My road from Couch Potato to 46'er and Triathlete began with many small steps - 4 inch steps, in fact, and each step was set to music. For 5 years, these small steps were patterned and guided by Jackie Stack, a five-foot tall dynamo who led me and my classmates through 45 minutes of Step Aerobics twice a week.
Our first classes together were on the second floor of the crumbling armory at the corner of Washington and Lark Street. The room was large and the ceilings were a good 12 or 15 feet high, but Jackie never needed a microphone to be heard over the music. It was amazing how much volume and energy could come out of such a small package. And there was never - ever - any question as to who was in charge.
This is not to say she was a tyrant - far from it. She was a leader, and she lead, and inspired, by example.
Jim Coyne has bought and re-habbed the armory, which now houses the latest version of the Albany Patroons, and various concerts and other events. But we used the armory long before there were any improvements. It had air-conditioning, of course, as long as you opened up the giant windows and kept them propped open with the sticks stored on the sills. And that was in the winter time - it got pretty hot in that room with 20-25 of us all trying to keep up with Jackie, especially if you were in her second class of the morning. (Yes - she often taught back to back classes and she was just as dynamic in the second class as she was in the first)
In the summer, she turned on two giant fans - which looked like they had powered Everglades’s air boats in a past life - in the front of the room. We still didn't have any trouble hearing her. Those fans really didn't cool us down too much - only a bit and only if the breeze made it to a bare patch of your skin and evaporated some of the sweat she'd forced you to earn.
The armory had running water, too. The shower downstairs in the locker room worked most of the time. Of course, the water wasn't necessarily warm - this was especially true in February when there was no hot water and your choice was to go back to work as either a pig or an icicle. If it rained the night before a class, you had to look sharp - both down to see if there was water or crumbled pieces of ceiling tile on your step and up - to make sure another one wasn't going to fall on your head.
Jackie made step aerobics a wonderful place, self-contained and all embracing. I loved going there. When we were there, we were in our own special world. My friend Ellen said it best:in Jackie's classes, it felt safe to try, and she never felt intimidated. All of us felt the same way.
I spoke at her retirement party, and kidded that this was the first time I had ever seen most of my classmates with their clothes on, and that I still didn't know anyone's last name.
Jackie knew everyone, though. And she knew what they did, and she knew their children and she knew how things were going for them. Pretty amazing considering we only met twice a week for 45 minutes, and there was the little matter of learning and mastering the routines.
She knew what kind of music everyone liked, too, and she did her darnedest to incorporate it into her classes. So, while lesser teachers relied on canned, 32-beat “step-aerobic" music, we had the real thing - Bon Jovi, Huey Lewis, John Cougar Mellancamp, Journey, Hank Williams, Jr., Gloria Estefan, Leane Rimes, Cher - it went on and on. Made it a lot tougher for her to choreograph the routines - I remember talking with her about "caesura's" - in context with a line from "Eddie and the Cruisers" - and about how real music was much more interesting to dance to but it was it tougher to choreograph because when she was creating her routines, she had to account for the eccentricities of real songs, which had things like caesura's.
Her routines were wondrous. She worked really, really hard to create excellent routines. She thought about every detail, from picking out the music, to fitting it together, to making the routines interesting and fun and challenging. We all looked forward to the new sessions, just to see what she had come up with. She went to
workshops, too, to make sure she kept up with the new steps and that she incorporated them into our routines. Every class had to have a warm up, followed by stretching, followed by the routines - starting slower and then building to a heart pumping, muscle building climax, and then slowing down, cooling down and finally, for those of us who wanted it, floor work - sit-ups, push-ups, and even some Pilates
moves - my favorite was the "dead-bug". And everything was perfectly set and timed to music - wonderful, dance-able, sing-able real music. It was a marvel.
She encouraged everyone to work at his or her own level - she stayed after to work with the rookies so they could master the basics, and she loved teaching us veterans the more complicated variations. Truth be told, she stayed after class with some of the veterans - ok, it was me - when I couldn't seem to master some
combination or move. It always seemed a lot simpler after Jackie took a minute or two to work with me.
For the last three years of our five years together class was held in one of the dance practice dance rooms beneath the Egg. It was a much nicer space - but a little claustrophobic. The seasons were reversed, too. Because of the HVAC, we were cold in the summer with the A/C and hot in the winter, with the heat. We bought fans for the
front and back of the class - the big ones from the armory never made it over - used them mostly in the winter.
The room had mirrors all along the front wall - except for where the pillars were. Jackie danced with her back to the class, but she could see us all in the mirrors. Except me - I almost always screwed up at least one step during the class, and I didn't want her to see me do this. So, I positioned myself in the back of the class, right where she couldn't see my reflection because of where the column
interrupted the mirror. Of course, this didn't work if she put some kind of reverse step in, which she often did, so I was facing the back wall and she was looking directly at me. Didn't work if I tripped over the step and made a lot of noise, either - I mean, she wasn't hard of hearing, believe me.
Jackie attracted quite a crew to these classes. Some of us were together for years, and we got to be good friends, even though we rarely saw each other outside of class. Jackie promoted such warmth and good fellowship that this was a perfectly natural thing to do. We would tell stories and gossip and share information and rumors. I marveled at some of the women who could sing the songs as we were
dancing, during the toughest parts of the routine (across the top,lunge, straddle!). They knew all the words, too. Me, I was maybe good for a chorus or two, if I had enough breath to get it the words out. Usually I didn't, because I was working hard just to get enough air into my lungs to make it through the routine.
Truth be told, I guess I was the class clown. I tried to get everyone, including Jackie, to laugh, or at least smile and I usually succeeded. Jackie was great and I got away with a lot. I was careful not to step on her toes, though, and mostly I didn't. If I did, I knew it right away and immediately shut up. I didn’t make that mistake too often, though.
I remember these classes and my classmates and Jackie as a part of the best experiences of my life. After 5 years of Jackie's classes, I was no longer a couch potato and I had the heart, lungs and legs to begin climbing the High Peaks of the Adirondacks - I could never have done that without her. And I had wonderful friends
and memories. It nearly broke my heart when Larry, the head of the Healthy State Program and Jackie's boss for years, retired and Jackie decided that it was time for her to do the same and to move on to other things in her life. I suppose I really knew it was ending when she gave the steps away to my classmates who wanted them - yes, those wooden classics had made their way over to the Egg, too.
Jackie organized a couple of luncheon reunions after that - but it got tougher and tougher to get together as time went on and other commitments intruded. I saw Jackie from time to time: in the park with her granddaughter; or driving through Albany in her dark green convertible; once I even saw her and her granddaughter at the Prime Outlet Mall in Lee, MA. The last time I saw her was in Washington Park in September - I was jogging with a friend and she was driving by and recognized me. She beeped,waved and yelled out a "Hi, Ron" as she drove by.
I have never gone to another step aerobics class. People who know how much I loved Jackie's class have encouraged me to go, but it wouldn't be the same - it could never recreate that magical confluence of time and place, of music and friends - and Jackie.
Jackie died about a month after she was diagnosed at age 59 with pancreatic cancer. A classmate attended the funeral with me and we were reminiscing about Jackie after we touched her casket and said good-bye for the last time. Sue pointed out that Jackie was one who wasted no time, who got things done once she made up her mind. So, she continued, it was fitting that Jackie learned that she was going to die, accepted it, crafted her own funeral, said good-bye to her family and loved ones, and then went, all within a month. She would have wanted it that way. I believe that's true: passing suddenly would have given her no time to do the things that she knew needed to be done, and lingering was just not her style - she was a women who got
things done.
I cannot give you a full portrait of this remarkable woman who was my teacher and my friend. Her obituary, written by those who knew her much better, can be found in the Times Union. I only knew her for a short time, and only in a limited context. But she was a huge presence in my life. Every time I hear Cher singing "Do You Believe in Love after Love", Brian Adams talking about "those were the best days
of my life...”, or especially, Jon Bon Jovi telling us he did it his way, "Just like Frankie said", my feet move and I remember the steps and the patterns, and I think about Jackie - and miss her.
After My First Tri: Pinebush '06
Me & Coach Andrea - Armed and Dangerous!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Turkey Time Tales
Here are three true stories. They have absolutely no relationship to athletic endeavors of any sort, but I thought you would find them amusing.
Betsi's Big Bird
My friend Betsi's husband Pete, and his good buddy Bobby, decided to raise turkeys this year - 10 of them. Mind you Pete and Betsi live in the suburbs, but Bobby lives someplace up in hills of Berne. He's not a farmer at all - works for the City of Albany - but apparently has enough land so that they could pull this off. Given Pete's lack of success deer hunting the past two years, I guess he figured this was a surer bet than trying to shoot one. Apparently they were successful, because a couple of days ago, Betsi was trying to give the turkeys away and asked us if we wanted one - a 25 pounder. We had no room in the freezer, and sadly had to turn her down.
