Be The Stone

335 down and 31 to go! As we steamroll into December’s frigid field, we have the early opportunity to look in the rear-view mirror of this runaway freight train. We will stop, however briefly, to recharge batteries and top of supplies in a few weeks. Anticipating the annual review known as the resolution for the New Year. That often under-appreciated chore of inspection and analysis. What happened? What went right? What was a disaster? What did we learn? What can/could/should we do to outperform 2019? What are our adjusted goals? How crisp is the focus on our dreams? 

I am pleased with the results of this years streak. The streak, you will recall, was begun two years ago when I decided that there was value, discipline, reward, catharsis and learning, what we call coachable moments, in doing a blog post every day. Not just on the days when I have a spare hour, or when an idea pops into my head, of when I would rather sit and type that go out and run, but every day. Every fucking day. I decided - and then committed - to making this happen. And it did. Then last year, after 365 (or very close) posts I decided that, after further review, that I liked the routine. It made it feel like practice, as if I was moving consistently towards something of value. Almost as if it had a meaning all its own and was aware of itself as not being ’for’ something, but able to exist on its own 'as' something. It had developed an identity. 'Something else’ was totally immaterial, this was for this, and this is it. THIS. IS. IT. There is no other, else, larger picture, additional content, footnote, future, goal, dream or hope. This is for this. It is awareness of the present moment and my puny contribution to my sanity, character and growth. 

Over the years it has become something that I look forward to like breakfast. It allows me to explore the areas of my ego normally kept under strict supervision. I get to go all-out flow of consciousness or script by standard guidelines, I get to affix a headlamp to my psyche and go for a walk. I get to climb rhetorical mountains and swim in the sea of shark-filled chaos. I get to be judge, jury and executioner. I care not about public opinion as much as I care about getting to the meaning of things, I get to break rules and simultaneously observe the code with reverence and respect. I get to be a vulgar poet and a loud-mouthed bigot (should I choose.) I reserve the honored right to go in the dangerous direction of my bliss. I accept the incredible challenge of writing lyrics, poetry, stanzas of rhyming couplets and absolutely trashy semi-pornographic prose. I get to fantasize and squint at a brighter tomorrow. Sometimes I actually look (not edit) at some of these words that come from a clumsy tap of fingers on tiny faux-ivory keys and am amazed at how they fit together. One day last week I sat back in Dad’s old leather chair, the one I employ as task chair as I write and edit video, and delighted in one sentence, just a single line with a noun, verb and a pronoun and considered how if read like Hemingway. You know, like Tommy Hemingway who lives down the street.

And so as we bravely head over the river and through the trees into another new year - 2020 (yikes) - I have decided to continue the streak. One more year. One post every day. That will total three. It’s like consistency in training. We do something good every day. Run, bike, swim, stretch, lift, recover, hydrate, sleep, manage stress. We up the ante as we adapt to the stress intentionally placed and practiced. We increase the load constantly moving more, faster and with longer durations. We grow. We accept. We assist others with similar designs. We go from individuals in solo activity to a powerful, talented and motivated team. We create. 

All because we do something challenging and perhaps seemingly inconsequential every day. Once a day every day. 

And this inspires me. 

If, as has been suggested, all politics is local, so might this be. Like a stone pitched into the still water of a lake and rippling outwards. Start here. Be the stone. 

GO DAWGS

In an altogether different direction, the new video (current project) has turned ninety degrees. The initial concept, a group narrative extolling the various virtues of bicycle riding, has shifted away from something I have already done, towards something I have also already done. But something I think I can do better. The basic idea, changed as I bit the click-bait of new media available at the Internet Archives, an invaluable media resource, came into crisp focus as I explored the page called ‘Movie Trailers’. And the rest, as they say, is history. 

Before I could say roll the credits, I had downloaded more than a dozen official movie trailers, all in the public domain, and went about the business of considering the endless ways I might sequence them into something fun, exciting, novel and appropriate for an hour spin class accompaniment. Easy, no?

Here are a few of them, and you can play along and consider formatting them into your own cardio cinema colossal. 

North by Northwest

Matlese Falcon

Butch Cassidy

The Crawling Eye

Oh Brother Where Art Thou

Superman

Ratatouille

Lord of the Rings

Harry Potter

The Shinning

Triplets of Belleville

The Truman Show

Tora, Tora, Tora

Young Frankenstein

A Few Good Men

Kung Fu Panda

The Princess Bride

The Sandlot

School of Rock

Cars

The idea will be to shift the interviews and steer them towards asking for a favorite movie among them, and to find a connection with cycling, however obvious or obscure. The answer naturally segues into the archival footage of what we always use as the bread and butter of the series, people riding bikes. 

So there is that.

The 112th Apple Cup kicks off in less than an hour so I must go. 

And GO DAWGS. 

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day. Despite the global political reality of hate, fear, war, greed, injustice, intolerance, misogyny, cruelty, anger, distraction and gas lighting propaganda, there remains a lot to be thankful for. I recognize that to begin with a negative (or three) is not the most cheerful way to open a post, but I think it important, today, to do so. I also believe, with conviction, that the best way to turn them 180 degrees is to identify them. 

Which we do with awareness, honest intention and a completely different grade of energy. Unless a last resort, we do not fight fire with fire, take an eye for an eye, or extract revenge upon those that have harmed us, the members of our tribe or those in our outwardly expanding community. We dial up the forgiveness vibration and offer love as a antidote to hate, courage as same to fear and peace as a viable replacement to violence. I know this sounds like a hippie panacea but it is the only way that lasting change can be summoned into existence. The only thing that fighting fire with fire brings is more scorched earth. Same with the eye for an eye, as we end up a planet where the cyclops rules over the land of the blind. We must offer something for the current blight. If we could genuinely agree to a quid pro quo of general benefit for all people, from housing to education, jobs to retirement bennies, medical care to environmental protections and perhaps most importantly a nuclear weapons agreement, we might have something appealing to everyone, red, blue, lib, neocon, gay, native, pro-life or pro-gun. Right?

