Today I hate the staggering quantities of free food available in my life. Just this week:
On Monday I was in meetings all day at work, so my company bought lunch -- not a big deal, really. But then the delivery guy gave me an extra -- and extra-large -- piece of carrot cake in addition to the dessert in my boxed lunch.
On Wednesday someone brought around homemade cookies. Then someone else brought me her half-eaten cookie because she thought I might want to finish it. She was wrong.
Yesterday I came to work to find a package of Hostess Donettes on my desk, left there after a co-worker suffered a fit of buyer’s remorse. You can see that I have gained a reputation as the office garbage disposal.
Today I came to work to find a cream cheese cupcake on my desk, left by an unknown benefactor -- or perhaps these treats are now generating spontaneously from the ether? And someone just stopped by my cube to mention that our boss had bought us all breakfast burritos.
The free food situation this week has been nothing out of the ordinary. This sort of thing happens all the time, and on top of all this there are the candy dishes around the office, the cookies left in common areas, and the birthday cakes. When I’m buying food for myself I eat a mostly healthful diet -- both for its own sake and to get lean for the world record attempt -- but it’s hard to stay on the wagon when people constantly thrust junk food in your face. I have started ignoring most of these free food offers, or throwing the food away when the donating party turns their back. Americans don’t like to throw food away, but why? We apparently have so many calories available to us that we can afford to give them away in mass quantities.
It’s no mystery to me why Americans are fat and getting fatter: our food culture has flipped the fuck out. I think that food culture has a lot more to do with our national weight problem than we like to think, and as evidence I offer this anecdote: I have a friend who struggled with his weight his entire life, until he served with the Peace Corps in a developing country. While he was there he became rail-thin, just like the people who surrounded him. Now, this developing nation is not a starving nation -- its citizens have plenty of food available to them and could eat themselves into obesity if they wanted to, but their food culture prevents this. My friend had lost 25 pounds, without trying, merely by immersing himself in a more sensible food culture. Since his return to the United States he has regained the weight and is struggling, much to his confusion, to lose it. “What am I doing wrong?” he keeps asking. It’s hard to buck your culture.
WIHT Update! I went to a meeting and there was a peanut butter cookie in the conference room, free for the taking. When I got back to my desk, a sandwich bag of Cheetos had spontaneously sprouted in my inbox.
WIHT Update 2! Free bagels and fruit in the lunchroom... why do I bother buying groceries? I could go freegan without having to root through dumpsters.
WIHT Update 3! The same co-worker who gave me the Hostess Donettes just gave me a leftover taco from his lunch.
WIHT Update 4! Today (Saturday) I went to a snowshoeing race in Frisco and won an apple pie as a door prize.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Today's workout
22-mile bike commute, and my coldest yet -- when I left the house it was 24 degrees.
Then to the Marriott for stairclimbing: 8 climbs of 20 flights each (2 walking, 3 running, 3 running/bounding). Time today 2:00.
I weighed my bike today. With all the usual accessories (fenders, rack, panniers, lock, bell, Iowa native sticker, etc.), but without any cargo, it came in at 42 pounds. Is that a lot? That seems like a lot.
Then to the Marriott for stairclimbing: 8 climbs of 20 flights each (2 walking, 3 running, 3 running/bounding). Time today 2:00.
I weighed my bike today. With all the usual accessories (fenders, rack, panniers, lock, bell, Iowa native sticker, etc.), but without any cargo, it came in at 42 pounds. Is that a lot? That seems like a lot.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate when I go to the Mercury Cafe, an allegedly good restaurant, and the waitress reads the specials in a monotone and can’t pronounce all the words.
I also hate when my dining companion asks a simple question -- “What kinds of fruit and cheese come with the fruit and cheese plate?” -- and the waitress replies, “I don’t know, I’m kind of new here… do you want me to ask?” which implies that my dining companion’s question is unimportant and puts her in the bad-cop position of having to say, “Yes, go ask.” The correct answer is, “Let me check on that and I’ll be right back.”*
Furthermore, I hate when I order an elk steak sandwich and the waitress looks confused and says, “A what???” and then, after I repeat my order, says, “Ohhhh… I thought you said an oak steak sandwich.” If you work at a restaurant that serves elk, shouldn’t you be able to extrapolate from “oak steak sandwich” to “elk steak sandwich” from context alone?
Likewise, I hate when the waitress returns and asks, “Do you want cheese on your elk burger?” and has to be reminded that I ordered an elk steak sandwich, not a burger.
Additionally, I hate when the elk steak sandwich is lousy, just a square of meat plopped on a crumbly bun without enough roasted potatoes on the side. This, at least, was not the waitress’s fault.