I guess Pete and Bobby were really successful, because I heard today that Betsi cooked a 39 pounder! When asked how she got it into her oven she said, "I stuffed it in." Brings new meaning to "oven stuffer" for sure.
Speaking of stuffing, Betsi, who is an educator in the Health/Nutrition field, refuses to cook stuffing in a turkey, so she makes it on the side. This means that she took a 39 pound turkey and a full complement of stuffing to her mother-in-law's house for Thanksgiving, where they were feeding 13 people. On the other hand, her mother-in-law absolutely loves stuffing which has been cooked in the turkey. Solution? She cooked a 17 pound turkey at her house, and stuffed it, meaning 13 people, 56 pounds of turkey and two complete sides of stuffing.
And a final tidbit - Bobby's turkey? 47 pounds! I don't know what they did with their stuffing and I don't know what happened to the other 8 turkeys.
Gail's Cooking With Gas - Not!
My friend Gail had 8 people over for Thanksgiving this year - and her husband decided that this was the year they were going to deep fry the turkey in oil. He went out to K-Mart and bought a rig, and for good measure, consulted with their daughter's boyfriend Steve, who had a rig of his own and who had successfully deep fried a turkey before. Gail, being a cautious type - could be from working with me for the past 25 years of so - decided to cook a turkey breast in the oven, just in case.
Turned out to be a good move. No - they didn't burn the house down, or endure any other such catastrophe. Nope - quite the opposite. For reasons known only to the gods of cooking and things mechanical, it took them 4 hrs before they finally got the oil up to temperature - something stuck and by the time they got it unstuck it still didn't work because something else had been overheating for 4 hours, and they ran out of propane anyway. Boys and their toys.
I guess if it everything had gone correctly, the bird would have been cooked in less than an hour and been wonderful - or so they say. Gail says they had enough turkey breast to go around - but no leftovers.
She also says they had to leave the turkey in the rig until the next morning, when the oil was cooled down. When they took it out, it was 14 pounds of perfection - golden brown all over, just like in the TV ads. Yup, they had the best looking, best smelling trash in the entire neighborhood!
Is It Cold in Here? Ron Has a Brain Freeze
We had a good gathering Saturday, 10 people, very relaxed. As is usually the case for holidays, I did the core cooking - turkey breast (we down-sized this year for the smaller gathering) , Oscar's ham, creamed onions, mashed potatoes and stuffing, supplemented by appetizers, drinks and desserts from my friends and family. Everything tasted pretty good.
I usually make giblet gravy, too, but was thwarted because there were no giblets with the turkey breast - if you get the breast with the wing attached, it will usually come with a packet of giblets, but we couldn't find one of those this year. And, oh yes, there is one other reason. In wonderful type-A fashion I try to wash the pots and pans as I cook to maximize the space available and minimize the mess. This year I was so efficient that I took the turkey out of the oven, put it on the platter to set up, grabbed the pan with the turkey drippings, threw it into the sink, and scrubbed out every last speck of drippings before I realized I had just killed the gravy. I guess my family and guests knew something was wrong from the loud "Oh, sh**", and because my response to the cries of "What's wrong?" was "There will be no gravy!"
Since it was not the actual holiday, the Hannaford was open and we sent my sister and son out for bottled gravy. This created its own variation on a theme, because my sister - who believes there is never too much food- bought 5 jars, but not until my son, in his inimitable fashion, dropped a jar on the floor and smashed it, leading to a call on the P. A. "Wet clean-up on aisle 2". I felt bad for the poor kid who had to work on Thanksgiving and clean up that mess, because when I was 17, I worked in a Grand Union, and I was that kid.
All in all, a very minor blip on the radar, and an excellent day. Besides, we now have gist for years of family stories, at my expense. I just want to know how many more times I am going to have to listen to my friends and family screwing up there faces and bellowing, "There will be no gravy!"
Hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday, with memories and stories of your own. Share them with us if you are so inclined.
Betsi's Big Bird
My friend Betsi's husband Pete, and his good buddy Bobby, decided to raise turkeys this year - 10 of them. Mind you Pete and Betsi live in the suburbs, but Bobby lives someplace up in hills of Berne. He's not a farmer at all - works for the City of Albany - but apparently has enough land so that they could pull this off. Given Pete's lack of success deer hunting the past two years, I guess he figured this was a surer bet than trying to shoot one. Apparently they were successful, because a couple of days ago, Betsi was trying to give the turkeys away and asked us if we wanted one - a 25 pounder. We had no room in the freezer, and sadly had to turn her down.
I guess Pete and Bobby were really successful, because I heard today that Betsi cooked a 39 pounder! When asked how she got it into her oven she said, "I stuffed it in." Brings new meaning to "oven stuffer" for sure.
Speaking of stuffing, Betsi, who is an educator in the Health/Nutrition field, refuses to cook stuffing in a turkey, so she makes it on the side. This means that she took a 39 pound turkey and a full complement of stuffing to her mother-in-law's house for Thanksgiving, where they were feeding 13 people. On the other hand, her mother-in-law absolutely loves stuffing which has been cooked in the turkey. Solution? She cooked a 17 pound turkey at her house, and stuffed it, meaning 13 people, 56 pounds of turkey and two complete sides of stuffing.
And a final tidbit - Bobby's turkey? 47 pounds! I don't know what they did with their stuffing and I don't know what happened to the other 8 turkeys.
Gail's Cooking With Gas - Not!
My friend Gail had 8 people over for Thanksgiving this year - and her husband decided that this was the year they were going to deep fry the turkey in oil. He went out to K-Mart and bought a rig, and for good measure, consulted with their daughter's boyfriend Steve, who had a rig of his own and who had successfully deep fried a turkey before. Gail, being a cautious type - could be from working with me for the past 25 years of so - decided to cook a turkey breast in the oven, just in case.
Turned out to be a good move. No - they didn't burn the house down, or endure any other such catastrophe. Nope - quite the opposite. For reasons known only to the gods of cooking and things mechanical, it took them 4 hrs before they finally got the oil up to temperature - something stuck and by the time they got it unstuck it still didn't work because something else had been overheating for 4 hours, and they ran out of propane anyway. Boys and their toys.
I guess if it everything had gone correctly, the bird would have been cooked in less than an hour and been wonderful - or so they say. Gail says they had enough turkey breast to go around - but no leftovers.
She also says they had to leave the turkey in the rig until the next morning, when the oil was cooled down. When they took it out, it was 14 pounds of perfection - golden brown all over, just like in the TV ads. Yup, they had the best looking, best smelling trash in the entire neighborhood!
Is It Cold in Here? Ron Has a Brain Freeze
We had a good gathering Saturday, 10 people, very relaxed. As is usually the case for holidays, I did the core cooking - turkey breast (we down-sized this year for the smaller gathering) , Oscar's ham, creamed onions, mashed potatoes and stuffing, supplemented by appetizers, drinks and desserts from my friends and family. Everything tasted pretty good.
I usually make giblet gravy, too, but was thwarted because there were no giblets with the turkey breast - if you get the breast with the wing attached, it will usually come with a packet of giblets, but we couldn't find one of those this year. And, oh yes, there is one other reason. In wonderful type-A fashion I try to wash the pots and pans as I cook to maximize the space available and minimize the mess. This year I was so efficient that I took the turkey out of the oven, put it on the platter to set up, grabbed the pan with the turkey drippings, threw it into the sink, and scrubbed out every last speck of drippings before I realized I had just killed the gravy. I guess my family and guests knew something was wrong from the loud "Oh, sh**", and because my response to the cries of "What's wrong?" was "There will be no gravy!"
Since it was not the actual holiday, the Hannaford was open and we sent my sister and son out for bottled gravy. This created its own variation on a theme, because my sister - who believes there is never too much food- bought 5 jars, but not until my son, in his inimitable fashion, dropped a jar on the floor and smashed it, leading to a call on the P. A. "Wet clean-up on aisle 2". I felt bad for the poor kid who had to work on Thanksgiving and clean up that mess, because when I was 17, I worked in a Grand Union, and I was that kid.
All in all, a very minor blip on the radar, and an excellent day. Besides, we now have gist for years of family stories, at my expense. I just want to know how many more times I am going to have to listen to my friends and family screwing up there faces and bellowing, "There will be no gravy!"
Hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday, with memories and stories of your own. Share them with us if you are so inclined.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Walking on the Bike Path - Thanksgiving Afternoon
It is our tradition to celebrate Thanksgiving with a meal, and to go for a walk after that meal. However, it is not necessarily our tradition to celebrate Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Day. That's the case this year, and Saturday will be the day for family and fun and feasting. We did have lunch and a walk today, after our morning delivering meals for Equinox. Lunch was nothing special - a bagael with cream cheese and a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts - but the walk was on the bike path, and it was.
Today was mild - I was comfortable with a flannel shirt over a cotton tee shirt - and overcast: the sky was mottled, with alternating gray and white swirls. If you looked hard enough at the white parts, you could almost see a hint of blue behind them. The river and inlets were so still they mirrored every leaf and branch.
We walked west. The first thing we noticed was that there were no birds to be seen - no Great American Egrets like on our last walk, and none of the ubiquitous Canada Geese. If we stopped and listened hard, we could hear twittering, but at first we could not see any birds. That changed later in the walk.
There were a surprising number of people on the path at 1 pm. The first person we saw was a Back of the Pack jogger coming towards us. Though the side to side pumping of her arms was not efficient and her strides were labored, her pace was steady and determined. I loved her immediately, and clapped and cheered for her and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving. She smiled as she passed, and I know that smile.
We saw a family of people, probably eastern Europeans, three generations. The two women wore what looked like traditional scarves over their heads. The men wore black. There were two small children, a boy and a girl. They were walking, but the dad of the boy was pulling a little scooter. Later the boy stood on the scooter, while his dad pulled it, and him, along. We wished them all a Happy Thanksgiving as we passed, and they returned the greeting.
We noticed that the ground was clear and free around the four-foot high grave stone shaped marker, engraved with "S9" - nine miles to Schenectady, a remnant from the days this bike path was a railroad track. Two years ago it had become so overgrown that during one of my walks, I carried in clippers and a pruner and cleared away the brush. I noticed that after that, it pretty much remained that way.
Just beyond the marker and just before the orange bridge at the one mile marker there is a small inlet on the left. The ripples in the water caught our attention - they were being made by a beaver. He glided over to a point of land and up to a downed sapling, where he stripped off a small branch. He swam with it to the middle of the inlet, dove down, and disappeared. We waited for a while, but he did not resurface.
By now, we could see, as well as hear,chickadees and bluejays. Just beyond the bridge on the left there is a small stream flowing through the grasses. We noticed three young women peering over the bank, and one of them was taking pictures of something in the water. When we got to the spot and looked over, we saw about a dozen mallards, male and female, swimming in the stream, and moving in and out of the grasses. The males were crowned with vibrant green, while the females wore more muted browns.
Two bicyclists passed us, one on a mountain bike, the soft tires humming on the asphalt, the other, long and thin and lycra clad, speeding by on a road bike.
We turned around at the cabbage patch, about a mile and a half from the start. We both stretched, the joints on my back cracking, and my hamstring protesting just a bit against the cold. While I was bent over, a gorgeous white and brown English Setter came over and did with his nose what dogs do. He was on a retractable leash and his owner, one of a group of six, quickly reeled him in and assured me the dog was friendly. Any friendlier and we would have to get married.
By now we were warmed up, and the walk back was quicker. We noticed that a beaver had joined the mallards, and could not tell if it was our old friend or one of his kin. Close to the finish, we spotted a large whitish mushroom on the trunk of a tree about 5 feet off the ground, shaped just like a bun. Closer inspection revealed that it was, indeed, a hamburger bun, stuck over a small branch. Maybe a new kind of bird feeder?
Back where we began, we saw that the picnic tables had been removed for the winter, with only their anchors remaining. There was a vine wreath tacked to the frame of a window of the old train station, the vines interlaced with seasonal orange and brown leaves and fruits. We knew the season was over when we saw that the bathrooms were locked and the entrance was chained. Not so bad for men - not so good for women.
The bike path is a marvel to us through all the seasons and today it gave us as fine a walk as we have had all year. We had our 3 mile walk, and we had our river and our sights and our wildlife, and we did not have our big meal, so our waist lines and hearts are the better for it, in many ways. And I did add 270 fit points to my Fitlinxx account. Can't ask for a better day than this one.
Today was mild - I was comfortable with a flannel shirt over a cotton tee shirt - and overcast: the sky was mottled, with alternating gray and white swirls. If you looked hard enough at the white parts, you could almost see a hint of blue behind them. The river and inlets were so still they mirrored every leaf and branch.
We walked west. The first thing we noticed was that there were no birds to be seen - no Great American Egrets like on our last walk, and none of the ubiquitous Canada Geese. If we stopped and listened hard, we could hear twittering, but at first we could not see any birds. That changed later in the walk.
There were a surprising number of people on the path at 1 pm. The first person we saw was a Back of the Pack jogger coming towards us. Though the side to side pumping of her arms was not efficient and her strides were labored, her pace was steady and determined. I loved her immediately, and clapped and cheered for her and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving. She smiled as she passed, and I know that smile.
We saw a family of people, probably eastern Europeans, three generations. The two women wore what looked like traditional scarves over their heads. The men wore black. There were two small children, a boy and a girl. They were walking, but the dad of the boy was pulling a little scooter. Later the boy stood on the scooter, while his dad pulled it, and him, along. We wished them all a Happy Thanksgiving as we passed, and they returned the greeting.
We noticed that the ground was clear and free around the four-foot high grave stone shaped marker, engraved with "S9" - nine miles to Schenectady, a remnant from the days this bike path was a railroad track. Two years ago it had become so overgrown that during one of my walks, I carried in clippers and a pruner and cleared away the brush. I noticed that after that, it pretty much remained that way.
Just beyond the marker and just before the orange bridge at the one mile marker there is a small inlet on the left. The ripples in the water caught our attention - they were being made by a beaver. He glided over to a point of land and up to a downed sapling, where he stripped off a small branch. He swam with it to the middle of the inlet, dove down, and disappeared. We waited for a while, but he did not resurface.
By now, we could see, as well as hear,chickadees and bluejays. Just beyond the bridge on the left there is a small stream flowing through the grasses. We noticed three young women peering over the bank, and one of them was taking pictures of something in the water. When we got to the spot and looked over, we saw about a dozen mallards, male and female, swimming in the stream, and moving in and out of the grasses. The males were crowned with vibrant green, while the females wore more muted browns.
Two bicyclists passed us, one on a mountain bike, the soft tires humming on the asphalt, the other, long and thin and lycra clad, speeding by on a road bike.
We turned around at the cabbage patch, about a mile and a half from the start. We both stretched, the joints on my back cracking, and my hamstring protesting just a bit against the cold. While I was bent over, a gorgeous white and brown English Setter came over and did with his nose what dogs do. He was on a retractable leash and his owner, one of a group of six, quickly reeled him in and assured me the dog was friendly. Any friendlier and we would have to get married.
By now we were warmed up, and the walk back was quicker. We noticed that a beaver had joined the mallards, and could not tell if it was our old friend or one of his kin. Close to the finish, we spotted a large whitish mushroom on the trunk of a tree about 5 feet off the ground, shaped just like a bun. Closer inspection revealed that it was, indeed, a hamburger bun, stuck over a small branch. Maybe a new kind of bird feeder?
Back where we began, we saw that the picnic tables had been removed for the winter, with only their anchors remaining. There was a vine wreath tacked to the frame of a window of the old train station, the vines interlaced with seasonal orange and brown leaves and fruits. We knew the season was over when we saw that the bathrooms were locked and the entrance was chained. Not so bad for men - not so good for women.
The bike path is a marvel to us through all the seasons and today it gave us as fine a walk as we have had all year. We had our 3 mile walk, and we had our river and our sights and our wildlife, and we did not have our big meal, so our waist lines and hearts are the better for it, in many ways. And I did add 270 fit points to my Fitlinxx account. Can't ask for a better day than this one.
A Little Walking, a Little Talking, and a Little Good Cheer Thanksgiving Morning
My wife called me at work at about 3 pm on the day before Thanksgiving. She wanted to deliver meals in the city of Albany on Thanksgiving morning, and more importantly, wanted to know if I was willing to go along with her and drive. We had done this before, and my dance card was open so I didn't object- I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to have to get up in the middle of the night. So I asked her"
"What time would we have to be there?"
"Not until 8:30"
"That's not bad - O.K. - I'll do it."
"Great! I thought you'd say that, so I already called and signed us up!"
Which is how I ended up downtown at the Concourse at 8:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, waiting in line for two hours with several thousand other like-minded people. This was Equinox's annual Thanksgiving Day Community Dinner, and we were a small part of a huge process resulting in meals delivered to over 7,000 people in the area. Quite the undertaking.
Even though I did a lot of standing and a lot of walking, and even though I was at it for over three hours, I couldn't log it in my Fitlinxx account. And even though it wasn't an athletic event, I was still way at the back of the pack by the time I arrived.
