tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-282801532024-03-07T13:59:50.483-08:00Lengthening my StrideThoughts on the delicate balancing act we call life, provided by one whose only authority to speak on the subject is his own experience.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-78350178000678742312016-01-06T14:17:00.001-08:002016-01-06T14:25:51.889-08:00Some days are just harder than the restThe kids went back to school today. I stayed up way too late last night. I didn't want to get up and run at all this morning. The motivation was simply not there, but I got up and got after it anyway. I thought I would run my 8-mile route rather than the 6-miler, but by mile 2, I was already thinking of how to cut the run short, so when I hit 30 minutes out, I turned around and started the run back. This route has a pretty steep hill in the first mile from my house, so running back up on the way home is always a challenge, but today I just couldn't make it happen.<br />
<div>
Highlights: 6.83 miles in 1:04:39. Average pace 9:27/mile.</div>
<div>
Weight: 217.2 first thing in the morning.<br />
<br />
I managed to register for Toughman Alabama today. On New Year's Eve Team Magic sent an email with a discount code, but for whatever reason, it didn't work for me. I contacted their customer service and they provided me with another code this morning. With the exception of Ironman Louisville, all of the triathlons I have run have been Team Magic races. They always do a fantastic job and as long as I am living in the area and participating in the sport, I'll keep running with Team Magic.<br />
<br />
August 13, 2016. Toughman Alabama 1/2 Iron Distance triathlon. I ran this one in 6:40:00 last year after not training for it. Hoping to cut an hour off of this time this year.</div>
Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-76668444525454133592016-01-05T11:58:00.001-08:002016-01-05T11:58:56.763-08:00Goals and plansWhen people come to me for counsel at church, most often seeking financial assistance, the protocol I have to follow is to help them set the goal to become self sufficient. Once they have that goal set, we have to focus on a plan to get them there. For some, it's a matter of applying for work. For others, it means going to school and getting an education so they can be qualified for employment that will provide them with enough income to be self sufficient. Everyone is at a different level, and although the goal is the same for everyone, the plan for getting there isn't.<br />
The same situation exists for health and fitness. Running an Ironman triathlon is quite a goal, but the plan to get there has to fit the individual. I have seen dozens of training plans, began considerably more than a handful of them, and abandoned each one within weeks. Why is this? Because they haven't fit me and my needs. Also, plans must be adaptable to fit the changing needs of each individual. Here is where a professional coach or trainer is most valuable. That person knows the athlete and adjusts the training program to fit the athlete's needs and progress. The problem is, sometimes there simply isn't money in the budget for a coach.<br />
Over the twelve years I have been running and triathloning, I have had the opportunity to train with a coach only once. Following a specific program and reporting weekly to my coach resulted in my running my PR marathon of 3:10:52. I've never repeated that performance, nor have I come even remotely close to it. If you can afford a coach and can find one that will work well with you and your personality, I highly recommend it. You'll progress far better with a coach than you will on your own.<br />
For me, this year, I can't afford a coach, so I'm on my own.<br />
Goal: Finish Ironman Florida in 12 hours.<br />
Plan: Train consistently for the next ten months, (Race Day is exactly ten months from today,) meaning an average of 6 hours per week. This may be considered an annual training plan of logging 350 hours of training this year.<br />
First 90 days, swim, bike, or run for one hour a day, six days a week.<br />
I prefer running, so the plan is to track my daily workouts, gradually increasing speed and distance in the one-hour time allotment each day.<br />
I also want to get back to a reasonable racing weight, preferably 175 pounds or lighter.<br />
On January 1, I weighed 218 pounds first thing in the morning. I ran 6.12 miles in 1:00:01.<br />
<br />
On January 2, I weighed 216.4 pounds first thing in the morning. I ran 6.36 miles in 1:00:01.<br />
<br />
On January 3, I weighed 213.4 pounds first thing in the morning. I took Sunday off as a rest day.<br />
<br />
On January 4, I weighed 215.6 pounds first thing in the morning. I ran 6.46 miles in 1:00:46.<br />
<br />
Today, January 5, I weighed 214.6 pounds first thing in the morning. I ran 6.59 miles in 1:00:01.<br />
<br />
My plan will have to adjust as I progress, but for now, the short-term goal is to hit 6 hours a week (one hour per day, six days a week) until March 31. I also want to lose ten pounds a month. Getting rid of the extra holiday sweets will go a long way to accomplishing that.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-41587630737020514472016-01-04T15:41:00.000-08:002016-01-05T11:31:13.328-08:00A plan for 2016I was more than surprised when my wife gave me the go ahead to register for Ironman Florida 2016. The race is a Saturday race, it's six hours from home, and I had so much fun in Louisville that I couldn't resist the temptation to run another one.<br />
<br />
I learned a few important things in my Ironman journey last year.<br />
<br />
1- I have been blessed with a body capable of enduring this type of event.<br />
2- I am inherently lazy.<br />
3- I am too busy and or lazy to change #2 and train extensively for an Ironman at this point in my life.<br />
<br />
I have to accept the fact that I simply don't have the time or the motivation to be a professional athlete. I honestly cannot expect to give more than ten hours in any week to train for the Ironman, but even more honestly, it's going to take a tremendous amount of effort for me to sustain 6 hours a week effort this year, but that's the amount of time I have, and I want to do the best I can with it.<br />
<br />
I have joined a Facebook group of IMFlorida 2016 participants who are going to train 1 hour per day for 90 days, six days a week from January 1 to March 30.<br />
<br />
My preferred sport is running. I have run just over 6 miles per day each day (except Sunday) since December 30.<br />
<br />
The goal: finish Ironman Florida on November 5, 2016 in 12 hours by training consistently 6 to 10 hours per week.<br />
<br />
I'll post running logs and other relevant (and some irrelevant) information here as it happens.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-66147225493305642952016-01-04T15:30:00.003-08:002016-01-04T15:30:43.812-08:00Completing an Ironman (in far more detail than you ever wanted to read)<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Thursday, October 8, three days before the race.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought it might be a good idea to start hydrating. I
stopped consuming Diet Coke at the alarming rate I had become accustomed to and
drank electrolyte solution (GU Brew) all day. I drank about a gallon of liquid
on Thursday, but my body absorbed most of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Friday, October 9, two days before the race.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I continued drinking the GU Brew and my wife and I began the
drive to Louisville. It was a lot of fun seeing other cars with tri bikes on
the highway. I got checked in for the race, found the hotel we were staying at,
went on a crazy shopping spree with my wife, and rented a Redbox movie for that
night. We ate dinner at Logan’s Roadhouse and I had the 9 ounce sirloin. I wasn’t
anywhere near race ready, but I was enjoying the time with my wife.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Saturday, October 10, day before the race…into Sunday,
October 11, RACE DAY.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was uncertain about the river and the toxic algae warning,
even though the advisory had been lifted.<a href="file:///C:/Users/srinfanger/Desktop/My%20Ironman%20journey.docx#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
I also did not want to try and put a wet wetsuit on for the race on Sunday, so
I thought I’d skip the practice swim. We drove some of the bike course, the
infamous RT 1694 and half of the lollipop loop into La Grange that morning. We
grabbed the bike and the transition bags from the hotel at about 1:00 and
headed in to town to mandatory bike and gear check as well as the 2:00 athlete
meeting. After that, we drove up to the swim start, then walked up to the swim
turn around, back down the river, across the Big Four Bridge into Indiana, down
to Fourth Street Live, and back up to the car. Both my wife and I were
exhausted as we headed back to the hotel, stopping at a Subway sandwich shop
for dinner. I showered and fell asleep at about 8:30, only to be woken by my
watch at 9:30 because I had set the alarm for the race cut-offs the next day.
