Summer

Quintessential

The orange light fights to climb over the closest peak. As it crests, it strains to break through the thick mist. The mist, clinging and caressing my skin as I zoom through the winding and undulating mountain roads.

I almost have to pull over and pinch myself. Is this heaven? A dream? Almost. I wouldn’t want to ruin the flow of the wheels across the pavement, and this zen state of movement.

The road is quiet. Just me and the bike and the mountains. Every once in a while,a car will wait patiently behind me before I signal it is clear to pass. I’m more worried about skittish deer than the cars.

Most of the world, (including my family) is still asleep. Maybe that adds to the beauty. This is a private moment.

They will wake soon, and we will go chase that quintessential summer day together.

Camping at the lakefront. Tubing down the river. Soccer and wiffleball at the local park. Take your shoes off and dip your toes in the creek.

There are too many activities to fit in, despite the sun stretching overhead long after to boys bedtime. It feels like a return to simpler times.

People try to tell you, but it is hard to listen. Harder still to understand and change your behavior. Youth is wasted on the young. They grow up fast. The one that stuck with me was, “you only get eighteen summers with them”

I think that might be generous. They probably dont remember the first three or four. And they will have things that seem more important to them by 15 or 16. The window closes faster than we think.

I think that’s why this summer felt so special. Both El Duderino and Speedy were old enough to appreciate it. And every day I was home felt like a new mission. How do we craft the perfect summer day?

It’s a totally unrealistic goal. Unachievable, really. As everyone’s individual preferences clash. Reality sets in, disappointment, frustration, human nature.

But, like a good dose of type II fun, sometimes the joy is in the journey.

So we hiked. We swam and splashed. We camped. We floated. We traveled. I rode my bike every chance I got, often with bleary eyes and to the detriment of my sleep. There’s nowhere else I would rather have been.

Most of the time, I tried to look at the summer as a whole. What can we do today that week add to the overall experience.

But there were two occasions where I shot for the moon.

I woke up well before the dawn, stretching and prepping gear in the silent dark calm of the early morning trying not to wake the rest of the house.

I would drive 30 or so minutes to the base of the larger mountains and scenic highways and start my ride from there.

Winding my way through the scenic highways

40 ish miles with 4000’+ of elevation gain, most of it before my family awoke.

They would meet me later on at the state park I had already ridden laps, around. I would stop and get donuts and wait for them at a picnic bench beside a babbling creek.

After they joined me, my boys and I moved to the playground, swinging and making friends at the nearby volleyball net while my wife ran on the trail around the lake.

We would later hike on the same trail towards a waterfall before finding a serendipitous presentation by a local aviary rescue.

Meeting up at Vogel state park after my longer rides

We finished the day splashing in the lake, me throwing the boys like a backyard WWF exhibition.

Sure, there were disagreements. Maybe even a tantrum. Kids will be kids, and boys will be boys. I think we might have even found a yellow jacket nest and gotten stung on our hike.

In the moment, those things seem big. They appear to take over the narrative. These certainly aren’t things I would pencil in the agenda for my day. But, they diminish significantly time.

What’s left, is arguably the quintessential summer day. It was far from perfect, and yet it was everything we needed it to be.

Like a lot of things, maybe it was a bigger deal in my head. This lofty expectation that I strained for, and probably fell short of. But god damn did it feel good trying.

This is obviously quite a while after the fact. I hope you can all find activities to bring your family together in these dog days of summer.

That you can find joy in the pursuit of that quintessential summer day. And, just maybe, some serenity along the way.

Finishing off some beautiful summer nights in the mountains

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Mental muscles

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’m fresh out of the simulator for my recuurent pilot training and wanted to reflect on the experience.

“Laser beam focus”. “Like moving a toothpick inside a cheerio”. “Just put the thing in the thing and keep it there”.

These are things the instructors say when talking through a single engine ILS (instrument landing system) approach flown without the autopilot. They are referring to the small yellow box in the middle of the photo, and keeping the yellow box centered on the green crosshair.

Even the slightest deviation from the flight directors commanded position can result in an aircraft state that is no longer in a safe position to land.

Flying at 145 knots on approach means moving through the air at 245 feet per second. ILS minimums typically allow you to land at 1800′ RVR (runway visual range). That means you can only see about 1800 feet in front of you.

You need to transition from that laser beam focus on the dual cue flight director, to pick out the runway environment through the fog and haze. At those speeds, you have 7.5 seconds until the ground comes to greet you.

Let’s rewind about ten or fifteen minutes, before your laser beam focus on the yellow box and green cross hair.

