Saturday, June 2, 2012
In the future
Living in the future is pretty damn neat. I am posting this entry from my smart phone. I've got my twitter feed posting to this blog and to my Facebook wall. I've connected and woven technology into the very fabric of my day to day life. I wonder how deep this rabbit hole goes. Is there a bottom? What will we find when we get there?
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Ugly Truth On Why I Started Running...
To put it mildly, I was overweight. I'd spent the better portion of my late twenties and early thirties playing video games in my down time. I work in a office, so I spent most of my days in the same basic position. Add in a terrible diet, and my weight had ballooned up to 235 pounds. I got to a point where my wedding ring no longer fit.
I'm sorry about this last one...
Aside from the affect the weight had on my figure, the alarm bells were starting to go off at the doctors office. My physician was concerned enough about my over all health and results of my blood-work to recommend that I begin taking Statins to lower my cholesterol levels.
I was 33 at the time. I was shocked and scared. Thing is, it took me about 6 months past the appointment to get over the shock and off my ass. The thing that finally got me moving was a blog post by an high school class mate.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Solar Eclipse
Took this through my welding mask glass on the most recent solar eclipse on 5/20/12. Trying to convince myself to by a hydrogen alpha filter for my lens.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Let Me Clear My Throat
In general, I try to treat the internet like I would a crowded bar: I do my best not to step on anyone’s toes, spill any drinks, or do anything that would make anyone think less of me. Basically, the things I put out there (here) are heavily filtered and as a result pretty benign. I play things close to the vest, to say the least.
I’ve been so bland that when I finally did utter a small string of profanity on Facebook over the premature death of a hard drive, there was a fair amount of shock among my friends and acquaintances. I made a quip about saving profanity for special occasions. While there is some truth to that, it dawned on me slowly that there are a lot of other things I hold back both in cyberspace and meatspace. In the spirit of personal growth I’m going to try and open up a bit.
I am an atheist.
While I haven’t made it a secret (it’s been on my Facebook profile since I first joined), I haven’t really talked about it either. I’ve refrained from frank honesty for a few reasons, but mostly not to rock the boat. I know many of my friends, family, and acquaintances are religious. I was (and still am) somewhat apprehensive that my simple act of disbelief would somehow offend. Ultimately, I decided that if I have any measure of respect for those I was (am) afraid of offending, I owe them honesty at the very least. My aim in this disclosure isn’t to convert, belittle, argue, insult, or offend. I don’t think less of those who believe, I only offer this up to share a bit of myself. However, if my admission of atheism offends, no further should you read.
How I Became A Disbeliever
I was born into a loosely religious household. I know I was baptized at a young age at First Lutheran Church in Janesville. While I’ve seen the photos, I have no recollection of the event. As a point of fact, I don’t recall spending much time in or at church. It didn’t seem to be part of our family life. Then when I was 5 (maybe 6) I remember my Mom telling me that we’d be going to church and I’d have to go to school on Sunday, too. I didn’t like the sound of that. More time in school meant less time playing was my line of thought. I didn’t understand the difference between Sunday school and regular, everyday school. Despite my of doubts, off to Sunday school I went.
I don’t recall to much of my early years at Sunday school or church, save an overwhelming feeling of boredom with a mix of confusion. Sitting a classroom hearing stories and filling out worksheets. It all seemed so odd and didn’t make sense to me. The services I attended were a ritual that was foreign to me as well. Sit, stand, sing, sit, stand, chant, sit, put envelope in gold plate and then more of the same. All the while my little boy body writhed with suppressed motion until that blissful moment when we were dismissed.
As time went on, I became accustomed to the rituals and as a result, more comfortable. My natural desire to please those around me kicked in and I tried pretty hard to really believe. I tried prayer, but never seemed to have one answered. The habit of Sunday school/church service became a part of my weekly routine. I still didn't like the time away from playing on Sunday mornings, but I was warming up to the idea. That all changed when I was in 7th grade.
The church offered a Confirmation class that seemed all but mandatory to me. It meant additional time in classes and church services. I was not in love with the idea at all. My parents and I fought about it all summer long leading up to the first classes and well after they began. At the time, the church offered two Sunday morning services. Class was held during the later service, with attendance at the early service required. This meant that the family went to the early service and then left me to attend class. My dad would then come back to church to pick me up when class was over. On one particular cold, gray Sunday, I didn't want to go to class. In the intermission I argued with my parents. Hard. They wouldn't budge and I promised/threatened to walk home.