My wife was still watching TV, so I struggled to go to sleep for another 45
minutes to an hour. I woke up again at 3:00 A.M. and tried to not toss and turn
until 4:00 when I was supposed to wake up. I didn’t sleep again, but tried to at
least rest my body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We left for the race at about 4:40 and found a place to park
about a block from the Ironman Village. We were still early arriving and
transition didn’t open until 5:15 (like it said in the athlete guide,) so we
queued until they opened transition. As athletes only are allowed into
transition, I kissed my wife goodbye and went to my bike, pumped up the tires
(forgot to carry the chain lube in with me, so that didn’t happen at all) and
prayed that everything was set with my bike. I didn’t want to hassle with last
minute gear adjustments that would have me waiting in line for the bike techs
for who knows how long. I was more concerned about getting up to the swim start
to queue there and hopefully be in the water before 8:00 A.M. I dropped off my
special needs bags, found my wife and headed to the swim start via a 1-block
detour to put my pump back in the car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Body marking was at the swim start, and the lines for the
port-a-johns were consistent with lines before any race: long. Louisville has
several public parking lots on the river side of River Road, all with different
color names. The swim start was between the Tan lot and the Turquoise lot. Body
marking was at the entrance to the Tan lot, so I stopped and allowed my arms
and legs to be marked (I should have bought the tri-tats, they are just so much
cleaner!) With hundreds of people filing into the Tan lot, I thought I’d skip
some of the crowd and walk a few hundred more feet and go in via the Turquoise
lot. This was a good decision. There was a port-a-john right on the road that
had no wait. I used it then found a dozen people waiting in line for the
facilities further into the parking lot. It was about 6:00 when we got to the
swim start, but the queue was already more than ¼ of a mile long. Athletes and
support crews were all sitting together in one long, chaotic line. I knew the
line would tighten up significantly once the officials (volunteers) began
separating the support crews out of the line, but even so, by the time the
starting cannon fired, the line of athletes was easily half a mile long. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It always gets coldest right before dawn, and the
temperature dipped into the 40s before the sun started showing over the eastern
horizon. I wrestled my wetsuit on at about 7:00, while the line was still
tightening up, so I made quite the spectacle hopping down the sidewalk with my
feet in the wetsuit and trying to hold it all together. I was grateful for the
wetsuit because it did keep me considerably warmer once I had it on. At 7:30 we
heard the starting cannon. Apparently there was a bugler who played just before
the cannon, but we were too far away to hear any of that. I did notice that
although it hadn’t rained that night and the dew was not heavy, the sidewalk
was quite wet where the athletes were lined up. Was that pee from people peeing
in their wetsuits? I shudder at the thought…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The line moved quickly and despite the fact that I was about
halfway back, I jumped into the water at about 7:50. I had been warned that my
goggles would fill with tears as I waited to start the swim. It didn’t happen,
but my emotions were high and I could have easily given in and allowed the
tears to come. Instead, I took a few deep breaths and focused on the task ahead
of me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>SWIM</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I jumped into the water, I expected to touch the bottom
of the river and then push off and start swimming. I should have realized that
this was a marina and the bottom was probably 10-15 feet or more down. As I
slowly surfaced, the person behind me jumped right in on top of me. That wasn’t
quite the start I was hoping for, but I wasn’t injured so I began moving
forward. There were a total of 18 sighting buoys in the swim, six yellow buoys
along the length of Towhead Island and up the river to the red turnaround buoy,
then three more yellows as the course proceeded downriver. The last nine buoys
were orange, with the last orange buoy only a few meters from the red exit
buoy. I cleared Towhead Island in 18 minutes and rounded the turn in 28
minutes. I had read that the current was significant enough in previous years
for people to swim twice as fast after the turn around. Once I saw that I was making
the turn in less than half an hour, I began to develop delusions of a sub-one
hour swim time. I began celebrating my record accomplishment in my mind and
realized after a few minutes that there was minimal current to assist me and
not only was I not being swept downriver by the great current, I wasn’t really
swimming well anymore either. I refocused on concentrating on long, steady
strokes and once again began making good progress. I was pleased to see how
quickly I was moving as I sighted along the bank of the river. Things managed
to stay fairly open and contact-free until we neared the sighting buoys, where
the kayaks and safety volunteers corralled the swimmers into a much narrower
section. Invariably, as I approached the buoys, I began getting hit and hitting
other swimmers. I tried to get out of their way and leave everyone alone
without getting angry about anything that I couldn’t control.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At orange buoy #6, my left calf seized in a paralyzing cramp
and I thought I was going to sink to the bottom of the river. This was one of
those cramps that when they happen, you immediately collapse, struggling to
catch your breath because the pain is so severe that it takes the breath right
out of you. Knowing that there wasn’t much I could do about it, I allowed my
left leg to go completely limp and hope for the best. I didn’t want to pull my
head up and tread water to look for a kayak because my leg wasn’t going to
cooperate, so I kept swimming, kicking occasionally with my right leg to keep
myself prone in the water and began thinking of exit strategies. I didn’t want
this to end my day so soon, but if it was still crippling me when I got out of
the water, I had no idea how I was going to continue. Fortunately, over the
next couple of minutes the cramp subsided and I was able to flex my calf a
little as I swam. By the time I reached the swim exit, the cramp was completely
over, although the muscle continues to complain to me even three days after the
race.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made eye contact with a volunteer on the far side of the
stairs and made my way over to his outstretched arm. He grabbed hold of me and
pulled me onto the stairs and I headed for the wetsuit strippers. As I tried to
get my upper body out of the wetsuit, my Ironman wristband got hung up in my
wetsuit sleeve and I didn’t have the dexterity or strength left in my hands to
try and work it free. I found my stripper and yelled to her that my arm was
stuck in the sleeve. She reassured me that we’d get it out and in a few seconds
(which seemed like minutes) she had my right hand free and was going for the
left arm. I realized that there was no way I’d get the wetsuit off over my
wristwatch, so I told her to wait while I took off my watch and she had my left
arm out seconds later. Then she yelled at me to lie down on my back and put my
feet up in the air. I needed to pull my timing chip off my ankle for the same
reason as the watch, but once I had that off, she grabbed my wetsuit and yanked
it off. I was astonished at how easily that happened. I reattached my timing
chip, grabbed my wristwatch from another stripper who was trying to give it to
her athlete, put it on, then took my wetsuit and began the wobbly run into T1.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Swim time: 1:17:46 (a P.R. time for me)</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
T1 was crowded, hot, and humid, with most of the bodies
jammed right into the entrance of the tent. I wormed my way through the crush
of bodies and found some open space and a chair. I sat down and pulled my
Ziploc bag with my biking equipment out of the transition bag. I wanted to be
calm and relax as much as possible during the transition so I could recover a
bit from the swim, but also be sure I wasn’t going to skip any important steps
in my transition. I made the change, repacked my T1 bag with my swimming gear,
handed it off to the closest volunteer and made my way to the exit. I grabbed a
sip of water as I left the tent and made my way to the bike racks. I was
shocked at how far I had to walk my bike to get to the mount line, but I
eventually got there, got mounted, and got underway on the second leg.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
T1 time: 15:50<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>BIKE</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was still brisk when I got underway on the bike and I was
grateful I had thought to bring arm warmers and to change from swimming trunks
into a dry tri kit. I can’t imagine how cold I would have been for the first
several miles if I were still in wet clothes or had bare arms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first ten miles or so of the bike course are quite flat
and it’s a good time to just spin and loosen the legs while settling into a
rhythm. Unfortunately, the first ten miles of the course are still quite
crowded with athletes, so there’s little rhythm to be found. It was confusing
to try and stay to the right, avoid a drafting penalty, not block other riders,
and often pass two or three riders who were riding abreast. The road leading
out of town was also open to traffic, and where the small rollers caused riders
to slow significantly, cars were right there blocking the athletes. At one
point, a rider in front of me bumped his front wheel into the back of the rider
in front of him and he had to unclip and get off the bike. I narrowly avoided
the same fate by veering around him right behind a car and up over the crest of
the hill.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At mile 17 or so, the infamous out and back section of RT
1694 began. There are a couple of good hills, and again, it’s still early
enough in the race that the course is crowded with bikes going both ways.
Although I am sure there were others in different places, this is where I saw
all of the accidents. Several people’s races ended on that stretch of road.
Fortunately, I was able to make it clear of the carnage and the chaos and
continue on my ride.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was still cool and I had to remind myself to eat and
drink, even though I didn’t feel any desire to. This was my biggest challenge
all through the bike ride, and has been my challenge as long as I have been
riding. I knew the only way I was going to survive the day was to be properly
hydrated and stay on top of my nutrition, so I focused on that. My plan was to
eat two Gatorade chews every 20 minutes and drink 6-8 ounces of water at that
time. During the first hour I forgot my second feeding time and was ten minutes
late, but payed closer attention to that for the rest of the morning and did
pretty well. I forced myself to drink more water than I wanted, but doing so
kept me hydrated throughout the day. I actually stopped to pee three times
during the bike ride, which some might have thought was high, but I found that
the brief stops were actually quite beneficial as I was able to stretch out my
legs and flex them a bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By special needs at mile 60, I was eagerly anticipating the
goodies I had packed in my bag. I enjoyed a chocolate granola bar and a
pomegranate 5-hour energy. That little break was a great respite for me and the
caffeine and vitamins from the 5-hour energy and the granola bar perked me
right up. I headed through the second loop with all kinds of energy, and as I
progressed, I realized that it would be better for me to stop at each aid
station from that point on and use the bathroom and stretch. My legs recovered
well at each 2-3 minute break and I felt fresh each time I got back on the
bike. The last 33 miles into Louisville are essentially downhill, but much of
the respite we were hoping to feel on the ride back into town was denied us
because of a headwind. I didn’t end up going as fast as I would have liked, but
the headwind reminded me to stay in the aero position and my last splits were
consistent, if not slightly faster than my first splits on the bike. Mile 90
was a wonderful sight to see, although the last 15 miles or so in on River Road
were terrible because of how rough the road is. It literally kicked my backside
all the way in as my tires hit the cracks and bumps and drove my saddle
upwards. Despite the agony of the last several miles, I managed to make it back
to T2 without incident and still feeling quite energetic. I dismounted my bike
a few feet ahead of the line and began the long walk into T2. I handed my bike
off to a volunteer and along the way I saw my wife and stopped to give her a
quick kiss. I decided it would be easier to take off my cycling shoes and run
in in my socks, despite the wet and muddy grass. Fortunately I had packed an
extra pair of socks in my T2 bag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Bike time: 6:48:41</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
T2 was less crowded and I focused on drying my feet and
getting the sand off of them before heading off on the run. I loaded up my
pockets with additional Gatorade Chews (that I never once considered using on
the run,) handed my T2 bag to a volunteer, stopped for additional sunscreen,
then made my way to the run.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
T2 time: 10:12<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>RUN</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I was out on the run. My average run pace for the 6-mile
loop I regularly run is about 9:15/mile. My 14-mile run took me about 2:15, but
I knew there was no way I was going to survive a 10:00/mile pace on the run. I
wanted to slow down to 12:30-13:00 for the first 10K and then hold it or
gradually pick up the pace if I felt I could. In the chaos of the opening mile
of the run, I never saw the first mile marker, but my pace was an 11:08. I felt
okay with that pace, slowing to walk through the aid stations and running
again. This went well enough for the first hour and a half, but then my body
and brain started fading. I found that although my body wasn’t screaming at me
to stop, my legs were growing extremely fatigued and my brain was getting very
cloudy. I remember feeling as if everything was getting soft around the edges
as I looked at it. It seemed prudent to me to slow down and walk for a while,
so I did. I may have walked a quarter of a mile and things came back into
focus. I tried to keep my walk at a brisk pace, and eventually I was able to
start running again. My new plan was to run to a specific landmark and then
walk to the next one. I found that electrical poles worked well for me. The
largest poles were 100-200 yards apart, so I would run to the next one and then
walk to the one after that. It meant walking for more time than I was running,
but each time I began running, I found that I could start running without any
complaint from my body or rationalization from my brain as to why I shouldn’t
start running. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Louisville run course is perfect for me, a double out-and-back,
with each leg approximately 6.5 miles. Breaking the marathon into four
digestible chunks allowed me to focus on getting to the next turnaround without
trying to mentally run the entire marathon all at once. Of course, getting to
the start of the second loop only ONE BLOCK from the finish line seems like
cruel and unusual punishment to me as you have to veer to the right and start
the last half marathon when the finish line and the thousands of spectators are
there urging you on but not realizing you still have half the run to complete.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The run course is well-stocked and supported with aid
stations roughly every mile. I had all of my pockets full of Gatorade Chews and
other food that I had brought, but after the bike leg wanted none of it. I took
water at almost every aid station, had Gatorade at about every other one, had
grapes a couple of times, took 3-7 potato chips at most stations, took cold
sponges 3 or 4 times and once had a volunteer fill my cap with ice. At about
6:30, someone offered me the first chicken broth. It was warm and wonderful! I
began looking for that at every aid station while alternating through whatever
it was that felt somewhat appetizing at the time. At special needs, I drank
another 5-hour energy, but it didn’t have the effect that the first one had on
the bike. I was disappointed, but was still able to continue with my run-walk
pattern for the rest of the race.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Several times during the run I started to get into my own
head, thinking about slowing to walk the rest of the way, (with 7:30 to finish
the marathon, I could walk the whole way! Why not give it a shot?) I also
thought about the times, but my brain doesn’t do math all that well under such
a strain, so thinking I might be able to finish the marathon in 4 hours and end
before sundown (at 7:30) just didn’t make sense, but above everything else it
was distracting me from moving forward, so as that would happen, I would find
someone running beside me and begin a conversation. I told them I needed to
talk to them for a bit to get out of my head. This happened five or six times,
and each time it worked. By the last leg in to the finish line, I was too tired
to want to talk to people and I was beginning to race with a few of them who I
had kept pace with for the second loop, so I didn’t talk to anyone other than
volunteers and police officers, and even then it was only to thank them for
being out there all day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About two miles from the finish, my brain cleared up enough
to realize that I could finish in 14 hours, but to do so I’d have to run more
than walk, so I changed my pattern to running for three street lights and
walking for one. I opened a gap on the other athletes I had been leapfrogging
with for several miles and started gaining on the others who had dropped me
some time earlier.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One quarter of a mile from the finish, you are still on 3<sup>rd</sup>
Street. Fan support at 9:45 was all but gone from there, with everyone having
moved to the finish line at 4<sup>th</sup> Street Live! There was one
fan/volunteer standing at the turn off of 3<sup>rd</sup> Street who encouraged
me to run hard and finish strong. It felt like he was telling me to reel in a
few of the athletes (I could see two or three on the block ahead of me) and
pass them, so I decided to run hard the rest of the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning the corner onto 4<sup>th</sup> Street was amazing.
