could see it, but for middle class kids marching through the airport?

I think Phoenix Sky Harbor has to run right up there with John Wayne, PDX, SEATAC, or PDX for inordinate amounts of “sleeve” tattoos and/or spacer-ear hoops. No, I don’t have ink. I am not absolute against it. To a point, I get the “Tramp Stamp.”2 Those are not visible during the wearing of short-sleeves or during a job-interview. Sincerely, though, I have hard time understanding “sleeves.” One now sees them in places like Davenport, Iowa or Boise, Idaho, but there they are not so common, as what one sees in Phoenix.

Phoenix, outside of Scottsdale and Sun City, may be the USA’s capitol of “New West” absurdity. I use the word “absurd,” in that absurd body art applications, particularly the aesthetics for which folks are going seem as transient as the “Bad Boy Club” tattoos one saw in the mid-Nineties in my high school. The challenges for these faddish or transient designs are that they are permanent.

Sincerely, these tattoos so many out here, in what I’ve aptly referred to, in my own way, as the “New West,” don’t seem to have any overarching themes or points. I somewhat understand an eighteen-year-old enlisted in the Marines, tattooing him or herself with a “Semper Fi,” but come on a jelly fish or stingray? Can anyone envisage old men with their wives on the Lawn Bowling courts of Sun City in the year 2050?

I don’t get Phoenix. Is it elitism to find aesthetics disdainful? For me, it’s not a shriek or back-away, because I am afraid of ink or body art, no. Rather, it is a problem

1: As always, I have a tendency to use “bigger words.” By stating vacuous, I mean that Phoenix is a vacuum, in that it is in the States, and is the home to my Mom’s family. Therefore, it does not offer the instability of all of us traveling in Nicaragua. As such, it provided opportunity for more clinical observations.

2: “Tramp Stamp” - This is the tattoo on the small of a woman’s back, one which was probably obtained during a Spring Break to somewhere in Florida, California, or Mexico. That or it floated north from said “Spring Break Destinations,” into the near-the-mall-tattoo-parlors throughout the US.

Meditation on Business Travel

I just wanted to lay out some quick points and excerpts from my trip to Denver this week. I used to travel a lot, my first three years out of school, so I have a lot of these feeling still lingering whenever I business travel. Business travel makes me want to say things that would come off like quotes from Chuck Palahniuk’s “Fight Club.” Rather than do that, I thought I would keep it to one simple point, Cell Phone Usage.

Men under the age of twenty-three and over the age of forty should be required to receive a license for mobile phone usage. For older men, the reason: when one’s hearing is not of a reasonable quality, they feel the urge to conduct business calls loudly. To receive the license they should prove a knowledge of both excusing themselves from their continental breakfast buffet table, and go out to the hallway. Sitting at one’s table with an open USA Today and a plate full of freeze-dried eggs blotched with Tabasco is not the place for discussing the scope of one’s business enterprises.

For the young men, the reason: I don’t like the OSU Buckeyes, nor do I care to hear how “ripped” or “wasted” someone’s friends were during the BCS Championship. Moreover, I don’t want to hear how much love one has for their girlfriend somewhere back in Columbus. Certainly what you do is important, working for the Federal Government in your first post-collegiate job is important.

Women, there are two types of you: the matron with the headset coaching one of her family members through iterative daily tasks, or making sure all is well with one’s teenage children’s supervisors. The other types, of course, are those that are early-to-mid-twenties that are pulling a female version of the Type-A male I mention above. Certainly, I am sure their business is “important,” but outward demonstration of command and quick thinking with outward dramatization is not necessary. We believe that these young women, like young men, are “important,” and they have “big” things transpiring. To be sure!

One should be so lucky to have great lovely friends in a city to where they travel for business. On a lighter note, my friends Jonathan and Jess, a great young engaged-to-be-married couple did me the courtesy of picking me up last night, and they took me out for Sushi! The Sushi was phenomenal, some of the best I have had in years. Truthfully, I don’t know that it could be much better. I would go so far as to say, the best I have ever had.

In all fairness to Sushi chefs, I will give a good bit of bias to the fact that I was with terrific company. It was great to see two friends I had not seen in a long time. More than that, it was great to see them both doing so well, and looking so great. Last night was the highlight of my trip to Denver, unquestionably!