Also, I hate when we go upstairs for swing dancing, and order two glasses of wine at the bar, and the bartender says, “We don’t keep the wine up here -- I have to go downstairs and get it.” And then we have to hang around the bar for several long minutes while the bartender chases our drinks down. Am I missing something here? Doesn’t the wine belong at the bar where it will be served?
Finally, I hate when this happens at a place that should be The Awesome. The Mercury Cafe has a unique and beautifully decorated space, with an attractive hipster staff festooned with tattoos and dreadlocks. It strives to serve organic, locally sourced food. It acts as a community center, hosting club gatherings -- a Go club was meeting there during our dinner -- and poetry readings, and dances with live music. But I’ve been there three times now, and twice the food has disappointed (and it proved merely decent the other time). A restaurant has nothing without good food and good service, regardless of any frills it offers.
*I should add that the restaurant was not busy and that the waitress had time to go to the kitchen to get information for a customer. I have worked as a waiter and I have sympathy for their plight, especially when the place is slammed. But not infinitely so.
I also hate when my dining companion asks a simple question -- “What kinds of fruit and cheese come with the fruit and cheese plate?” -- and the waitress replies, “I don’t know, I’m kind of new here… do you want me to ask?” which implies that my dining companion’s question is unimportant and puts her in the bad-cop position of having to say, “Yes, go ask.” The correct answer is, “Let me check on that and I’ll be right back.”*
Furthermore, I hate when I order an elk steak sandwich and the waitress looks confused and says, “A what???” and then, after I repeat my order, says, “Ohhhh… I thought you said an oak steak sandwich.” If you work at a restaurant that serves elk, shouldn’t you be able to extrapolate from “oak steak sandwich” to “elk steak sandwich” from context alone?
Likewise, I hate when the waitress returns and asks, “Do you want cheese on your elk burger?” and has to be reminded that I ordered an elk steak sandwich, not a burger.
Additionally, I hate when the elk steak sandwich is lousy, just a square of meat plopped on a crumbly bun without enough roasted potatoes on the side. This, at least, was not the waitress’s fault.
Also, I hate when we go upstairs for swing dancing, and order two glasses of wine at the bar, and the bartender says, “We don’t keep the wine up here -- I have to go downstairs and get it.” And then we have to hang around the bar for several long minutes while the bartender chases our drinks down. Am I missing something here? Doesn’t the wine belong at the bar where it will be served?
Finally, I hate when this happens at a place that should be The Awesome. The Mercury Cafe has a unique and beautifully decorated space, with an attractive hipster staff festooned with tattoos and dreadlocks. It strives to serve organic, locally sourced food. It acts as a community center, hosting club gatherings -- a Go club was meeting there during our dinner -- and poetry readings, and dances with live music. But I’ve been there three times now, and twice the food has disappointed (and it proved merely decent the other time). A restaurant has nothing without good food and good service, regardless of any frills it offers.
*I should add that the restaurant was not busy and that the waitress had time to go to the kitchen to get information for a customer. I have worked as a waiter and I have sympathy for their plight, especially when the place is slammed. But not infinitely so.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Today's workout
I didn't feel like challenging the icy roads this morning, so no bike ride to work. To the gym for leg strength, core strength, and cardio. Time 1:45.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate the Facebook game Word Challenge, a monstrously addictive time-waster that I now call Word Crack. Each game only takes two minutes to play, so you always have time for one more game, and one more game, and one more game, until your lunch break has been over for 30 minutes and your boss is standing in the door of your cube asking if you plan to do any work today.
Word Crack seems fun and easy -- finding words in a batch of six Scrabble-like tiles -- but turns out to be evil and difficult. At the end of each game I find myself shouting, “How did I miss AIR? And CODE? It must have been a fluke! One more game, and this time I’m really going to pay attention and kick this game’s ass!” Repeat as necessary.
Finally, Word Crack ranks you against your friends who play it. Which means that a competitive word-lover like me has no choice but to keep playing and playing in a Sisyphean quest for the meaningless #1 slot. Right now I’m ranked #2 with a high score of 5576, stuck behind a certain someone at 7081. Intolerable!
WIHT Update! A few hours after posting this, I played Word Crack on my lunch break and popped an 8306 -- huzzah! Unfortunately I forgot to save the score and so you -- by which a mean a certain someone -- will have to take my word for it.
WIHT Update II! A certain someone just emailed me to boast of scoring 10,054 on Word Crack, busting me back to #2 even with my if-a-tree-falls-in-a-forest 8306. Curses -- foiled again!