Three blocks ahead I could see the finish line and the crowd of spectators was
pressing in hard against the barriers. The noise, the lights, the music was
everything I needed. I took particular delight in going to the left side of the
divider that directed me to the finish line, almost reading the “2<sup>nd</sup>
Loop Right” sign with disdain. I passed one athlete who seemed to be tying his
shoes or visiting with friends or family at the start of the long finishers’
chute and focused on the finish arch. I had thought for several hours what I
might do as I crossed the finish line, but as my legs carried me down the
chute, I held out my hands on both sides to high five the fans who had their
hands out, and when I crossed over the line, all I could do was throw my arms
up in a V. Nobody else in the world existed at that moment. My finish line
video shows I gave a high five to the athlete who crossed the line ten seconds
ahead of me, but I don’t remember it. I didn’t hear my name announced, (it was,)
and then my catcher locked eyes with me and opened her arms to receive me. In
the next few minutes I had a medal placed over my head, was handed a finisher’s
shirt and cap, had my picture taken, was given a Mylar blanket, had my timing
chip removed, then was congratulated again by my catcher and ushered out the
back side of the finisher’s chute where my wife was waiting. It was over, and I
had finished without the pain and agony that so many people recall when they
talk about their experience.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Run time: 5:25:25<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>TOTAL IRONMAN TIME: 13:57:54</b></span></h2>
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Unseasonably warm temperatures and other environmental factors resulted in a
massive toxic, blue-green algae bloom all across the Ohio River. City and state
officials were warning recreationists to stay out of and avoid contact with the
water. There was serious talk about cancelling the swim portion of the race.
Race officials tested the water every day during the week prior to the race and
finally pronounced it safe to swim in on Saturday morning, 24 hours before the
starting gun.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-77440743960823260522016-01-04T15:27:00.001-08:002016-01-04T15:27:52.396-08:00Ironman AccountabilityI can't believe I started this blog ten years ago. Some of the intervening blog posts will tell you what I've done with my time, but you have probably figured out that my goals have changed somewhat over the past decade. Kona is no longer (or was it ever really?) a serious goal.<br />Completing an Ironman, however, always was. Here's what went down... I'll break this down into separate posts just because it's forever long.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last year I turned 39. I stopped to evaluate all of the
things I had accomplished to that point, finishing my Ph.D., earning tenure and
promotion, having five amazing kids with my wife, running a Boston qualifying
marathon, and a handful of other things, but the Ironman still loomed large on
the list of incompletes. There was no way I could qualify for Kona, but surely
I could complete an Ironman by the time I turned 40, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I began looking at the Ironman website. Ironman
Chattanooga is only three hours from where I live and the 2015 race was to be
held on a Saturday. It was the perfect setup for me, only it was double the
cost to register. I guess those slots are for the Ironman Foundation athletes.
$650 is bad enough. $1300 was impossible. IM Maryland was another Saturday race
before my birthday, but Maryland is a lot farther from my home, so that meant a
lot more expenses in traveling. My last option was Ironman Louisville, five
hours from my home, and held on my birthday. I texted my wife about it and
emailed her the website link, and to my surprise she told me she would support
me if I wanted to do it. I signed up the next day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now I had about one year to get ready for this event. I’ve
already mentioned I am lazy. I found several free triathlon training plans and
began making grandiose plans for the 12-20 hours of training it would require
for me to follow these plans. But there was still a long time before I had to
start training in earnest, and I am very busy with everything else I have to
do. My plan was to run an ultra-marathon in February (50K trail run,) an Olympic
distance triathlon in May, a half-Ironman distance in August, and be ready for
the big one in October. As panic set in a few weeks before each of these
events, I found myself begrudgingly hitting the road to run, bike, or head over
to the YMCA to swim. I managed to run a 25 mile training run before the ultra
in February in a little over 5 hours, but finished the trail run in a miserable
7.5 hours after slogging through the mud most of the day. I completed the
Olympic distance in about 3 hours after a dismal swim, second time in my
wetsuit, and first time in years I had swum more than 200 yards nonstop. The
half-Ironman distance was another hot death march, albeit I had conquered my
fears in the water. Water temperatures in Alabama in August are akin to
bathwater, so it was not wetsuit legal, but I finished the swim in 47 minutes,
the bike in just under 3 hours, and the run in about 2:45. It was what I
deserved and no better than I expected. A 6:40 half-Ironman time, according to
some race predictors should yield a 14-hour full Ironman time, but that’s
assuming you are fit enough to go twice the distance. There’s a HUGE difference
between 70.3 and 140.6!<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I had a triathlon bike, I had a nice wetsuit, I
had two tri kits, excellent running shoes, and everything else I needed to look
the part. I just didn’t have the motivation to really train. My big training
came in three separate weeks/events. First, I had my annual running camp (AKA
AP Spanish Exam Reading) in Cincinnati, OH from June 11-19. I ran about 60 miles
that week, running twice on most days, once at 5:30 AM and again at 5:30 PM.
Second, I had swimming camp while I was a scout leader at my son’s scout camp.
That week I trained for and completed the BSA mile swim. I finished the mile
swim in about 45 minutes, but that gave me the confidence and the understanding
that I needed to pace myself through 2.4 miles of open water. My third training
event was a 122-mile bike ride on Labor Day. I totally miscalculated my
nutrition needs and ended up consuming all of my nutrition by the halfway
point. Miles 70-90 were absolutely miserable, and I was fortunate to be able to
stop at a welcome center and grab some water and eat a couple of Oreos to
prevent a complete bonk. I finally finished that ride in 8:19, counting the 30
minutes or more that I had to take as a rest at the welcome center 35 miles
from my home. Beyond that, there were a handful of 25-mile bike rides, several
6-8 mile runs, one 14-mile run and one 2-mile swim. That would be the sum total
of my training for my inaugural Ironman. If I’m truly honest with myself, I
might be able to say that I trained an average of 2 hours per week, counting my
three concentrated events mentioned above. I joined a Facebook group of Ironman
participants for the Louisville race and read more about other people training
every day than actual training myself. The common theme was, “you can’t fake it
on an Ironman.” I began looking desperately online for some sort of
confirmation that you actually could complete an Ironman on minimal training.
