Pi Day Ponderings in Self-Isolation

I write this with a strange mixture of feelings and reckonings. Since my last post, and watching the ever more graver state of the news broadcasts, I am thankful that we squeaked under the wire for leaving and returning from our flyaway holiday just in time before the travel advisories and restrictions are starting to come effect for international travel. I’m also feeling utterly hapless with the fact that just because I did international travel, and then soon after started showing symptoms of sinus congestion and sore throat, that I’m relegated to self-isolate for a long while as a precaution. I have indeed been sick, most likely with some form the common cold. I dutifully reported my symptoms, after several attempts to contact the government health line, and I am still waiting for a response about any future action I may need to take. I’m certain that it is just the same old gross, phlegmy/snotty mess of a cold bug that I get almost every year during late February and early March, when the temperatures begin to wildly fluctuate as spring thaw approaches. I’m quite certain that it’s not Covid-19 (no shortness of breath or fever); just other stuff that coincides with all the remaining other Corona virus symptoms. However, given that I’m in a slightly weakened state, and my immune system is now compromised trying to manage this current bunch of junk, I don’t need to go wandering around and being pounced on by the Corona virus as well. If I do put myself in a place of sharing this wretched cold to a person in my circle of friends and work, who may be already even more immune-suppressed than I am, I further increase their chances for the actual acquisition of the Covid-19 thing while they are battling the same cold.

Sure, this virus can be potential fatal, for a select, vulnerable, cross-section of the population; just like the flu always was, is, and most likely continue to be. Last season, influenza killed more people worldwide than Covid-19 currently has now, a disease which is now on the decline according to some reports. However, for the flu, no one went crazy then and cleared out all the shelves in grocery shops. The thing that bothers me most about it is the absurd amount of hype, the fearmongering, and irrational panicking, because it is so novel as a disease; not as well-established historically as the flu is. The same way that terrorist attacks are over-reported when there are a relatively small number of casualties compared to the other types of tragic mortalities happening in the world that are set in a less dramatic framework. I'm grateful that this nation isn't yet so inundated with active cases compared to some others. We may not be much better as a population here in Canada in avoiding a full-blown epidemic, but we at least have a government that is more willing to put aside partisan issues to face this thing, who are more willing to listen to medical science, and are willing to work on the problem more rationally. We at least had a bill passed to secure the first stages of getting universal Pharmacare in place before this before parliament recessed in response to this outbreak. As far as this government's response, I'm at least thankful that we can perhaps respond better to all this because we don't have an Antichrist to science, like the Americans have who is leading their political shit show. I'm proud to say that Canadian researchers have been amongst the first to get successful steps for vaccine development for this thing. I’m not getting fearful or panicky, but I’m not going to be so stupid as to slough off prudence either. Given what I got to deal with, prudence demands that I have to self-isolate for a while as a precaution. I’m over the hump of it now, and I have been getting increasingly better. As much as I feel that that I’m getting touched in the head with some boredom, and feel that this is ultimately may be a squandering of my accumulated sick time, I’ll play the game right, and at least have a clearer conscience for doing so. Decongestants, drinking hot fluids, and some extra sleep have helped the most.

With all the extra time off, the mind tends to wander to far away strange places, in lieu of not allowing my physical self to veer far from home. My self-isolation phases into Pi (π) Day. I slapped down some random thoughts and observations to entertain myself mathematically whilst I’m here alone, doing my part to flatten the curve. In honour of this day, and since I’m stuck inside and have SFA else to do, I decided to apply pi (π) in a practical manner with respect to this latest pandemic.

·      They say now that generally the minimal safe zone for oneself out in public, to avoid contracting this new pestilence, is about a two-metre radius. With π in the equation, that means that there is a personal space circle around you that is about 12.6 m² of circular area around you that is your buffer zone. I have an easier, less abstract, and more convenient and discreet method of measuring to use for keeping people at their distance away from me. It is called a dog on a leash. The full extension of my dog’s leash is two metres long. I’m safer from everyone, as they are them from me, if they are beyond the range of the dog’s nose while I’m walking her.

·        The hoarding behaviour people are resorting to is ridiculous and getting out of hand. Over-supplying for yourself means under-supplying for everyone else of critical needs. You don’t have to be a Game Theory mathematician to figure this out. The real notable idiocy happening now being the hoarding of toilet paper. If you are guilty of doing this, here’s an equation (simplified)¹ with a practical use of π that might help you smarten up a bit:  N (1 – (πR₁^{2 /}πR₀²))/ [Δt] = S. With N being the number of squares in fresh new roll of toilet paper (usually listed on the package, you shouldn’t have to count), R₀ being the initial measured radius before usage, R₁ being the final radius measurement of your TP roll and Δt being the increment of time (let’s just call it a day) between initial and final radius measurement of the roll. That’s it! You’ve just computed your actual toilet paper consumption in squares of toilet paper per day in your household (S). Calculating S/N(14) equals the number of rolls of toilet paper you’ll likely be using for a 14 day quarantine period (Q). Subtract Q from all the surplus rolls of toilet you have bought and have in extra stock: E for excess. Divide that difference by Q: (E-Q)/Q =A. Assuming that you are within the realm of average as everyone else in terms of bathroom usage, that final quotient (A) then is roughly the number of people you’ve basically deprived of toilet paper, screwing them over and pissing them off with your irrational panic-driven stupidity for the 14 day quarantine period. The higher the number, the higher the likelihood that you are indeed a stupid prick with absolutely no sense of practical rationing, nor any concern for your fellow citizens. If you’ve hoarded toilet paper during this time, congratulations! Through π, you now have been assigned an ascending ranking numerical value of how much of an asshole (A) you are by creating more chaos and crisis by doing so. It somehow comforts me to know that there are quantifiable numbers with which to calibrate and apply to people on specific degrees of stupidity they exhibit instead of just using a fuzzy vague judgement or a glib opinion. Please note that if you are using more than one roll of toilet paper per day for yourself, you probably got a more serious problem going on than risking contracting Covid-19. If your number is negative, you do indeed have a shortage problem, and I’d then suggest that you definitely lay off the spicy food for the next while!

·       I can’t help but to notice that the shape and form of the Corona virus itself is a testament to the geometrical intricacies of π. If there were vertices attached to the outer protruding crown ends of the viral body, it would very much take the shape of a geodesic sphere, a structure intensively governed by the ratios of π.  If it weren’t so potentially deadly I’d find it rather beautiful in its unique sort of symmetry.

·      The number π is also used for studying population dynamics in various ways, used in weird and wild esoteric equations which I don’t have all day to study or explain here. It’s a constant in the bell shaped curve in statistics. No doubt it is now being used intensively to track the spread, and to factor in environmental conditions that prevent it from spreading. I would be interested in knowing if it could be useful in predicting any correlation between the likelihood of increased disease presence in a sample population where there are overt instances of hoarding behaviour in a particular sector. I would like to think that there would be a divine justice in store for those who are overly competitive and less cooperative.

I have a few more days to go before I can head back to work, and I’m sure I’ll be having to review and follow newer procedures for hygiene and prevention once I return. Pi might be less relevant in adjusting to the long lapse. I’m having less stress about this stuff with just living day to day, one moment at a time. It helps to avoid the news too; if it ever becomes worse, I’m sure it will find me somehow. As for now, I extend a wish for everyone else to stay well as we go through this course of enduring both of what is the dreamt up hype and what the actual consequential havoc is of this matter together, with hopes that this all transpires as smoothly and peaceful as possible; hoping it passes us all by sooner than later, with minimal troubles, grief, and suffering to my friends and family at risk of being directly and indirectly afflicted and affected. I’m confident that we’ll get through this ok. If I wasn’t my last entry wouldn’t have so much mentioned about toilet paper rolls.

