Training, Week Two: The Hills of Mount Lookout

My dad recently bought this house in Mount Lookout, and he's working on fixing it up and then renting it out (he thinks it'll be ready by April, if anyone is looking for a place around then). So we met there on Tuesday and ran around the neighborhood. I had mapped out a three-mile run using this nifty website that tells you the distance and elevation of your route.

The thing about running in Mount Lookout? It's hilly. Quite hilly. The little elevation chart tells me we climbed close to 300 feet in our first half-mile, which took us to the end of Golden Avenue. Isn't that the height of the Eiffel Tower in King's Island?

So we huffed and puffed to the dead end at the top of the street. As we turned around to take in a pretty amazing view of the river and the city in the distance, I said to my dad, "I'm going to finish this half marathon, you know, but -"

"I know you are!" he interjected.

"- but it's not going to be quick," I finished.

"That's OK," he said. "What matters is that you're doing it."

"I know," I said. And we started back down the hill.

Memories of free Wi-Fi

I just received an e-mail notifying me of a new comment on a very old post, in the comments of which I reveal that in 2005, I was connecting to the Internet through an open wireless network named "Eurmama." I speculated that it was named for a band that often plays at R.P. McMurphy's bar down the street (although that would be a pretty long way for a wireless signal to travel).

The new comment said:

LOL, i know this is an old post, but you are piggy backing off of MY internet... LOL... good thing I put a network key on it!

signed.... Eurmama

It's not from RP's....

How funny! Well, Eurmama, you'll be happy to know that I have since gotten my own network connection. Thank you for providing me with Internet access for my first few months in this apartment!

White Death 2008 edition

At about this point in my commute Thursday, I was really starting to envy the people who live in those downtown condos.

Training, Week One: Why the Treadmill Sucks (And Also Why it is Sometimes Awesome)

Last week saw Greater Cincinnati covered in horrid ice, so all my workouts were indoors. (To be fair, the weekend was excellent for outdoor running, but I spent most of that time making my apartment appear habitable to outsiders.)

I've never done much running on the treadmill before (not that I did much this week, actually; I totaled only five miles), but here is what I noticed:

- It is boring. If you are facing a television, it is slightly less boring - but only slightly.
- You can't adjust your pace to match the beat of the awesome song that just came on your iPod.
- It feels unnatural. Running outdoors is tiring, but at least you are fairly certain that you are moving across the ground and not the other way around.
- It's loud. Which causes you to crank up the volume on your iPod, which in turn causes long-term damage to your hearing.

But there is this:

- I don't have a Garmin or a Nike Plus system or any of that. The treadmill was an excellent source for just how far I had run and what my pace was getting there.
- The treadmill's set pace prompted me to push myself. I am fairly certain I wouldn't have run two miles without stopping for a walk if I had been jogging through Oakley.
- Let's not discount the utter lack of deadly ice to slip on while running on the treadmill.

So, while the treadmill thing is far from ideal, I like that it keeps me accountable and gives me lots of information about my run. Until the weather starts cooperating (the lovely weekend weather was shoved out the door by more ice), I can handle it.

12 weeks and counting

I talk a good game about running, but the truth is that it's mostly talk. When my dad and I get together to "run" twice a week, we do far more walking than running. During those leisurely workouts, I think the farthest we've gone running and walking combined is four miles. The farthest I've gone at a nonstop trot is 5K.

So when I say that tomorrow I'll begin training for the half marathon, it is with a feeling of sheer terror and a lack of confidence that I'll have the willpower to see the thing through.

Working out six days a week for 12 weeks doesn't really seem like "my thing," or rather, "humanly possible." I know that people do it, and in fact plenty of people have been doing it for months already for the full marathon, but those "people" are clearly super-athletic robots designed to inspire and/or shame normal humans. (Some of them have fun blogs, though.)

But what the hey; I'm gonna give it a shot. It took three years to change me from someone who hates running to someone who tries to convince others to run 5Ks. Let's see if 12 weeks can change me into a real runner.