$650 is a lot of money to throw away because you are too lazy to train. I found
an article about three University of Georgia undergraduates who completed an
Ironman on minimal training and somewhere else I saw the line, “sure, you can
finish an Ironman on little to no training, but you’ll be miserable the whole
day.” Being 20 years older than the undergrads who finished their Ironman, I
was quite frantic, if not desperate as my Facebook comrades began their taper
and I hadn’t done anything to taper from. If anything, I was still ramping up
mileage. I was in trouble.</span>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-59344820574920629862016-01-04T15:20:00.001-08:002016-01-04T15:20:47.026-08:00I'm back. Good thing nobody's around here any more to have missed me...By now, it seems the only people who still blog are the professionals who are making obscene amounts of money for what they write and advertise. I have four separate blogs that I have started and abandoned over the years. I haven't even bothered to see when I made the last post in any of them. Whatever.<br />
<br />
I did see that one of the posts on this blog is titled, "New Year, New Resolve."<br />
Yeah, right.<br />
<br />
So why am I back?<br />
Accountability.<br />
<br />
It's now 2016. When I started this blog who knows how many years ago, it was supposed to track my road to Kona, where I wanted to compete in the Ironman Triathlon World Championships. It was nine or ten years ago. I've changed a lot since then. The blog became a venue for me to post about my travels to Peru and other countries, but even that was replaced by Instagram and Facebook.<br />
<br />
I'm back here because I need to keep a training journal and I am hoping that this will be the place to do it.<br />
<br />
I'll post some back story in the next post.<br />
<br />
For now, I'm back. The party is a little lame, but that's all my own doing.<br />
<br />Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-1942809991630909632012-05-18T20:05:00.000-07:002012-05-18T20:05:15.630-07:00Peru 2012 Phase 2: Lima to NazcaThe past couple of days have been a blur at best. With our arrival in Lima on Tuesday night, Wednesday was full of experiences in Lima. We began the morning with a trip to the Larco Museum, and then had a brief lunch break and the Mirabus tour of Miraflores. After the Mirabus tour, I took the group to Petit Thouars, the souvenir street and encouraged everyone to get an idea of what they would like to look for as we travel through the country. Prices are okay on Petit Thouars, but we'll see all the same stuff everywhere else in the country for usually a lot cheaper. Of course, it's almost impossible to visit a handicraft mall without spending any money, so most everyone ended up getting something.<br />
Wednesday night took us to the Parque Mágico de Aguas, where there are several lighted, dancing fountains. The high point of the evening is the laser light show projected on a water screen. It's definitely worth the price of admission.<br />
Thursday morning was our scheduled trip to colonial Lima, the Plaza de San Martin, Plaza de Armas, Banco de la Reserva (another museum), and the Saint Francis cathedral and monastery and a trip into the catacombs. This excursion is always popular, as catacombs are not something we have in the US. Traffic in Lima was horrible, and we ended up losing a lot of time in transit. We closed our day with an evening excursion to Barranco to see the Puente de Suspiros and the vibrant night life there.<br />
Today began at 5:45am with a bus ride to Nasca. We arrived in Nasca at 2:30 and checked into the hotel and went straight to the flyover. Weather has been pretty crummy in the mornings for the past several days, and rather than wait around at the airport all morning for the fog to lift, we decided to fly this evening when the weather was good. I didn't fly this time, as the Nazca Lines haven't changed in more than 1000 years, so the pictures I took last year are still good. Everyone enjoyed the flight, and nobody got sick. I think it was also helpful that we hadn't eaten lunch, so nobody had anything to upset their stomach. I hope to remember that for the next time around.<br />
Everyone went their own way for dinner, and I enjoyed a quiet meal by myself at my favorite Nazca restaurant, La Encantada. Once again I had Palta Rellena and Lomo Saltado. I chased it with an Inka Cola, and went back to the hotel, where I am currently enjoying an early evening.<br />
This post is quite boring, so I won't prolong the agony of anyone who may be reading. Tomorrow we have a morning tour of the cemetery and the precolumbian mummies, then an afternoon bus on to Arequipa.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-1840739577956732462012-05-15T21:59:00.003-07:002012-05-15T21:59:35.790-07:00Peru Study Abroad 2012I write once again from Lima, Peru. This is my third trip to this wonderful country and the second time I have traveled with students. This year I have ten participants, six college-age students and four continuing studies students. Other than myself, there is only one male participant. The dynamic is quite different than last year's group, but it already seems to be considerably more relaxed than last year. I have an extremely full schedule planned for the next two weeks including almost everything we did last year plus Lake Titicaca, Maras, Chinchero, and other sites we missed last time. I may or may not have the time to write and update each day, but I'll do my very best to keep up this year.<br />
So here's how day one shook out.<br />
We met at the Huntsville Airport this morning at 4:30 to check in. Our United Airlines flight was a code share with US Airways, and the latter airline was not feeling at all friendly. I wasn't about to risk the loss of my luggage again this year, so I insisted on carrying on. I had a mild argument with the ladies at the ticket counter about the size of my bag, but in the end, I won out and made it all the way to Lima without having to check my bag through to the final destination. They tried for about one second to bill me for everyone's checked bags, but I reminded them that United policy is to allow one free checked bag on flights to South America. It is a sad indication of the state of air travel in the US to see just how much the airlines have begun to charge for, not just checked luggage (and carry-on in some airlines,) but snacks, wifi, and other luxuries. I'm afraid they'll start charging for the restroom before long.<br />
Our flight left Huntsville for Charlotte, NC, then went on to Newark, NJ. We finally got on a United flight for the 7-hour leg to Lima. We landed at about 8:50pm, made our way through customs, and after a few minutes of trying to locate Liliana, our Lima contact, loaded up on the bus and headed to Miraflores, our center of operations for the next two and a half days. Last year, I booked our Lima hotel myself and it was overwhelmingly considered to be the low point of the trip, so this year I decided to let Karen (my Peruvian miracle worker) handle all the bookings. We're at Hotel The Place not far from Larcomar. We're not quite as centrally located as we were last year, but the accommodations are more private than last year. I will try and get up at 6 and go for a quick run to try and locate myself in the area. I'll be a lot better off if I know which way to direct everyone for their shopping and banking needs tomorrow.<br />
Long story short: the flights were uneventful and the daytime travel allowed for more energy and will give us a full night's rest before really hitting the ground running tomorrow. <br />
In the meantime, it's late and I'm exhausted. Here's to another fun-filled two weeks of study abroad stress. (I must really love it or I wouldn't do this to myself each year...)Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-46509450768846625572011-05-27T20:42:00.000-07:002011-05-27T20:42:43.529-07:00My how time flies when you are having fun!I just realized that it's Friday night and we've been in Peru for a week. Several people were mentioning today that it seems like we've been here for a couple of months already, and with everything we have done in the last week, I feel it too.<br />
If the next week goes the same as this week, we'll all be too exhausted to actually get off the plane in Huntsville next Friday. This, I believe, is a good thing.<br />
I had hoped that the trip hiccups would all be over after I and three others were separated from the group out of Huntsville and our ensuing jaunt across the US to try and catch up to the rest of the group. Of course, delayed baggage is always a trial, but when Ed's and Paulette's bags made it to the hotel in Lima on Sunday, I thought everything would be smooth sailing from that point on, even though my bag was nowhere to be found. I kept telling myself that as long as problems had to arise, as long as I suffered the worst of them, everyone else could just roll with it. If I stayed calm, they would all stay calm as well. Right?<br />
We are entitled to our theories, and I guess the fact that we have to test them is what makes them theories. I have learned an incredible amount about planning and carrying out a study abroad trip in the last week, and I am far better equipped for any future programs I may choose to run after only seven days. This has been an incredibly grueling week with a steep learning curve for me, but everyone's still alive and the problems or difficulties are minor, so I'm counting it as a success thus far.<br />
Having not written regularly this week, I will now try and give as much of an update as I can. I may also add photos, or perhaps put those in later, as pictures make my words a lot more interesting.<br />
We left Lima on Tuesday morning for Nazca. There is no airport in Nazca (other than the little one used for the flyovers,) so my bag was not going to make it to me there. Thanks to Karen, the real force behind this trip, my bag was scheduled to arrive in Arequipa on Wednesday and I was to go claim it at the Arequipa airport. The LAN Airlines people insisted on delivering it to me at the hotel, so I waited an extra two hours for it to arrive, but what's two hours after SIX DAYS without it? It was good to get my bag back. That's really all I can say.<br />
I must digress at this moment and air a grievance against the U.S. media channels. On May 9, 2011, workers in Puno, Peru began a protest against the government and blocked the highway that runs between Puno and La Paz, Bolivia. The protest has been entirely ignored by the American media channels, and I was completely unaware of the situation until Tuesday night when Karen informed me that the protests had spread and travel to Puno (and Lake Titicaca) is impossible. This meant we had an additional two and a half days to make up in our trip. We would miss Lake Titicaca, Sillustani, Pucapucara, Raqchi, and a couple of other significant sites on our tour as a result. The options available to us were to extend our stay in Arequipa, a city I am entirely unfamiliar with, or go to Cusco early and spend five days there. One benefit to Arequipa is Colca canyon, the debated largest/deepest canyon in the Western Hemisphere, which is a day trip away from Arequipa and is famous for the Andean condors that fly there. After negotiating with Karen about our trip budget and so forth, we (I) decided we would pay the extra money and make the trip to Colca canyon.<br />
I believe I am speaking for the entire group when I say that it was well worth it.<br />