I bitterly watched as the gold family station wagon pulled out of the parking lot, a white exhaust plume following it in the cold winter air. Dressed in dress shoes and thin dress pants, I stepped out of the church once the car was out of sight. The wind was chill on my legs and the shoes did me no favors in either comfort or traction. I walked as quickly as I could trying to keep warm.
Upon my arrival home, my Mom reacted with a bit of shock, but not as much as I was expecting. She simply asked how I got home so quickly. When I proudly stated that I'd walked home, just like I said I would, I got the reaction I expected and desired.
As it happens, the route home was about 3.5 miles. Class was a little over an hour long. I'd gotten home shortly after my dad had left the house to go pick me up. We'd missed each other in transit. In the days before cell phones, this was a bit of an issue. He had no way knowing I was safe and home, only that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Even as a self absorbed teen, the problem dawned on me. In the end I was punished, though less for skipping class and more for causing undo panic.
My second year of confirmation classes started when I was in 8th grade. As part of the class, we were to pick out a bible verse that we would then read out loud in front of the congregation. I remember being kind of excited by this. I wanted to find the right verse. One that I liked and one that we didn't use in the weekly classes and sermons. So I did the unthinkable, I read the Bible. If any one thing turned me on to the path of atheism, that was it. I won't go too deep into it, but suffice it to say, there are many things preached throughout the bible that I found absolutely beyond belief. Taken in whole, it hardly seemed like the book that we'd studied. We spent most of our class studying the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John and the shift in tone was jarring. My burgeoning faith was shaken. Still, I went through the motions of classes and sermons and was confirmed with the rest of the class in the spring of 1991.
In the ensuing years, I tried to bury the bible's impact on my faith. I attended service with my family and really tried to believe. I'd focus on the sermons and do my best to feel the touch of God. I tried prayer again. I took communion. I wanted to believe. By the time I graduated high school, though, the thought "I want to believe" began another crack in my faith.
It may seem silly, but I owe my current lack of belief to Fox Mulder. I loved The X-files. I was quite the fan of Agent Mulder. I wanted to believe in aliens. I wanted it with perhaps more intensity than I wanted god. I scoured the internet for any information. I stayed up and listened to Coast to Coast AM with Art Bell. In the spring of 1997, the Season 4 finale opened and closed with legacy Congressional testimony. Featured heavily in this fictional show's testimony was a real-life scientist: Carl Sagan.
As luck would have it, 1997 was the same year Sagan's novel Contact, was released as a feature film. I also recognized his name from news reports as he'd passed away in 1996. Intrigued and looking for answers and aliens, I checked out the book from the library. I devoured it. I sat down on a warm summer Saturday and just plowed through it, disturbed only by the fan turning the pages. I was done by the time the sun rose Sunday morning. That sparked a memory of a book on my dad's book shelf, also by Sagan: Cosmos. I "borrowed" it that day with his permission. It should be noted that the book is still on my bookshelf, 15 years later. I plowed through that one too, though not in an afternoon. By the time I was due to turn in Contact, I was ready for another. I hit the stacks and pulled the first book by Carl Sagan I found: The Demon-Haunted World.
If reading the bible had shaken my faith, The Demon-Haunted World razed it to the ground and burned the rubble to ashes. My lust for information on aliens had inadvertently unmade both aliens and gods. By the time I set the book down, closing the cover for the last time, my outlook on life, the universe and everything had changed.
As time went on, I became accustomed to the rituals and as a result, more comfortable. My natural desire to please those around me kicked in and I tried pretty hard to really believe. I tried prayer, but never seemed to have one answered. The habit of Sunday school/church service became a part of my weekly routine. I still didn't like the time away from playing on Sunday mornings, but I was warming up to the idea. That all changed when I was in 7th grade.
The church offered a Confirmation class that seemed all but mandatory to me. It meant additional time in classes and church services. I was not in love with the idea at all. My parents and I fought about it all summer long leading up to the first classes and well after they began. At the time, the church offered two Sunday morning services. Class was held during the later service, with attendance at the early service required. This meant that the family went to the early service and then left me to attend class. My dad would then come back to church to pick me up when class was over. On one particular cold, gray Sunday, I didn't want to go to class. In the intermission I argued with my parents. Hard. They wouldn't budge and I promised/threatened to walk home.