Weekend Activities

Since 2001, I have driven with pride and glory my Subaru. I bought my car in Memphis with anticipation of moving to New England, thinking I needed something for the snow. Of course, I would be less than honest not to admit the connotation an “All Wheel Drive” car like the Subaru Outback possesses, at least for me, and that being a reason why maybe I bought it*. Of course, when I found I was moving to Boise, I told the Subaru, “You are going home.” This weekend, I felt finally like I was living a lifestyle appropriate to my car purchased seven years ago.

On Friday night I had my friends James and Liz over for dinner. I cooked them salmon and lentils, along with some Maytag bleu risotto. I will post the recipe for my salmon and lentils a bit later. Anyway, following their leaving I went to bed, and I got up the next morning to head to my training club for Boise’s “Robie Creek” half-marathon. Robie Creek is probably the toughest half-marathon there is. I know they claim the toughest in the Northwest, and maybe there is one in Colorado, or something; however, Robie is approximately eight miles uphill, then five downhill. It’s tough, and I am looking forward to running it in April.

Following my training run, one that wasn’t too long, only three miles**, I went to have some coffee. After having coffee, I grabbed my new snowshoes and drove up to Bogus Basin to hit one of their snowshoe trails. The drive up to Bogus was easy, but a pain the arse in a few respects**. The snowshoeing was a lot of fun and it was easier than I had expected. I did their toughest and longest trail, and noted that my heart rate was comparable to what it would be were I running. Of course, a lot of that was also predicated on that I was at 7000 elevation, so working at that altitude gives it some of its depth.

Of course, what I had done by Saturday night was run and snowshoe, which made me a tired puppy. I rested on the couch after an Epsom salts bath to watch the debates. I was glad to see Obama continuing to command his lead, which was encouraging. After the debates, I dropped like a log; I was beat. I slept like a baby, and woke up to head over to Jim’s Coffee for breakfast to meet James and Liz. There was a fresh three inches on my windshield, and the snow here is wicked dry and fluffy. All of that snow had me in anticipation for what was to come. That said, I digress, Jim’s Coffee doesn’t deserve to have “Coffee” in his title, because on weekends, they don’t open until 8AM. In the Midwest that would never fly. I don’t think it would in an Idaho fishing camp, but then again, I live in the North End****, so who knows?

James, Liz and I met at my regular coffee shop Java*****. There we ate breakfast, and I drove all of us up to Bogus. Of course, the fresh snow made skiing all the more attractive; it spoke less well for the drive up. The mighty Subaru held like a champ up the fifteen miles to Bogus from Boise. Without chains, without a V8, it worked its way through the snow and bad road conditions like a champ. That’s not to say there were not about four or five “Man’s Trucks” spinning out on the way up, stopping to adjust or turn back, but the Sub****** – she held!

Liz, James and I made it up to Bogus safely, and they were kind enough to snowboard with me while I skied down the runs we went as a group. It had been two years since this last December since I had skied, but I felt pretty good. Dittman will have to talk to me a bit on some thoughts I am having relative to length and such, provided the powder is something with which I am not as familiar, but it went really well. We had terrific powder on which to ski, and Bogus, less than twenty miles from Boise, was terrific and had a good number of runs! It only makes me more greatly anticipate skiing here so close to home.

Needless to say, I was beat yesterday evening after running, snowshoeing and skiing. I did my best to eat well, but didn’t do as well as I should have throughout the whole weekend. I should have eaten more, but I tried to eat healthily at my dinners on Saturday and Sunday evening. Of course, I write this now in the airport, on my way to Denver, but I couldn’t be happier about my move here to Boise. It has brought my Subaru “home,” as now it has an owner that does the things Subaru uses to advertise their cars, like Patagonia or LL Bean do with their clothes or lifestyle gear. I feel terrific, fresh and healthy. I hope to continue to feel so well about what I am doing and how I am doing it. It’s quite exhilarating. Of course, I write this in the airport looking at a picture of the President and of the Head of Homeland Security. Things will have to go much better in this year’s elections. ^^^

*Ok – truth be told, I went to university when every middleclass to well off kid had to roll with North Face or Patagonia, as such the “outdoor” lifestyle was something not only in vogue to live, but to dress as though you did. In other words, even if you and your family couldn’t afford regular trips to Aspen, Telluride or Alta, to be “cool,” one needed to dress as though they were just about to hop on the plane to do so. Probably with that same mindset, or a likeness thereof, I went out at the age of twenty-two and purchased an All-Wheel-Drive Station Wagon. This was largely also due to my thoughts I would move Northeast, but perhaps that was more of a justification for something new and fancier. As such, I was not a fan of the SUV, which was the way to go in Memphis, because I had political-economic implications in mind concerning gas prices and the kind of guys that drove big SUVs^^.