So we're back in Arequipa for one more day and then to take the night bus to Cusco tomorrow night and resume the original itinerary. Machupicchu is the natural climax of this trip, and we will be able to spend most all of Wednesday there, then one more night in Cusco, a flight back to Lima, then back to the USA on Friday.<br />
I hope I last that long.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-26908743691224552112011-05-23T05:09:00.000-07:002011-05-23T05:09:15.293-07:00Baggage Update:I began yesterday (day two in Peru) with a more serious inquiry into the whereabouts of the lost luggage. I had hoped that the bags had actually completed the journey from Chicago to Miami and then caught the afternoon flight from Miami into Lima on the 21st. This would mean the airline would deliver it sometime later in the afternoon and all would be well. My phone call yielded some answers, but unfortunately not the ones I was seeking. My bag had been located in Chicago, but as of yesterday morning at 9:30, there were no plans to get it from Chicago to Lima. I asked about Ed and Paulette's bags, and they DID make it to Lima and were scheduled to be delivered sometime in the afternoon yesterday. I haven't actually seen the bags, nor have I spoken with Ed and Paulette since midday yesterday, so I can only hope. I have to make the call again, hoping my bag has actually moved forward and is either here or en route. Tomorrow morning we depart for Nazca, then on to Arequipa, Puno, and then Cusco, staying no more than one night in any of these locations until we arrive at Cusco. I'm going to be very hard to catch after 6:00 tomorrow morning.<br />
I'm afraid the odds are not in my favor.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-90762938577885856202011-05-23T04:59:00.000-07:002011-05-23T05:00:41.301-07:00Perhaps it's wise to plan for the worst<div class="MsoNormal">It really is a wonderful experience and adventure traveling to another country, even if you’ve been there before. To expand your horizons, to engage a culture foreign to your own, to see the world from even the slightest different perspective are rewards in themselves. It’s an entirely different experience traveling with others, especially when you are the tour conductor or trip leader. To be responsible for the safety and well being of any number of other people is certainly daunting, but with the right people, those responsibilities, although great, are not overly challenging.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our two-week excursion to Peru was to begin with a noon departure from the Huntsville International Airport on May 20. We were to fly to DFW, then back to Miami, then on to Lima, arriving in Lima at 4:30am on the 21<sup>st</sup>. Program participants were to arrive at the airport two hours early so we could ensure a smooth start to our journey. When I arrived at 9:45am, a few had already checked into the flight and had found that all flights into DFW were cancelled due to severe weather, and our group had been split up into two: one going to Chicago, the other to Washington, D.C. Both groups were to meet in Miami and resume the trip as originally planned. Sadly, that was not to be the case. For reasons that I did not understand or consider at the time, I was placed in the smaller group of four people sent to Chicago. The remaining 12 went to D.C. on U.S. Airways. (There was a small checked baggage fee issue for the last three in that group, but I was able to see it sorted out.) Both groups departed Huntsville on time, and the larger group (containing all of my undergrads) traveled smoothly for the rest of the trip, arriving at the scheduled time in Lima, with all of their luggage.</div><div class="MsoNormal">My little band of four was not so fortunate. We arrived at Chicago O’Hare to find our 5:30 flight to Miami was delayed until 7:05, putting our arrival in Miami at 11:15, a mere 40 minutes before that flight was scheduled to depart. We were willing to risk the late arrival in Miami because we had told the rest of the group to strongly encourage the Miami flight crew to hold the plane for us. Then the flight was delayed until 7:45. This required immediate action, because missing the flight out of Miami last night meant not getting to Lima until 9:45PM today. This would leave ¾ of my group alone in Peru without me and without the money to pay for the accommodations. Obviously I could not allow this to happen, so I called the rebooking services and managed to maneuver us into a flight to NY La Guardia with a transfer to JFK and a direct flight on LAN Airlines from JFK to Lima arriving about an hour and a half behind the original group.</div><div class="MsoNormal">With too much to detail, we raced to make the La Guardia flight from Chicago, were booked on the LAN flight, only to find that our reservations had been cancelled en route. We were placed on standby with the option of being routed through Guayaquil, Ecuador on a later flight that would arrive at 9:30am in Lima. Fortunately, miracles happen (as stated by the ticketing agent at JFK,) and we made the earlier flight. Unfortunately, when we switched airports and airlines, our bags had no way of knowing where we were headed and had only to wait and carry out the journey as originally planned. I don’t expect them to arrive any sooner than 9:45 tonight, but they have to make it through customs by themselves, then across Lima and to the hotel. I hope we see them tomorrow.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then again, we have travel insurance that covers our lost luggage up to $300 if the bags are delayed or lost for more than 24 hours. I might get some new clothes out of this little adventure.</div><div class="MsoNormal">For now, we are all safe and secure, albeit travel-weary and worn, in Miraflores, Lima, Peru. I trust that all of the hiccups are now behind us and we can enjoy a smooth trip for the duration.</div>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-30405863542497460032011-01-04T14:03:00.000-08:002011-01-04T14:03:22.474-08:00New Year's ResolveI've finally hit the point where I am disgusted at what I see when I look at my physique in the mirror. New year, another recommitment to being healthier this year. It's hard to comprehend how quickly I have let myself fall out of shape, but rather than dwell on the fact that I am out of shape right now, I have to plan how to get back into shape.<br />
My calves don't scream in agony after I run in the toe shoes any more, but I still feel them being worked when I run the hills in my neighborhood. I'm running an average of 3 miles per day, six days a week (over two weeks now) and regret that I can only run about an 8:45/mile pace. I used to average 6:30/mile or faster for any distance up to six or seven miles, and about 6:45-7:00 for ten to fifteen miles. I have a lot of work to do to get back to that point.<br />
I have ridden my new fixie bike to seminary (six miles round trip) for the past two days this week, and the last 1/2 mile of each leg is when I start feeling the real fatigue in my legs. A fixie is a strange animal. Not relying on the derailleur to downshift when I ride up hills forces me to work harder overall, and not being able to stand stationary at an intersection without releasing my foot forces me to carefully consider my route of travel. I desperately need to learn to do a track stand. Retraining myself to never coast has been challenging at times, but not as challenging as figuring out getting into the stupid toe clips on the pedals easily. Arrgh. <br />
I'm going to try the Scale Back Alabama program again this year. Our team's plan is to have everyone put in $30 and if we lose the 10 pounds, we get our money back. If not, those who do lose the weight get to split our entry fee. This is a more immediate consequence and one that is likely to encourage me to succeed rather than the incentive of entering each team in a drawing to win $1000 if all members of the team successfully lose 10 pounds in the 10 weeks. I hope my disgust at my image in the mirror also continues to provide incentive.<br />
I'm also resolved to raise the bar in my classes this semester. I know all of my students this semester and know that they are capable of doing more and performing better in my classes than what I have previously required of them. I am excited about the classes I am offering, and look forward to the semester beginning next week.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-14329144545612730652010-11-15T10:40:00.000-08:002010-11-15T10:40:38.172-08:00Two Days of AgonyI am walking like an old man in desperate need of every joint replacement from the hip down.<br />
My two-mile run in the VFF shoes worked my calves more than I originally felt. By afternoon Saturday, my calves were as tight as rocks and terribly sore. Sitting for even a few minutes allowed the muscles to tense up and each time I stood to walk, it was the same thing over again: agony in my calves. All day Sunday was spent the same way, hobbling from place to place, stretching out and massaging my calves in between, and having them freeze up again after sitting for two to three minutes.<br />
Fortunately, the pain is subsiding today, and I actually look forward to being able to run again either this afternoon or tomorrow. (I am back on my regular early morning schedule, which makes running before work impossible.)<br />
A student of mine who runs in these shoes is planning on running a 10K this weekend in his. I am looking forward to getting to that point once again.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-72269187722054896042010-11-13T05:35:00.000-08:002010-11-13T05:35:31.209-08:00Running Barefoot... or Something Like ItSome years ago I bought into the hype created by the Nike Free running shoe. I was in the height of my short-lived running obsession and my knees were already starting to develop problems. I had run four or five marathons, a few half marathons, and a couple of 5 and 10Ks. I was getting fast, with a fastest marathon time of 3:27 and change. I had also been selected to join a study conducted by the Furman Institute of Running and Scientific Training (FIRST) with the promise that I could run fewer miles each week and still get faster. I wanted to run a 3:10 marathon and qualify for the Boston Marathon, so I had plenty of work left to do.<br />
To make a long story short, I purchased a pair of Nike Free 5.0 shoes and began to train in them. My FIRST training plan helped me focus my workouts and limited the strain on my knees, and over the next 18 months or so, I PRed in every race I ran. I actually became locally competitive in all of my distances. I qualified for Boston with a 3:10:52 marathon and have never been anywhere near that since then.<br />
Many things have happened between then and now, but it all boils down to a change in focus and priorities. It still nags in the back of my mind that I never actually ran in the Boston Marathon, and I want to do that. I also want to get faster. I would like to be a sub-three hour marathoner. I still intend to complete an Ironman Triathlon and even compete in Kona. That said, I have to beat back the 35 extra pounds that have managed to acquire while in Alabama, make time to train, convince myself that it's worth all the pain and suffering, and so on and son forth.<br />
I have had a few false starts over the past year; results of aggravating old injuries, lack of time, and general laziness and apathy brought on by 35 pounds of fatness. I have found that my favorite Nike Free shoes no longer work for me, and although I have a pair of Saucony runners that are quite comfortable, they make running unpleasant at best, if not downright painful.<br />