Word Crack seems fun and easy -- finding words in a batch of six Scrabble-like tiles -- but turns out to be evil and difficult. At the end of each game I find myself shouting, “How did I miss AIR? And CODE? It must have been a fluke! One more game, and this time I’m really going to pay attention and kick this game’s ass!” Repeat as necessary.
Finally, Word Crack ranks you against your friends who play it. Which means that a competitive word-lover like me has no choice but to keep playing and playing in a Sisyphean quest for the meaningless #1 slot. Right now I’m ranked #2 with a high score of 5576, stuck behind a certain someone at 7081. Intolerable!
WIHT Update! A few hours after posting this, I played Word Crack on my lunch break and popped an 8306 -- huzzah! Unfortunately I forgot to save the score and so you -- by which a mean a certain someone -- will have to take my word for it.
WIHT Update II! A certain someone just emailed me to boast of scoring 10,054 on Word Crack, busting me back to #2 even with my if-a-tree-falls-in-a-forest 8306. Curses -- foiled again!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Today's workout
22-mile bike commute, with the return ride through fat, drifting snowflakes that luckily were melting on contact with the road but unluckily were getting in my eyes and sticking to my glasses, which should not be simultaneously possible.
Then to the Marriott for stairclimbing, which I haven't done in a few weeks due to an itchy throat and coughing. So I took it a little easy, finishing 9 climbs of 20 flights each (3 walking, 6 running).
Then I left the Marriott and realized that I had locked my keys in my car. Sigh. So I ran 25 minutes to my girlfriend's house, who kindly drove me to my house to get my spare car key, and then back to the Marriott. April, you are The Awesome. Total time 2:45.
Weighed in at 153 this morning, down 1 pound from last week.
Then to the Marriott for stairclimbing, which I haven't done in a few weeks due to an itchy throat and coughing. So I took it a little easy, finishing 9 climbs of 20 flights each (3 walking, 6 running).
Then I left the Marriott and realized that I had locked my keys in my car. Sigh. So I ran 25 minutes to my girlfriend's house, who kindly drove me to my house to get my spare car key, and then back to the Marriott. April, you are The Awesome. Total time 2:45.
Weighed in at 153 this morning, down 1 pound from last week.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate when I have to buy a new headlamp -- because I kept dropping the old headlamp -- and the first thing that happens when I open the package is the new headlamp pops out and falls on the hardwood floor.
Monday, February 9, 2009
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy (At Least It's Right Twice A Day Edition)
Today I hate the clock outside of Sports Authority on Broadway. Now, I'm a big fan of ornate public clocks (especially clocktowers like our neato Daniels & Fisher Tower on 16th Street Mall), but it's sort of a rule of mine that they have to tell the correct time and not be perpetually stuck at, say, 6:21. Broken clocks, no matter how pretty, plunge me into anger and despair.
I took this photo at 12:46. As far as you know.
I took this photo at 12:46. As far as you know.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Today's workout
Rode the bike to REI, then to the gym for leg strength and core strength. Time 2:30.
I made up a new -- new to me, anyway -- exercise with a machine called the Freemotion Cable Cross. I lowered the arms, hooked the handle onto one foot, then balanced on the other foot in the skating position while doing skating pushes against resistance with the other leg. This must have looked pretty silly to the other gym users, but to me it seems like a pretty great exercise as it specifically targets the skating muscles through the skating range of motion. I especially noticed a burn in my butt when I finished. Has anyone else tried this?
Hours this week: 15
Hours this year: 72.25
Miles skated this week: 44
Miles skated this year: 203
I made up a new -- new to me, anyway -- exercise with a machine called the Freemotion Cable Cross. I lowered the arms, hooked the handle onto one foot, then balanced on the other foot in the skating position while doing skating pushes against resistance with the other leg. This must have looked pretty silly to the other gym users, but to me it seems like a pretty great exercise as it specifically targets the skating muscles through the skating range of motion. I especially noticed a burn in my butt when I finished. Has anyone else tried this?
Hours this week: 15
Hours this year: 72.25
Miles skated this week: 44
Miles skated this year: 203
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate my calendar, which I only just noticed includes a spurious February 29. (The calendar features art by surrealist Michael Sowa -- perhaps in his surrealist world, 2009 is a Leap Year? Fortunately, it correctly places March 1 on a Sunday, so I won't have to make adjustments the entire year.)
Also, when I write an appointment on the calendar, it reappears in ghostly fashion on the next page. I sure hope I don't go to Steph's birthday party again on the 28th!
Also, when I write an appointment on the calendar, it reappears in ghostly fashion on the next page. I sure hope I don't go to Steph's birthday party again on the 28th!