Oscar Watch, miniature edition

Juno (Best Actress, Directing, Original Screenplay, Best Picture)

Seriously. Ellen Page is tiny.



(Image stolen from Best Week Ever, where I also learned that Juno director Jason Reitman made his screen debut as that boy who sneaks off with his girlfriend to make out during the fire in Kindergarten Cop.)

I know I posted a list of a dozen or so movies to see before the Oscars - but most of them were really just movies I'd like to see at some point, you know, in my life. There was only one I really wanted to see as soon as possible. And now I have! Hooray!

I don't have much to say about Juno, except that I loved it. I really did. It's funny and sad and poignant, and it takes a small, fairly simple story and uses it to display fascinating characters. I want Juno to be a TV show so I can see these people every week.

If I had to nitpick, I'd say the best friend character could've had more nuance - I don't know whether this was a directing or acting issue, but she was the only character in the movie who seemed like kind of a caricature. (She was also the one who said the one line of the much-maligned too-witty dialogue that actually bothered me - "Honest to blog?" - but she couldn't help that, I guess.)

But that's really a tiny gripe - tinier than Ellen Page, even. Overall, I thought Juno was fantastic. The story? Fantastic! Ellen Page? Fantastic! Michael Cera? Fantastic! (I was about to list all the other major actors in the same manner, but you get the picture.)

Movies to see before the Oscars

• The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (Cinematography, Directing, Film Editing, Adapted Screenplay)
• Enchanted (Original Song x3!)
• Juno (Best Actress, Directing, Original Screenplay, Best Picture)
• Lars and the Real Girl (Original Screenplay)
• No Country for Old Men (Supporting Actor, Cinematography, Directing, Film Editing, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, Adapted Screenplay, Best Picture)
• Persepolis (Animated Feature)
• Ratatouille (Animated Feature, Original Score, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, Original Screenplay)
• There Will Be Blood (Best Actor, Art Direction, Cinematogrophy, Directing, Film Editing, Sound Editing, Adapted Screenplay, Best Picture)

UPDATE. I'm adding Once (Original Song) because I've heard so many people raving about it in the past few weeks.

Too bad.

I wish I could say that this video of a badger and an otter running around and hugging and making chirping noises and generally being TOTAL BESTIES was the cutest video I've ever seen.



But I cannot do that, because these adorable animals are scabs.

This doesn't feel quite right ...

... but I've gotten this result two out of three times taking this sort of personality test (the third time was ISFJ, the Nurturer, which is definitely not right).

You Are An ISTJ

The Duty Fulfiller You are responsible, reliable, and hardworking - you get the job done. You prefer productive hobbies, like woodworking or knittings. Quiet and serious, you are well prepared for whatever life hands you. Conservative and down-to-earth, you hardly ever do anything crazy. In love, you are loyal and honest. If you commit yourself to someone, then you're fully committed. For you, love is something that happens naturally. And you don't need romantic gestures to feel loved. At work, you remember details well and are happy to take on any responsibility. You would make a great business executive, accountant, or lawyer. How you see yourself: Decisive, stable, and dependable When other people don't get you, they see you as: Boring, conservative, and egotistical

What's Your Personality Type?

Other descriptions of ISTJs seem to apply better to me. They are known as Inspector Guardians and are characterized by a desire to observe the world and keep it in order.

Famous ISTJs from history and fiction include George Washington, Eeyore, Harry Truman, the apostle Thomas, Darth Vader (!), Queen Elizabeth II, George H.W. Bush, and Puddleglum the Marsh-wiggle. Huh.

Book review: In Defense of Food

"Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

These are the seven words that began Michael Pollan's New York Times Magazine piece "Unhappy Meals," printed in the beginning of last year. They are also the seven words featured on the cover of his new book, In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto. (You'll notice it printed on the cord that binds that delicious-looking lettuce - an odd choice of imagery, if you ask me. Even if you don't ask me, actually.)

The ironic thing about this book is that my main criticism of it was summed up by Pollan himself, in his Times article:

I hate to give away the game right here at the beginning of a long essay, and I confess that I’m tempted to complicate matters in the interest of keeping things going for a few thousand more words.