So this week I splurged and bought another pair of barefoot-style running shoes, the Vibram Five Fingers. I bought the KSO model for $85 and have begun running in them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANVk3tbgx9NWqkMxMdQ1eUyojpZeb8Y8iHScQ1deIJZ6L6OnBT_i1rfCs7YArjl6zriNwEDKthM5lSJsZEDzzNI9oDq9yFCNTqesUTlaiCSL7rwZTZ8mIPj00kbMs40l1u5EZzA/s1600/100_0925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjANVk3tbgx9NWqkMxMdQ1eUyojpZeb8Y8iHScQ1deIJZ6L6OnBT_i1rfCs7YArjl6zriNwEDKthM5lSJsZEDzzNI9oDq9yFCNTqesUTlaiCSL7rwZTZ8mIPj00kbMs40l1u5EZzA/s320/100_0925.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> These are as close to barefoot running as I dare get (at least on the road,) and I have come to determine that even the Nike Free is nowhere near the level of barefoot running commitment that these shoes are. These are little more than a fitted rubber sole attached to some aqua-socks mesh. There is ZERO support, cushion, or anything built into these things. (Kind of makes you wonder what the $85 pays for...)<br />
Like the Free, these shoes come with the instructions to wear them for a couple of hours a day for a week or two just to get your feet and legs used to going barefoot, and then gradually work into running in them. Yesterday I ran a slow mile in them and I had to completely alter my gait. I can't imagine heel striking in these shoes. For a brief time before buying my first pair of Frees, I ran barefoot on a large grass lawn and found that I had to run on the balls of my feet just to keep from jarring my legs with every step. The Nike Free has a thick cushion on the heel, so I was able to resume heel striking, but the Five Fingers do not, so I am going to have to commit to changing my gait entirely or give it up.<br />
After a mile yesterday and two miles today, my calves are faring the worst...Imagine tiptoeing for two miles and you've got the right idea. I can stretch it out pretty easily, but I will have to be very careful with how I begin training again.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-63181246306172954102010-03-29T06:31:00.000-07:002010-03-29T06:31:28.445-07:00The Long and Winding RoadSo things may have broken down a little here. Yolanda, the tour guide in Puno picked me up at the hotel at 9:10 and delivered me to the bus terminal, where my overnight bus to Cusco was waiting. Unfortuantely, it was not a “bus cama” or bed bus. This was finer than the best of our Greyhound buses, but still crowded and not entirely comfortable. I managed to sleep fairly well, however, even after they started the movie 'UNDERWORLD: Rise of the Laicas.' The good thing was that the movie only lasted about 15 minutes before the picture went out and so they turned it off. The bus left the terminal at about 9:45 and I woke up at 10:30, 12:00, 1:00, 2:00, and 4:00. The road between Puno and Cusco is quite bumpy and has enough twists and turns in it to keep anyone off balance for the entire journey. The lady next to me didn't sleep at all on the trip. We arrived at the Cusco bus terminal at 4:30, and here I sit, listening to the agents at the many bus counters call out their destinations to the weary travelers as they sit and try to sleep until their bus departs for wherever they are headed. I have heard, “Arequipa Arequipa Arequipa, bus cama Carhuamayo a Arequipa” about 500 times in the last half hour. I'm thining I might go buy a ticket just to get the girl to shut up.<br />
The only problem with this last step of the journey is the many layovers I have. I don't fly out of Cusco until 1:25 this afternoon, so that means that even if I have to be at the airport two hours early, I don't have to be there for 6.5 more hours. I do think I will catch a cab out of this bus terminal over to the airport at about 6 this morning just to be moving and hopefully find a more quiet corner to sit and read in the airport. I suppose I could go into town again, but nothing really opens for another 3-4 hours, so I'm stuck either way. I'm also at the absolute end of the cash I brought, so additional cab fares would only further strain an already tight budget. The long layover is not a problem for me, but I have to be very careful to eliminate this kind of down time when I bring students back with me next time.<br />
The noise got to be too much. As the minutes passed, more pregoneros began crying their company's destinations, an elderly man wandered among the benches selling hot chocolate and bread, an elderly lady wandered through offering soup and sandwiches, and as dawn approached, it got cooler. I finished a chapter in my book, grabbed my stuff, and decided to make my way to the airport. Five soles is about $2, but for a three minute cab ride to the airport, it is too much. It is, however, the first amount every cab driver quoted me when I asked. I offered the first guy 2 soles, he countered with 5 again, I came up to three, and he waved his hand at me and walked away. No big deal. There are fifteen other cabs in line, and I can easily get any one of them to take me, even if it means coming up to four soles. I ended up hiring a cab for 4 soles, but now I am in the airport, sitting on a cuschioned chair in the departure waiting area. It's only 6:30, and my flight doesn't leave for seven more hours, but I am most definitely more comfortable here than at the bus station. I may even snooze for a little bit.<br />
I'm freezing my butt off! It's overcast in Cusco, and although I am inside, I cannot get warm. I think a lot of my problem stems from my sunburn, which is drawing heat out of my body through my face. I am wearing a cap and have my hood on, but my hands are ice cold (also a result of washing them with cold water- there is no warm water in public facilities anywhere in Peru.) It's 11:00 and I decided that I could check my luggage at 10:30 (3 hours before the flight is to depart) and lighten my load a little. As I arrived at the Star Peru check in desk, there were four American college kids in front of me having a collective nervous breakdown about their earlier flight being cancelled and them being pushed back to the same flight I am on. They were beyond reasoning, and all four of them are determined to find the worst in everything, so I chose to ignore them once they were checked in. This is just a part of international travel, especially travel to a third-world country: things don't always work out as you plan. Schedules are loose guidelines rather than hard and fast rules. For instance, my flight this afternoon was originally scheduled for 2pm, three days ago I was told it would depart at 1:25, this morning, it's 1:15. In all actuality, it may be closer to 2 by the time we get off the ground, but so what.<br />
I wish I had the inclination to go out and see Cusco once again, but unless you are going to a museum or archaeological site or shopping for handicrafts, wandering around Cusco is pointless. I have plenty of reading to do, so there's really no reason for me to succumb to my short attention span and wander.<br />
I looked at my watch and saw that it was 12:05, at which point I began to rejoice that my return journey to my family was now nearing the 24-hour mark. My flight to Lima should begin boarding at 12:45, so I went ahead and went through security. I should be meeting Alfredo in Lima and I'll spend a couple of hours with him, but I am one step closer to home, and although I will miss Peru, my mind is focused on one thing only: holding my family.<br />
It's now 7:38pm and Alfredo just left me at the airport. My flight doesn't leave for another 4.5 hours, and the ticket/check-in desk doesn't even open until 3 hours before the flight, so I am sitting and typing. Alfredo and I went to a cebicheria (same as a cevicheria) and had cebiche (ceviche). Alfredo was waiting for me as I got off the plane from Cusco, and after a few minutes of tracking down my backpack (which had been sent to Lima on an ealier flight and was waiting for me at the ticket desk,) we walked out of the airport and went in search of a cab. The cabs inside the airport parking lot start at 30 soles and go up from there. We walked out to the main road (about 500 yards) and caught a cab for 7 soles. How's that for bargain shopping? I wouldn't advise doing it alone, or at night, but it was 3pm and so we had no trouble at all. We spent the last three hours at the restaurant talking and making plans for possible collaborative efforts on study abroad and teaching endeavors. We walked for a little bit to let our food settle, and then caught my last cab ride in Peru (for this trip, anyway.) Like all Lima cab rides, this one didn't disappoint. Speeding, honking, cutting off buses and trucks, jackrabbit starts and panic stops were all part of the 15 minute ride to the airport, and all for only 6 soles! I'm going to try and drive like that in Florence. I should be back with my family in about 17 hours, and I can't wait. Oh yeah, I did just brush my teeth, but I haven't showered since yesterday morning in Puno. Since then I have been on the floating islands, visited Sillustani, slept in these clothes on an overnight bus ride, sat for two hours in a bus station, six hours in an airport, another hour on a plane, and you get the picture. I will be pretty ripe when I get to Nashville. It should be the ultimate test of love if CJ can even stand to be near me when I get there.<br />
9:55pm and I am through security screening safely. I'm not sure how fond I am of paying an airport tax separately from the ticket. In the U.S., all the taxes are included in the price of the ticket. Here, you get to pay a separate airport tax. My flight to Cusco from Lima was S./20, the flight back from Cusco to Lima was S./10, the flight from Lima to the U.S. is $31! Ooops. I thought maybe S./30, never $31. This is something that needs to be carefully planned for when traveling with a large group of students. 20 people, $31 each is $620 in airport taxes alone. Now, if students are like me and cannot say no to every child peddling handicrafts, they may find themselves without $31 at the end of the trip to pay their airport tax. This means I have to budget all that money in and hold on to it for the duration of the trip, then dispense it just as everyone goes through security. Oh well, that's why I did this trip, to eliminate as many surprises as possible. I'd hate to have that little monster rear its ugly head and ruin an otherwise successful trip.<br />
My flight should start boarding in about an hour.<br />
I just had to apologize to a young lady working at an airport kiosk for the behaviour (note spelling) of some rather obnoxious blokes. (Again, note vocabulary.) These guys were shouting obscenities in the Queen's English as they were walking down the hallway. I made sure the young lady knew that the jerks weren't North American. Of course, the Manhattanite biker chick who walked down the hall next to them wasn't any better with her language, and well, she IS North American. Groseros, malcriados. Don't people realize that they look like idiots when they behave like that, in ANY language?<br />
14 more hours and I should be back in Nashville. I can't wait. I do hope there are some good movies on the flight. Maybe if there aren't I'll actually sleep, but who knows?<br />