Or is it, as some suggest, more matter of culture, or lack thereof? People ignorantly want validation for racist stereotypes and more of what the coastal elite appear to have in spades? If this is truly the case, we are destined for a long, painful go of it. Because we must change that culture from the current negative to a sustainable positive. Pronto! The world is on fire and kids are being mowed down like tall grass as one group defends an antiquated and obsolete definition of a constitutional amendment by using lies, deceit, lobbying millions and preying on the fears of those already blinded by cultural myopia. 

We don’t need to bury the hatchet as much as agree to its utility. There are times when an axe can be the right tool for the job. Let us ensure that it is used for that and not to inflict pain, suffering and carnage upon innocents. Let’s cast our gaze forward and embrace technological change, regardless of the temporary dip in margins currently exploited by the one percent. Let’s get real with Wall Street, Big Oil and Big Pharma. I considered this morning writing another will. So my brothers and sisters who are left to clean up my mess have a script. I considered euthanasia and under what circumstances it might be applicable. I am sure that mine are similar to yours. BUT, have you ever considered why it is illegal and who was responsible for legislating the choice? How about the Health Insurance lobby. There is big money in sickness and the end of life. They want it and lose it when you’re gone. 

I am thankful today that we take our good health and fitness into our own hands and decide on our individual quality of life issues. We choose to be active, move, dance and spin. I am thankful today for those with whom I share these values. I am thankful for the opportunity to share. I am thankful for the people yet to see the light of this energy and its potential. They are the ones we need to share more of ourselves with. They are not the enemy. 

I may not agree with their reasoning, philosophies or political viewpoints but I refuse to create an artificial category that further divides us as Americans. We are in this together and only when united do we scratch the surface of our vast potential. 

So today, let’s share. Reach out. Empathize. Wear the other’s moccasins. Call a truce. Share a toast. Raise the vibration. Here’s to us! Salute. And please remember to eat some spinach today. 

Thank You

I have a somewhat unique opportunity. I have the opportunity/responsibility to create a new set list for tomorrow. A set of musical treats, lasting 90 minutes and expected to possess one (or more) of three primary characteristics to compliment our high-intensity spin sessions. The three categories are, roughly:

1) They gotta rock.

2) If not, they must contain sufficient rhythm, blues, jazz, world, hip-hop, funk or classical beats to push the pace. This is sometimes called, rhetorically, the grind. 

3) Lacking one and two, they must be so beautiful, emotional or downright inspirational that despite no 'big back beat' or rhythmic grind, they are universally accepted as classically cool, or chill as the cats say. 

For the sake of this exercise, allow me to list three of my favorite tunes from each ‘genre’ to illustrate my grouping. 

Cat One:

Gimme Shelter, Stones.

Magic Carpet Ride, Steppenwolf

Honey Bee, Lucinda Williams.

Cat Two:

Africa, Toto.

When Your Falling, Afro Celts with Peter Gabriel.

Caravans, Brian Bromberg

Cat Three:

Blue Bayou, Linda Ronstadt

Peace, OAR

Attics of My Life, Grateful Dead

Tomorrow I have the dubious assignment to lead our annual Thanksgiving ride. While once a believer, I now loathe themed rides. Thanksgiving is one of those. I have agreed, after deep meditation and a quick soul search, something much easier if done with Google, to the plea bargain compromise of playing a pair of over-the-top thematic tunes, one a rocker and other early Motown funky soul, sandwiched around the remainder of the musical supporting cast. The two:

Thank You. Led Zep, and Thank you (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again) by Sly and his Stoned Family. And in the case that you may be wondering, the parenthetical Ebonics are part of the actual name of the song, something that iTunes charged me $1.31 to verify. 

With all this as backstory, my initial topic, decided as I stared at the blank text editor on-screen page, was an idea I had the other day to list ten (or so) of my favorite lines from the rock catalogue. I was reminded this morning as we listened to, and I tried once again to time the bass lines, of Papa was a Rolling Stone. Every time I hear the chorus proclaim that the only thing he left us was alone, I nod a silent sign of respect for that poetic gem. 

You probably have your faves as well. Maybe tomorrow we’ll be grateful and thankful together and share some. Until then I will leave you today with one line I find most endearing, and one that always inspires me to keep moving in the direction of the lyrical light. 

‘But I’d trade all of my tomorrow’s for a single yesterday.’ 

Buon Appetito

1. Catch the momentum.

2. Challenge the audience.

3. Don’t show and don’t tell.

4. Create subtext.

5. Break the pattern.

6. Empathy is stronger than sympathy.

7. Make your own black bean burritos.

You might naturally think this is a ‘which one of the above is not like the others’ test, but it’s not. It is a recapitulation of my notes prior to the start of this post. I do that on a daily basis as a way of editing my real-time borderline unreadable cursive notes to see if I might have left them standing in the rain. Needing a ride to their destination. This, ‘where were we?’ moment connects the past of ‘thinking out loud’ to ‘getting it down’ with the present reality of pushing a project, pulling a tangent idea or mashing the ‘best of’ in an altogether new way. In the above example, the first six were scribbled notes taken from an on-line instructional video on film editing, one of my favorite topics. As you may have guessed by now the seventh was simply what I was eating as I watched and a note to self that I could build a better burrito given adequate motivation and proper incentive. As a footnote, I learned through this process last night that I can watch, learn, eat and take notes, all without indigestion or dripping hot sauce on my notepad or keyboard. Little victories!

Things on today’s to-do list, updated just prior to the start of the post:

1. Finish the interview stage set up, hang lights, calibrate and test. 

2. Prepare outlines for the ten guest speakers in their respective areas of commentary. 

3. Create tomorrows set-list for spin class. 

4) Vacuum the living room and kitchen.

