Bird eat bird world
A train roared overhead
Legs dead
As a crow picked over a pigeon
It looked at me with a bloody beak
Arms weak
As my feet stopped spinning
Wheel clicking
Coasting and wondering
If crows are frowned upon
For almost-cannibalism
Societal schism
As my back tightens up
With the end of descent
Last uphill battle
Before turning home
Poem:
Pretty much what it sounds like, yesterday I was biking in from my morning ride and saw a crow eating a dead pigeon under the railroad bridge. And because I'm having a bit of trouble coming up with interesting ideas for poetry, I thought I'd just write about that image and try some stuff with sound and form
Observation:
I haven't had a computer for the last couple of weeks, and to be honest, I've missed it less than I thought I would. With my phone and iPad, all I haven't really been able to do is waste time, which I haven't had much time for anyway. This isn't to say I haven't missed it at all, but now that I can put everything I really want on my iPad, other computers really only serve as a base station to store things I don't have room for. I think this is probably going to be where computing goes. People will have ultra-portable computers (phones, tablets, thin laptops) to carry with them, and a base station of large storage capacity linked to the Internet so they can access whatever they want. I'd be doing this already, but remote desktop stuff requires a steadier Internet connection than what I have currently. It's getting to the point that I actually prefer having my movies on my iPad than on a television. The portability is fantastic, and the size difference doesn't matter because if you hold an eight inch screen. a foot away from your head, it's remarkably similar to staring at a large screen across the room. And my iPad goes in every room, which is way better than thinking about which room you want as your tv room. It used to be a sign of luxury if you had a tv in lots of rooms. Well, with my iPad, I can watch all that stuff not only in every room in the house, but outside, on campus, and wherever else I can find wireless. With my phone, it's literally anywhere, though that screen is much less ideal. So there's no need for multiple tv's, no need for bulky laptops, and much less need for desktops. All we need is storage and good Internet.
Exercise:
In 500 words or less, write about "a plate of sunshine."
It reflected almost perfectly, the blue sky brought to earth on the polished silver surface. It couldn't help but stand out from its surroundings. The dish gleamed on the table, a brilliant skyscape amid tarnished teacups and dull cutlery. When a small child picked it up, the shifting colors of clouds, played across his face, forcing a squint and a smile before it was snatched from his hands. He knew "we look with our eyes, not with our hands," but stayed within reach, unable to divert his attention from that silver-sheened chunk of sky. His mother moved to a different table, less interested in dishware than self-help books and the occasional romance novel. She occasionally bought pieces of furniture, proclaiming them all antiques before coming to her senses and selling them (but only for a small loss).
She thumbed a book open, forgetting completely about the child still enthralled by the finely worked silver. He broke his gaze just long enough to ascertain the whereabouts of all relevant adults before approaching once more. He resisted picking it up, extending one finger to trace the etched rim. He applied pressure to the edge, just enough to shift the balance and alter the picture of the sky. Clouds spilled from the center to the far side, as though defying gravity, flowing uphill and threatening to spill onto the table. He took his finger away, and they pooled again in the middle, no longer in danger of flowing out into the teacups and silverware. He backed up until the horizon shown in the mirrored surface, the sky contained on one side by etched rim and on the other by rooftops. He stood there until his mother came and grabbed his hand with the one not full of pink-covered books, pulling him behind to the car. And as they drove away he looked out the rear window, one last flash of sunlight emanating out from the worthless pieces surrounding it.
Me:
I left off my last post before talking about my handball tournament, which was disappointing, but not too bad really. On Friday I played against jonathon hingey, a very talented guy from Missouri. I lost, but hit some good shots and got into some good rallies, and since it was in the open division, I wasn't heartbroken by the loss, which dropped my into the "a" category. Also on Friday I played an easy game of doubles with a random guy from Kansas city, which was kind of a routine victory. Saturday I played an easy singles match against a guy I knew from Des Moines, which gave me the chance to watch Jon hingey play against Dave chapman, the best player in the world. He came close to winning the first game, which made me think I might not have done too badly the day before. Then my doubles partner and I played against a really good team, losing the first game 21-1. I got a bit more into the rhythm of things the next game, and hit some good shots to make things less embarrassing as we lost 21-10 or so. After the game, Tommy little (the second seeded open player) told me I hit some good shots, which was nice.