10:20am EDT. It's cold and overcast in Atlanta. I am weary of so much travel. I got through customs and immigration without a hitch after the flight landed, got back through security, and went to the gate where the next flight for Nashville was leaving from. Then I realized it was two hours before the flight I was scheduled to be on. I asked if I could get on that flight, but even if I wanted to pay the $50 upgrade fee, I couldn't do it because I had to stay with my checked bag. I went to the next concourse, where I have now visited three different gates trying to find the one where my flight actually departs from. I think I have found it, and mercifully, Atlanta is an hour ahead of Nashville and Lima time, so I will be boarding on this flight in 30 minutes, and landing in Nashville in about an hour and 45 minutes. The end is in sight. In the last 48 hours I have traveled by bus, car, boat, train, and airplane. I'm tired.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-43610202753341360272010-03-25T17:31:00.000-07:002010-03-25T17:31:58.544-07:00Living Off The GridMorning broke with a heavy rainstorm. I was not thrilled about going out to a floating island village in rain and hail. The streets ran like rivers right outside the hotel, and I haven't been all that impressed with Puno city as it is. I think my inner curmudgeon was beginning to come out after twelve days of traveling without my favorite travel companion (and anyone else for that matter.) I am not built for the life of a hermit. Perhaps that's why I have been writing this blog while I travel, if I know someone's reading, I don't feel that alone or disconnected from my usual life.<br />
Fortunately, the sun broke through the clouds right after we got on the boat. In more than one way, the uros are about as far away from Lima as you can get. Lake Titicaca lies on the border between Peru and Bolivia, the people speak Aymara, which is geographically two languages away from Spanish (Quechua lies between them) and historically two civilizations removed. The Qolla people spoke Aymara before they were conquered (or assimilated) by the Incas, who spoke Quechua before they were conquered by the Spaniards.<br />
When we arrived at the island we were to visit today, the women stood on the shore (if you can call it that) and greeted us in Aymara with, "Kamisaraki!" and were supposed to respond, "Waliki!" Yeah, that's confusing. (I apologize to all of my SP101 students who have never spoken Spanish before my class. I forget how awkward it feels to try and communicate in a language you know NOTHING about.) The island we visited is home to six families and a total of about 22 people. Everyone has a very specific role in the community, and the president of the island serves for a term of 6 months. If he does well, then the people will reelect him to serve again. I gather that he can continue in this capacity indefinitely as long as things are going well for the community. Jose, the president of this particular island, wants to start an uros tour company. He was very enthusiastic about having me bring my students to his island for a day. We would dress in traditional clothing and actually learn and perform traditional labors, including hunting, fishing, harvesting the totora reeds, cooking and eating. (Any students who are considering taking this trip with me next year should feel free to chime in with their opinion on this.) I don't think I'm up to actually spending a night on the uros, but I'd entertain the idea if there was enough interest. If there's one thing I have learned (again) today, it's that I live a pretty posh and simple life. My bed, despite usually being invaded by one or more children, is warm and soft, my house is comfortable (and as big as the entire island where six families live.) I enjoy a wealth of luxuries that are unimaginable to so many of the people I met today. Warning to my kids- if you don't appreciate what you have, I swear I will move you to the Peruvian Altiplano for a year and make you live like the people here.<br />
For whatever reason, the pictures are not loading again, so I will have to wait until Saturday or Sunday to put pictures up on this post and yesterday's.<br />
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I am waiting for my bus to Cusco, and from there I foresee more or less the unwinding of everything I have done on this trip: bus ride from Puno to Cusco, Cusco flight to Lima, Lima flight to Atlanta, Atlanta to Nashville, then drive back home. I checked out of my hotel at 8:30 this morning and have an overnight bus ride tonight and a redeye flight tomorrow night, so I am in full travel mode until Saturday night. I'm sure I'll type additional posts along the way, but internet access will be hard to find (the free kind anyway,) so I may not post again until Saturday.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-55297859154090809552010-03-24T20:28:00.000-07:002010-03-25T06:08:34.896-07:00Spend a day on the busToday marked the beginning of the final stage of my trip. I met the chauffeur this morning at 6:45 and after a minor mix-up (he tried to take me to the airport instead of the bus station,) I boarded a bus for Puno.<br />
Puno is on the western edge of Lake Titicaca, waaaaay up in the Peruvian altiplano. Puno is 10835 meters above sea level, 500 meters higher than Cusco. We crossed the border between the district of Cusco and Puno, the highest point on our journey.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhoQrrOvhx6WPur7l0px-F9GoTNPSWorAMDSEPRiJ12NnROU_XAmzgQ0FJCKOTxX3pOSmaxtj5lWOdCGJVzOM-CVX_wJ_1YDyTK0MO6JN0YZQvNrEJrDxd2Y2CqhsQ9ADljwFgA/s1600/100_0586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhoQrrOvhx6WPur7l0px-F9GoTNPSWorAMDSEPRiJ12NnROU_XAmzgQ0FJCKOTxX3pOSmaxtj5lWOdCGJVzOM-CVX_wJ_1YDyTK0MO6JN0YZQvNrEJrDxd2Y2CqhsQ9ADljwFgA/s320/100_0586.JPG" /></a></div>I was kind of disappointed when I got on the bus this morning and had to pay an extra S./ 21 for entrance into the different archaeological sites along the route. I fully expected everything to be paid for on this trip, and it apparently wasn't. Then on arriving in Puno, the travel agent who met me at the bus stop asked for a voucher that showed I had paid for the trip to the uros and Sillustani. I asked my agent in Cusco last night if I needed anything like that and she said Yolanda would have it. I'm going to have a minor fit if I have to pay for tomorrow's excursions again...<br />
Okay, so now that that's off my chest, this may possibly be the last post I write in Peru. The craziness of the trip is coming to a climax now, with tomorrow full of activities on Lake Titicaca and then the burial towers at Sillustani, an overnight bus trip back to Cusco, (arrival at 5am) then a flight back to Lima departing at 1:30. I'll have the afternoon in Lima and then a red eye flight back to the States.<br />
Sorry for the boring reading. I'll try and update this post as time and energy allow.<br />
Today was quite interesting, especially our stop in Raqchi. If I can get photos to upload, it will be a much better post.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-19489457935278846452010-03-23T20:31:00.000-07:002010-03-23T20:31:10.370-07:00Just a last little post before signing offFor anyone interested, I have gone back through a few of the previous posts and added photos. I'm especially fond of the fried cuy photo. Go find it if you like.<br />
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I also really like this photo.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwFSWPT5VLfqNy4T2cnvDRmFAFYpIDXoL_dsUFVpiBFFQ_9PvAMNRmUqxOt7nxWakVUeVgHsDs-yQ4VJzF_vvr5xOyiBRgYDwFZCpIKmLjWaazlTJhsv18VV-VRl1PaIFTu90Aw/s1600-h/100_0460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmwFSWPT5VLfqNy4T2cnvDRmFAFYpIDXoL_dsUFVpiBFFQ_9PvAMNRmUqxOt7nxWakVUeVgHsDs-yQ4VJzF_vvr5xOyiBRgYDwFZCpIKmLjWaazlTJhsv18VV-VRl1PaIFTu90Aw/s320/100_0460.JPG" /></a></div>Everything here has Inca in its name. Two of the people from the recruiting firm UNA works with here have Inca in their name. There's an IncaFarm (pharmacy) and tons of other Inca something or other businesses.<br />
I think I'll change my name to Incafanger while I'm in Peru, just so I can fit in.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-81556311267426156062010-03-23T18:23:00.000-07:002010-03-23T18:23:00.243-07:00Maybe I'll Just Post Pictures TodayDon't really feel like writing today. I visited four museums (all of which prohibit photo taking) and saw a couple of other Cusco landmarks. Depending on how long it takes to upload each photo, I'll just fill this post with some of my favorite shots.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKvL0-BHgGLJAkvEWUZv_T-jyb_297h04Xl6bPETktzjEk29Myl4DxS7w2d613osYcxdE2E8PVnETD4uG1TargAMpE_FGT14X2nntI4En2prSjNfXvejgvpvY4zLYfPdI-K7RoA/s1600-h/100_0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfKvL0-BHgGLJAkvEWUZv_T-jyb_297h04Xl6bPETktzjEk29Myl4DxS7w2d613osYcxdE2E8PVnETD4uG1TargAMpE_FGT14X2nntI4En2prSjNfXvejgvpvY4zLYfPdI-K7RoA/s320/100_0522.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Seeing little kids makes me miss my own terribly. These two cornered me in the artisan fair asking for money. They were equally happy to just see how they looked in the photo. They ran away shortly after this.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Dcf7EfoHdtXcPZEZSXXNyQl3Xs45de3YG4PbdU5qNr2fdOhXF04JoftVKWDu1xQS_l7m1K3rGgV2XjJ_5YYZ6_ZW8D7W-qJPUMGI8xmhXUkhNU005l3t-i7L7MUN4GRKD6ON_g/s1600-h/100_0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Dcf7EfoHdtXcPZEZSXXNyQl3Xs45de3YG4PbdU5qNr2fdOhXF04JoftVKWDu1xQS_l7m1K3rGgV2XjJ_5YYZ6_ZW8D7W-qJPUMGI8xmhXUkhNU005l3t-i7L7MUN4GRKD6ON_g/s320/100_0500.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Cusco's 12-angle rock. These rock walls are not just thrown together, they were carefully cut and fitted into their place. Archaeologists have determined that rocks with intricate fittings have special purposes, although we still don't know what most of them are.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_3jztGxBsM9ejzlGZAkheN8wFuK2dIhDXs4XCplMLSUeJW8ACsZBrFh0Je-5f4SgCoG8Hb7bisB5vQrH3XNf-kn_fZ8eUE7SOV_2tcOwR9zDuXs7w9WrxKQgTLqvSnAb8cp9Gg/s1600-h/100_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_3jztGxBsM9ejzlGZAkheN8wFuK2dIhDXs4XCplMLSUeJW8ACsZBrFh0Je-5f4SgCoG8Hb7bisB5vQrH3XNf-kn_fZ8eUE7SOV_2tcOwR9zDuXs7w9WrxKQgTLqvSnAb8cp9Gg/s320/100_0481.JPG" /></a></div><br />
This is a picture of a small drawing, part of an 8-piece series currently on display at the Q'orikancha art gallery.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyvDXNw6SoWqQjpLwDDaIr7l6wxPj7bz2EUPqtymNXfAArBHhx5tXtAx41HL8OfJ0EBAXsEncXuvN9tbefKwa5cheV0nLW_N2SYCT1gwn16ARnTvo0o8iJLIphjcvgzxn_rH8kw/s1600-h/100_0467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyvDXNw6SoWqQjpLwDDaIr7l6wxPj7bz2EUPqtymNXfAArBHhx5tXtAx41HL8OfJ0EBAXsEncXuvN9tbefKwa5cheV0nLW_N2SYCT1gwn16ARnTvo0o8iJLIphjcvgzxn_rH8kw/s320/100_0467.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I heard these guys chirping across the yard from the wool spinning and dyeing workshop. The habitat is really cute, the cuyes are also really cute. Then they become dinner...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkPfPj6s4XezFIvO0vtwRSA_NgEntf5YPZ2jgAQFOOBBs5dJfwnRsws13ekho4PSNI-XB3uj-37eEDAhrCGJ-A0ZUbqYw09cGEaH4pqdedros7P0qiPl3PrXjQ-iWOME8QgH9cQ/s1600-h/100_0388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkPfPj6s4XezFIvO0vtwRSA_NgEntf5YPZ2jgAQFOOBBs5dJfwnRsws13ekho4PSNI-XB3uj-37eEDAhrCGJ-A0ZUbqYw09cGEaH4pqdedros7P0qiPl3PrXjQ-iWOME8QgH9cQ/s320/100_0388.JPG" /></a></div><br />