It was a varied crowd, mostly families, ranging from couples with young children to grandparents and maybe even a great grandparent or two. So, I did what I always do - talked with the people around me - you didn't think I was going to stay quiet, did you?
Kids
Lots of kids there - some were sitting athe the tables the organizers provided, coloring. A lot of them were on the loose - the alarms around the art work lining the halls went off continually, mostly as kids got too close to the wires and tripped the sensors. There were kids zipping around on "wheelies", too,exhibiting some pretty amazing control and grace as they zipped around, turned, braked to a stop and sat down, all without missing a word in their conversations with each other. My favorite sight, though, was the parents who had their young son sitting in a stroller, with a portable DVD player balanced across the frame. It which was playing a Sponge Bob Square Pants video, and the kid wasn't making a peep.
Considering how small many of the kids were, and how long the wait was, most of those kids were remarkably well behaved. There was one, however, who was not so good - I suggested what they could do with her if they happened to run out of turkeys. Kathy chuckled at first, but then she shushed me - didn't want to alientate any of the parents around us.
On-Line, the Old-Fashioned Way
I talked to a man about my age wearing a SUNY Albany basketball sweatshirt and a SUNY hat. I asked if he was an alum or if he had a son on the team. Actually , he said, I'm a Siena grad, but I help out with the SUNY Lacrosse team. I told him I wasn't so sure about a sport where your opponents get to whack you with sticks.
"Mostly" he said, "they try to hit you on the arm, between the elbow and hand, to jar the ball loose." That didn't change my mind about trying the game.
I identified a Tufts grad by his sweatshirt. 2002 grad, he told me, the semester before Jon started. He, too, had worked at the Tufts Daily, and knew about the ancient mismatched furniture cloistered office where the newspaper staff labored. I told him about Jon's travels to Hong Kong and China and India, and about the classmate who tapped him on the shoulder while waiting in line to see the Dali Lama. As an undergrad, my new friend told me, he had not been very adventurous, had not studied abroad during his junior year. He was now doing post grad studies in physics at SUNY Albany, and most of his classmates were from abroad. He loves listening to them talk about their homelands and travels, and envies them. It's never too late, I told him. Besides, if he knows people who live around the world, as Jon does, do what Jon does - consider them the owners of very inexpensive places to stay!
There was a young couple with three small children, a boy and two girls. Dad and the children were all dressed in Scouting uniforms. The girls were brownies. The boy, a second grader, was a member of a Cub Scout Pack at his elementary school and his dad had stepped up and become the Pack Master. Because the elementary school which sponsors the pack only has an enrollment of about 160 kids - in Albany, the charter schools are really siphoning off students, especially from the elementary schools - it was hard to find kids interested in joining the pack and even harder to get their parents involved - he partnered with a nearby Montessori school. He reasoned that parents who had apply to a school to get their kids enrolled would tend to be more involved in their children's lives and activities - and he was right. He also partnered with the Boy Scout Troop from the St Andrews Episcopal Church , a very active congregation, again expanding the experiences open to the boys in the Pack. We admire the programs - Jon is an Eagle and Em earned her Silver Award, so we talked with him about scouting for quite a while.
A woman ahead of us was a third grade teacher in the Albany schools, so the dad talked with her a bit about what to do to help prepare his son for third grade. Read, she said. Later I talked with her about Em, who is an Elementary Education major at Boston College. She wanted to know if Em would go right on for her Masters - we don't know at this time. She also recommended that Em get a good grounding in special ed. We agreed.
Getting to the Tables
After about 90 minutes we got to the tables - the ones holding the "packets" Each table had a placard with a zip code on it. By the time we got there, all the outlying zip codes - Watervliet, Cohoes, Menands, etc, were gone. That was ok, since we wanted one in the city -12206 had a lot of packets left and that was perfect. Kathy is a case worker and has responsibility for a shared-aid building on Central Ave, and sure enough she found a packet for there - out of the 11 meals to be delivered, 10 were going to people in the same building.
Drivers Wanted
We could only pick up one packet - there were still a lot of people behind us and the organizers did not want to run out of packets before they ran out of "drivers" - interesting problem in logistics, actually. Last year they were short on drivers, so they advertised heavily - and successfully - this year. In fact, Kathy noticed that they were dividing the packets into smaller groupings, so more packets were available. I guess they were worried that if the people behind us didn't get a packet after waiting in line, the word would get out and next year there would be another shortage of drivers. Interesting problem indeed.
The Meals
After we picked up the packets, we waited in line again for about a half hour before we got to pick up the food. They let us go into the cafeteria in small groups of 5 or 6, so as to not jam up the pick-up area. When we got into the cafeteria, a volunteer gave us a large cardboard box - the experienced "drivers" had brought along their own wheeled coolers, or wagons or even hand trolleys. Then we made 11 pick ups at each "station" First, foil wrapped containers of turkey, ham, sweet and white potatoes, stuffing and vegetables - each packet had been assembled ahead of time and frozen, so the food would stay cool and safe for the delivery process. Then Kentucky Fried Chicken takeout boxes stuffed with a couple of desserts - mostly pieces of pie - a roll, celery and carrots sticks. Then small plastic containers of gravy. Next small plastic fruit cups - they were short on those, so you could only get one cup per household, no matter how many meals were going there. Finally, a loaf of bread, or a package of rolls or muffins for each household. There went into a separate smaller box to carry.
Of course, the next problem was how to carry the big box, which was a little heavy, and none too sturdy, to the car, which was at the other end of the concourse and down two levels. Fortunately, the organizers has thought of that, and there were assorted wagons, flatbed carts and other wheeled conveyances available. They also had volunteers down in the garage to bring said conveyances back up to the pickup point - pretty clever.
The Building
It was pretty amusing watching a lot of people from the suburbs try to read the little printed maps which were provided to try to figure out how to get to multiple addresses in the inner city. No such problem for us. As a case worker, Kathy knows every street alley and building in the city and in the northern part of Albany county - and most of the people who live there, too. Townsend is "her" building - she is the only caseworker assigned to it - and of the 150 people who live there, she is either the case manager or involved in the cases of 45 of them. No big surprise that when we got to the building, all the people sitting in the lobby knew her and started talking with her, and she knew almost everyone by name, regardless if they were her clients or not. She had organized the tickets in the packet by floor, to make it easier for us to deliver them. Knew right where most of the apartments were, too. We had also taken some recyclable shopping bags with us and had re-packed some of the dinners in them, especially if we were delivering two meals to one apartment. Made the deliveries easier, and it sure made the big box I was lugging lighter.
Of course, since meals had been ordered for all 150 residents, there was a steady stream of people carrying boxes, trying to get into the small lobby, and backed up in the lobby as they waited for the two very overworked elevators. Since the building has about 16 floors above ground and three below, it would have been tough to deliver all the meals without them.
The president of the building association was a big help: he asked everyone which floor they needed to go to, and then used his key to hold the elevator at each floor while the deliveries were made, making sure the elevator was there when the "drivers" got back. He had also arranged for the meals which could not be dropped off, since the residents were out, to be collected in the community room, where they could be picked up later.
The residents were very happy to see us and thankful to receive their meals. They all talked with Kathy, too, some about the meal, some about her last visit, some about their health. One woman had recently fallen and hurt her wrist, which she held up and showed Kathy. A very different world for me, and pretty amazing to watch.
We had one last delivery, to Elk Street, a street which winds and snakes its way through Albany, mostly parallel to Central Ave, but stopping and starting, turning into a street of a different name for a while, and then reappearing. But, Kathy knew the twists and turns and short cuts, and stayed on the Elks trail just like a bloodhound and we found the apartment and accomplished our mission.
By now it was after noon, breakfast had been a long time ago, and the talk and smell of all that food made me hungry. Since we were not going to have our Thanksgiving dinner until Saturday, we did the same thing after finishing this run that I do after finishing a 5K - we headed off to a Dunkin Donuts, for a toasted whole wheat bagel, salmon cream cheese, and a cup of coffee.
"What time would we have to be there?"
"Not until 8:30"
"That's not bad - O.K. - I'll do it."
"Great! I thought you'd say that, so I already called and signed us up!"
Which is how I ended up downtown at the Concourse at 8:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, waiting in line for two hours with several thousand other like-minded people. This was Equinox's annual Thanksgiving Day Community Dinner, and we were a small part of a huge process resulting in meals delivered to over 7,000 people in the area. Quite the undertaking.
Even though I did a lot of standing and a lot of walking, and even though I was at it for over three hours, I couldn't log it in my Fitlinxx account. And even though it wasn't an athletic event, I was still way at the back of the pack by the time I arrived.