5. Go shopping and get gas. 

6. Prep for tomorrows start of house (and dog) sitting assignment. 

7. Move to Sicily. 

Too easy? Not hardly. The seventh, the most unlike the others, represents an opportunity so unlike them that they aren’t even in the same galaxy, let alone neighborhood. Items one through six will all get done today, with as much present moment awareness, grace and gratitude that I can bring to them. But move to Sicily? Mamma Mia. If you have been following along all these many years, you know that I have traveled to Italy several times, speak enough Italian to get a good local meal, bottle of wine and inquire to the location of the nearest museum, train station, concert hall or bicycle criterium. To be even more accurate, the reason I am here writing today is a direct result of my failure to attract 50,000 US dollars in 1996 and return to the Le Marche region and buy the 17th century former grain mill we had visited with local realtor in tow. Or because our magnificent plan to open and operate Cultura Italiana Ai Molini (CIAMO) outside of Venice ended prematurely due primarily to start up funding being woefully inadequate. That was in 1999. And here we sit twenty years later investigating the $1 offer from the tiny town of Bivona, Sicily to move there and do some repairs on the crumbling infrastructure of houses left to decay by three generations of Sicilians looking for fame, fortune or upward mobility. Here is the link. 

Mixing the cultural metaphor today, it appears that fate has picked both the meal and the location in which to enjoy it. 

Today’s special is black-bean burritos in Sicilia. Buon Appetito. 

The Saddles of Titan

After our invigorating 2.5 hour indoor spin yesterday, watching Q. Tarantino’s glorious Inglorious Basterds, I had the afternoon to myself. Until 1700 anyway when I had a dinner date with new clients. In between Hans Landa, Aldo Rains, Shoshanna Dreyfus and my new client's pair of standard poodles, I worked on the outline of the new video. I did a fairly intensive Google-foo trying to find the precise wording of a Kurt Vonnegut quote from a novel I couldn’t remember that I thought might be useful in the script. Here is the line (and the entire story line as well):

“Why we are put on this Earth only to face suffering and eventual death?”

In the novel - I think is one of three - Breakfast of Champions, Sirens of Titan or Venus on the Half-Shell (Farrar) the protagonist spends his entire life in celestial pursuit of the answer, visiting other galaxies, solar systems and various planets that they comprise. Finally at long last he meets up with the Emperor of the Universe, The Kong of Kings and the Absolute Ruling Supreme Being. Who just happens to be a giant cockroach. After a series of tests to prove his worthiness he is granted an audience with the big guy. He asks his question and in an absolutely magnificent metaphysical moment, he gets his answer.

“Why not?”

The fact that I cannot recall the novel is painful enough without even the slightest bit of irony over my actually needing to borrow it, and hence get it accurate instead of ‘close enough.’  All that is the bad news. The good news is that during the aforementioned search I found a few, many actually, juicy quotes from the mind behind Kilgore Trout, Elliot Rosewater, Billy Pilgram and Unk. Like this one: 

“Once upon a time on Tralfamadore there were creatures who weren’t anything like machines. They weren’t dependable. They weren’t efficient. They weren’t predictable. They weren’t durable. And these poor creatures were obsessed by the idea that everything that existed had to have a purpose, and that some purposes were higher than others. These creatures spent most of their time trying to find out what their purpose was. And every time they found out what seemed to be a purpose of themselves, the purpose seemed so low that the creatures were filled with disgust and shame. And, rather than serve such a low purpose, the creatures would make a machine to serve it. This left the creatures free to serve higher purposes. But whenever they found a higher purpose, the purpose still wasn’t high enough. So machines were made to serve higher purposes, too. And the machines did everything so expertly that they were finally given the job of finding out what the highest purpose of the creatures could be. The machines reported in all honesty that the creatures couldn’t really be said to have any purpose at all. The creatures thereupon began slaying each other, because they hated purposeless things above all else. And they discovered that they weren’t even very good at slaying. So they turned that job over to the machines, too. And the machines finished up the job in less time than it takes to say, “Tralfamadore.”

― Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan

And so it goes. There is my intro. My challenge will be to segue out of the transcendent and into the actual theme of the film, riding bikes. I will try something along these lines:

VO:

If, then, we are in a timeless search for meaning (quote V. Frankl here) and if we deny ourselves every purpose other than immortality as inadequate, what could possibly satisfy our thirst for the definition behind our presence on this planet? Is this the place where all philosophies, religions and spiritual enlightenments come together and create the Zen idea of here and now? Further, if art is simply a way to endure our passage through the ravages of time, could there exist something, anything, that we can do that satisfies our demands and requirements for mind, body and spirit actualization? Is there any activity that has optimal benefit for our heads, hearts and happiness? 

JUMP CUT TO PEOPLE ON BIKES.

Toxic

9 Traits of Toxic People:

1. They talk more than they listen. They are truly narcissistic and manage to make everything about themselves.
2. They are completely unwilling to learn from their mistakes. Frankly, they’ll never accept that they’re capable of making mistakes.
3. They exaggerate everything. Drama seems to incessantly follow them around.
4. They are compulsive and often unrepentant liars.
5. They force relationships. They value relationships for the outward superficiality and not for any real connection.
6. Everything is judged by the experience they’ve had. Their experience is the only one that seems to count.
7. They have to talk you down to keep their own self-esteem up.
8. They’re very controlling and domineering people.
9. They completely lack tack and diplomacy. They don’t care if they hurt other’s feelings.

Anytime a lede includes mention of what a Zen Master is thinking, saying or suggesting, it gets my immediate attention. This sad Sunday morning, a mere eight hours after my team was shellacked by a statistically inferior one (from Boulder, CO) I would have enjoyed seeing something read: 'Zen Master instructs Husky fans on enlightened ways to deal with frustration.' Instead I got the above questionnaire on the nine most common traits of toxic people. I naturally took it as a test wanting to ensure that I am not among them, or realistically, how many of the traits that A) I use, B) apply sparingly or C) employ only in emergency situations. I tried to be as honest as possible in the spirit of self awareness and continual spiritual improvement. Please substitute the ‘they’ with ‘I’ and check your status along with me, myself and I. 