I played again in the a division later that day, and took the first game before my opponent started hitting some really good serves. So I lost 21-2 in the second and was down 10-0 in the eleven point tie-breaker. And then I came back to win 11-10, which was fantastic for me.
Then I lost in the finals to take second. I would say more, but I'm still a bit sore about not playing my best. I can't decide whether to keep practicing or start focusing even more on biking.
Speaking of biking, I did a race right after that match on Sunday. It had the most brutal hill of the year on it, which I would have loved any other day. But not after an entire weekend of handball. I did what I could, and apparently just barely hung on for fourth place, getting my entry back. It turned into a time trial, really, since drafting doesn't really matter when the only thing that makes a difference is how fast you can climb a hill 18 times. So I survived, and then rode almost forty miles on Monday instead of taking it as easy as I should have. Which brings us to yesterday. In the morning I did hill repeats, and then my parents and I drove to cedar rapids to race at a half-mile car track. I hung in there with the fast guys, and felt good, even attacking hard enough to drop some cat 2 riders. I ran out of gas in the last race, but I felt justified since I had done the workout that morning. All in all, a fun time.
And I think that's it as far as major events. It should be less daunting to update now. My schedule looks like I'll have time to write Monday, Wednesday, and Friday so hopefully updates will appear by Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. If nothing else interesting happens, I will try to write more about the races yesterday, but I've been typing for three hours now, so I'm gong to call it quits.
May 18, 2011
I'm baaaaaaAAAAAAAck
I have a lot of stuff to write about. Since my last update I have raced three weekends, played a handball tournament, and done two smaller bike races. So this post will just be to get events in my life a bit more up to date, hopefully followed soon by a post back in the normal format.
Observation:
I am confused what sort of body type a biker is supposed to have. All of the professional bikers are little more than skeletons. Even the "big" guys are incredibly thin. I am not incredibly thin. But then before my race in iowa city I put my (dad's) arm warmers on, and quickly realized I was too thin for that. Or rather, my left arm was too thin. That's a funny realization to have. The right arm warmer was fine, but the left just kept gradually slipping down, betraying my lopsidedness as it became a bracelet. So now I know I'm severly right-handed.
Me:
Well here's a long section. About three weeks ago I entered a three-event weekend series in Iowa City, with a road race and time trial saturday and a criterium Sunday. So the road race gets underway and I quickly realize nobody's that interested in attacking. And since this is my first race, I am too cautious to try anything, and decide to spend the first half of the race getting the hang of the course, which actually has some decent hills. The first
lap makes it clear that everyone is interested in using one particular hill as the staging point for attacks. So I barely hung on the first time up the hill, and things get strung out single file for quite a while. I gradually make my way back into the thick of things, and there is no mystery what's going to happen the next lap (the race is three laps long at thirteen miles a lap). So I wait around with everyone for the part where things are going to get hard again, and just at the bottom is a corner. I take an inside line and get cut off, slam my brakes on, and have to start from a rather disadvantageous position momentum-wise. So I chased for a mile or so, realized I didn't have what it took to catch on, and finished poorly. And then I did really poorly in the time trial. So my confidence wasn't really at its highest at the end of the day.
The next day dawned bright and chilly, leading to the aforementioned arm warmer dilemma. They called us to the line for the criterium based on order of registration, placing yours truly at the very back. So I got to spend the first six or seven laps working my way gradually to the front of the pack. The good news was that there was a pretty sizable hill, and we were doing twenty laps, so I had both the time and occasion to make my way up there. I got to the spot I wanted and sat in the field for a couple of laps getting my breath back, and then climbed the hill hard with about half the race left. I was alone at the top, but wasn't that interested in trying a solo break, so when nobody bridged up, I sat up and rejoined the field. I stayed in good position, and climbed hard every few laps to make sure the going wasn't too easy for the rest of the riders. With two laps to go, a single rider attacked into the downhill, and I wasn't in a good spot to chase, so he got away. I thought he might die out and get caught, especially on the hill on the last lap, which was sure to be a site of difficulty. At the top of the hill a rider slid out on the corner. I got around the crash to the inside and did what my parents always told me to do: go as hard as you can. The gap caused by the crash meant there were about five of us with a gap on those caught behind, and with one lap to go, I was in good position. One of the guys in the group attacked hard across the line, and I let him take a bit of a gap, knowing I should save myself for the hill. I climbed hard, and was only a few bike lengths behind him at the top, putting me in a great spot to sprint from. I came around him on the home stretch and nobody caught me. I only wound up a few seconds behind the guy who went with two laps to go, but as it turned out, some guy had attacked by himself in the first few laps (when I had no hope of seeing the front of the pack, due to starting position and focusing on gradually improving my position), so I wound up with third place. But the best part was realizing that I could actually race at a decent level after all, dispelling my bad feeling from Saturday.