It was a varied crowd, mostly families, ranging from couples with young children to grandparents and maybe even a great grandparent or two. So, I did what I always do - talked with the people around me - you didn't think I was going to stay quiet, did you?
Kids
Lots of kids there - some were sitting athe the tables the organizers provided, coloring. A lot of them were on the loose - the alarms around the art work lining the halls went off continually, mostly as kids got too close to the wires and tripped the sensors. There were kids zipping around on "wheelies", too,exhibiting some pretty amazing control and grace as they zipped around, turned, braked to a stop and sat down, all without missing a word in their conversations with each other. My favorite sight, though, was the parents who had their young son sitting in a stroller, with a portable DVD player balanced across the frame. It which was playing a Sponge Bob Square Pants video, and the kid wasn't making a peep.
Considering how small many of the kids were, and how long the wait was, most of those kids were remarkably well behaved. There was one, however, who was not so good - I suggested what they could do with her if they happened to run out of turkeys. Kathy chuckled at first, but then she shushed me - didn't want to alientate any of the parents around us.
On-Line, the Old-Fashioned Way
I talked to a man about my age wearing a SUNY Albany basketball sweatshirt and a SUNY hat. I asked if he was an alum or if he had a son on the team. Actually , he said, I'm a Siena grad, but I help out with the SUNY Lacrosse team. I told him I wasn't so sure about a sport where your opponents get to whack you with sticks.
"Mostly" he said, "they try to hit you on the arm, between the elbow and hand, to jar the ball loose." That didn't change my mind about trying the game.
I identified a Tufts grad by his sweatshirt. 2002 grad, he told me, the semester before Jon started. He, too, had worked at the Tufts Daily, and knew about the ancient mismatched furniture cloistered office where the newspaper staff labored. I told him about Jon's travels to Hong Kong and China and India, and about the classmate who tapped him on the shoulder while waiting in line to see the Dali Lama. As an undergrad, my new friend told me, he had not been very adventurous, had not studied abroad during his junior year. He was now doing post grad studies in physics at SUNY Albany, and most of his classmates were from abroad. He loves listening to them talk about their homelands and travels, and envies them. It's never too late, I told him. Besides, if he knows people who live around the world, as Jon does, do what Jon does - consider them the owners of very inexpensive places to stay!
There was a young couple with three small children, a boy and two girls. Dad and the children were all dressed in Scouting uniforms. The girls were brownies. The boy, a second grader, was a member of a Cub Scout Pack at his elementary school and his dad had stepped up and become the Pack Master. Because the elementary school which sponsors the pack only has an enrollment of about 160 kids - in Albany, the charter schools are really siphoning off students, especially from the elementary schools - it was hard to find kids interested in joining the pack and even harder to get their parents involved - he partnered with a nearby Montessori school. He reasoned that parents who had apply to a school to get their kids enrolled would tend to be more involved in their children's lives and activities - and he was right. He also partnered with the Boy Scout Troop from the St Andrews Episcopal Church , a very active congregation, again expanding the experiences open to the boys in the Pack. We admire the programs - Jon is an Eagle and Em earned her Silver Award, so we talked with him about scouting for quite a while.
A woman ahead of us was a third grade teacher in the Albany schools, so the dad talked with her a bit about what to do to help prepare his son for third grade. Read, she said. Later I talked with her about Em, who is an Elementary Education major at Boston College. She wanted to know if Em would go right on for her Masters - we don't know at this time. She also recommended that Em get a good grounding in special ed. We agreed.
Getting to the Tables
After about 90 minutes we got to the tables - the ones holding the "packets" Each table had a placard with a zip code on it. By the time we got there, all the outlying zip codes - Watervliet, Cohoes, Menands, etc, were gone. That was ok, since we wanted one in the city -12206 had a lot of packets left and that was perfect. Kathy is a case worker and has responsibility for a shared-aid building on Central Ave, and sure enough she found a packet for there - out of the 11 meals to be delivered, 10 were going to people in the same building.
Drivers Wanted
We could only pick up one packet - there were still a lot of people behind us and the organizers did not want to run out of packets before they ran out of "drivers" - interesting problem in logistics, actually. Last year they were short on drivers, so they advertised heavily - and successfully - this year. In fact, Kathy noticed that they were dividing the packets into smaller groupings, so more packets were available. I guess they were worried that if the people behind us didn't get a packet after waiting in line, the word would get out and next year there would be another shortage of drivers. Interesting problem indeed.
The Meals
After we picked up the packets, we waited in line again for about a half hour before we got to pick up the food. They let us go into the cafeteria in small groups of 5 or 6, so as to not jam up the pick-up area. When we got into the cafeteria, a volunteer gave us a large cardboard box - the experienced "drivers" had brought along their own wheeled coolers, or wagons or even hand trolleys. Then we made 11 pick ups at each "station" First, foil wrapped containers of turkey, ham, sweet and white potatoes, stuffing and vegetables - each packet had been assembled ahead of time and frozen, so the food would stay cool and safe for the delivery process. Then Kentucky Fried Chicken takeout boxes stuffed with a couple of desserts - mostly pieces of pie - a roll, celery and carrots sticks. Then small plastic containers of gravy. Next small plastic fruit cups - they were short on those, so you could only get one cup per household, no matter how many meals were going there. Finally, a loaf of bread, or a package of rolls or muffins for each household. There went into a separate smaller box to carry.
Of course, the next problem was how to carry the big box, which was a little heavy, and none too sturdy, to the car, which was at the other end of the concourse and down two levels. Fortunately, the organizers has thought of that, and there were assorted wagons, flatbed carts and other wheeled conveyances available. They also had volunteers down in the garage to bring said conveyances back up to the pickup point - pretty clever.
The Building
It was pretty amusing watching a lot of people from the suburbs try to read the little printed maps which were provided to try to figure out how to get to multiple addresses in the inner city. No such problem for us. As a case worker, Kathy knows every street alley and building in the city and in the northern part of Albany county - and most of the people who live there, too. Townsend is "her" building - she is the only caseworker assigned to it - and of the 150 people who live there, she is either the case manager or involved in the cases of 45 of them. No big surprise that when we got to the building, all the people sitting in the lobby knew her and started talking with her, and she knew almost everyone by name, regardless if they were her clients or not. She had organized the tickets in the packet by floor, to make it easier for us to deliver them. Knew right where most of the apartments were, too. We had also taken some recyclable shopping bags with us and had re-packed some of the dinners in them, especially if we were delivering two meals to one apartment. Made the deliveries easier, and it sure made the big box I was lugging lighter.
Of course, since meals had been ordered for all 150 residents, there was a steady stream of people carrying boxes, trying to get into the small lobby, and backed up in the lobby as they waited for the two very overworked elevators. Since the building has about 16 floors above ground and three below, it would have been tough to deliver all the meals without them.
The president of the building association was a big help: he asked everyone which floor they needed to go to, and then used his key to hold the elevator at each floor while the deliveries were made, making sure the elevator was there when the "drivers" got back. He had also arranged for the meals which could not be dropped off, since the residents were out, to be collected in the community room, where they could be picked up later.
The residents were very happy to see us and thankful to receive their meals. They all talked with Kathy, too, some about the meal, some about her last visit, some about their health. One woman had recently fallen and hurt her wrist, which she held up and showed Kathy. A very different world for me, and pretty amazing to watch.
We had one last delivery, to Elk Street, a street which winds and snakes its way through Albany, mostly parallel to Central Ave, but stopping and starting, turning into a street of a different name for a while, and then reappearing. But, Kathy knew the twists and turns and short cuts, and stayed on the Elks trail just like a bloodhound and we found the apartment and accomplished our mission.
By now it was after noon, breakfast had been a long time ago, and the talk and smell of all that food made me hungry. Since we were not going to have our Thanksgiving dinner until Saturday, we did the same thing after finishing this run that I do after finishing a 5K - we headed off to a Dunkin Donuts, for a toasted whole wheat bagel, salmon cream cheese, and a cup of coffee.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Another Brick in the Wall
Who knew that my most frequent swim partner would be - a brick? Yep - Aaron was at it again this week with the bricks. As in all well structured classes, we get to build on the lessons of the past. So we repeat an old favorite: we pair up and Aaron tosses two brick into the deep part of the pool and side by side, we go fetch. And we get to do the drill twice because - actually, I don't know why we get to do it twice - maybe "two" is Aaron's lucky number?