1) B

2) C

3) A- (Drama rules!)

4) B

5) C

6) B (This should be expanded upon)

7) C

8) C

9) C

There ya go. My composite score is C+, or C++ for the programmers among us. This translates into the bell curve ranking of somewhere between being an occasional dick and having periodic toxic reactions to folks in the B or above categories. Nobody likes toxicity. Don't be toxic. It's like being chained to a beached log with a rusty iron ring (or the subject of impeachment hearings.)  

Savor the Moment

Finding fault is easy. It’s finding features that’s challenging. I will provide a pair of examples to illustrate my point of view, in addition to the alliterative, which is as easy as Penny’s pecan pie. 

Example One. In an op-ed from the outstanding work done at Outside magazine, the guest author asks us up-front if ‘Savoring’ is the new mindfulness. She goes on to make her case citing from sources ranging from her own experiences to that of a psychology professor from my hometown Jesuit college in Los Angeles. In reading the article I was snared into the trap of bringing my understanding, my bias and my personal experience to the public court of opinion. I carried in with me a back-pack of preconceptions and a cavalier attitude of arrogance. Savoring is the new mindfulness? Get outta town, 97.6% of the worlds population are still struggling with the practice of occupying the present moment and now you want them to appreciate it more? That is some super-duty dukkha. Well OK, but I think it a touch backwards. If you master the moment, are truly mindful and aware, woke as the modern vernacular puts it, appreciation, respect, joy, peace, gratitude and love are already included in the practice. If you want to savor that, be my guest, and I unabashedly recommend you do. BUT WITHOUT MINDFULNESS, SAVORING IS A CHEAP VERSION OF HEDONISTIC CONSUMERISM. As in - I think I will go out and savor a 0-60 in 3 seconds stomp in new Tesla pickup. I am not saying to go stoic and join a monastery, please enjoy the truth and beauty that surrounds us, but I think to be mindful and aware provides the foundation necessary for the judgmental critique of rating an object by savoring it. The take being, finding the feature, that for some, this question might make the decision to embark on the path of mindfulness easier. How can something be new if we haven't fully mastered the old? I have no issues whatsoever with savoring. Maybe I just dislike the click-bait header. 

Example Two: In the locker room after our rocking spin class this morning, I polled one of the members on the theme of the ride. It was centered around the premise of training intensity distribution, TID, that I read  about yesterday. Naturally we proceeded to turbo-charge a high-intensity set of intervals to demonstrate first-hand the value and benefit of this demanding protocol. The polling segued to an interesting book he just finished on Kindle called Atomic Habits by James Clear. It is the story of an injured athlete who as part of his recovery and convalescence develops a system for dramatic improvement, at the rate of one percent per day. He is now on the circuit telling of his experience, results and the program. Here are his four main points that govern the exercise one must understand and commit to:

One must: 

1) Notice

2) Want

3) Do

4) Like

All good, to initiate change in any endeavor one must first isolate the specific area of intended change. One must desire improvement to bring motivation into play. One obviously must do the thing necessary to bring about the change and lastly one must somewhere along that path of adaptation and improvement, learn to enjoy the ride. All good. Except I have a problem. I can say this without even reading the book, just by watching the intro YouTube video? I can. What happens when we really desire something and don’t get it? Take a closer look at the second criteria on the list. Want is desire. And should we fail, become distracted or quit for whatever reason, our delicate egos take a tremendous fall. Yes, want it, want it bad, but make sure that your awareness and mindfulness will overrule any false ego narrative about your worthiness, talent, beauty, skill, wisdom, kindness, compassion and the very truth of your place in the universe of the eternal now. 

And be sure to savor that moment. 

The Review

Another one on the books, as they say. Last night was the debut of my latest video. I am glad it’s over. The reviews are flooding in. 

Yes, it went OK, way, WAY better than the launch of the ‘Cardio Cinema’ concept in October, but still light years from where I envision it should be, or could be. Which I suppose is a good thing, the motivation to improve being a key component in both our fitness training and artistic expression. In yet another attempt at the manipulation of this very exercise, writing as therapy, or even more pragmatically, to take a closer look at, examine a written account as a debrief, I will use two components of time as the criteria for today's exercise. The before and the after. 

Using the flaws of the October showing, a travel doc of a ten day cycling road trip, as starting point, we vastly improved on the second effort in the following ways:

1) We completely changed the room configuration, making a 45 degree shift and projecting the video on the ‘short’ side wall of the rectangular room. This allowed crisp resolution and focus at a little over 120 inches of diagonal display. The borrowed Epsom projector was of high quality and after a morning of testing we dialed in the size to display on the portable hanging screen. It played well. 

2) Even more important than the visual  improvement was the enhanced audio. You will remember that in the first go-round we were forced to use the on-board speakers on the LG 60 inch display panel, sound reinforcement that was particularly painful to me and altogether unsatisfactory in a group setting with the mechanical distraction of the spin bikes adding to the cacophony. After the research and subsequent purchase of an ‘audio extractor’ an in-line devise that allows thru-put of HDMI video and also RCA jacks for audio-out to an amp, mixer and EQ, I thought we were set in both areas, the literal A/V. However, at the final sound check I couldn’t get the device to work properly, eventually using the 3.5mm headphone jack on the iMac and a pair of RCAs to provide access to the house stereo system. Which rocked.

3) This combination improved the overall experience by perhaps 10,000%. Maybe more. Which, as always, when the technical is perfect, or close to it, any weakness, flaw or inadvertent misstep in production is left bare, exposed and as obvious as a black eye. 

• A) I need to master the audio better.
• B) I need better story lines. More ‘plausible’, richer, deeper or creative. As I said at the post-premiere dinner, there is a ratio I must keep in play, one part budget and one part time. As I write this video number three is in 27 days. You see the pickle. 
• C) I need new media as the difference in quality from video shot ten or more years ago in SD, is in glaring contrast to the video I currently capture. Thanks tech. 
• D) I need to develop an avenue for monetization. Guess where I will be spending the bulk of the next 27 days? 