If being penned up inside alone with nothing to do but clean my place, ration my foodstuffs to avoid shopping, binge watch TV, read, play music, catch up on TED talks, tile together jigsaw puzzles, and play with equations involving transcendental numbers for entertainment's sake and writing about it all is the worst it gets for me through this phase of clearing myself of pathogens, I'll consider myself lucky and be thankful for it, and use the time to work on myself for a change.

1 When determining the usable circular area cross-section area of a roll of toilet paper, you have to account for the interior hollow circle of the subtracted from the area of the usable part of the roll, radius dimension for that designated “r”. Thus, πR₀² – πr² is the true cross-section of material area of the initial whole roll, and πR₁² - πr² for the final measurement of the day. Conveniently, in the division, - πr² cancels out for simplicity. The equation is then converted to represent for proportional relation of a unit roll of toilet paper. I recommend measuring in centimetres, decimalized metric is easier to calculate and more precise. A square of toilet paper is roughly 10 cm x 10 cm if you want to test yourself with volume formulas. You’re on your own if you want to figure out your consumption per use by cm². I can’t say that I’m that bloody curious as to know that myself.

The 12 Month Random Resolution Game

There has been a long lapse between entries, mostly because there has been so little that has been good or positive, or of any importance to comment on. Four months of this year that I wished to make better have been stolen from me, and I've simply been trying to make moves toward getting back to some sort of normalcy: if there ever was such a thing for me. People who know me know that I've just been trying to work and move towards a full recovery, which has been progressive, but going so slowly in my mind that it has been a real test of my patience. Physiotherapy can be refreshing and relieving on one day, and then torturous on another, as micro-traumas are being worked out of the joints and muscle tissues in my arm. There is some noticeable nerve damage, but thankfully it's only slight. Given what I had going on during the initial days after the accident, things could have easily turned into something much worse. On top of that, I've been depressed and disappointed about the elections down south, and the state of the media coverage used to be corruptive for such an affair already laden with controversy and conspiracy. It was a shameful display all around. The latter third of this year can be summarized in three words - it sucked balls. There's nothing at all about it that I really want to recollect or recount.

Year's End is just 20 days away, and I'm already making plans for trying to have a better go in 2017 even before I attempt any Christmas shopping. I invented a sort game for myself: something that has meaningful projects and acquisition targets set up for me to try and gain for each month of the coming new year. Perhaps it's a flaky idea: one that evolved out of the combined urges of defeating some boredom, wanting to play cards (but no company for it), to play with odds and sort gamble a bit (without staking any of my Christmas shopping funds), and inventing a game of chance where I'll somehow always win*. I found a way to deck my halls with a deck of cards. I am sharing it for those who are also wanting to use it to make a more hopeful and prosperous coming new year.

Materials:

• pen and paper (enough to create up to about 144 slips, plus to write a category list)
• scissors (for cutting such slips)
• 12 sealable envelopes
• a deck of cards, OR alternatively, if you aren't a card player . . .
• a pair of dice, or a 12 sided gaming die (if you are a Dungeons and Dragons geek)

Method:

1. Make a list of 12 categories of 12 things or deeds that you what to have or do during the new year. They can be of anything you want: charitable or selfish, serious intellectual pursuits or something fun and foolish, skill building or talent oriented, material possessions or intangibles, whatever, so long as each category involves things that genuinely go towards your sense of well-being, happiness and life satisfaction. Have them be all affordable within a month's budget, and overall achievable within a month's time, and such that they can be available to have or do at any time of the year. Here's about 12 things as examples that may or may not interest you. (Some of) these categories below aren't necessarily reflective of mine. It's deeply personal thing, so make up your own 12 categories of 12 things to list in each. Strive for 12 things to list in each category, but if you can't, you can repeat some items to make up twelve if practical, or stick to some number under twelve. Some examples here are: 
• 12 career skills you want to build on
• 12 tools/implements you want for your workshop/space
• 12 items you want as home decorum, or things you want to change in your home
• 12 thing-a-ma-bobs you want to collect
• 12 subjects you want to study intensively
• 12 people/places you want to visit
• 12 books you want to read/memorize 
• 12 songs you want to learn to play on your[whatever musical instrument you have]
• 12 charities you want to donate time/money to 
• 12 exotic ingredients you want to sample/experiment with
• 12 restaurants you've never eaten at yet, but wanted to try
• 12 novel liquor ingredients you want in your cocktail bar**
2. Take one category, and write each of the 12 items you listed from that category on a seperate slip of paper. You'll have 12 slips of paper if you've listed 12 items in the category. Put them face down on the table and mix them up.
3. Lay out all the 12 envelopes on a flat surface with the open side up.
4. If using playing cards, take a full red suit out of the deck to use, discarding the king. Shuffle the 12 red cards and place one card, face up, on each envelope. Then, take a full black suit out of the deck, discarding the king. Shuffle the black cards and put them face down on the table. Draw a card from the top of the black card stack. Take one of the face down slips of paper, not looking at it, and tuck it into the envelope with the red card with the matching face value as the black card (i.e., if you draw a black 3, put one slip of paper in the envelope with the red 3 on it.). Turn the red card over, or remove it to indicate that this envelope has been loaded. Repeat the same steps for each draw of the black cards in the rest of the stack. Once all the slips of the category have been put in each of their respective envelopes, re-shuffle each stack of the red cards and the black cards, shuffle and lay out the envelopes again, open , side up, and repeat for the 12 item slips of the next category. Repeat until all remaining category list slips are packed in the envelopes. Alternately, if you prefer handling dice . . .
5. If using a 12 sided die***, arrange the envelopes such that you can visually mark them as 1 to 12 (like the face of a clock, for example). Roll the die and place the slip into the corresponding envelope that matches the number on the die. Turn the envelope over once it gets its one slip. Remember, no peeking at the slips! Reroll the die if the number is repeated, and continue rolling, and filling the corresponding envelopes with their single slip of paper until the slips are gone. Shuffle and redistribute the envelopes again, turning the envelopes open-side up again, and repeat for the slips of the next 12 items in the next category. Repeat this process until all categories are done.
6. Once all the envelopes are filled, seal them and shuffle them. Select one and write "January" on it, select the next and write "February" on it, and so on until each envelope is labelled with one of the months of the year from, January to December****, inclusive.
7. Keep these envelopes in a safe and secure place. On the first day of each month, open the envelope labelled for that corresponding month. Set an alert on your smartphone calendar if you need to be reminded.
8. Start, do, or get the stuff listed on the 12 slips of paper that you find in there. You have the entire month to plan and/or try to commit to whatever is listed on those 12 slips of paper throughout it all when you start on day one, be it starting page one of that book, or collecting materials for a month long project. It would be a good idea to journal your progress, or monitor your interest while you do it. If you failing at it, or if your interest is waning, you get to ask yourself "Why?"