**I say three miles isn’t too long, because I typically run five-to-six miles on my weeknight runs these days. I have not been training for anything specifically, but I am keeping a base trying to keep fit. I took Friday night off for the Saturday run, that it was just three; I was in good shape for it.

***Driving uphill fourteen miles with lots of “U” curves at 20mph and switchbacks, all of that is just fine. My challenge was twofold: one, there was a line of cars both ahead and behind me; two, there was a car that was behind me, riding my ass, as though I was going to be able to speed up magically getting ahead of the cars ahead of me. My challenge with riding me so continuously was troubling, because I could not get ahead of what was in front of me. The guy tailgating me was pushing a rope, which just doesn’t work, either in mathematics or in physics. On another note, I was breaking in advance of the curves, and then accelerating through them, so he would ride my ass going into the curve then would be left behind, as undoubtedly, he was breaking hard in the curves. It makes me think that his daddy didn’t teach him how to drive in the mountains, which for me is counter-intuitive. Needless to say, downshifting downhill, I encountered similar issues. Whilst trying not to ride anyone’s ass going downhill, cars would ride mine. It wasn’t worth pulling over to let more cars pass, as the stream was continuous. It’s just troubling that some teenagers, I am assuming, don’t know what they are doing.

****The North End of Boise is known for being an older more bohemian part of town. Hyde Park is in the North End, and has my favorite restaurant in town. It also has Java. The North End is where one would find a Craftsman bungalow, or something of a similar time period. Because of the aforementioned description, it has rather silly connotations amongst my colleagues. Clearly, the North End used to be somewhere more common place for Hippies back years ago, I don’t know. It earns terms like “granola,” etc… Whatever the case, I have yet to find a place more accommodating to young-ish bachelors in Boise. If there is a place, and you know of it, let me know. I like it just fine, and I have yet to see any smelly old hippies. More often than not, they are young professionals or aspiring to be as such.

*****Java is my Hyde Park coffee shop. They have coffee, food, and exceptionally cute young women working. I have become regular enough to be known by most of the staff at Java. That is largely predicated on the frequency with which I get coffee (every night before my run), and on the weekends before my training runs. The conversation is the most social I have outside of work (work is fine, but I am trying to keep worlds more separate), and it reminds me that there are, in fact, young not-married women here in Boise. Ultimately, I have not yet seen any of these young women outside of their jobs and I have a rule^ against asking out wait staff or those working at a place I frequently patronize. That said, I don’t know that I am getting anywhere in romancing a cutie Java-girl, but that’s cool. They are still nice to surreptitiously admire.

******That’s not to say the Subaru does any better breaking in ice than any other automobile. I was breaking and slid once, which did no damage, but something for which I need to be aware and buy chains. It’s not going to hurt. Note to self, buy chains. ^My policy against asking out waitresses is largely predicated on the fact that they have to be nice. Of course, in addition to that, being “one of the regulars, Matt, just asked me out; he’s like old” doesn’t entirely appeal to me either.

^^For me a large SUV was always a sign of one’s phallic deficiencies. That said, to go out to buy an Excursion or Expedition seemed largely predicated on other personal inadequacies. Certainly, I know some guys that are so massive that they require big cars, but what, is that one in twenty? I have never seen a physical justification for an SUV that a four-wheel drive station wagon will not fulfill. Just because one has soccer players doesn’t qualify them for something like an Excursion. If one truly needs to ferry eight nine-year-olds around in their car, they need to buy an obnoxiously ugly Dodge Ram van. Those are just my thoughts relative to all of it. Really, one can do whatever they can afford and justify to themselves; however, I am quite gratified in being a twenty-two-year-old knowing better all those years ago.

^^^Ok W and Chertoff look particularly silly in pictures on the wall of the airport, just after metal and baggage detectors. One, W’s smile is a bit too juvenile for a President, as he has that smirking smile of his, which for me, does not look at all Presidential. In large part, that is predicated on the fact that since he has been in office, and since the TSA has been so well pronounced, we have been in a “War on Terror.” If we are in this “War on Terror” look Presidential; don’t smile because Turdblossom thinks it is going to help pull off 2004’s election. Chertoff looks a bit like an alien, and methinks his picture is solely there to serve as juxtaposition to Bush’s more “photogenic” picture. In short, the pictures look like a fraternity composite, one with the nerdy fraternity brother positioned next to the spoiled impish playboy rich kid spending Daddy’s money. While one can be reminded this horror is soon to be over, the pictures were a standing memory of what our country represents to people elsewhere in the world.