4) Scoring, new music and using licensed tunes are a must. I admitted during the introduction that none of the famous music about to be heard, all instrumental refrains with two exceptions, I ‘borrowed’ from the artists. I don’t like doing this, justifying the usage in advertising and promotional quid-pro-quo terms. And since the shows are non-revenue generating, reminding a small audience that Buddy Rich should be remembered as one of the most important musicians of the fifties, I put their music in from of a new audience. No charge. I don’t want at this point to defend or excuse this practice. I know the issues. I will move towards the creation of original music as we did way back in 2003, where 100% of One Perfect Race was original. No Santana, Pink Floyd or Brian Bromberg. Did it lack the pop, power and pizzaz that comes from a score featuring some of the best and most well-known riffs in music’s long and successful history? Yes. Can I do better? Yes. 

After all has been said and done the question rendered to a rather complex simplicity is this: Will I? 

Practice the Solution

We know that if one wishes to change a situation, a circumstance or to resolve an issue, let’s call it a problem, one must own the knowledge and use the wisdom that the same energy that created the problem, cannot be the same energy needed to fix, change or improve it. 

We might investigate the meaning of the term energy here in order to better understand this axiom. It is my interpretation that the author of this altruism had one type of energy in mind when she put pen to paper. 

It is the meaning of quality. It isolates the wide chasm separating the values of energy types. There are several but for this exercise we are concerned with the two most prevalent. 

1) Positive energy, and

2) Negative energy. 

It doesn’t take a masters in physics, or a degree in sociology to see the truth in this matter. The issue is, in my humble opinion, that we aren’t familiar enough, or don’t see the need to practice the acts necessary to increase the one while decreasing the other. As a practical example, when was the last time that you intentionally, with focus and mindfulness, sat with, and assessed the current quality of your energy?

Most likely you answered that in the same percentile as 99% of your peers. Never. 

Changing the value of energy is something that we can practice. We start with what we’ve got, where we are and make take an inventory of the ratio of positive energy to negative. How we feel is usually the starting point. Are we in a funk? Are we distracted? Are we sad, angry, upset, anxious, frightened, intimidated or stuck with the paralysis of analysis? Those are all negative energy types. 

Conversely, are we happy, enthusiastic, flowing, loving, caring, nurturing learning, supporting, creative, moving and promoting the same in our tribe? 

We can practice converting the former to the latter. One step at a time. 

We do this every day when we gather to exercise. In doing so we stimulate the mind and cultivate the positive energy that becomes blocked when we succumb to the pressures of life in the modern age. When we swim, run, bike, stretch, lift, walk, sing and appreciate the rampant beauty that surrounds us, we release powerful enzymes, hormones and chemicals into our bloodstreams which create the ‘feel good’ emotions we naturally associate with happiness, well-being and success. 

This is one take on the meaning behind the above quoted aphorism. We practice the elemental parts of organic creation of positive energy in the same way that we might associate with building a house. Brick by brick. One stick at a time. Momentum will grow and your investment will soon provide a compound return on investment as you create something out of nothing. The transfer of energy types is one of the most profoundly empirical transformations we can make. We can actually feel the rise on our metabolic vibration. 

Should you currently be, as is every one of us, struggling with a problem, first recognize that it is universal, and then examine with as objective an analysis as you can, the energy that created the problem (fear?) and the solution necessary for its resolution (love?) 

And then practice the solution. 

Do This

There is a song in here somewhere that I plan on developing. I will provide you with the backstory.

Yesterday afternoon as we scrubbed our facility’s floor on hands and knees I mentioned to my co-janitor-in-chief that I was a touch nervous. He, of course asked why I was in such an odd state. In an attempt at brevity I stated that this feels like the day before an Ironman. Eyes raise in response. 

Tomorrow is going to be a long one, I begin, starts off with my usual 0530 spin class, one in which we are currently working our way through another eight-week set of Super Eights - eyes raise again - and after that our Wednesday weightlifting session with Junior - and THEN I am subbing for another class at 0845. Two and a half hours of high-intensity cardio with a lifting session sandwiched between the indoor cycling, I might be a little cooked. The challenge of this definitely had my attention. I was a bit concerned, truth be known. Anxious and maybe a little scared even. 

He then says to me, half kidding I suspect, that I could always fake it. Fake it, in this usage meaning that instead of going all-in on the all-out protocol of the two sessions, I could back off the intensity and no one would be the wiser. I yammered something about that tactic, although a common one, is something that I don’t like to even consider, let along actually do. Why?

Because I have told them (the students in class) that I will never ask something of them that I would be unwilling to do myself. I consider that an important part of leadership. I also regularly use the imagery of present moment awareness as a guide to the appropriate intensity levels available at difficult and challenging segments of a drill, set or session. We specifically train for these golden moments of potential growth. Lastly I consider it a personal challenge to accommodate all these factors together at one time and in one place necessitating the management and supervision of the will to proceed, or cut and run. I enjoy standing on the porch and knocking on the door of that opportunity. To see what I got. To gauge my discipline and desire. To execute a real-time gut check. The old Bring me the Hard. 

So no, I will not fake it. Because I want to see if I can make it. What else is there? Am I going to toss the towel and sacrifice possibly the one trait I value above all others, that of authenticity. A sense of being real. With these as the actual events here are the notes I scribbled this morning at 0400 before the first session:

I DON’T WANT TO FAKE IT

I KNOW I CAN (DO THAT)

I WANT TO MAKE IT 

TO SEE IF I CAN (DO THIS)

I Do

I guess the break is over. One project finished, in the can, and another about to begin. This is in an effort to put the premise of continual improvement into play, or, perhaps even more accurately, to use this as a debrief, a transcript of the process and a window into the future. Not unlike breaking down a race in order to improve on one or more areas in need of refinement. Example, in my last race, an Olympic distance triathlon, I had my usual poor swim, decent bike and less than stellar run. Despite this mediocre three-sport performance, I enjoyed the challenge of the day, racing in the summer sunshine an ended up with the top spot on the podium. Yay me!