You have flown to a safe altitude on a single engine, combating the asymmetric thrust that wanted to roll and yaw the airplane out of control and upside down. You start the process of securing the failed engine in order to prevent any further damage.

Now you have to expand your thinking and start looking at the big picture. What systems were running off that engine that I lost? Which systems were essential? Which were redundant? What operations can I still conduct with downgraded systems? Does the weather permit those operations with down graded systems? How much fuel do I have? Is it balanced?

The list of questions could go on and on, but you are in a pressurized tube moving through space with a finite amount of fuel. Add on to all that managing communications with the rest of the crew behind your locked cockpit door, air traffic control, and your company counterparts on the ground. There is a lot of data input and management at a higher level.

This represents a significant contrast from the task we previously discussed. A singular lazer beam focus on a very small window.

Singular lazer beam focus and birds eye view big picture situation analysis. Both tasks are critical to getting back on the ground safely, and training and preparing for those tasks are two very different operations.

This reminded me somewhat of the physical training that I do. Training for a five minute Jiu Jitsu match is much different than training for a five hour half ironman.

A single rep max deadlift requires a different training modality and approach than a 100+ mile bike ride through the mountains.

And unlike in sport, where you can specialize and focus on only one type of activity if you so choose, that type of specialization and omission is not an option im aviation.

I’ve never been a big fan of that in my training anyway. “Specialization is for insects” I once read. I want to be able to sprint fast and hike for a whole day. I want to be able to lift heavy things and not have my muscles give out at the end of long climb on my bike.

Similarly, I want to be able to have that lazer beam focus for as long as I need to, in order to land safely. I want to be able to calm my heart rate and nerves and look at the big picture analytically. I want to be able to ground my thoughts and be present in the moment without ruminating or fixating.

I want to train and strengthen all the muscles. Type I fast twitch fibers. Type II slow twitch fibers. The heart, the lungs, and all of those different mental muscles.

I’m not sure what the equivalent of deadlifts for focus, or bench press for big picture thinking looks like. But just like you shouldn’t skip leg day, you have to train all of those mental muscles, not just the showy ones.

I’m sure there are plenty of podcasts and researchers much smarter than myself, that can tell you how to train these different mental muscles. Sometimes, the best training is just repetition.

Have a few tasks that require short, intense bursts of lazer beam focus. Have some planning or brainstorming sessions where you can think big picture. Carve out some time to be creative. Engage in tasks that require longer bouts of repetitive motion but also dynamic motor control. (I helped my neice and nephew place individual perler beads in specific patterns)

All of these mental muscles need to be trained, and need to be continually engaged in order to prevent atrophy.

Just like any other training we talk about here, the joy is often found in the journey more so than the destination. And, there is plenty of serenity to be found along the way.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Merriam-Webster

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, I wanted to share another interesting story I found while researching my linguistics project.

The history of dictionaries may seem like a boring subject. You write down words, and you define them. How hard could it be? There are actually a lot of questions that must be answered when deciding how to make a dictionary.

“What is the relationship between words and phrases? How far should a dictionary go in recording nominal phrases? (Fire escape, forest fire)”

“How strictly should a dictionary confine its inventory to recorded usage? Can a spelling form be shared by more than one word (record as a number and record as a verb).”

“How much attention should be paid to etymology? (Weave intransitive vs transitive verb)” Weave in and out of traffic, and Weave clothes on a loom come, from different origin words as an example.

Making a dictionary becomes a little more complex than just a book to check when you don’t trust your scrabble opponent.

One of the most popular dictionaries in the US, is the Merriam-Webster brand. Their story was featured in the chapter I was researching, on the history of lexicography.

“The Merriam dictionaries trace their history back to the American Dictionary of the English Language dutifully compiled by the polemical lexicographer Noah Webster in 1828. It contains no fewer than 70,000 entries”

“Webster was an indefatigable collector of words with a rare gift for definition writing.”

“Unfortunately, his etymologies were influenced by his belief that modern languages, including English, are derived from something called Chaldean, which he believed was the language used by Adam and God for their conversations in the Garden of Eden and the immediate precursor to Hebrew.”

“After his death, his successors-including his son-in-law, Chauncey H. Goodrich, and the redoubtable Noah Porter, president of Yale College- quietly abandoned the Chaldaean hypothesis and brought the etymologies into line with the findings of Germanic and Indo-European scholarship.”

That is a lot to unpack for a book that has been mostly superceded by online reference checking. But recall that for generations, the Webster dictionary reigned Supreme. It is eerie to think about how much power definition holds, and how that power was held by a religious fanatic.

I grew up Roman catholic, and considered myself fairly devout until after high-school. Even I had never heard of Chaldean before.