I rationalize things with this betterment/resolution "game" this way. The road to hell is usually paved with good intentions. Resolutions are usually broken because people pile up all their ambitions at the start of the year, which only serves to overwhelm them. Some then drop them within 12 hours of New Year's Day. It's not a good way to practice kaizen - that is small and continuous progressive steps toward improvement. The lesson, if any, that I'm drawing from doing physiotherapy, is that small and continuous steps eventually build up to some more powerful things. Committing to major resolutions, more likely than not, involves throwing one's life out of balance which one is rarely prepared for. I've had enough of life out of balance happening since August - thank you very much; yet I still seek structured improvement for my welfare. The novelty and excitement withers away quickly too when things are over-planned, and there is no chance for surprise and spontaneity.  I hope this strategy is one way to improve upon that. Twelve things per month, be they leisurely or ambitious, amounts to about three things a week with which to reward or better oneself. That's as many times per week as I do PT, and I'm getting results for the better. That sounds enriching and progressive enough for me.

This is also a very deliberate way to exploit stuff that I already have, it's just the element of pacing and time that really is the thing that needs to be adjusted. For example, lots of people have books on their shelves that they haven't touched yet, so list them and use them. The same goes with other stuff that they may be hoarding. This then becomes a practical measure to prevent thoughtless and impulsive spending. I hope calling this a game will perchance draw some kind of fun into the whole process, despite the fact that it does involve some discipline. The cards/dice aspect of it brings in a bit of a mysterious element of divination of sorts. I just like the math and probability calculation of it. It is making a personal lottery where you can (choose to) win every time. All in all, after dealing with the spells of bad luck I've had, my true ambition is just to be somehow happier. We'll see by the end of next December.

Since I have nothing else to reflect on, or share for the rest of this year, I'll only bid everyone happy holidays. I hope that I'll have better things to share for 2017.

*- Because I was playing a video game, and became too frustrated at being stuck at one level with monster robots constantly blowing my head off. A not so productive way to use my recovery time.

**- Unless you are already in a 12 step program with AA, disregard this idea.

***- If using a pair of six sided dice, the last slip of paper left of the 12 in the category automatically goes into the envelope designated as #1.

****- If you would rather devote your time, money, and energy for preparing for Christmas (or other primary holiday month), just simply play this game with 11 envelopes, 132 paper slips, and pull out the red and black queens (if using cards), disqualify the 12 roll if using a die/dice. The parameters are thus adjustable.

Two Weeks Gibbled

I don’t know why I’m troubling myself to write this. It’s not like this is a life event that I’d like to ever remember happening. Perhaps, it’s for the sake of reading it later in the future when I’m going through a rough period of real misery and suffering to remind myself that I have some ability to cope when I’m going through some sort of limbo when dealing with impairment. It’s now 4:51 AM, and I had nothing else to do. I’m sleepless because it’s been a full two weeks plus a couple days without being set in a regular rhythm of a typical workweek cycle. I’m also an insomniac due to being woken by either jolting surges of pain, or failing miserably to find an alternative resting position that has been relaxing enough to have a decently long stretch of recuperative nighttime sleep almost every night since the accident. The rest of my muscles in my neck, shoulders, and upper back are becoming loaded with tension with the exhaustion, and from hauling my defective arm around in a sling much of each day. Maybe the problems are also exacerbated from me being too stubborn and frugal, by not opting for a full and regular dosage of pain medication that I should perhaps be using. I’ve been reluctant to just cut loose to take the pills every time I feel pain and soreness. I’ve been trying to make three days worth of meds stretch out for a week. I’m not fond of how they make me dull-headed and absent-minded; taking away from my lucidity. They also seem to be harsh on my stomach; until recently, my appetite has been poor* because of that. Even though I know I don’t really have an additive personality, I’m not interested in approaching a place where I’d be constantly reliant, or hooked, on using opiates or codeine as a crutch to get me through an average day. The pain has finally at least become more tolerable: at least to a point where I don’t feel I need to bite on a leather belt to ride around in a lurching vehicle. It is tempting to gulp whatever hard liquor I have left around here to tranquilize me and knock me out for the count for some sleep, but I’m not curious as to what it would be like mixing poisons, especially while I’m trying to get my blood chemistry right again. Except for a brief tour of Beerfest last weekend for some small samples, I’ve had no alcohol since my accident.

Before I sat down to write this, I used the past half hour I’ve been awake to check and re-dress the wound site (looks OK), to hand wash my sling and hang dry it, and to piddle around with other light housework that wasn’t too noisy. Inadvertently, I’m also being a creepy security presence for the building. Having a light on behind me, and being this eerie-looking, black robe clad, shadowy figure in the window (as would be seen from the view from the parking lot) has made a couple of hooded sketchy-looking little bastards quicken their step to disappear out of the alley way as they walked past the building at this hour. I filled a glass of water, fitted on an ice pack, and stepped outside onto the balcony, with my housecoat draped sloppily around me. The sky had nothing interesting to display or reveal astronomically speaking, but the air was at least somewhat soothing and refreshing. It’s rich and saturated with the signature smells of early fall. I think about the one with whom I’d like to share this moment with: be it with this same silence, breathing this same air, or else for me to be simply absorbed in the pleasure of listening to her talk. It was she with her good heart and positive attitude, more than anyone, despite the distance between us, who has helped me to focus on better things and helped give me the mindset to endure all this by myself.

I’m trying not to get hung up on the hundred other things that put me in a peevish mindset that I’m encountering with losing full use of an arm while trying to manage everything alone. It’s frustrating not being able to do some things like: entering and driving my car**, flossing my teeth, opening containers, tying shoelaces, or even simply putting on and fastening a regular pair of jeans, or anything else requiring two arms and heavy lifting. I’m trying to think of the comparisons and differences between this spell of long-term recovery time, and the time when I came out of the hospital with impaired heart and lung issues. This ranks as only slightly better: in that my energy and capacity for activity is a lot more predictable, my brain isn’t being starved of oxygen, and it’s nothing from which I could potentially collapse if I strain too hard. If something does snap again, I can at least get myself to the hospital more conveniently.

The issue with my circulation after having the hematoma removed is still a little finicky. My coagulation (INR) numbers aren’t quite right yet; my blood chemistry still needs work on being normalized (normal for me). I’ve been given some extra doses of Tinzaparin injections for the next few days for the time being to treat that. My stomach is going to look like a dart board, with my bellybutton as the bull’s eye. That’s where the injections go, and there is usually pronounced bruising around the injection sites. The palm of my left is still a sickly shade of bluish purple and tender, but the rest of the swelling and bruising along my arm has gone down substantially. There is still feeling and (stiff) movement in my fingers, but I can’t yet pivot my wrist at all. I haven’t dared to try flex arm yet without the doctor’s say so. Thinking about all the bloody craziness I had to go through just to get treated, I’m very disinclined to do anything that would put my progress in jeopardy, and going through the hell of waiting to readjust my blood again, and repeating another risk of a dangerous bout of internal bleeding, all for the sake of preparing to get cut open again because of trying to do some unnecessary and foolish movement.

I realize that my birthday is soon approaching. I hardly think that I’ll be in a celebratory mood for it. I don’t really care to enter and note the beginning a new year of life being at a state where I’m far from the better version of myself. I’m scheduled to have my dermal stitches removed next Thursday, and then getting an assessment and fuller picture of what to plan and adapt for thence.

*- Since the day of my surgery, it wasn’t until yesterday that I’ve really put some effort into doing some food prep. Operating a knife one-handed is a test of my patience for sure. Handling a vegetable peeler and food shredder isn’t much easier either. I managed to make some homemade soup, and dabbled with East Indian food for my supper prep. I was just trying to use up the stuff in my fridge and freezer, but maybe I subconsciously chose to make Indian food to draw some lesson from it, because of the cultural etiquette of handling and serving food with just the right hand. Offering or passing food with the left hand is considered a major no-no. Some street vendors in India, cooking for all the public to see, go so far as not handle or touch any food at all with the left hand while preparing it. It would be bad for business if one is witnessed them touching food with the hand, in their no toilet paper culture, that’s reserved for such personally hygiene ablutions.   