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Today's workout
Skated 28.15 miles in 1:50:59 (15.2 mph), HR 71%, temp 57. Nice day today, didn't even need the arm warmers.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate people who go for walks in the park while reading a book. This seems like a perfect example of ruining two pleasurable activities by combining them. How is it possible to concentrate on anything with greater literary merit than Us Weekly magazine while looking up every few seconds to make sure you're not about to walk into a tree? And what is the point of walking in the park if you can't enjoy the scenery? Haven't these people heard of iPods and audiobooks?
Friday, February 6, 2009
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate cutting up a head of lettuce to make salad.* I don't know why. Chopping lettuce is not technically difficult or exhausting, and it only takes a few minutes. But I detest the chore, and I always put it off as long as possible. It reminds me of when I wore contacts, and I hated cleaning them. Again: this was an easy task that consisted of pouring cleaning solution over the lenses for about two minutes. But it was the longest two minutes of the day.
*I'm aware, by the way, that bagged, pre-chopped lettuce is available for purchase. I'm always tempted to buy this stuff and save myself the agony, but it's a lot more expensive, and I always think, "What kind of wuss am I that I can't chop my own lettuce?" Then I get home and think, "I am the kind of wuss who wishes he has bought the bagged lettuce."
*I'm aware, by the way, that bagged, pre-chopped lettuce is available for purchase. I'm always tempted to buy this stuff and save myself the agony, but it's a lot more expensive, and I always think, "What kind of wuss am I that I can't chop my own lettuce?" Then I get home and think, "I am the kind of wuss who wishes he has bought the bagged lettuce."
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Today's workout
Today: 22-mile bike commute. Then skated 12.9 miles in 51:33 (15.0 mph), HR 74%, temp 53. I wore a skullcap and arm warmers with tights, which was just about right. No boot covers and my right toes got a little chilly. Time 2:30.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate Sarah Palin, so I signed up for email updates from her PAC. Because hating Sarah Palin feels really good, like picking at a scab, so every time I get an email from Sarah Palin over the next two years until she announces her candidacy for 2012 I'll be able to get that scab-pickin' good feeling all over again and again.
SarahPAC's logo depicts the Lower 48 with Alaska silhouetted inside of it. It's actually pretty sweet, and it's nice to see Alaska shown at its terrifying true size instead of getting shrink-wrapped in a little box off the coast of California. But... where's Hawaii? Now I know that Sarah Palin is the governor of Alaska, not Hawaii, and I know that Hawaii is a narsty blue state that spawned B-A-R-A-C-K-O-B-A-M-A. But simple fairness would seem to dictate that if Alaska gets a seat at the grown-up's table, Hawaii ought to get one as well.
SarahPAC's logo depicts the Lower 48 with Alaska silhouetted inside of it. It's actually pretty sweet, and it's nice to see Alaska shown at its terrifying true size instead of getting shrink-wrapped in a little box off the coast of California. But... where's Hawaii? Now I know that Sarah Palin is the governor of Alaska, not Hawaii, and I know that Hawaii is a narsty blue state that spawned B-A-R-A-C-K-O-B-A-M-A. But simple fairness would seem to dictate that if Alaska gets a seat at the grown-up's table, Hawaii ought to get one as well.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Today's workout
22-mile bike commute. Then to the gym for leg strength, core strength, and balance exercises. Time 3:00. Lousy gym workout today -- I was hungry, and when I'm hungry I feel weak and I can't concentrate and I'm useless for anything beyond complaining about how hungry I am.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate when I’ve been leaving increasingly bitchy messages on a customer’s voicemail, and then he calls back and says, “Sorry I didn’t call you back right away. I’ve been out of town with a family emergency -- my son was killed in a car accident.” Because there’s really no comeback for that.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Today's workout
22-mile bike commute. Then went running for 45 minutes. Time 2:15.
My throat has been tickling more the last few days and I've been coughing a bit. I'm thinking about skipping the stairclimbing race, which would suck because I think I could do well, but it's not worth the weeks-long hacking cough that seems to accompany this activity.
I weighed in at 154 this morning, no change from last week.
My throat has been tickling more the last few days and I've been coughing a bit. I'm thinking about skipping the stairclimbing race, which would suck because I think I could do well, but it's not worth the weeks-long hacking cough that seems to accompany this activity.
I weighed in at 154 this morning, no change from last week.
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy (Belated Super Bowl Edition!)