The next weekend was an eight lap race of a medium distance. My dad was officiating, so my mom and I went to race. She was up first, and hung in with the open women and beat one of them to steal third and get back her entry fee plus five bucks for her trouble. It was fun to watch her stick right in with the youthful women and climb well. Then it was my turn. As expected, every time up the hill (another course with a hill, lucky me) the going got a bit tough, with a period of recovery time at the top before resuming racing. So the second time up the hill, I attack, get caught as expected, and then my teammate Gavin attacks just like he is supposed to. Gavin stays away until the top of the hill the next time. So with six laps to go, we've made it slightly hard. I attack again as Gavin is caught, but don't stay away long at all. As I'm caught, William Rekemeyer says we should attack at the hill. I agree in principle, but am not sure my legs are going to be up for it the next lap. So he goes, and I catch the wheel of the break. We have a gap, with four of us a bit ahead of the rest, but nobody comes around William to help make it stick and it all comes back together. We now have three or four to go, and everyone is a bit slow at the top of the hill the next time, so I put in a hard acceleration over the top just to see if I can get away. And I did. So I have a sizeable gap when on the descent my bike makes a horrific noise and I slam on the brakes. I get caught, my bike seems to continue functioning somehow, and I rejoin the group. We all sit in, and on the second to last time up the hill, William has a go at the bottom of the hill. Now, I've attacked almost every time up the hill, and I know I can't take the entire climb at top speed, so I let him go. Gavin attacks to bridge up and I see him catch on, so I breathe a sigh of relief. I catch wheels as they come by and don't contribute at all to the chase, since I like Gavin's chances in a sprint and want to do whatever I can to make sure he has that one on one situation. So I sit in behind a couple of guys who chase for a while, and as we climb the hill for the last time (finish line at the top) I make sure Gavin can't be caught before putting in my sprint. I take the field sprint for third, and sure enough, Gavin got first. Having a teammate to work with was great.
That Thursday was a time trial, at which I set a new personal best time of 17:39 for twelve kilometers. I had my mom's computer, so I got to see my heart rate around 180 the entire race, and access to cadence helped a lot. Then it was time for handball. I think I'll deal with that in my next post. Thanks for reading.
Observation:
I am confused what sort of body type a biker is supposed to have. All of the professional bikers are little more than skeletons. Even the "big" guys are incredibly thin. I am not incredibly thin. But then before my race in iowa city I put my (dad's) arm warmers on, and quickly realized I was too thin for that. Or rather, my left arm was too thin. That's a funny realization to have. The right arm warmer was fine, but the left just kept gradually slipping down, betraying my lopsidedness as it became a bracelet. So now I know I'm severly right-handed.
Me:
Well here's a long section. About three weeks ago I entered a three-event weekend series in Iowa City, with a road race and time trial saturday and a criterium Sunday. So the road race gets underway and I quickly realize nobody's that interested in attacking. And since this is my first race, I am too cautious to try anything, and decide to spend the first half of the race getting the hang of the course, which actually has some decent hills. The first
lap makes it clear that everyone is interested in using one particular hill as the staging point for attacks. So I barely hung on the first time up the hill, and things get strung out single file for quite a while. I gradually make my way back into the thick of things, and there is no mystery what's going to happen the next lap (the race is three laps long at thirteen miles a lap). So I wait around with everyone for the part where things are going to get hard again, and just at the bottom is a corner. I take an inside line and get cut off, slam my brakes on, and have to start from a rather disadvantageous position momentum-wise. So I chased for a mile or so, realized I didn't have what it took to catch on, and finished poorly. And then I did really poorly in the time trial. So my confidence wasn't really at its highest at the end of the day.