**- I just think that driving with half the physical capacity, while one’s brain is doubly fogged with analgesics, isn’t a very bright idea, even if I could successfully squirm into my vehicle without feeling tortured.

5Q5A: Recuperating

This is for the rest of you who were wondering what happened 11 days ago, so I can settle rumours and not be troubled with having to explain it a thousand times over. Seeing that I’m limited to only typing with one hand, I’m keeping it as a shortened summary in 5Q5A format. It’s also early Sunday morning, at around 3:00 AM. I’ve taken to taken to writing at this hour because I am short of pain-killers to deal with the consequences of the subject in the lines below, and I’m trying to distract myself, and to to divert my energy somewhere else besides attending to pain.

Q1. So what the <bleep> happened anyway?!

A1. While doing a task at work involving moving a load of stuff somehow my bicep tendon became detached, and tore away completely, from the bone in my left arm. I can’t surmise how the interplay between the physical motion I made and the anatomical malfunction worked out for such a freakish thing to happen; it just did.

Q2. How was it all going in terms of pain when it happened?

A2. Surprisingly, when the incident initially happened, considering the nature of the injury, pain wasn’t a real issue. I felt a sharp snap in the crook of my arm, but whatever I sensed immediately after that didn’t register instantly as what I’d recognize as “pain”. I was probably going into shock as I was doing some self-assessing, and realizing what probably happened within the minutes after it occurred. I managed to drive myself to the hospital alone. It occurred at some time between 8:30 and 9:00 AM, and I didn’t get out of the hospital until sometime after 5:00 PM. The idiots back then gave me neither pain killers, nor a sling for my injured arm. Throughout the rest of that day, my pain rating on a scale from 1 to 10 ranked about a three. The morning after though, it was a different story.  

Q3. What course of treatment did you have?

A3. The treatment itself is a matter of simply reattaching the tendon with orthopaedic surgery, but the process was made complicated by the fact that: a.) I had to get a medication out of my system first before they could operate on me, and b.) I was fraught with several delays to get into an operation room, because I became a lower priority in terms of urgency status, and bumped a few times because the timing was such that I was put in triage with a mix of more serious accidents that required more immediate attention. During that time, a hematoma was forming in my arm, putting me in more risk and danger of serious things associated with clotting disorders, like more embolisms, heart attack/stroke, nerve damage, necrosis of tissues/gangrene, and death. Apparently, by the time I had surgery, after nearly a week since the incident, the hematoma that was taken out of me prior to the tendon reattachment was the size of a grapefruit. The procedure itself went well, according to the attending surgeon. I waited just a little over a week to get into surgery, and my recovery started really only four days ago.

Q4. Greatest impediments thus far?

A4. I lost even more range of motion since the surgery. I am not supposed to risk flexing my arm at all for a long time. My greatest challenges are washing and dressing. Amazingly, I’ve managed to find a trick to put in my contact lens. I can’t tie my shoe laces. I tried one afternoon; it took me twenty minutes for tying laces of just one shoe with one hand. The knots were too loose though, and they fell apart soon after. So, I’m dependant on sandals and slip-ons for a while. I’m lucky that I’ve cached away a lot of my leftovers as frozen food: that will make kitchen work easier and economical. It’s too much of a hassle to fumble around cooking right now. Walking the dog when I’m rendered this way is like trying to control a wild bull, but we’re figuring out ways to deal with it. I also can’t drive for the time being. It was a challenge to enter, exit, and steer my vehicle when I had a fuller range of motion just before surgery. Now, I need at least couple weeks of healing before I can do it safely. The rest of the time I’m sure will be a learning experience about new ways of dealing with pain, and trying not to be a victim of my own frustration and boredom with all these new limits placed upon me.

Q5. What are you thankful for?

A5. If I was destined to have such an injury, I’m thankful it was at the end of summer, and maybe I’ll get to heal up before the more severe part of winter arrives. I’m grateful it didn’t occur on my right arm, or else I’d be seriously screwed. I’m thankful for my brothers and mother for availing themselves to help me get some things tidied up, put in order, and made more accessable, and for giving me rides to appointments and doing errands while I’m forced to convalesce. Thanks to the people who helped out to walk the dog. Thanks for the get well wishes from all my other friends and family.

Pre-Surgery

I’m just barely awake this morning: pain, anxiety, and frustration kept me from getting any rest. I'm writing to distract myself from my thirst and hunger. I can’t just take the route of just eating breakfast and drinking coffee to make an effort to liven me up for the day. I’m supposed to be fasting, as I wait for a call to go back to the hospital. A complicated series of events that transpired since last Wednesday have left me in a less than an upbeat mood. I’ve been injured at work, the result being that my bicep tendon has been torn away completely, it least that’s the initial assessment that was made by an orthopedic surgeon. I waited eight hours there before I was sent back home, without even anything practical to use, like a sling, or pain-killers. I could have been in surgery the very day I arrived in the hospital on Wednesday, but things, of course, can never flow that easily. I have to be taken off other medications I use first before they can cut me open, or else I’d just bleed to death. I’ve been made to endure four days of pain, to allow for my blood chemistry to be readjusted, before they can admit me to reattach the connective tissue. In the meanwhile, I’ve been watching my arm swell up, and the skin around the injured area and the forearm sort of chameleonize to weird mottled shades of vermillion, blue, and purple. I was called on Sunday, told to get there for to prepare for surgery that morning. What ended up happening was an almost 10 hour wait in the emergency waiting room, only to be sent home again. It ended up that a couple of other accidents occurred while I was on my way to the hospital, and then as I waited there. The operating theatres became used for these emergencies, and my procedure got deprioritized, and eventually cancelled for the day. I ranted about it on a Facebook post, but I realize how senseless doing that all is. It’s mostly the pain talking. A friend commented that a silver lining has to be found here somewhere. I’m trying to find it.

I arrived home to find Ella very anxious, squeaky, and whiny. She either sensed how irritated and upset I was, or she was triggered by the tell-tale hospital stench that clung to my clothing after nearly 10 hours of waiting there. She has learned to associate that hospital smell with something bad. When my clothes were brought home, without me in them, from the last long stay at the hospital I had nearly two years ago, she went into melt-down panic mode. It was the longest that we’ve ever been separated from each other, and along with the hospital stench the clothes no doubt smelled with, they also stank with my own fear and angst tainted sweat, which made her upset. It has also been disappointing her for the past few days that I’m not allowing her to eagerly charge at me like a bullet to jump into my arms, and to sniff and kiss my face to greet me when I arrive home. She probably feels rejected. As much as I appreciate the welcome, I wouldn’t be able to stand the pain of the impact.

This morning, since 5:00 AM, still aggravated, all I could think of doing was tidying up the place as best as I could with only my right hand and arm, and a semi-useful left hand on an arm I can’t flex without pain. It wasn’t like I was doing anything too delicate or complicated: like threading needles or tinkering with engines. Tasks like changing razors, stocking my shelves, filling the fridge with frozen leftovers, throwing out garbage, folding laundry, and changing fitted bedsheets was enough of a challenge with just one hand and a quarter hand/arm capacity to use. I thought silly things like this stuff should be done before my arm gets put in some cast, and rendered even more immobile and useless.