Which is basically what he's done in In Defense of Food.

The book is divided into three parts: the first two (which are rather ill-defined and therefore run together in my head) describe how the "Western diet" values nutrients over actual foods (and to a lesser extent the ways in which this attitude has been shaped by capitalism); how lifestyle-related ailments (heart disease, diabetes, etc.) are so prevalent in the U.S. compared to cultures with traditional diets, for a time they were known as the "Western diseases"; how the science of nutrition is not a good thing to be basing your diet upon. You get the picture.

And frankly, it's a dull, stretched-out sort of picture, taking the premises laid out in his magazine piece and spinning them out to a hundred or so book pages.

The premise of these sections is, "Look, two hundred years ago we thought we knew everything there was to know about food. Then we discovered vitamins and thought that was the key. Now everyone's talking about omega-3s and antioxidants, and again we think we know it all. Well, we probably don't - so why not look at the diets and lifestyles of cultures that are healthier than us and try to emulate them?"

Which you kind of get the point of after just one reading, right? But Pollan just keeps hitting us over the head with studies and history and details, striving for that magical page count where he can justify selling the book as a hardback for $21.95. The only way he could've been more obvious is if the book were typed in double-spaced 13.5-point Courier New with 1.25-inch margins.

After these rambling pages, the third section is a big improvement - a fleshing-out of those seven words Pollan keeps repeating. He lays out five or so guidelines under the heading of each sentence in his "manifesto": under "Eat Food" you'll see things like, "If your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize it as food, you probably shouldn't eat it" and "Shorten the chain between you and the farmer." This, he says in the book's introduction, is in response to people asking him in the wake of his immensely popular The Omnivore's Dilemma - at its best, a polemic against the industrialization of the American diet - "Well, then, what should we be eating?"

Mr. W won't like to hear this, since he's anti-Pollan for reasons far too numerous to mention here - but one of the guidelines actually reminded me of him. Mr. W prefers to choose his bread based on what has the fewest ingredients, explaining that good bread has no need for things like high-fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated soybean oil. Pollan is right there with him - only he expands this rule to include all foodstuffs. "Don't buy foods with more than five ingredients," he says.

Hmm - no foods at all with more than five ingredients? That's a bit impractical, isn't it? Which is kind of the point of this Slate review of In Defense of Food:

Buy a hog? An entire hog? Cut it up and put the pieces in a freezer? I'm a fan of Michael Pollan's work, but he does have a tendency to hurtle himself into the stratosphere like an errant missile, then plummet back to earth and casually pick up where he left off. This time it's on Page 168 of his latest book, In Defense of Food: One minute he's carefully explaining the difference between "free-range" and "pastured" eggs, the next minute he's perched on his own private planet brandishing a grocery list that might as well be headed "carrots, magic."

It's a nice review, worth reading especially for the "gotcha" moment in the final paragraph, when the Slate reviewer points out that even Pollan cannot always live up to his own lofty foodie standards.

So, the first two sections of In Defense of Food are clearly stretched out to fulfill a page count, and the last section suggests I forage for wild field greens and buy a freezer for storing entire pigs.

And yet ... I enjoyed this book. (Not enough to pay list price, though - I bought it at the Enquirer book sale for $3, and it was worth every penny.) I liked the idealistic picture it paints of people coming together and sharing fresh food they've prepared (perhaps even grown) themselves. I like the idea of passing up processed and pre-prepared foods in favor of whole foods. Not all of it is practical, but it is inspiring. Pollan's "manifesto," in more words than he himself used, is really, "Think more, and more critically, about the stuff you put into your body." That's a philosophy I can get behind.

So, gentle readers, my recommendation to you w/r/t In Defense of Food: If you crave inspiration and a few nice tips on how to eat more thoughtfully, pick up this book from the library or bargain bin. (I wouldn't pay more than $5 for it, though - that's how much it would cost if it were the slim paperback treatise it really ought to be.) If you find your eyes glazing over at some point during the first hundred pages, feel free to skip ahead to that third section; you won't be missing much.