I bitterly watched as the gold family station wagon pulled out of the parking lot, a white exhaust plume following it in the cold winter air. Dressed in dress shoes and thin dress pants, I stepped out of the church once the car was out of sight. The wind was chill on my legs and the shoes did me no favors in either comfort or traction. I walked as quickly as I could trying to keep warm.
Upon my arrival home, my Mom reacted with a bit of shock, but not as much as I was expecting. She simply asked how I got home so quickly. When I proudly stated that I'd walked home, just like I said I would, I got the reaction I expected and desired.
As it happens, the route home was about 3.5 miles. Class was a little over an hour long. I'd gotten home shortly after my dad had left the house to go pick me up. We'd missed each other in transit. In the days before cell phones, this was a bit of an issue. He had no way knowing I was safe and home, only that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Even as a self absorbed teen, the problem dawned on me. In the end I was punished, though less for skipping class and more for causing undo panic.
My second year of confirmation classes started when I was in 8th grade. As part of the class, we were to pick out a bible verse that we would then read out loud in front of the congregation. I remember being kind of excited by this. I wanted to find the right verse. One that I liked and one that we didn't use in the weekly classes and sermons. So I did the unthinkable, I read the Bible. If any one thing turned me on to the path of atheism, that was it. I won't go too deep into it, but suffice it to say, there are many things preached throughout the bible that I found absolutely beyond belief. Taken in whole, it hardly seemed like the book that we'd studied. We spent most of our class studying the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John and the shift in tone was jarring. My burgeoning faith was shaken. Still, I went through the motions of classes and sermons and was confirmed with the rest of the class in the spring of 1991.
In the ensuing years, I tried to bury the bible's impact on my faith. I attended service with my family and really tried to believe. I'd focus on the sermons and do my best to feel the touch of God. I tried prayer again. I took communion. I wanted to believe. By the time I graduated high school, though, the thought "I want to believe" began another crack in my faith.
It may seem silly, but I owe my current lack of belief to Fox Mulder. I loved The X-files. I was quite the fan of Agent Mulder. I wanted to believe in aliens. I wanted it with perhaps more intensity than I wanted god. I scoured the internet for any information. I stayed up and listened to Coast to Coast AM with Art Bell. In the spring of 1997, the Season 4 finale opened and closed with legacy Congressional testimony. Featured heavily in this fictional show's testimony was a real-life scientist: Carl Sagan.
As luck would have it, 1997 was the same year Sagan's novel Contact, was released as a feature film. I also recognized his name from news reports as he'd passed away in 1996. Intrigued and looking for answers and aliens, I checked out the book from the library. I devoured it. I sat down on a warm summer Saturday and just plowed through it, disturbed only by the fan turning the pages. I was done by the time the sun rose Sunday morning. That sparked a memory of a book on my dad's book shelf, also by Sagan: Cosmos. I "borrowed" it that day with his permission. It should be noted that the book is still on my bookshelf, 15 years later. I plowed through that one too, though not in an afternoon. By the time I was due to turn in Contact, I was ready for another. I hit the stacks and pulled the first book by Carl Sagan I found: The Demon-Haunted World.
If reading the bible had shaken my faith, The Demon-Haunted World razed it to the ground and burned the rubble to ashes. My lust for information on aliens had inadvertently unmade both aliens and gods. By the time I set the book down, closing the cover for the last time, my outlook on life, the universe and everything had changed.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Too good not to share
I love videos like this. I'm crazy enough to want to get very far north to see the Aurora in person this coming winter. Best when viewed in full screen HD.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Falling Rainbows
I like this shot. Just a pretty picture. Could use a bit of light in the foreground. Haven't retouched at all, just pulled off the camera and uploaded. May have to find a way to give this some Photoshop lovin. Taken at Rainbow Falls, Hilo, Hawaii.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Good old boy
This is Ranger, my 9 year old Golden Retriever. He's starting to show his age. His hips are getting stiff and his face gray. I knew the day I got him that I'd have to say goodbye, though that doesn't mean I like it. So for now I'll enjoy the time we have left together.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
A quest for self improvent
So much of running is finding motivation to keep moving. In endurance sports your body begs to quit.