So, where is the silver lining in all of this? I suppose if I was ignorant about how useful my left hand really was, I’m certainly not anymore. I’ve had a lot of time given to me watching people getting carted in the emergency ward who are in worse shape than I’m in. Something to remind me that my days could be a lot worse. I have that going on everyday for me at work really, but somehow one has to tune it out to keep oneself functional and sane. It sounds selfish, but it’s really a defense mechanism, especially now for the last while as my duties changed over to doing something more analytical. It struck me two entries ago, about how I said how important it was to keep strong and fit if one wants to do well with living in singlehood. I don’t exactly have that going on anymore; having a fraction of my physical capacity now. I’ve been forced to reach out to people I like and trust to ask for help with things: I’m terrible at doing that sort of thing.

I’m not posting this to any of the social media links I’m on. If people really care to know this personal stuff, they’ll trouble themselves to find this entry themselves. I was told that there is a regularly small risk of heart attack, stroke, or death during an operation. Given that I have some precursors that elevate my risks for those things somewhat, I’ll just say that to those who are dear to me, I’ll be thinking of all of you before they put me under. Thank you for being part of my life. I hope things don’t be going from bad to worse, but if they do, I’m going to be taking my memories of you with me.

They'll hopefully calling me soon, time to wrap up and get ready to go. I hope the next few weeks of healing from all this won’t be too hassle-laden and turbulent.

La Loche

I tried to have a good as a weekend as I could, given the horrible events in this province that happened recently. It’s not an incident I want to make a special effort to remember; yet it is one that simply can’t be ignored . . .

This province is a place that’s normally so obscure to most of the rest this globe: except to those who were part of the diaspora of leaving here for grander opportunities, or who still have family settled and rooted here. Lately, there has been a terrible light that has been shone upon us. For those of us who live in this province, which few people on this globe can pronounce, or would care to otherwise bother to find on a map, it’s a spotlight shining most unfavourably, on a remote place with little of anything redeeming to offset its reputation of being a rough spot to live in this province. We are (were) an ordinarily peaceful region in comparison to the rest of the world. Now however, we are no longer exempt from the list of places where violent shooting rampages can possibly occur. Now, a signal of further collapse towards the dark side of humanity in the northern communities and the first nations’ reserve lands is beckoning. This recent result: four dead, several others seriously injured. It’s a harsh glimpse into a community where society is already close-knit yet fragile, where families are already shattered with higher than average rates of poverty, unemployment, addictions, and suicides. Its isolation and lack of basic amenities and services don’t help either, nor does the clash of cultures, or having a provincial government who is largely dismissive of having mental healthcare, or even healthcare in general, accessible to its citizens; doing what it is doing to dissolve more of what little there is available already. It occurred at a time of year when the trough of wintertime depression is the deepest for most. There simply was less chance and resources for adequate intervention and prevention for things like what happened in La Loche recently. Most people are shocked, saddened, and angered about what happened there. As for me, after considering all the factors at play, it was no longer a question of if things like this could happen there, but a question of when and how severely the outcome would be.

Whether this all stemmed from long term recurring generational community strife and social problems, or simply is a punctuation of this script as a volatile short term mental derangement of one individual is debatable. There are not enough things yet released in the news suggesting how this storm of rampant untamed violence ultimately erupted. All we know for now is that it was a male young offender who did this, meaning under the Young Offenders Act of Canadian law, his name won’t be released to the public. The exact factors, precursors, and triggers of the events in this town will remain in question, as will the more detailed psychiatric profile of the perpetrator. There was some suggestion of bullying going on. As much as I can empathize with that young man given his age for struggling to deal with such an issue, I certainly don’t condone his chosen course of action to deal with it.

Mass shootings were once thought be limited mostly to the domain of that crazy nation downstairs*, with their psychotic fascination and promotion of gun culture, the ridiculous interpretations of their constitution’s second amendment, and the more relaxed regulations for firearm ownership and types of weapons one can own. Now, this insidious trend is appearing in other normally peaceful and civilized nations and societies, albeit (thankfully) in a less frequent degree. Norway, Sweden, Finland have suffered such tragedies in the past decade. Paris France, of course, is still a salient memory. Australia had the Port Arthur incident in the 90’s. Quebec (like École Polytechnique) and Alberta (Taber) are the other provinces in this nation to have had gunmen charging into schools and opening fire.

I can only imagine the sorrow and mood in such a community that has been unwillingly thrust by these circumstances into the view and focus of the whole nation, and to the rest of the world with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s announcement of the tragedy in such an international forum like Davos, Switzerland. It’s moment of infamy that won’t ever be erased from the hearts and memories of those who were families and neighbours to the slain and wounded victims. Two teachers were lost, in a place with already precious few positive engaging role models who could have benefited that community. I hope the survivors get the support they need somehow; no simple bandage of financial support is going to make this nightmare go away for them, or reform an already shattered community.

*- To date, the first 25 days of this year of 2016, at this moment, the United States alone has had 786 recorded deaths by guns. That already amounts to more than half of all the gun deaths that occur in Canada for an entire year (an average of roughly 1300 for the past 25 years, according to Statistics Canada). Statistically, you are more likely to be shot to death in the United States than you are to die in a car accident in Canada.

Labour Day Weekend Bucket Dump

A combination of rainfall from outside and my pooch snoring at the foot of my bed woke me up this morning. It rained buckets overnight. I would have went back to sleep if I wasn’t immediately seized by overpowering leg cramps soon afterward. I couldn’t think of much else to do since 5:30 AM to quietly take my mind away from the pain, except to write. I realize that it is somewhat ironic that I am finding myself starting off this day stuck in bed, trying to unlock and unfold myself from a fetal position, because it is my birthday. It will be nothing significant or monumental. It’s forecasted that it will be drizzling and gloomy all day, and all the people I’d like to share this day with have their own long weekend plans, or are out of town or province, or out of the country. It’s the kind of day where I definitely feel I’ve grown a lot older, but not much wiser or better; hardly worth celebrating. The only special thing I can think doing is to try to move soundly enough to make some coffee and my breakfast of choice, and to tour around the world a bit from the armchair: reading online travel guides, and articles and posts from the Quebecois and European news sources*. Beyond that, my motivation and speculation for activities for the rest of the day is as dull and grey as the sky is now. All I know is that suppressing aches and pains, being forced to sit still, staring at screens, and perusing lines of text isn’t the ideal way to spend this day.

But hold on a second . . . I just caught sight of a blog entry from Tim Ferriss. It is about bucket lists. It occurs to me that I don’t officially have one. Given that it is my birthday, it should be the gift I give to myself. If I can do nothing but sit around, retreat into my own head, and write, I might as well devote some time and serious thought and focus to this instead of being depressed and watching it rain buckets. I won’t be sharing it: it’s too personal. I will divulge that:

·         I’ll shoot for about a 100 things. That alone could be challenging enough to be classified as list item # 1. It was hard enough just to think of one thing for the  "Before I Die I Want to . . ." Wall I mentioned earlier.

·         Skydiving won’t be on there. It's a ridiculously cliché thing that a lot of other people put on theirs. A bucket list, in my mind, is about the things you want to do to make you feel alive; not doing things that would kill you in such a way that there would be nothing left of you except stuff that can only be scooped up and put in a bucket. I had to return to this point to edit this a bit. It's not like I'm advising against it to those who really want to try it out, just make sure that it's the last thing  on your list . . . unless you are a real asshole to everyone, then please do us all a favour, and make it the first thing to do on your bucket list.

·         No experimenting with drugs, nor anything else illegal, will be on there. I prefer lucidity, and not risking wasting any of this precious lifetime I have left behind bars.