Dodie and I are the couple of the moment, so we go do as we are bid and fetch the bricks off the bottom of the pool, flip over on our backs and otter them back to our Master. He promptly flings them out again and gives the command. This time, though, I have an idea to goof on him a little. I am wearing the sparkly red shoes, so I tap my heels together three times - oops - wrong fairy story. I am wearing the red zoomies, so I feel strong, like Aquaman. I convince Dodie to let me get both bricks, to see if Coach notices. I am not totally sure I can do this, so we concoct a back up plan - if I can't handle both bricks, I will drop one and Dodie will casually go down after it and bail me out.
I easily go down to the bottom and pick up both bricks, one in each hand. But it's not so easy getting back to the surface. I have to get both legs on the bottom and shove before I get enough momentum to surface. Once there, I roll to my back, and let the zoomies do their thing. Still, it's tougher than I thought - even with the flippers I have to kick hard and concentrate on keeping my head back and chin up to keep from going under. When I get to the end of the pool, I hand the two bricks up to coach, one in each hand. He says's, "That's great! From now on, I'm going to duct tape them together and you can do it that way all the time!" Ooops.
By the way, since my second run has used up all the time alloted for this drill, Dodie gets a free pass and doesn't have to do her second fetch, so she thinks this has been a fine stunt all the way around.
Keeping Our Heads Above Water
Turns out we are not done with the bricks yet. Coach had devised new torture.
Every week we tread water, first using just our arms - I feel like a big buzzard flapping my wings during this stage - then using just our legs. We repeat these cycles, 20 seconds for each stage, until we complete three minutes.
Sometimes during the arms only part, I cross my legs at the ankles, to make sure I don't use my legs, and also because it feels feel pretty awkward with them just hanging out there. Coach sees this and thinks it's a good idea, and asks Mike and Dodie and Kelly to do the same, which they do. When it's time to switch back to the legs part, Kelly, who has been quietly giggling over in her corner of the pool, says, "Coach, can I uncross my legs now?" Like this drill wasn't tough enough for me without a lung full of water?
Anyway, after "fetch", Coach takes us and the bricks down to the deep part of the pool and tells us we are going to tread water again - with the bricks. Being the nice guy he is, he gives us two (there's that number again) choices. We can hold the brick out of the water with two hands and use just our legs. Or we can hold the brick with one hand, and use the other arm to help keep us afloat. Being Coach, there is a catch - if we hold the brick in just one hand, we have to extend our arm until it is totally straight up in the air. We are going to do this drill - wait for it - twice.
Kelly goes first. She grabs the brick in both hands, starts to kick and immediately begins to sink. This is not a surprise, since she has no fat to help with buoyancy, and the brick is about 20% of her body weight. Coach mentions that last week she only lasted 6 seconds, and is astounded when she is still going after 30. Of course, her head is totally under water and she is not breathing. She later tells us all that she has taken a deep breath as soon as she grabbed the brick, because she was bound and determined to break her record and who needs air anyway? No competitive drive there.
We all take our turns in round one, and we all use two hands. This is a hard drill for Mike, because two weeks ago, Aliens landed on his knee and then drilled for oil. I know this because he has three very neat little equi-distant craters atop his knee cap, and a scar in the middle of it. I've seen enough episodes of the X-Files to know what causes marks like that!
In round 2, we all decide to use only one arm for the brick. Dodie does great - she has very strong legs and is a powerful kicker. She has that brick so far out of the water I think she is trying to touch the ceiling with it. And then, just to show off, she changes arms, without losing a stroke. Next thing I know, she uses her free hand to grab the other brick, and starts pumping the bricks up and down like they are pom-poms. Wow - I guess once you're a cheerleader, you're always a cheerleader!
I can hardly wait until the next class to find out what other perverse things Coach has in store for us and the bricks.
Dodie and I are the couple of the moment, so we go do as we are bid and fetch the bricks off the bottom of the pool, flip over on our backs and otter them back to our Master. He promptly flings them out again and gives the command. This time, though, I have an idea to goof on him a little. I am wearing the sparkly red shoes, so I tap my heels together three times - oops - wrong fairy story. I am wearing the red zoomies, so I feel strong, like Aquaman. I convince Dodie to let me get both bricks, to see if Coach notices. I am not totally sure I can do this, so we concoct a back up plan - if I can't handle both bricks, I will drop one and Dodie will casually go down after it and bail me out.
I easily go down to the bottom and pick up both bricks, one in each hand. But it's not so easy getting back to the surface. I have to get both legs on the bottom and shove before I get enough momentum to surface. Once there, I roll to my back, and let the zoomies do their thing. Still, it's tougher than I thought - even with the flippers I have to kick hard and concentrate on keeping my head back and chin up to keep from going under. When I get to the end of the pool, I hand the two bricks up to coach, one in each hand. He says's, "That's great! From now on, I'm going to duct tape them together and you can do it that way all the time!" Ooops.
By the way, since my second run has used up all the time alloted for this drill, Dodie gets a free pass and doesn't have to do her second fetch, so she thinks this has been a fine stunt all the way around.
Keeping Our Heads Above Water
Turns out we are not done with the bricks yet. Coach had devised new torture.
Every week we tread water, first using just our arms - I feel like a big buzzard flapping my wings during this stage - then using just our legs. We repeat these cycles, 20 seconds for each stage, until we complete three minutes.
Sometimes during the arms only part, I cross my legs at the ankles, to make sure I don't use my legs, and also because it feels feel pretty awkward with them just hanging out there. Coach sees this and thinks it's a good idea, and asks Mike and Dodie and Kelly to do the same, which they do. When it's time to switch back to the legs part, Kelly, who has been quietly giggling over in her corner of the pool, says, "Coach, can I uncross my legs now?" Like this drill wasn't tough enough for me without a lung full of water?
Anyway, after "fetch", Coach takes us and the bricks down to the deep part of the pool and tells us we are going to tread water again - with the bricks. Being the nice guy he is, he gives us two (there's that number again) choices. We can hold the brick out of the water with two hands and use just our legs. Or we can hold the brick with one hand, and use the other arm to help keep us afloat. Being Coach, there is a catch - if we hold the brick in just one hand, we have to extend our arm until it is totally straight up in the air. We are going to do this drill - wait for it - twice.
Kelly goes first. She grabs the brick in both hands, starts to kick and immediately begins to sink. This is not a surprise, since she has no fat to help with buoyancy, and the brick is about 20% of her body weight. Coach mentions that last week she only lasted 6 seconds, and is astounded when she is still going after 30. Of course, her head is totally under water and she is not breathing. She later tells us all that she has taken a deep breath as soon as she grabbed the brick, because she was bound and determined to break her record and who needs air anyway? No competitive drive there.
We all take our turns in round one, and we all use two hands. This is a hard drill for Mike, because two weeks ago, Aliens landed on his knee and then drilled for oil. I know this because he has three very neat little equi-distant craters atop his knee cap, and a scar in the middle of it. I've seen enough episodes of the X-Files to know what causes marks like that!
In round 2, we all decide to use only one arm for the brick. Dodie does great - she has very strong legs and is a powerful kicker. She has that brick so far out of the water I think she is trying to touch the ceiling with it. And then, just to show off, she changes arms, without losing a stroke. Next thing I know, she uses her free hand to grab the other brick, and starts pumping the bricks up and down like they are pom-poms. Wow - I guess once you're a cheerleader, you're always a cheerleader!
I can hardly wait until the next class to find out what other perverse things Coach has in store for us and the bricks.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Sometimes God calms the storm. At other times, he calms the sailor. And sometimes he makes us swim.
I returned to swim class Thursday night, after missing the previous week's session to be with my family in Florida, due to the death of my father. It had been a tough week and a half, and I was physically tired and mentally drained, and did not want to go. But it was good to see Dodie and Kelly again, both of whom have been very supportive, and both of whom hugged me. Good to see Aaron again, too. And it was really good to get back in the pool and work. It was very tough to work hard and laugh at the same time, especially in the water, but we managed. Seeing my friends and working through the drills with them tired me out, but washed away my exhaustion.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Theodore Francis Schubin October 30, 1914 - November 4, 2007
Theodore Francis Schubin died Sunday, November 4 at the age of ninety - three in Boca Raton, Florida. While we mourn his passing, we celebrate his long and active life.
Mr. Schubin was born October 30, 1914, in Newark, New Jersey. He was a veteran of both the U. S. Army, serving as a corporal in the infantry, and U. S. Navy; serving as a naval gunnery instructor, First Class during World War II in Newport, Rhode Island.
Mr. Schubin joined the New York State Department of Correction as a prison guard at Wallkill Prison in 1937. When he retired in 1975, he was the Superintendent of the Ossining Correctional Facility, formerly known as Sing-Sing Prison. Mr. Schubin was a prison reformer, bringing diversity to the correctional staff and increasing educational opportunities for inmates.