I'm not among the elite runners in my age group or gender. I'm not likely ever going to be, if I'm honest. Even qualifying for the Boston Marathon seems unlikely for me. When I run in a race setting, there are often runners many years older than I who out pace me. Suffice it to say, I don't find much motivation in competition.
I know my times aren't fast by many measures, but I'm proud of what I've done. Below is a list of organized races I've run over the last six months. Times and distances are from my Garmin.
I know that all things are not equal. Some of the above courses are easier than others. But I know that I've been faster, healthier, and happier running over the last 6 months then at any point previous. Since my most recent race one week ago, I've taken a bit of a break. I really pushed hard and had a great time while exceeding my goal of a sub 2 hour half marathon. A goal I thought I would miss even as recently as a couple weeks before the race.
Thirteen days before the Wisconsin Marathon 1/2, I went out for a for a two hour run. My goal was to do about 12 miles. It was to be my last long run before the race. It was a horrible run. I had no energy. I pushed hard through the first 5 miles. Even took a turn on to a new-to-me route, something I usually enjoy. I was flat. I was winded running a 10 min/mile. I had a side cramp. I had no will to continue. I gave up. I pointed myself towards home and walked the shortest route I could, dejected.
That morning as I sipped my coffee waiting for my daughter to wake up, I had a quiet little pity party. Doubts ran rampant in my brain. My last attempt at the 1/2 marathon wasn't fun (a story for another time) and I began to wonder if I was headed for the same experience. There wasn't any time to adjust my training. I only had a hand-full of scheduled runs left, one of which was the Crazylegs Classic.
I refocused my goal, and did the best I could to set my sights on Crazylegs and ignore the 13.1 mile gorilla in two weeks. It's an 8k race I'd run the year before, my first race since I ran in high school (I was slow then too). I'd had a great time the year before and the repeat allowed me to check back against my time from the year before. When I crossed the finish line this year, I'd cut 12 minutes off my time!
I was feeling more confident, but still having my doubts about holding sub 9:05 min/mile for the half. At that point, I stepped my goal back: I would work for a PR only and ignore the 2 hr goal. It was too much. I didn't have what it took.
The week went by and I found myself shivering at the starting grid. By then my mind had changed a bit. I still wasn't sure I had what I needed to finish under 2 hours, but I was going to find out. I'm not sure what prompted the change, but I'm glad for it. My motivation was, to a point, fueled by my previous doubt. I hate feeling weak & sorry for my self.
Fast forward less than two hours later I was crossing the finish line with a smile on my face and strangely, tears in my eyes.
I'm not among the elite runners in my age group or gender. I'm not likely ever going to be, if I'm honest. Even qualifying for the Boston Marathon seems unlikely for me. When I run in a race setting, there are often runners many years older than I who out pace me. Suffice it to say, I don't find much motivation in competition.
I know my times aren't fast by many measures, but I'm proud of what I've done. Below is a list of organized races I've run over the last six months. Times and distances are from my Garmin.
| Race | Distance | Time | Avg Pace |
| 5/5/12 -Wisconsin Marathon - 1/2 Marathon | 13.17 | 1:57:50 | 8:57 min/mile |
| 4/28/12 - Crazylegs Classic | 5.08 | 42:39 | 8:27 min/mile |
| 3/24/12 - Shamrock & Run - Janesville | 3.1 | 23:59 | 7:42 min/mile |
| 3/17/12 - Shamrock Shuffle - Madison | 6.2 | 55:16 | 8:57 min/mile |
| 12/3/11 - Jinglebell Run - Janesville | 3 | 25:20 | 8:27 min/mile |
| 11/26/11 - Schaumburg TT - 1/2 Marathon | 13.13 | 2:21:18 | 10:46 min/mile |
| 11/23/11 - Milton Turkey Trot | 3.08 | 29:44 | 9:41 min/mile |
| 9/24/11 - River to Ridge 1/2 Marathon | 13.1 | 2:13:33 | 10:12 min/mile |
I know that all things are not equal. Some of the above courses are easier than others. But I know that I've been faster, healthier, and happier running over the last 6 months then at any point previous. Since my most recent race one week ago, I've taken a bit of a break. I really pushed hard and had a great time while exceeding my goal of a sub 2 hour half marathon. A goal I thought I would miss even as recently as a couple weeks before the race.