Not. So. Fast.

I find it embarrassing to state post facto that my three combined efforts resulted in a win. This is not to diminish the courageous performances of the handful of competitors that comprised our age grouping, but rather to illustrate the danger that lies in any artificial celebration for my being the fastest among them. Because I cannot accept a victory knowing that I simply endured the distance longer than the competition. I wasn’t fast, strong or fluid. I simply maintained a pace that fit somewhere between speed and pain management. Not a great way to race. And certainly not the reason why I do. 

Which brings us back to the original premise, that of learning from the past.  A video project, a triathlon, or any other endeavor, can be, should be, examined as objectively as possible in order to isolate any weakness that could be improved upon. There is little difference between a sloppy transition, out-of-focus scene, achromatic use of the score, bad lighting, or confusing narration and woeful technical swim acumen, under inflated tires and insufficient leg strength necessary for a strong finish. 

Let us break it down. So we might prepare, practice, and perfect. 

RACING: Get back in the pool and run. I currently workout every day, in a rotation of indoor cycling and lifting. While this may get me back to the Olympic distance podium, it is unsatisfactory for my goal of getting back on the full ironman course, and indeed racing on the sacred tarmac of the world championships in Kailua-Kona. 

VIDEO: In a moment of post-wrap hubris, I mentioned last night as we snuck a sneak preview that I feel this to be my masterwork. It is the best of the perhaps the one hundred similar takes on the subject matter that has held my attention and interest for almost three decades. Is it perfect? Far from it. I have already done four revisions, trying to reduce the errors and add to the fluidity of the film. I am doing another as we speak. Here is the deal: I do these with a production budget about the same as the cost of a loaf of artisan bread. The only cost is that of my time. I give that freely and without reservation. I enjoy the process, the detail and the challenge. One might naturally say that there is really no reason to spend time worrying about quality with an investment so small. One could again easily say, who cares? 

The answer to both examples, my primary reason for giving this debrief and looking for ways to improve, is that I care. I do. 

And I do. 

Nice Ride

La plaza del toros, Ensenada, Mexico 

Most of the things that I try fail on the initial test. It is, I suppose, fortunate for me that I am no stranger to this. Feelings of doubt have accompanied me to many a rodeo. The bull bucks, swats me from his back like a nagging fly and I kiss the dirt. 

You know the rest. I get up. Dust my jeans and put my hat back on. I conduct a real-time damage report and then, with the report indicating that a trip to the ER is unnecessary, I enter a magic nano-second of absolute wonder. A nano-second so precious and mystical that every accumulated bruise, cut, sprain and medicinal post-ride barley pop is worth it. 

Before I take step one back towards the safety of the chute I glance at the bull. And for an instant he is looking back at me. Our eyes meet. 

I am thinking something along the lines of, ‘I’ll get you next time you son-of-a-gun.’ 

He is just starring with those huge black unblinking eyes waiting for my next move. He is looking for my response to the contest that has just ended in victory for him and defeat for me. He snorts and kicks at the dirt with his front hoof, a clear signal translated from the bovine to human to mean something along the lines of, ‘bring it dude.’

It is in that dramatic split-second confrontation that a lifetime’s worth of lessons are learned. Or have the potential to be. 

It is in the respect for our competition that we find the opportunity for improvement and growth. If I was tortoise riding instead of atop a two-ton, pissed-off living and snorting beast, it would be an altogether different story. Goat ropers never get the girl. 

And so it goes with or choices of sports, livelihoods and in our daily practice of them. It is a fairly simple and widely understood premise, more a rule to follow, that should one desire to improve one’s skill-set, up one’s game and move in the direction of what we call potential, one must ‘play up.’ This means that in order to continually improve one must seek out the best, or better, competition than the ones that he or she is currently engaged with. In training this means that the drills, sets, reps, times, speeds, resistances, durations and our corresponding attitudes and dedications to them, must gradually and safety progress. We add weight to the bar, resistance to the bike, numbers to the sets, and frequency to the overall protocols. We go longer, faster. We continually improve. We appreciate the ride and respect the degree of difficulty that keeps our motivation topped off. We rest and recover. And then we repeat. We pay very close attention to the slightest change and respond to the demands of the change with appropriate action. 

This is the bull.

When he decides that the time is right to add another challenge, to test the riders mettle, we have eight seconds to hang on, to put all our training, growth and accumulated acumen into play. Not tomorrow, next week or when the bull catches a cold. RIGHT FUCKING NOW. 

Dust your jeans and put your hat back on pardner.  Nice ride. 

Cowboy at Sunset

Is there an arc to the passage of time? Must a rainbow of dramatic tension connect the starting and ending points of a story? Is it absolutely necessary to provide obstacles for the protagonist to overcome? Does every tale benefit from the hero’s passage through the dark night of the soul? 

Interestingly, most schools of thought, the teachers and their students, say yes. From Plato to Christopher Nolan, from the classic fable to the suspenseful thrillers of the modern streaming age, we have adopted the reality that humans are hard-wired to follow the emotion of a story as much as the actual binary and sometimes bland factual recapitulation of events. This answers the question of why narration is a vital component of any vacation slide show. What were you thinking when those gypsies asked for directions? Was your hotel central to the city or outside of town? Does it rain there all the time. How much was that pizza? What was the atmosphere, the vibe of the downtown core? Did you ever feel threatened? Was the cell service adequate? How many museums did you visit? Did you get in a bike ride? 