After some very preliminary research it seems that the Chaldean people were in Mesopotamia around 11-12 thousand years ago, and were assimilated into the Babylonians. You may recognize that name from it’s own biblical reference the tower or babel.

Apparently there are multiple references not only in the Bible, but also from other renowned scholars, (Pliny the elder and Cicero) to Chaldean knowledge. There appears to be multiple references to their expertise in astronomy, astrology, vibrations, and numerology.

Some or all of that may be nonsense. I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t know how to know if any of it is real or not. Either way, it is fun to think about next time you have to check the dictionary when your five year old asks the difference between gunk and sludge.

We base our lives on definitions. How we identify ourselves, each other, the occurrences of our day to day experiences, they all depend on agreed upon definitions. The ability to set those definitions is a great power. And, as Uncle Ben would say, with great power comes great responsibility.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

What is a summer day made of? The dog days of summer are here. My wife is back in the classroom as a teacher for the first time since the pandemic emerged. El Duderino, my little linguistic four year old has started VPK at the school at the end of our neighborhood. I spend my mornings at home corralling him and Speedy, getting them to their respective school and daycare on time so my wife can have a sembelance of normalcy in the morning at least part of the time. When im working all of those duties fall to her.

Speedy generally gets dropped off first at a small in home daycare. “GiGi” has been as much a part of the boys life as I have. During particularly busy periods, maybe more so than me. Then it’s El Duderino’s turn. The elementary school sits at the end of our neighborhood. Maybe a half a mile following the sidewalks as they twist around gator filled retention ponds, and wind their way through suburbia. El Duderino rolls ahead of me on an aqua marine three wheel scooter with light up wheels. He is becoming skilled enough that I can’t keep up with him at just a walk anymore. Wearing sandals is no longer an option. I need closed toed shoes and a gait somewhere between a prance and a jog to keep up. Awkward enough to get second looks from the seniors and moms power walking at 8 am. But, I’m sure endearing none the less. Seeing an obviously uncaffeinated and disheveled father chasing his son down the street. Dinosaur backpack and spider man lunchbox in hand, so he can focus on the scooter.

About half way to the school he pauses to tell me this trip is annoying. I’m not sure our personal ideas of annoying line up, but I think I can empathize. The dog days of summer in Orlando mean that even this 8am short scoot to school is already sweltering in the upper 80’s. The air is sticky, and clings to you in an oppressive way. Like you owe it a favor and it is here to collect. It wont take no for an answer.

When I first started college in Melbourne Fl, around the same time of year, in the dog days of summer of 2005, I remember those same feelings. The excitement and anticipation of new adventures and opportunities. The social anxiety of a new places and new people. The growing laundry hamper as I would change my clothes after every single class. The walk from my dorm to any class and back, regardless of the time of day would leave me soaked, sweat stained, and contemplating my educational choices. I think I called my mom at some point and told her that I wasn’t sure I was up to this. I’m no stranger to sweating, but normally it is in athletic wear and a setting more of my choosing.

This morning was quite different. The dog days of summer in Burlington VT remind me of what a summer day is made of. In Fl we have it everyday, it isn’t special, because it is the norm, rather than the exception. I have grown to really like this layover, seeing it in both the depths of winter as well as the picturesque day I have enjoyed today.

The sky over Lake Champlain is that faded gray blue of optimism. Not the story book blue that looks so bold and perfect to be cartoonish. The faded and more realistic duller version. The one that inspires adventure because it is lacking in that crisp perfection. There is still room to grow. The breeze blows gently. Just enough to flitter the leaves along the running path and keep the mid sixties air from feeling stagnant. The lake and the mountains silently battling for your attention in the naturally beautiful background.

After my admittedly optimistic and subsequently failed attempt to get out and run a half marathon this morning despite not running in close to a month, I strolled down the street to my favorite local breakfast place here. I have written about it before and will do so again. Handy’s lunch is the Cheers of local dining establishments. I think I have eaten there three times, every time ordering the Chuck Norris breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee. The owner came over this time shook my hand, and thanked me for visiting again and for our last conversation when I visited a few months ago. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. It doesn’t hurt that it is one of the best breakfast sandwiches I’ve ever had and I’ve accrued a serious calorie deficit either.

While sitting at the counter watching him interact with the other local, mostly regular customers. One of the men says he grew up in Buffalo. It turns out he is only a few years older than me. He probably played high school football with my step brother. We talked about growing up there and how the city has changed. We talked about high school glory days over carb laden breakfast delicacies.

What is a summer day made of? Optimism, adventure, nature, camaraderie and celebration, in my case obviously some heavy sweating. All of them important and impactful. All of them fleeting.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.