·         It won’t involve any buying anymore gadgets and or computing technology. It will be about shifting from the virtual world to more engagement with the real one.

If anything, I hope it sets me on a course of being more energized and motivated for the day and beyond, and not victimizing myself with too much boredom during this day of solitude.

*- Aside from the actual news, I do it more so to help me retain some of my secondary language skills. Reading the translated versions of my own blog entries, on subjects that are of interest to me, and which stem from my own original thinking, is another useful learning and retention technique that I also exploit. I’m still lousy at oral communication: in that I usually don’t easily comprehend what is being spoken to me. Transmission OK; reception bad.

Hacking Combinatorial Abundance (and Cheat Days)

The cooler days that are signaling the dwindling down of summer and autumn’s approach are here. There are fewer days are left to enjoy my beverages outside, and to dangle in the hammock to read. I’m dying a little already in knowing that. I’m still healing my legs; so I haven’t done as much running lately. I’ve been cutting back both in frequency and intensity from what my program mandates. Thankfully, there have been fewer cracking and snapping noises coming from my hips and legs since I opted to tune it down. I mustered up the gumption to try for six kilometers last Thursday after a bit of a lapse. My substitute exercise after that has simply been longer walks with the dog. Saturday and Sunday was left for me to build a meal plan as the rain came.

As I said in my last entry, I’ve got a new eating/menu plan going on*, and in an effort to not feel desperately deprived, I’m taking advantage of starting it during this season with its bounty of newly harvested local fresh vegetables. I don’t know what is working better: the actual eating plan and eating things that have their peak nutritional content, or just because the extra heat and stress last week was killing my appetite, but I’ve lost eight pounds of mass without even doing much of anything. Whether it’s loss of actually body fat or from dehydration is debatable. Pounds lie all the time.

One thing that I bring to mind which gives me comfort and confidence for being able to stick to the plan is mathematics: more specifically, being mindful of combinations and permutations. In the same way that I determined that a reckless and unorthodox science geek/recipe buster like me will never make or eat the same kind of homemade soup or pizza twice, I reasoned that I should never feel deprived if take into account of utilizing even a small set of healthy ingredients (and omitting the junk carbs) that conforms to my plan, and by playing with the various combinations of them, resulting in hundreds, if not thousands, of unique recipes. Within all that, there have to be some options in there somewhere that are not only low-carb, high-fibre, high-vitamin, and high in protein, but delicious as well, and . . .  most importantly, will allow me to be less bored and frustrated with eating within these limitations. I should have added a subtitle above: How to diet without going totally f^%!ing insane!

Does that sound impossible to do? No, it really isn’t, is the answer. However, it’s sobering to realize that I’m more of a fixed habitual eater than I care to admit, and I have to learn to think outside the box more than I already do. How do I approach them, these changes I mean? I do the following things, with numerical reckonings by the use of a tool like the Supercook website (www.supercook.com). Simply input all the ingredients you have (or should be eating), and then let the automation take care of generating all the possible/plausible options you have for yourself. I thought my fridge and pantry were almost bare, until I plugged in the items of my inventory, and had over 6000 recipes listed for me with just those things.

Breakfast: The major habit change is early morning. I may not eat most of my carbs in the morning, but the way I eat them (or rather having the absence of them) is a radical change. I don’t fancy pancakes, so they are no loss to me. Neither is hot or cold cereal**. However, no toast for six days of the week though, that is a challenge for me. Bread is my most frequently used vehicle for eating carbohydrates, and to eat eggs without toast or English muffins, without being able to pile them with my eggs and other fixings on this platform, is like some sort of sacrilege of my ritual for me.
The remedy is scrambled eggs or omelettes about three or four times a week. There are countless ways to fill an omelette even with the ingredients and condiments I already have; scrambled eggs are one of those dishes that appear in some form in all international cuisines, each with its own ethnic signature. Lots of healthful options there; so I shouldn’t feel at all lacking in anything***.

Lunch: It’s easier to think of options for this, since it is already largely a part of my lifestyle. Mindful and simple advanced preparation is a bonus about it too. Twenty minutes of prep time at the most is all I need to make about five or six meal portions with my chop/slop/plop/drop-in-a-crockpot method of cooking. Anything with meat, vegetables, beans and lentils in it to poach, braise, or stew is fair game. I have a good stockpile of frozen healthy homemade soups as well. Raw salads, pickles, and fermented vegetables take care of the rest.

Supper: Another difficult phase because I’m at work, and there isn’t the stock of spices or ingredients that I like that I have at home. Lots of processed, trans-fat laden, and preserved food is there. Meals were brought from home instead most of the time at the last go around. I just have to be a little more mindful to check their menu in advance.

Bad Carb Plan: Being not the wasteful sort, I choose to cook and process any remaining “white” carbs and sugars around the kitchen into stuff that can be refrigerated or frozen, and eaten on the

Something I made to throw into the
"bad carb" bank for cheat day:
A Caramel and Apple Cheesecake . . .
to be thawed out for my birthday.

designated “cheat day”. See below.

Cheat Day: The holy of holies - a no-holds-barred orgy of gluttony for one day of the week (I choose Saturday). During the week, one banks the cravings. One can note them on a list or use a snapshot to record all the not-so-go-for-you food, and other diet violators into your own personal collection of food porn. It is the day when I could go to any restaurant without guilt, or drink alcohol more liberally if I so choose to. During the cheat day, you may also discover or do these things:

·         At the end of the week, you may notice that most of your craving targets earlier in the week were just passing fancies, and most of the stuff you noted or stuck in an album back then doesn’t turn your crank now. Whatever is left on there that you are just dying for is conveniently there to transfer to a grocery list, or is already cached in your freezer, and with the impulsivity element tamed and taken away, you will also save some time and money.

·         You may realize just how boring white carbs, all by themselves, really are. Just think about it - they are rarely consumed without some other flavouring: bread, potatoes, rice, tortillas, and pasta usually need to be enhanced with fat, sweetness, salt, meat, or zesty/savory/spicy sauces. When it does come to my cheat day, white carbs aren’t really the first things that come to mind when I want to binge on something, it’s the flavouring or seasoning in the sauce or other fixings on that pizza, or in the rice bowl, or on that potato chip, or in that pie shell. Targeting the flavours you crave, but not the carbs, is something to bring to mind for the next shopping trip or the next six days of the week.

·         Learn the easy way – while eating your bad foods, you may discover that you just can’t eat as much as you usually could, because your stomach will have shrank a bit during the first six or so days. You, by default, then are automatically and willingly reducing your own calorie intake, but you at least get enough of a taste of what makes you happy. Or, you may . . .

·        Learn the hard way – that is you up end ignoring your stomach signals, and go out on a full-blown rampage of a barbarous binge fest. The indigestion and the pain and discomfort of a near-bursting gut that you experience afterward from trying to overstuff your shrunken belly is enough to dissuade you from eating like that ever again for a long while, and you may approach the next six days with exercising a lot more self-control and discipline. In comparing people to jackasses: some people just can’t learn to move forward by following the carrot; they need to be beaten with the stick instead.

Eagerly Anticipated Cheat Day Foods (for the next ten Saturdays, at least****): Beer, Toast, Rye Bread, English Muffins, Liver Varenyky, Pho Soup, Homemade Pizza, Homemade Perogies, Piroshky, Spring rolls, Bagels and Cream Cheese, Kvass, Empanadas, Enchiladas, Croissants from Christine’s Bakery, Tacos, Linguini alla Vongoli, Sushi, Potato Pancakes, Battered and Deep Fried Pike, Dim Sum Buns, Cabbage Rolls, Whiskey, Ice Cream, Cheese Cake. But, as I said . . . these cravings too may pass.   