Which, for our purposes today, all point to one observation, a question I was confronted with late last night as I, through the critical lens, watched the second master file of the completed video. The question is this:

Is a compilation of images, a combination of video and stills, spanning the globe from Islands off the coast of Africa to a former Olympic site in Norway, from Spain to Canada and from California to Australia, assembled and precisely cut to the heart-beat of classic rock n roll, jazz and blues instrumentals, and loosely bound with a thematic narrative, enough? 

I have no hero other than intended audience projection of themselves in the saddle, and I ask for little emotional response other than a wow and perhaps some consideration to join in the fun, travel and ride a bike at some future point in time. There is no crime solving, no world to be saved and no boy meets girl. In other words there is no arc to the trajectory of the plight of the hero, no call to action and no third act drama. It is simply a series of takes, some in exotic locations, some local, that displays the energy, passion, skill, wanderlust and (I have never used this phrase before) daring-do of a group of people putting their commitment to a robust quality of life on display. Riding up hills, past trees and into the light of a healthy, satisfied and harmonious quest for adventure. 

I think that is enough. Enough for a hour-long video presentation to the audience that will view while riding stationary bikes. This is my audience. I know them. I am trusting that they are not expecting a sequel to Breaking Way or American Flyers. They know that while we share first names I am not a Costner. I think they will forgive my renegade attitudes and creation of what amounts to a sixty-minute music video. 

I do however, also feel that my understanding of their likes, dislikes, and appreciation of someone taking the time to document our passionate search for adventure and wholesome recreation, gives me a fail-safe notion of laziness. I cannot lose with this audience. They are forgiving and respectful. They, I sincerely believe, appreciate the effort. 

And that makes me a lazy artist. Because I know the importance of the story. There needs to be an arc. There must be some drama, bit of danger and/or a job needing done. Our hero must face an immovable object and figure a way to remove it from the process of her quest. The protagonist needs to take a journey to find something or do something, or, as the case histories indicate and Oscar attests, a stranger must come to town. 

I sit and watch the master. I like it. It is cool. It contains several pro cuts and it flows dynamically from start to finish. There is a theme and an on-going narrative, mostly pithy memes asking questions of the audience. Will you or won’t you? In this it is inspirational. That was my intent. And in that regard, too that end, it is a success. 

But there isn’t a story. The sheriff does not ride into the sunset on a Palomino.

Hey wait. What a story. 

A Bigger Tumbler

It was with both sadness and anger today that I unfriended a(nother) FB friend. This time it hurt. Someone I have long respected - but also suspected of being ‘one of them’ removed all doubt. The shared post was a comparison of the valor of Pat Tillman to that of Colin Kaepernick. It made me sick to my stomach. Tillman, if he could be here today, would say - I am quite sure -  that his sacrifice was to protect the right of all Americans to the freedom of speech. Kaepernick is equally heroic in his attempt to call attention to the brutal plight of the black American male at the hands of ‘biased’ police. In the meme one was labeled a hero and the other a sissy. I will edit my opening sentence by saying that I am no longer sad to have had to use the unfriend tool. But I remain angry. I forgive but not forget. 

Shifting gears, because I have found it psychologically painful to wear the moccasins of others too long, and as an update on the current project, here is the last (I hope) ADR VO copy. Additional dialogue recording voice over for the Groove Zone The Movie video. 

We ride in mud, across bridges, on asphalt, gravel, chip-seal and over railroad ties. Anywhere to connect the point A of adventure with the point B of exercise and a healthy lifestyle. It’s the fun part of dynamic flow - spinning through the groove zone. 

I kinda like that one, maybe because it is another step towards the fulfillment of the posters tagline which suggests that we ride to find the paradigm of eternity, which I knew to be a ‘good one’, as a result of the poster design artist asking about it. Anytime someone, especially should that some one be a creative type, looks at copy and immediately asks ‘what does THAT mean?’ I know we have a keeper. 

It means whatever you want it to mean. Same as the above blatantly incorrect, downright wrong, low-brow and racist comparison of two one-hundred-percent American individuals with way more than simply football and US citizenship in common. It is also the same as the riding analogy, the aphorism of connecting, or combining, the dots of adventure, enjoyment, good health, fitness and healthy lifestyle choices to enhance our quality of existence. It is our choice of interpretation. There are some rules however as displayed by the ignorance, hatred and fear in the first example and the freedom, hope and virtue in the second. Our choice. 

That choice is - should be - our expression of respect. We respect this opportunity in grateful reverence because we recognize the dramatic impact we are all capable of having to ourselves as well as to each other. We see the tumbler as half full - and realize that with a little more effort, with just a tad more intensity, focus, gumption, glee, motivation or tolerance - we could fill it to the rim. Maybe even to the point where it starts to overflow. Which is a beautiful moment. It is not limited and supplies will never run low. But we have to commit and let go of the existing limiters that have caused us to see the tumbler as being half empty all these many happy hours. 

I am genuinely excited to be on the verge of finishing the video project. This seems to be one of those precious magical moments, for it seems that my creative enthusiasm is indeed about to runneth over.

And that is fine. I’ll get a bigger tumbler for the next one.  

Doubt Kills

I hope to wrap the new video today. This one has been an interesting combination of flow and something like what a salmon swimming upstream might feel when encountering a dam. The imagery of white water in violent confrontation with rocks, boulders, downed trees, bends, ells and substantial drops in elevation is the flow. The same water, further downstream, as it meets a temporarily immovable object, comes to an abrupt halt and backs-up, stagnating in a pool that quickly collects a layer of proverbial pond scum. Same water, less flow. 

The metaphor of fluidity, specifically in this case in reference to a creative project, one with a deadline of less than a week, is typical of what I suspect is a common dilemma of people trying to juggle the fine balance between ‘getting it done’ and ‘enjoying the ride.’  As one is a job and the other a process. With most jobs there is a quota involved, a results oriented target under which the employee toils, constantly fearful of the circumstance that might result in failure. The other is timeless, free and unobstructed, the only pressure being the challenge to keep it so. 

Somewhere between the free flowing creative imperative and the modern necessity of gainful employment, is our pool of water. In the perfect world we all once imagined for ourselves both elements would create our reality. 