He had a life long respect for learning and education, earning a G.E.D., and attending special courses at Colombia and New York University during 1939 and 1940. At the age of 55, he graduated with honors from Dutchess Community College in Poughkeepsie, NY with an associate's degree in correctional administration. While at the college he served as Chairman of the Evening Division Student Association.
After the Schubin family moved to Florida in 1975, he and his wife traveled broadly, both throughout the United States and the world, visiting not only countries in Europe, but also Egypt, Russia, Thailand and China, among others.
An avid and excellent ballroom dancer, he met his future wife Doris at a USO dance in 1943. He won several dance competitions, and was a instructor for Arthur Murray Dance studios. He and his wife danced together regularly for over 60 years.
A versatile athlete, he swam, ran track, and played football and basketball in the service. Later in life he enjoyed golf, once scoring a hole-in-one, and winning the Mainlands Golf Club President's Cup in 1979 and 1984.
He was a member of the Elks, the American Legion, the Poughkeepsie Youth Board and the Coconut Creek Power Squadron. He was a deacon, and President of the Men's Brotherhood of the Arlington Reformed Church in Poughkeepsie and deacon at the Calvary Presbyterian Church in Coconut Creek.
He had a quick and agile mind, and an outstanding memory. He loved telling jokes and solving crossword puzzles -in ink.
He loved music, and had an eclectic collection of CDs, which he freely shared with his friends.
Mr. Schubin is survived by his wife of sixty years, Doris Wood Schubin; his son: Ronald T. Schubin of Albany, New York; and his daughters: Deborah G. Peterson of Melbourne FL; Cynthia A. Walker of Pawling, NY; and Tammy L. Schubin of Tallahassee, FL. He is survived by six grandchildren: Jon and Emily Schubin; Robyn and Sarah Walker; and Keva DuPont and Kiera Ansbro.
A memorial service was held on November 9 in the chapel at St. Andrews Estate South in Boca Raton. Contributions in his memory may be sent to the Good Samaritan Fund, St. Andrews Estates South, 6045 Verde Trail South, Boca Raton, FL, 33433-4476 or the Hospice of Palm Beach County by making a gift to the Spectrum Healthcare Foundation, 5300 East Avenue, West Palm Beach, FL 33407.
Mr. Schubin was born October 30, 1914, in Newark, New Jersey. He was a veteran of both the U. S. Army, serving as a corporal in the infantry, and U. S. Navy; serving as a naval gunnery instructor, First Class during World War II in Newport, Rhode Island.
Mr. Schubin joined the New York State Department of Correction as a prison guard at Wallkill Prison in 1937. When he retired in 1975, he was the Superintendent of the Ossining Correctional Facility, formerly known as Sing-Sing Prison. Mr. Schubin was a prison reformer, bringing diversity to the correctional staff and increasing educational opportunities for inmates.
He had a life long respect for learning and education, earning a G.E.D., and attending special courses at Colombia and New York University during 1939 and 1940. At the age of 55, he graduated with honors from Dutchess Community College in Poughkeepsie, NY with an associate's degree in correctional administration. While at the college he served as Chairman of the Evening Division Student Association.
After the Schubin family moved to Florida in 1975, he and his wife traveled broadly, both throughout the United States and the world, visiting not only countries in Europe, but also Egypt, Russia, Thailand and China, among others.
An avid and excellent ballroom dancer, he met his future wife Doris at a USO dance in 1943. He won several dance competitions, and was a instructor for Arthur Murray Dance studios. He and his wife danced together regularly for over 60 years.
A versatile athlete, he swam, ran track, and played football and basketball in the service. Later in life he enjoyed golf, once scoring a hole-in-one, and winning the Mainlands Golf Club President's Cup in 1979 and 1984.
He was a member of the Elks, the American Legion, the Poughkeepsie Youth Board and the Coconut Creek Power Squadron. He was a deacon, and President of the Men's Brotherhood of the Arlington Reformed Church in Poughkeepsie and deacon at the Calvary Presbyterian Church in Coconut Creek.
He had a quick and agile mind, and an outstanding memory. He loved telling jokes and solving crossword puzzles -in ink.
He loved music, and had an eclectic collection of CDs, which he freely shared with his friends.
Mr. Schubin is survived by his wife of sixty years, Doris Wood Schubin; his son: Ronald T. Schubin of Albany, New York; and his daughters: Deborah G. Peterson of Melbourne FL; Cynthia A. Walker of Pawling, NY; and Tammy L. Schubin of Tallahassee, FL. He is survived by six grandchildren: Jon and Emily Schubin; Robyn and Sarah Walker; and Keva DuPont and Kiera Ansbro.
A memorial service was held on November 9 in the chapel at St. Andrews Estate South in Boca Raton. Contributions in his memory may be sent to the Good Samaritan Fund, St. Andrews Estates South, 6045 Verde Trail South, Boca Raton, FL, 33433-4476 or the Hospice of Palm Beach County by making a gift to the Spectrum Healthcare Foundation, 5300 East Avenue, West Palm Beach, FL 33407.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly 6 MIle Run
After 6 triathlons in the last year and a bunch of 5K's in the last two months, I have discovered a few things about runners: there are lots of them; and they run for all kinds of reasons. They run for fitness and they run for thin-ness; they run to outdistance age;, they run to socialize and they run to compete; they run to have something to talk about and if they are good, something to brag about. And every now and then, they run just for fun.
That would be the Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly Six Mile , held once a year in beautiful, but decidedly not downtown, Thatcher Park. On this late October morning the Helderberg Mountains were dry and the air was clear and very brisk. The frost was not on the pumpkins when I arrived, but it must have just left. I was dressed for the cold in fleece and wool, from head to toe. But a bunch of the runners were dressed for - Halloween!
The Albany Running Exchange, sponsors of the event, had turned the entire pavilion area,and the surrounding fields and trails, into one giant out door Spook House. The hosts, runners and spectators were very much into the spirit of the day. A hockey-masked Jason burst out of the woods and terrorized the kids - and me - with a very loud and scary chainsaw - until I noticed there was no chain on the saw. Multiple gorillas mingled with giant bananas, the by product of King Kong, Carmen Miranda and "Nightmare on Elm Street".
Everywhere you looked were terrifying girlies, ghastlies and ghoulies, oh my! If you don't think girlies are terrifying, you haven't seen a six foot tall belly dancer wearing a two piece harem outfit over a hairy chest. The pirates were lusty - and given the fair maidens, it was totally understandable, even if one of them was covered with tiny cereal boxes and all the fixings. Donna was a refuge from Sadie Hawkins Day and Deanne was a black cat with sharp claws, but a very pretty kitty.
You might have thought you had stumbled into Fantasia, and the Flight of the Bumblebees - but they were really the Boo-Bees (Fair Maidens and Fair Maidenforms?)- and they were being chased by the Boo Bee Keeper. His net was strung with a huge brassiere which looked more DDDD than B-sized.
My buddies Dodie and Kelly were there, too. Dodie was running, as was her friend Holly. Kelly was there with her kids and her parents to cheer on her husband, Craig, and her brother, Chris. Chris won the 13 mile event in the past, but while he was fresh off a terrific 10:32 finish at the Kona Ironman, his legs weren't, and he "only" finished 4th this time. Craig of the sore knees was 8th and Holly, training for another marathon, finished with a very good time. Donna and Deanne finished together - they would have been under an hour if they hadn't veered into left field - literally - before crossing the finish line, losing time as they circled back. Dodie made this her first post-achilles run, and finished very respectably. I cheered loudly for them all.
The runners, over 270 of them, took off from a graveyard and ran past several more of them along the way. Each tombstone was "en-graved" with the name of a registrant. Jamie liked his so much that when he saw it, he made a quick left turn off the trail, bent over, ripped it from the ground, and made it his running partner for the rest of the race. You can see the pictures here. To keep the runners on their toes - or on backsides if they didn't step lively - the trails were strewn with bananas. To keep the race interesting, as if the bananas, woods, terrain, rocks,hills and mud from the previous days' rain didn't make it interesting enough, Jason and other assorted beasties and nasties periodically leaped out at the stalwarts along the way. As if their hearts weren't beating fast enough!
Since it was a race, there were awards for the runners - but there were also awards for Best Costumes, Best Pumpkin Carvers, Best Gorilla Impersonation and Most Bananas Carried (remember them? 7 was the winning number). Hey, even a Back of the Packer like me would have a shot at winning one of those!
There was hot chocolate at the end of the race, and the traditional bagels and bananas(of course) But there was also a marvelous cookout, and I understand you could get your burgers just as rare as you liked!
I had a lot of fun. Next year I may have to don a costume and enter. Maybe I'll pretend to be an athlete!