*- In hopes to peel off some weight to take more pressure and wear off my joints passively. Actually, to be more accurate, I’m redeploying an old plan that was successful for me: The Slow-Carb Diet™, from the book, The 4-Hour Body, by Timothy Ferriss.

**- A little bit of a cheat is eating course milled grain (like steel cut oats) porridge. I only eat it on the mornings when I do a longer course of running/walking. I don’t use milk or sugar though. I may throw in some yogurt after it’s cooked. I make it with a thinner consistency, and it’s flavoured by cooking it my slow cooker over night with cinnamon sticks, nuts, and other sweet spices (cloves, cardamom, poppy or chia seeds, walnuts, almonds, etc.). Enough is made for three running days of the week, which includes Cheat Day Saturday.

***- Around the World in 44 Flavor Combinations on pages 148-149, in The 4 - Hour Chef, by Timothy Ferriss, is an example of different ways to eat eggs with an ethnic flare. Including them with the combinations of ingredients I currently have in my fridge, pantry, and cupboards to add to and make omelettes, I have about 687 different variations to experiment with: more than a couple of years’ worth of breakfasts that are in compliance to this regimen.

****- Hopefully my legs, hips, and feet will be fully healed by then.

Post Summer Solstice Holiday Planning

It is Saturday evening of the first weekend after the Summer Solstice. The Jazz Fest is on, but 12 kilometres of running in today’s heat left me a bit too weary to check it out tonight. It’s still too hot to sleep, so I’ve been sitting outside trying to cool down with a refreshing libation, and doing some self-assessing. It finally feels like I’m at least approaching the threshold of my fitter self. I’ve made a stronger commitment to train for running and to eat better since this month began. Maybe I don’t yet look it, but I’m finally starting to feel leaner and a bit lighter. I was comparing notes of the way I was close to this time in the season last year in another entry with how I’ve been feeling now, and I suppose also to find and remind myself of some motivators (Re-Motivating for More Clicks). By their comparisons, I still have some more healing and work to do.

As it is now, one small thing of novelty that I’m enjoying, and that is motivating me while I run, is a new set of Bluetooth wireless headphones. I love them. I bought them with a gift card I won in a draw. Knowing that I got them for free also puts a spring in my step. Listening to my progress stats, podcasts, and music without a bothersome cord dangling and tangling all around me admittedly is a nice liberating convenience. The only other bothersome thing to lose that’s flipping and flopping in front of me is whatever gut and man-boobs that I have left that were starting to sprout up after such a miserably idle and crippling winter/spring. Sorry for that tidbit of TMI, but in another couple weeks at this pace they’ll hopefully be absent as well. The more pressing need now is the conditioning and improvement of performance of my lungs and heart. If I don’t get those back, all else is in vain. They do seem to be getting better though, thankfully.

My other technical indulgence that I’ve been really liking is my new tablet computer, which I’ve been noodling around with and using to write this entry. I don’t know why I didn’t think of getting something like this sooner. It’s weird that my non-tech-savvy parents have had one of these long before I did. It is that perfect thing for times when lugging around a laptop is too cumbersome, or when a smart-phone app seems too miniscule and straining to my eyes. I also really hate typing with my thumbs. The touchscreen stylus mode it has is quicker and easier for me to interface than typing. When I get too bogged down by the wretched task using of my hunt and peck style of typing it limits and impairs my flow of thought and natural expression. I’m amazed to see that this thing can even decipher my chicken scratch! I’ve tested it to the degree of trying to fool it with using special characters [$, €, ¢, £,] and it seems to know its shit. What it doesn’t register very well though is accent marks, like umlauts and various others (á, ä, å, â, etc.). It is exactly the gizmo I’d want to have with me should I ever wish to commit to exploring the other grand things I’ve been scheming.

The scheming I’m referring to is a result of a harsh realization. Last week, on a day reserved for cross-training, I took a long walk up to Nutana, and made time to rendezvous with my friend for coffee. The last thing she asked me about in our conversation was how I was going to spend my holiday time for the year. I honestly had no answer for her about that. I was embarrassed to admit that I had already cancelled some vacation time I had booked off to attend some other Union affairs. I started to get uneasy thinking about it. The whole downhill slide with my health has been no doubt due to a failure to look after my own interests and needs. Constantly sacrificing my personal holiday time and energy for fixing problems and other things I see as bigger than me, or not making an effort to do anything meaningful with time off is all part of the same pattern. I realize that even after a serious brush with something nearly fatal months ago hasn’t really smartened me up to make better choices and use of my free time. I suppose (know) I was trapped in a malaise of not feeling my personal best to really find energy and stamina to do other such things beyond work, but now as this is starting to change; so is my attitude. I already snuck into a couple travel agencies to piece together some sort of package for stuff related to the sorts of things I noted in The Dream Circuits entry. That’s for a long term plan; right now I’m trying to plan on something more immediate for a getaway.

Canada Day is coming soon, and I have a week off for holidays. Both instinct and desperation are telling me to hit the road for a while, even if it’s just a daytrip to some place novel, now that my car is fixed and more roadworthy. As tempted as I am to stay put and save up more money for a proper flyaway vacation, I realize that’s just another way of squandering away precious time.

As for now, my compass needle is still spinning. I still don’t know where it is that I’ll be heading to; I do know I won’t be crossing the border to the states. It also seems senseless to plan to do any camping up North with the fire bans and random evacuation warnings happening because of the wildfires. There is still no rain in the forecast for that week, so the risks are just increasing as it gets drier. There are plenty of other crazy little sight-seeing objectives to target within the province that I haven’t seen yet. However, they are scattered all about. So, it’s unlikely that I’ll know what my tour plan will be until the last second before I leave.

On the bright side, spontaneity always makes things interesting.

The Marathon Itch

Since the end of April, I’ve been trying to exercise again, but I’ve been hit with more stumbling blocks. I’m at least cycling again to a normal speed and pace, but my endurance is still lacking. I’m guessing that my lungs give out at around 75% of what their normal past efficiency was. Damned pulmonary scar tissues are still being a nuisance to me. Cycling has been the only hardcore physical cardio activity I’ve been able to tolerate throughout the month, as there is less shock from it. Back pain due to a pinched nerve for the past few weeks has limited me to just that. Of course, this impedance restricted my ability to run. However, I’m finally feeling like I’ve recovered from that. All this while, it has been aching me to see so many people out there running, yet I couldn’t be among them.

I went to the Saskatchewan Marathon Expo yesterday. I wasn’t registered, but I was collecting a race package for someone who was. When I arrived at the Expo and reached the bike valet station, I was given a ticket with the big bold number of 007. It was a reminder that I had the smarts, discipline, and resilience before to adopt the “Bond” attitude before, and I’m sure I could put myself back in that place again. As I was cycling back home the downtown, I was lost in thought about what it will take to put me back into the shape my former self was in, and what kind of time and energy I could devote to it. I now have a goal, but I needed real science and numbers and figures to help guide me. So, like James Bond, I decided to scope out some of the course of the Saskatchewan Marathon, and covertly follow and use some real people as targets to assess some realistic metrics and information to fashion some running hacks.
I could hear the ruckus and commotion of the setting up of the Marathon all the way from the Exhibition grounds where the race starts this morning. The dog and I walked towards the starting gate, and I used the GPS on my phone and the stopwatch to get some data. Here is what I tracked down and found:

·         The stretch along St. Henry Avenue between the corners of Ruth and Hilliard is 0.211 km: that’s exactly 1/100^th of the distance of a half marathon (1/200^th of a full one). That’s convenient and useful for making a quick mental tachymeter calculation when I’m running through that section of street.