Traveling Abroad and a Merry Christmas

I am writing this having returned from Nicaragua a few days ago. My family and I went there for Christmas to see my sister working there for the Peace Corps. Becca has been in Nicaragua for a little more than six months. Seeing her was delightful, and the trips didn’t suffer any tragedies; however, with all there that we had, it was not the way I wish to spend future holidays.

Holidays, the word itself conjures up Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. Of course, having worked for a British firm, I also associate the word with what we in America call “Vacation.” Nicaragua is a lovely country just north of the Equator, which means that it was plenty warm the whole time we were in-country. With warmth come all sorts of challenges being from a wealthy developed country, to which we are not always accustomed.

For me, the challenges that we saw in Nicaragua came from my own errors in expectations and preparedness. I say that, because I love camping. When preparing for a camping trip, I know that I need to bring something to purify water, something to sanitize dishes, a way to dispose of toiletry effects and a way to guard one from mosquitoes. In packing my bags for a vacation to see my sister, I did not adequately prepare myself to my later satisfaction for the same inconveniences one would find in Nicaragua. Quite simply, traveling to a developing country, one should prepare as though they are backpacking.

In Nicaragua, there are little waste cans near each toilet. The waste cans are there for disposal of toilet paper after its use, as the plumbing and sewers in Nicaragua are not strong enough to tolerate toilet paper. Of course, that is something, were I camping, I could handle; however, on vacation, away from home, in beachside accommodations, it was not for what I had anticipated. The same, of course, could be said for the country’s substandard tap water. I think my sister has now built up a resistance to the lack of thorough sanitization in the water, but as an alien, one should not consume their water out of the tap. There are of course further accoutrements, like worrying about bugs, clean food and the cleanliness of those preparing one’s food, but all of that I was something for which I thought I had prepared.

Not to go on further disparaging Nicaragua, but being my first Latin American experience, I was looking forward to local cuisine. Local cuisine there in Nicaragua was devoid of any real flavor. The nicest restaurant we went to make a terrific upscale burger, but the kitchen was run by a Norte Americano. I did not see any of Rick Bayless’s Mexico, or any likeness, in Nicaragua.

It was an absolute ball to see my family, and to spend time with my maternal grandparents and aunts. I have to say though; there are conveniences, like running on paved roads, which were just too badly missed. The roads were in horrible disrepair. Quite simply, it all harkens to what we learn from Tiny Tim in Dickensian-fashion, which is those that exemplify the spirit of Christmas, make due with what they have and live well in spite of their challenges. If nothing else, it’s important to know for what to be thankful, and unquestionably, for me, that is family and being from the US. Being from the US, or another developed country is something that is too easily taken for granted. Access to great healthcare, cleaner food and sound infrastructure are great. All of that makes me chuckle at those running for office that are so anti-government or anti-tax. For those espouse irresponsibly doing away with taxes or a sound federal government, make a trip the developing world. More important than my political economy-rant, my Grandmother and Grandfather’s health is superb, which is gratifying on so many levels.

Being eighty-two my grandfather hiked with my father and me up the highest point in San Juan Del Sir, where we posed next to the town’s cross overlooking the Pacific. It was the highlight of my Grandpa’s trip, and he showed me how strong his health and will are. The man has a fifteen-year-old artificial heart valve and a knee replaced this last year. Grandpa is hiking up steeply inclined surfaces triumphantly. I am honored to come from stock like that. That is something for which to be most thankful – health and happiness.

If nothing else, I didn’t get as much time with my sister as I would have liked. The circumstances were not conducive to it, which ate into the purpose of my being up for heading down to Nicaragua away from Boise and the States. The positives were spending time with my family in a country to which I had not been. I can’t say I will be rushing back any time soon, as I am not so much a beach person as I am into the mountains and forests in more mountainous climates. I like cities as well, but there wasn’t anything of note from that perspective either. In short, Nicaragua is not a vacation place for Matt, nor would other developing countries in Latin America. I am more than happy to try Buenos Aires, Rio, or Santiago, but I am not so much game for Central America with its particular challenges.