Thirteen days before the Wisconsin Marathon 1/2, I went out for a for a two hour run. My goal was to do about 12 miles. It was to be my last long run before the race. It was a horrible run. I had no energy. I pushed hard through the first 5 miles. Even took a turn on to a new-to-me route, something I usually enjoy. I was flat. I was winded running a 10 min/mile. I had a side cramp. I had no will to continue. I gave up. I pointed myself towards home and walked the shortest route I could, dejected.
That morning as I sipped my coffee waiting for my daughter to wake up, I had a quiet little pity party. Doubts ran rampant in my brain. My last attempt at the 1/2 marathon wasn't fun (a story for another time) and I began to wonder if I was headed for the same experience. There wasn't any time to adjust my training. I only had a hand-full of scheduled runs left, one of which was the Crazylegs Classic.
I refocused my goal, and did the best I could to set my sights on Crazylegs and ignore the 13.1 mile gorilla in two weeks. It's an 8k race I'd run the year before, my first race since I ran in high school (I was slow then too). I'd had a great time the year before and the repeat allowed me to check back against my time from the year before. When I crossed the finish line this year, I'd cut 12 minutes off my time!
I was feeling more confident, but still having my doubts about holding sub 9:05 min/mile for the half. At that point, I stepped my goal back: I would work for a PR only and ignore the 2 hr goal. It was too much. I didn't have what it took.
The week went by and I found myself shivering at the starting grid. By then my mind had changed a bit. I still wasn't sure I had what I needed to finish under 2 hours, but I was going to find out. I'm not sure what prompted the change, but I'm glad for it. My motivation was, to a point, fueled by my previous doubt. I hate feeling weak & sorry for my self.
Fast forward less than two hours later I was crossing the finish line with a smile on my face and strangely, tears in my eyes.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
fence
This is our last big snow. Perhaps our last big snow of the season. Took the camera out after work and lined up a few shots. Not too excited about any of them. This one turned out OK though. I love my 28mm prime lens. At f1.8 the bokeh is pretty.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Daughter
This is my daughter. She's a silly girl whom I love most dearly. She's the reason I am trying to be a better man. Trying to set an example. Trying to show her how to get by in an often crazy world.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
we love the moon
Here's a shot of our nearest celestial neighbor. Used my little Celestron scope as a telephoto lens to pull this shot four years ago. I need to set this rig up again. Has some potential, just need to set aside some time to play.
Monday, February 27, 2012
blur
One of the things I love about photography is the infinite ways you can create a shot. I like to reach for abstract and emotive expressions whenever I can.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Something's Got To Give
I'm 35 and counting. Time has passed much too quickly to this point. It seems like only yesterday I was going off to college, nervous about sharing a room with a stranger. Despite my initial reservations, college was a fantastic time, but all I could think about was getting out and getting a job.
As I look back, the day before I went to college seems like my first day of high school, excited about the chance to be a step closer to being an adult. High school did not really turn out like I'd hoped or expected. Perhaps my expectations were out of line, but at the time I took a devil-may-care attitude and focused on getting out of dodge. A typical reaction for a teenager I suppose.
I don't pine for the days that have passed, but I do wonder why I looked past them in the first place. What part of my being is so concerned with where I'm going that I loose sight of where I am? Why do I feel so discontented with what I have and where I am that I look beyond to some noble future? Why do I spend my time thinking and worrying about that next big thing without taking any real steps to achieve those goals? Is it always going to be this way?
I don't have any real answers to the questions above. I'm not sure if I will ever will. But I have to figure something out cause something's got to give.
As I look back, the day before I went to college seems like my first day of high school, excited about the chance to be a step closer to being an adult. High school did not really turn out like I'd hoped or expected. Perhaps my expectations were out of line, but at the time I took a devil-may-care attitude and focused on getting out of dodge. A typical reaction for a teenager I suppose.
I don't pine for the days that have passed, but I do wonder why I looked past them in the first place. What part of my being is so concerned with where I'm going that I loose sight of where I am? Why do I feel so discontented with what I have and where I am that I look beyond to some noble future? Why do I spend my time thinking and worrying about that next big thing without taking any real steps to achieve those goals? Is it always going to be this way?
I don't have any real answers to the questions above. I'm not sure if I will ever will. But I have to figure something out cause something's got to give.
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