The next day dawned bright and chilly, leading to the aforementioned arm warmer dilemma. They called us to the line for the criterium based on order of registration, placing yours truly at the very back. So I got to spend the first six or seven laps working my way gradually to the front of the pack. The good news was that there was a pretty sizable hill, and we were doing twenty laps, so I had both the time and occasion to make my way up there. I got to the spot I wanted and sat in the field for a couple of laps getting my breath back, and then climbed the hill hard with about half the race left. I was alone at the top, but wasn't that interested in trying a solo break, so when nobody bridged up, I sat up and rejoined the field. I stayed in good position, and climbed hard every few laps to make sure the going wasn't too easy for the rest of the riders. With two laps to go, a single rider attacked into the downhill, and I wasn't in a good spot to chase, so he got away. I thought he might die out and get caught, especially on the hill on the last lap, which was sure to be a site of difficulty. At the top of the hill a rider slid out on the corner. I got around the crash to the inside and did what my parents always told me to do: go as hard as you can. The gap caused by the crash meant there were about five of us with a gap on those caught behind, and with one lap to go, I was in good position. One of the guys in the group attacked hard across the line, and I let him take a bit of a gap, knowing I should save myself for the hill. I climbed hard, and was only a few bike lengths behind him at the top, putting me in a great spot to sprint from. I came around him on the home stretch and nobody caught me. I only wound up a few seconds behind the guy who went with two laps to go, but as it turned out, some guy had attacked by himself in the first few laps (when I had no hope of seeing the front of the pack, due to starting position and focusing on gradually improving my position), so I wound up with third place. But the best part was realizing that I could actually race at a decent level after all, dispelling my bad feeling from Saturday.
The next weekend was an eight lap race of a medium distance. My dad was officiating, so my mom and I went to race. She was up first, and hung in with the open women and beat one of them to steal third and get back her entry fee plus five bucks for her trouble. It was fun to watch her stick right in with the youthful women and climb well. Then it was my turn. As expected, every time up the hill (another course with a hill, lucky me) the going got a bit tough, with a period of recovery time at the top before resuming racing. So the second time up the hill, I attack, get caught as expected, and then my teammate Gavin attacks just like he is supposed to. Gavin stays away until the top of the hill the next time. So with six laps to go, we've made it slightly hard. I attack again as Gavin is caught, but don't stay away long at all. As I'm caught, William Rekemeyer says we should attack at the hill. I agree in principle, but am not sure my legs are going to be up for it the next lap. So he goes, and I catch the wheel of the break. We have a gap, with four of us a bit ahead of the rest, but nobody comes around William to help make it stick and it all comes back together. We now have three or four to go, and everyone is a bit slow at the top of the hill the next time, so I put in a hard acceleration over the top just to see if I can get away. And I did. So I have a sizeable gap when on the descent my bike makes a horrific noise and I slam on the brakes. I get caught, my bike seems to continue functioning somehow, and I rejoin the group. We all sit in, and on the second to last time up the hill, William has a go at the bottom of the hill. Now, I've attacked almost every time up the hill, and I know I can't take the entire climb at top speed, so I let him go. Gavin attacks to bridge up and I see him catch on, so I breathe a sigh of relief. I catch wheels as they come by and don't contribute at all to the chase, since I like Gavin's chances in a sprint and want to do whatever I can to make sure he has that one on one situation. So I sit in behind a couple of guys who chase for a while, and as we climb the hill for the last time (finish line at the top) I make sure Gavin can't be caught before putting in my sprint. I take the field sprint for third, and sure enough, Gavin got first. Having a teammate to work with was great.
That Thursday was a time trial, at which I set a new personal best time of 17:39 for twelve kilometers. I had my mom's computer, so I got to see my heart rate around 180 the entire race, and access to cadence helped a lot. Then it was time for handball. I think I'll deal with that in my next post. Thanks for reading.
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