This almost never happens. 

We get sidetracked, burdened with debt, distracted, exploited, abused and manipulated. We go to work and never come back. We get lost in a forest of consumerism taking the paths illuminated by shiny objects instead of the ones backlit by virtue. We doubt our very spirit and sell out to the quid pro quo of a weekly paycheck and a big screen TV. 

In our Sunday movie last week we watched, as we cycled indoors, a very typical Hollywood take on ‘the affected ex-Black Ops operative trying to maintain cover in a corrupt world.”  Variations on this theme have been done a thousand times, sometimes with impressive results. Action, suspense, violence, drama, gore, good vs evil and a happy ending forecasting another episode is about it. With in this case one exception. There is always the exception. 

The male affected ex-Black Ops/CIA protagonist is also a teacher. He befriends his co-worker at the local hardware store, his cover, as well as a young Russian call-girl with whom he soon finds himself protecting all the way to the top of the Russian mafia, as they put it, the head of the snake. At one point as the tension and drama stand atop the blood-stained moral escalator, his coworker/student, already a bit nervous about taking another nine millimeter shot, says that the mission he has been assigned, to run exposed to the breaker box and flip out the lights in exactly forty-seconds, is something that, given his limited experience and bleeding leg, he doubts he can do.

Our hero, without hesitation and in his command voice says, ‘doubt kills, go.’

And he does. 

And he saves the day.

And the story happily ends with the promise of a sequel.

And the water flows.

Crisp & Clean

I looked at my notes to see if they would have the desired impact. I had jotted the notes in my trusty three-ring notebook that sits to the right of my keyboard, just behind the mousepad. The notebook, in typical old school style, holds whatever needs to be addressed or explored as ideas turn to written words, images morph to lyrics and mathematical equations are shown. All this rests alongside notes to self, phone numbers, itemized lists, trivial questions and their corresponding answers, important dates, Italian to English translations, metaphorical comparisons and metaphysical possibilities. All this is captured by my bic #2 0.7 mm mechanical pencil. The pencil is my version of the Fujita Samurai Katana that sits in waiting on the credenza. They are both handy, sharp and prepared. 

All that is missing is me. These two potentially deadly tools are incomplete without my hand to grip them and intention to implement in whatever skirmish I deem appropriate. Should we declare war today? Should we invade another neighboring, peaceful, sovereign nation? Or should we write a letter to the state department reminding them that they were elected to uphold an oath?

Certainly there are other, more powerful tools at my disposal. The computer(s) coupled with my frustratingly slow wi-fi allow access to the awesome collection of civilizations knowledge. Not a day passes without my amazement at the speed with which questions, some simple, some richly detailed, can be answered. Yesterday, as example, with a few key strokes I was presented with a detailed explanation of the difference between radial and bias tires, this seconds after a three page synopsis on the job description of the duties required of a deputy assistance secretary of state for foreign affairs. Wow, if ever one might need some quick fact checking, this is the tool! After this ten minute exercise I didn’t know whether to shop or go blind. 

I have been using the three-ring notebook protocol for going-on forty years. I have them all safely sequestered in a various file cabinets ranging in geographical locations from five feet away to deep storage in the utility room. I refer to them, but mostly they act as semi-quick responses to specific fact. I suppose they also act as records, cheap historical chronicles of the bits and pieces of stimuli catching my attention as the many moons rose and a thousand suns have set. Very un Zen-like I have a strong emotional attachment to them. They act as my hard-copy body of work. They state with emphasis that I was here, a scribbled footprint to the proof of existence. The fact that my cursive is subject to interpretation leaves the same option to decipher individual meaning the way that Robert Hunter’s magical lyrical poetics imply various possibilities. Having spent a little time on the mountain and a little time on the hill, I have also seen some people run away and others that stand still. 

My notes from yesterday, indicative of the creative whirlwind currently circling, from an audio book listening of McCarthy’s masterful 'No Country for Old Men’ to the reading of Diablo Cody’s equally provocative shooting script of “Juno’, borrowed from each. Condensing their brilliance into a single didactic phrase, the razor sharp sword cutting-edge slice of inspiration, as captured by the mighty bic #2 0.7 mm simply reminded me (along with the pen being mightier than the sword) to:

Write crisp and write clean. 

Bang the Gavel

Watching the first round of the impeachment hearings. Ukraine ambassador Bill Taylor is providing a detailed brief. After ten minutes of listening to his recapitulation it is very clear (at least to me) that trump is doomed. It is difficult (for me) to write as I listen. This is history in the making. We should, based solely upon the initial depositions of Ambassador Taylor and George Kent alone, impeach, remove and imprison. Then we can get back to work. Because there is a ton of work we must begin in order to undo, or make an impassioned attempt to undo, the near irreparable damage that the current administration has forced upon the people of the world. The evil that they have spread across the planet, if left unchecked, will affect not only our current national security and quality of life, if I can still say that, but negatively impact several generations to come. We are talking about our future. They are talking abut greed, money and power. Today’s testimonies, as openers, are as damaging as I could have ever hoped. Maybe even better and more powerful. These professional diplomats are everything that trump, giuliani and his thug henchmen are not. They are honest, sincere, eloquent, thorough, courageous and capable. They are the very definition of patriotic, they put country before party and way before personal profit and ego. 

Perhaps as you watch and process the depth of the corruption that exists in the White House and runs alarmingly through the Senate and into what the media lovingly calls ‘his base’ you’ll see how there is guilt and there is complicity. It alarms and infuriates me to realize that 40% of the American population have no issue with the current republican agenda as led by a criminal we were warned about by PT Barnum and President Eisenhower alike. America, you are being had. Which makes me a part of the problem, because to this day consider myself a fairly decent and law abiding American. And as a decent American I am obligated to become part of the solution. I therefore request that we the people, rest our case, ITMF, and immediately move for removal and into criminal procedures. 

Bang that gavel.