That would be the Hairy Gorilla Half Marathon and Squirrelly Six Mile , held once a year in beautiful, but decidedly not downtown, Thatcher Park. On this late October morning the Helderberg Mountains were dry and the air was clear and very brisk. The frost was not on the pumpkins when I arrived, but it must have just left. I was dressed for the cold in fleece and wool, from head to toe. But a bunch of the runners were dressed for - Halloween!
The Albany Running Exchange, sponsors of the event, had turned the entire pavilion area,and the surrounding fields and trails, into one giant out door Spook House. The hosts, runners and spectators were very much into the spirit of the day. A hockey-masked Jason burst out of the woods and terrorized the kids - and me - with a very loud and scary chainsaw - until I noticed there was no chain on the saw. Multiple gorillas mingled with giant bananas, the by product of King Kong, Carmen Miranda and "Nightmare on Elm Street".
Everywhere you looked were terrifying girlies, ghastlies and ghoulies, oh my! If you don't think girlies are terrifying, you haven't seen a six foot tall belly dancer wearing a two piece harem outfit over a hairy chest. The pirates were lusty - and given the fair maidens, it was totally understandable, even if one of them was covered with tiny cereal boxes and all the fixings. Donna was a refuge from Sadie Hawkins Day and Deanne was a black cat with sharp claws, but a very pretty kitty.
You might have thought you had stumbled into Fantasia, and the Flight of the Bumblebees - but they were really the Boo-Bees (Fair Maidens and Fair Maidenforms?)- and they were being chased by the Boo Bee Keeper. His net was strung with a huge brassiere which looked more DDDD than B-sized.
My buddies Dodie and Kelly were there, too. Dodie was running, as was her friend Holly. Kelly was there with her kids and her parents to cheer on her husband, Craig, and her brother, Chris. Chris won the 13 mile event in the past, but while he was fresh off a terrific 10:32 finish at the Kona Ironman, his legs weren't, and he "only" finished 4th this time. Craig of the sore knees was 8th and Holly, training for another marathon, finished with a very good time. Donna and Deanne finished together - they would have been under an hour if they hadn't veered into left field - literally - before crossing the finish line, losing time as they circled back. Dodie made this her first post-achilles run, and finished very respectably. I cheered loudly for them all.
The runners, over 270 of them, took off from a graveyard and ran past several more of them along the way. Each tombstone was "en-graved" with the name of a registrant. Jamie liked his so much that when he saw it, he made a quick left turn off the trail, bent over, ripped it from the ground, and made it his running partner for the rest of the race. You can see the pictures here. To keep the runners on their toes - or on backsides if they didn't step lively - the trails were strewn with bananas. To keep the race interesting, as if the bananas, woods, terrain, rocks,hills and mud from the previous days' rain didn't make it interesting enough, Jason and other assorted beasties and nasties periodically leaped out at the stalwarts along the way. As if their hearts weren't beating fast enough!
Since it was a race, there were awards for the runners - but there were also awards for Best Costumes, Best Pumpkin Carvers, Best Gorilla Impersonation and Most Bananas Carried (remember them? 7 was the winning number). Hey, even a Back of the Packer like me would have a shot at winning one of those!
There was hot chocolate at the end of the race, and the traditional bagels and bananas(of course) But there was also a marvelous cookout, and I understand you could get your burgers just as rare as you liked!
I had a lot of fun. Next year I may have to don a costume and enter. Maybe I'll pretend to be an athlete!
Flipper Re-Surfaces!
About a month ago I re-connected with an old friend at the Teal Ribbon 5K - he had organized a team in remembrance of his sister, and I was honored to participate.
As old friends do when they reconnect, we got talking about what we had been doing. He knew I had been participating in triathlons and I mentioned that I had started blogging about my experiences. He expressed interest, so I immediately promised to send him the link so he, too, could be subjected to my ramblings.
The first piece he read was "A New Kind of Brick" with its mention of Flipper. Proving that it is a very small world, he told me this in his next email:
You made a reference to Flipper. I have a connection to the show. The older brother on the show was "Sandy". The actor playing Sandy was Luke H... Luke is a distant cousin, but unfortunately I have never met him. However, growing up in the 60's my family watched the show religiously and we were always proud of our cousin, Luke.
Will future anthropologists note that in the 20th and 21st centuries, the bond uniting Mankind was - TV?
As old friends do when they reconnect, we got talking about what we had been doing. He knew I had been participating in triathlons and I mentioned that I had started blogging about my experiences. He expressed interest, so I immediately promised to send him the link so he, too, could be subjected to my ramblings.
The first piece he read was "A New Kind of Brick" with its mention of Flipper. Proving that it is a very small world, he told me this in his next email:
You made a reference to Flipper. I have a connection to the show. The older brother on the show was "Sandy". The actor playing Sandy was Luke H... Luke is a distant cousin, but unfortunately I have never met him. However, growing up in the 60's my family watched the show religiously and we were always proud of our cousin, Luke.
Will future anthropologists note that in the 20th and 21st centuries, the bond uniting Mankind was - TV?
Friday, November 2, 2007
Zoomers
"Stroke Improvement, The Next 7 Weeks" began last night. Aaron and the Band-Aid are back, so are the bricks and the drills, along with a wonderfully sadistic new one called "Melt Downs". But that's the topic of a future post. Dodie and Kelly are back, Al is gone, and Mike and Jessica have joined us. But they also are the topics of a future post.
Last night's drills were divided into NSF and WSF – "no swim fins" and "with swim fins" and that's what I want to talk about – swim fins. I really like using swim fins. They compensate for my notoriously poor flutter kick, make me go faster, and allows me to increase the cycle speed of my arm strokes. I definitely work harder and I know I am increasing my VO-2 Max. Good stuff. I want a pair of these to use during my practices so I can get all these benefits more than once a week. Besides, I haven't bought any new "toys" in at least two weeks.
I wanted to know more about these marvels, so I did what any modern athlete does – I Googled them. Up popped Triathelete Sports and there they were – Zoomers!. (They are probably called this because they allow you to "zoom" through the water, and based on my experience, the name is perfect.)
I clicked on the picture and learned that for $24.95 – on sale now for $23.95 - I could purchase this amazing product which:
• uses a "patented short fin technology"
• would "promote a shorter, faster kick"
• would allow me to "work harder without overloading the muscles"
• meant a "high level of intensity can be maintained for a longer period of time"
I was beginning to get excited. Then I learned they came in blue and red, the red ones being "designed for advanced, competitive swimmers."
And, get this:
• "5-6% stiffer"!
My interest was really rising now. I read on and learned that for merely $8 more, I could get the newer, better "Z-2's" with
• A "patented angle and quick response technology"
• Which "supports a higher body position and better body roll across" a lot different strokes
• And that the size and shape "offer greater ease of movement, comfort and safety "
And here's the kicker: They allow anybody, of any ability "to transition the full power of their legs into the water."
Wow! By this time, I was really excited and breathing hard. Two thoughts zoomed through my mind: "Had I stumbled onto an XXX- rated site by mistake?" and "I have got to get me a pair a pair of those!"
Last night's drills were divided into NSF and WSF – "no swim fins" and "with swim fins" and that's what I want to talk about – swim fins. I really like using swim fins. They compensate for my notoriously poor flutter kick, make me go faster, and allows me to increase the cycle speed of my arm strokes. I definitely work harder and I know I am increasing my VO-2 Max. Good stuff. I want a pair of these to use during my practices so I can get all these benefits more than once a week. Besides, I haven't bought any new "toys" in at least two weeks.
I wanted to know more about these marvels, so I did what any modern athlete does – I Googled them. Up popped Triathelete Sports and there they were – Zoomers!. (They are probably called this because they allow you to "zoom" through the water, and based on my experience, the name is perfect.)
I clicked on the picture and learned that for $24.95 – on sale now for $23.95 - I could purchase this amazing product which:
• uses a "patented short fin technology"
• would "promote a shorter, faster kick"
• would allow me to "work harder without overloading the muscles"
• meant a "high level of intensity can be maintained for a longer period of time"
I was beginning to get excited. Then I learned they came in blue and red, the red ones being "designed for advanced, competitive swimmers."
And, get this:
• "5-6% stiffer"!
My interest was really rising now. I read on and learned that for merely $8 more, I could get the newer, better "Z-2's" with
• A "patented angle and quick response technology"
• Which "supports a higher body position and better body roll across" a lot different strokes
• And that the size and shape "offer greater ease of movement, comfort and safety "
And here's the kicker: They allow anybody, of any ability "to transition the full power of their legs into the water."
Wow! By this time, I was really excited and breathing hard. Two thoughts zoomed through my mind: "Had I stumbled onto an XXX- rated site by mistake?" and "I have got to get me a pair a pair of those!"
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