·         I found a target guy amongst the runners who was about my height, age, weight and build. I timed him and followed him between those two points. (1’ 52.62”, or 112.62 seconds)

·         Voila, I have what I need to determine realistic average target pace, at least initially.

·         Now, calculate that time and distance to a time/km figure for my slowest LDR pace (8’ 53.4”/km), and then go for a run try to hold that pace, and see how far I can get before pulmonary fatigue kicks in to get a baseline. I use that to work on extending my distance beyond that, progressively working up to the 21.1 km mark, and try and not to get too hung up on going faster.

I went for a trial run later after breakfast, which took me through some of the Marathon course. It was great to use the open road for a course way, and even though I wasn’t part of the race, the cheering bystanders were very motivating.

Notes on Improvement (in a Thousand Words)

It has been a wonderful and freakishly warm day off today. Warm enough to allow me to open up all the windows for the afternoon, and let the fresher outside air decontaminate the place of several months of accumulated stagnant indoor particulates. It's rare to have temperatures climb above 0°C around this time of the year around these parts. It has sparked me with happy thoughts and music to play in my head of places that are fun and warm. After seeing some of the exploits posted on Facebook of a friend who is enjoying her visit out of the country, in L.A., I can't get the song California Sun out of my head. Because she is a bit of a wilder sort of spirit for her years, and because one of her nicknames is Dee Dee, the hard-driving punk rock cover of that song by the Ramones has been looping itself in my mind repeatedly, not that sappier original 60's doo-wop pop version by the Rivieras. High energy music, combined with the warmer weather, has been the carrot for motivating me to use some of the day off to haul my ass back into the gym after this several month long hiatus. The stick part of the motivation equation was some news of a relative, several years younger than me, who was recently hospitalized for some severe cardiac problems. It was a significant enough prompt to tell myself to use this day as a stepping stone, and declare it as one to improve myself physically beyond this current state of recovery. I vowed to not allow myself to risk becoming that buggered up, or to become softer and weaker any further with my cardio-pulmonary health.

I realized that a trip to any fitness facility now was going to be a sobering slap upside the head: facing up to the facts of just how far I've deteriorated in physical conditioning over the past while. My regular mindset of the priming 007 attitude wasn't working well enough for me then when I went in and out those doors of the Field House today. All that happened was that I was reminded how much of a change I went through. In the context of 007, I went from being the parkour-running-terrorist-chaser, Neptune-rising-from-the-waves, beach-nymph-shagging, balls-of-solid-rock, able-to-recover-from-being-poisoned-in-minutes specimen of James Bond in Casino Royale, to being the bedraggled, plummeting-off-a-train-bridge, uranium-bullet-riddled, burnt-out, can't-shoot-worth-a-shit, washed-up, booze-sponging bastard version of James Bond in the beginning of Skyfall . . . except maybe three times worse than that.

My objectives for today were simply to check over and compare what I could do before having the embolisms, and what I can do now in terms of cardio and strength exercises. I didn't even bother to time myself when I did the track work. The target was just to be on that track for 15 minutes, moving as briskly as my body would allow me to: by running, walking, crawling, or slithering along by my lips if I had to. It was by far the most disappointing comparison in how much I declined. I did a slow jog for the first two laps before I became too winded, and then after that I alternated between one lap doing some quick walking, and the next slow jogging each time around. I managed to last the whole fifteen minutes. What I must note and be thankful for is that even though it felt tough, at no time through the exertion did my vision start to blur and tunnel; nor did I start seeing any dark or flickering dots swirling into a dizzying vortex: the tell-tale signs of coming close to blacking out and fainting. Five weeks ago, this was what was happening frequently after doing something like a simple brisk walk through a big room, or a large store space, within just a couple minutes. I suppose in that sense, I have recovered a lot; yet I'm far from my optimal self to allow me to start running hard core again.

Strength training exercises were a bit better, but not by much. I set my objective to have a full-body workout with 1 – 2 sets per activity. I tried the leg press machine first, since my legs are the strongest part of me. In my fitter running days, I used to be able to do at least one set of 8-10 presses on the maximum setting (173 kg, or over 380 lbs) on this one machine. Now, I was struggling with 133 kg (300 lbs). That's a huge drop, something like over 20% in power. The decrease in my arm strength is even worse, I would reckon closer to 30% for them. My upper body/back declined the least. The vertical presses and rows showed that I only decreased about 8%. My chest was probably kept stronger through all the extra effort I had to use to breathe. I also did some core work, and swung a 35 lb kettlebell for a bit, and then called it a day. Again, it's all relative: knowing that back around Christmas, hauling a medium sized TV up a flight of stairs weakened me drastically for a couple days; so being able to commit to the rigours of today actually seemed like a real victory.

I had a nap when I came home, the best I've had in ages. Afterward, I felt like a totally different person. Maybe my metabolism finally got re-ignited. I feel like I instantly dropped a pants size. Perhaps the muscle work is getting some detox action happening. Maybe enough testosterone was released to make me feel like a bad-ass. I don't know, but right now, even as cramped-up and sore as I am, I finally feel like I shed a wound-up cocoon of depression that was three months thick. It's a little too ambitious to get into this habit three times a week, but using one day off per week for the next month seems reasonable.

Yuletide Gratitude

The 10 simple things making this a very nice holiday:

• Surviving November's ordeal (perhaps not so simple, but I'm thankful all the same), and being well enough to stay out of a hospital and to travel. Some people won't have this benefit this year.
• El Niño, and the consequential weather patterns that made the incredible scenes of hoar frost laden trees and buildings, and yet was mild enough to be out to enjoy such views before Christmas.
• A recent windfall that covered most of my Xmas shopping expenses.
• Watching the dog's reaction and excitement of receiving a gift from one someone. The aerial manoeuvers she performed to simultaneously greet an auntie, and then do a Kamikaze drive head first into a gift bag to get her treats was entertaining to watch. I wish I had video footage. It was like Ella Boo Boo's Flying Circus happening there and then.
• Discovering Gevalia coffee: it is divine stuff. Seeing that it comes from Sweden, the number one coffee-drinking nation in the world, one would think that they would know their stuff, and they sure do. Add that to the other great things to make it here from Sweden, like IKEA, ABBA, Skype, maybe the Koenigsegg hypercar, and Malin Åkerman*.
• Homemade Butter Tarts, Cabbage Rolls, Surprise Seafood Spread, and Turkey Stuffing with gravy. If this is all I had to eat for the holiday, I would still be quite happy.
• Dad having another birthday, and seeing that one more year of age hasn't stopped him from being the silly and witty old character that he is.
• My present: a set of cookware, a welcome new addition to the arsenal that is my kitchen. I guess I can finally retire the hand me down cooking pots that I have been using thus far.
• Not hearing so much ridiculous exposure on the news about the political correctness of using Happy Holidays versus Merry Christmas.
• Finally breaking some cycle of depression, and learning how to deal with all this being alone with idleness and no energy, and sitting still by myself without as much negative thinking and anxiety overwhelming me (again, perhaps not such a simple thing).

*- Well . . . I'm not too sure about ABBA or IKEA, Skype has glitches, and the Koenigsegg isn't even street legal here . . . but most definitely for sure, MALIN ÅKERMAN.