Today I hate the Super Bowl trophy presentation. Like the NBA and MLB trophy presentations, it starts with the league commissioner handing the Big Shiny Trophy to the team owner or the general manager or whoever. Who cares about these guys? We just watched a few dozen of the world’s finest athletes spilling their blood and guts to reach the pinnacle of their sport, and then they have to stand around while some pasty rich guy in a suit -- who spent the game sipping mimosas in a luxury suite -- gives a boring speech and wipes his fingerprints all over the Lombardi Trophy. Imagine if, after winning each of his races, Michael Phelps had had to fidget while an executive of USA Swimming accepted his gold medal.
The NHL gets this right. The first person to receive the Stanley Cup is -- strange but true! -- a hockey* player, usually the captain of the winning team. Not until each player takes a individual lap around the ice with the Cup hoisted above his head do the suits get to touch it. Not coincidentally, the Stanley Cup trophy presentation is one of the most powerful in sports.
*Explanatory note for Canadian readers: “Hockey” is an American sport played by angry men who “skate” on frozen water atop metal blades attached to their feet while chasing after a hunk of rubber and sometimes punching each other. Some great American hockey players include Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, Patrick Roy, and Gordie Howe.
The NHL gets this right. The first person to receive the Stanley Cup is -- strange but true! -- a hockey* player, usually the captain of the winning team. Not until each player takes a individual lap around the ice with the Cup hoisted above his head do the suits get to touch it. Not coincidentally, the Stanley Cup trophy presentation is one of the most powerful in sports.
*Explanatory note for Canadian readers: “Hockey” is an American sport played by angry men who “skate” on frozen water atop metal blades attached to their feet while chasing after a hunk of rubber and sometimes punching each other. Some great American hockey players include Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, Patrick Roy, and Gordie Howe.
Monday, February 2, 2009
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy
Today I hate the sweat pants I bought last Friday. I bought them with the intention of cutting them off for skating in cold weather, but when I got home I decided to take the scissors to my battered old sweats instead. Imagine my surprise when I pulled on my new sweats and found that they had been designed with giants in mind:
This is what I have to do to make the sweats fit comfortably:
I am six feet tall, and this cuff is six inches,* so these sweat pants were made for someone the size of an NBA forward! I wouldn’t mind wearing them with the cuffs, but they slip easily and I have to roll them up every few minutes. I guess I’ll have to safety-pin the cuffs in place or cut six inches off the bottom, which will make them look terrible, but then sweat pants look terrible anyway.
*Conversion to Canadian units: “Six feet” is 0.0000000000000001934 light years, and “six inches” is 0.00000000000000001612 light years.
This is what I have to do to make the sweats fit comfortably:
I am six feet tall, and this cuff is six inches,* so these sweat pants were made for someone the size of an NBA forward! I wouldn’t mind wearing them with the cuffs, but they slip easily and I have to roll them up every few minutes. I guess I’ll have to safety-pin the cuffs in place or cut six inches off the bottom, which will make them look terrible, but then sweat pants look terrible anyway.
*Conversion to Canadian units: “Six feet” is 0.0000000000000001934 light years, and “six inches” is 0.00000000000000001612 light years.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Today's workout
Skated 26.4 miles in 1:50:39 (14.3 mph), HR 71%, temp 51 and windy. Just a nice Sunday cruise on a beautiful sunny Denver afternoon.
Hours this week: 12.5
Hours this year: 57.25
Miles skated this week: 45
Miles skated this year: 159
Hours this week: 12.5
Hours this year: 57.25
Miles skated this week: 45
Miles skated this year: 159
WHAT I HATE TODAY: Your daily dose of negative energy (Super Bowl Edition!)
Today I hate that safeties are only worth two points. What event in football is cooler than a safety?* The defense has achieved perfect success, vanquishing the opposing offense so completely that it has nowhere to retreat, like a conquered army being pushed into the sea. This feat is so difficult that it rarely happens, yet a team that achieves it receives only two points, less than if it had chipped in a garden-variety 20-yard field goal.
I love everything about the safety. I love the pope's-hat signal the refs make, I love that the humiliated team has to kick off to its tormentors, and that it has to do so using the emasculating free kick. When I become President of Football, my first act will be to make safeties worth 11 points.
* Answer: a kick returned 99 yards for a touchdown. Long kick returns should get bonus points awarded on some sort of logarithmic sliding scale.
I love everything about the safety. I love the pope's-hat signal the refs make, I love that the humiliated team has to kick off to its tormentors, and that it has to do so using the emasculating free kick. When I become President of Football, my first act will be to make safeties worth 11 points.
* Answer: a kick returned 99 yards for a touchdown. Long kick returns should get bonus points awarded on some sort of logarithmic sliding scale.
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