At Pisac, you can find the terraces built for farming. At the top of the hill is the largest pre-Columbian burial site in the Americas. The ruins for the town are also at the top of the hill on both sides.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4znjfqnH-DwR7rSKhbJJCjtNjTRti1LmL2MMr5L0vymq5S34yoH_I1hOeNwojWkFlC1HUuNfDELcHx81idcHpZW6W0439STt4SIekXYcWdg4p_7RPk8Dnqzf7bnewtRCxwvcrgQ/s1600-h/100_0393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4znjfqnH-DwR7rSKhbJJCjtNjTRti1LmL2MMr5L0vymq5S34yoH_I1hOeNwojWkFlC1HUuNfDELcHx81idcHpZW6W0439STt4SIekXYcWdg4p_7RPk8Dnqzf7bnewtRCxwvcrgQ/s320/100_0393.JPG" /></a></div>The holes in the hillside are all graves. Archaeologists have found the remains of over 5000 people buried in this hillside, all of them in the fetal position. The Incas believed that the way we were before we were born is the same way we should leave our bodies. Our guide told us that the Incas did believe in an afterlife, which adds a different perspective to their practice of human sacrifice. It was one thing to be sacrificed to accompany the king into the afterlife, but what does it mean to be offered in sacrifice to one of the gods? Is it an honor that people willingly accepted? Most often, the priests were able to offer plants and animal sacrifices to the gods, but in years of extreme drought or torrential rains, it was customary to offer a human sacrifice. I guess that's why the rains washed out the road and rails to Machupicchu, nobody offered a human sacrifice to stop them.<br />
They did, however, offer a black llama this year.<br />
Tomorrow I head out to Puno. I check out of the hostel at 6:45 am. Better get to bed early tonight.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-91974214508269518112010-03-22T20:27:00.000-07:002010-03-22T20:27:03.431-07:00Cusco, the Navel of the World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hNatnRYCf40aBMJ73LOsZ_s6cegxNE_YaCUbcGeyKPTfEGJSl53dfzCJP2EhtIUtEVUC5ZVTV0eNSQw4PPc0Ll-zArVw4QoO8sLoZ2khUFPU9LO-Te0IazCAaXYersTnYLIs2Q/s1600-h/100_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6hNatnRYCf40aBMJ73LOsZ_s6cegxNE_YaCUbcGeyKPTfEGJSl53dfzCJP2EhtIUtEVUC5ZVTV0eNSQw4PPc0Ll-zArVw4QoO8sLoZ2khUFPU9LO-Te0IazCAaXYersTnYLIs2Q/s320/100_0495.JPG" /></a></div>Cusco claims to be the oldest city in the Americas, with the first inhabitants settling there approximately 1000 b.C. Located in the center of Tawantinsuyo, at the junction of the four Inca states, the Q'orikancha temple is the official center of the Incan empire. Serendipitously, I had a free day in Cusco today and it just happens to be the fall equinox. At the far corner of Q'orikancha is a narrow passageway leading to what used to be the most sacred place, the altar of the Inti, or sun. When the Spaniards came in to conquer, they razed most of the Incan sacred places and built their own sacred places on top of them. Most of the astronomical features painstakingly carved into the immense rock walls were broken away or covered by roofs. In the narrow passageway leading to the altar of the Inti, however, there are still a few protuberances that align on the solstices and equinoxes. 12:00 noon today, the shadows line up.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj522qbi1jubryPq6hGBOSYdWvyCgT3itsycWqhLXJ88yoQbZaX_tvaA1wSVoc4qXxY6pVxsJexDwnci-HIzDR1SS36l91OtUxPr790GNKEty1JAM0Fan9qs6S0OLyfc6RxcLWs5w/s1600-h/100_0484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj522qbi1jubryPq6hGBOSYdWvyCgT3itsycWqhLXJ88yoQbZaX_tvaA1wSVoc4qXxY6pVxsJexDwnci-HIzDR1SS36l91OtUxPr790GNKEty1JAM0Fan9qs6S0OLyfc6RxcLWs5w/s320/100_0484.JPG" /></a></div><br />
At 11:00, the sun was high enough to get over the cathedral and shine on the wall.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJKbc5wKeWdeCnZGyIz792qspE4Gmq_swdPqvMPE-PaSCYt6iNEwtDzIwCio8SD5x9eqajPEHHvLB_vBRam8JDMaDpdO-QLesL4DfzOg9f8FiO_XmFFJx8qod207j4-Yr7NwEMw/s1600-h/100_0489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJKbc5wKeWdeCnZGyIz792qspE4Gmq_swdPqvMPE-PaSCYt6iNEwtDzIwCio8SD5x9eqajPEHHvLB_vBRam8JDMaDpdO-QLesL4DfzOg9f8FiO_XmFFJx8qod207j4-Yr7NwEMw/s320/100_0489.JPG" /></a></div><br />
At a few minutes to 12, the shadows began to align. Then the sun went behind the clouds and ruined the rest of the show. I stood around for 20 more minutes hoping the sun would burn through the clouds, but to no avail. Oh well. Maybe another time...Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-33542470365162422012010-03-22T10:43:00.000-07:002010-03-22T10:43:08.238-07:00What's going on here?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLOJDOyMWyITdftnLNwiOd6CAtfUk7VKjwHu9LnzwlJRa05zOJzyKN90ImWAOk8mDk6xQkJIoz6AbDK7j7LpQyv5v3AlPlyMJr4a5oizRy44xm2dF4XN3yw-K8myHRzrCRs2LNQ/s1600-h/100_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLOJDOyMWyITdftnLNwiOd6CAtfUk7VKjwHu9LnzwlJRa05zOJzyKN90ImWAOk8mDk6xQkJIoz6AbDK7j7LpQyv5v3AlPlyMJr4a5oizRy44xm2dF4XN3yw-K8myHRzrCRs2LNQ/s320/100_0472.JPG" /></a><br />
This photo needs a caption. Best submission wins a prize!!!Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-9186185145346495482010-03-22T07:26:00.000-07:002010-03-22T07:26:39.175-07:00Thoughts on Culture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGanCi79bxGlGxOKuzL1uXuuTedfexrKujhvNttq3nPNdcu-b9fxuRTndeZ7lZ7HrY61euG3LilERsnXZEsAFDSk-9PamlP7KuJHL_OznZuSOMM3Coc2NkO_PEWRWyOCy73femA/s1600-h/100_0288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGanCi79bxGlGxOKuzL1uXuuTedfexrKujhvNttq3nPNdcu-b9fxuRTndeZ7lZ7HrY61euG3LilERsnXZEsAFDSk-9PamlP7KuJHL_OznZuSOMM3Coc2NkO_PEWRWyOCy73femA/s320/100_0288.JPG" /></a></div>Alfredo told me last week that there exists a tremendous amount of racism in Peru, the Spanish decendants toward the indigenous people. If the indigenous people are the descendents of one of the most advanced civilizations in the 15<sup>th</sup> and 16<sup>th</sup> centuries, wouldn't the Peruvian people be proud of such a claim? Alfredo's answer when I asked that question was, “but they are a conquered people, they are fallen from greatness.” On a very superficial level, I can see the argument, but it only goes as far as you are unwilling to learn about the indigenous people of Peru. For example, we visited Chinchero today. Chinchero makes and sells wool knits, and the artisans there are the only people who still use pre-Columbian methods for preparing, washing, dying, spinning, and knitting their wool. For the past two nights, we have dined at restaurants that have Andean music shows including music and dance. The costumes are beautiful, but only worn now for cultural presentations such as these dances. So how much of the culture is actually represented by these dances and costumes if nobody uses them anymore? What about the people who dress their children in the traditional outfits and sit them on the street corners for tourists to take pictures of? How about those children who dress in traditional clothing and sell handicrafts? Is this a true representation of the Peruvian or Andean culture? Where do we decide the line is between imitating culture and actually creating or expressing it? Is the group that plays only traditional Andean music more culturally representative than the group that covers Beatles songs with Andean instruments? How about Uchpa? I teach Latin American Culture and Civilization, Cross-cultural Interaction, and Culture through Cinema classes, and all of a sudden I am starting to think that I might not understand culture. My only answer lies in the questions I asked earlier. Culture is always changing, whether for better or for worse, it is always changing. So if this is the case, what does my own culture look like?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVMnXJ-qzeguTambpLfLlvAWnToxapyVmSrJD15mN_LmOy2O5MUS-StlGt5riPVAnjE00nVX9CcZjPF6OzaSpjuK_NDUNEh_2aIxl16gaEfY_q-YFQXOuS2DVMgvUeupYg8Mz2g/s1600-h/100_0464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVMnXJ-qzeguTambpLfLlvAWnToxapyVmSrJD15mN_LmOy2O5MUS-StlGt5riPVAnjE00nVX9CcZjPF6OzaSpjuK_NDUNEh_2aIxl16gaEfY_q-YFQXOuS2DVMgvUeupYg8Mz2g/s320/100_0464.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Enough about that. Today was a long day, with a trip down into the Valle Sagrado (Sacred Valley),<br />
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over to Pisac,<br />
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Calca, Ollantaytambo,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjsX2xzy-qciQCaZ7FydiAESMJstXNbkw30u-nLWtg6zhU2pxo91d9tYSOhZX1fZSNUNKPdZ3S_4SypZLxg6iYRB_sMXMbD1mSJBUE8Gw9KCHVlqOL5R_IszJ-zx3Q_eV6rkh3Q/s1600-h/100_0414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjsX2xzy-qciQCaZ7FydiAESMJstXNbkw30u-nLWtg6zhU2pxo91d9tYSOhZX1fZSNUNKPdZ3S_4SypZLxg6iYRB_sMXMbD1mSJBUE8Gw9KCHVlqOL5R_IszJ-zx3Q_eV6rkh3Q/s320/100_0414.JPG" /></a></div><br />
and Chinchero. Dropping all the way down to 2850 meters above sea level eased the “soroche” or high altitude sickness all day. My headache went away completely, I ran up and down several trails trying to get to the ruin sites I wanted to in the short time alloted. I got winded a couple of times, but nothing like yesterday. I hope it's a combination of acclimatization and the lower elevation and not just the lower elevation. If I sleep well enough tonight and wake up without the “soroche,” I may try a very short run around the plaza in the morning.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-54113808333001483142010-03-21T05:51:00.000-07:002010-03-21T05:51:58.737-07:00I'm in Cusco and it's Incredible!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu06pEGI0R0n9f5kHqQ8XyzWXDFU4L1zPlrka1xYzs9QUnLrDJycv7sDi1RKZUnH4BaccMg9Go51BaHzXNJXJulwyCLDoZfD_k0fvdKsfig8v7nYOQ1mxlmReupiOfQHZzT-U4vA/s1600-h/100_0268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu06pEGI0R0n9f5kHqQ8XyzWXDFU4L1zPlrka1xYzs9QUnLrDJycv7sDi1RKZUnH4BaccMg9Go51BaHzXNJXJulwyCLDoZfD_k0fvdKsfig8v7nYOQ1mxlmReupiOfQHZzT-U4vA/s320/100_0268.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Cusco is amazing. At 3300 meters above sea level (that's over 11,000 feet,) it seems to me to be the perfect place for endurance athletes to come and train. There are winding roads up and down mountains all over this area. Of course, the potholes could actually swallow a cyclist and his or her bicycle, but if I ever decide to become a competitive athlete, I am going to use Cusco as my high altitude training base. I will be here for 7 days, so I am hoping that the red blood cell production kicks into overdrive this week and I am actually naturally doped for the CF 4k run the week after I return.<br />
My flight left late from Lima, but it's only an hour in the air from Lima to Cusco, although crossing the Andes mountains actually makes the trip 22 hours by bus. The airline I flew was Star Peru, and it was very comfortable and accomodating. When I disembarked, I went to the baggage claim, grabbed my backpack and headed for the door where I expected someone from the tour agency to be waiting for me. I walked all around the airport and didn't see anyone, tried to call the phone numbers I had for the company and got nothing, then went to talk to a cab driver. A lovely young lady from the government-sponsored information desk came to my rescue and offered to make some calls from her office. She ran into the same dead-ends that I did with the numbers I tried, but managed to locate the cell number of the agent I did all of my planning and booking with. As it turns out, she was in the airport and had been for three hours. She mistakenly assumed I was coming in on the earlier flight. Once we met, we jumped in her car and she took me to the hostel where I got checked in and settled the rest of my account with her. It's hard to hand over that much cash at any time, but it's nice to not have it sitting in my room or my wallet.<br />
My first day of tours began at 1:50, and as I jumped in the van that came to pick me up, I found a couple of colleagues from the conference. We had no idea we would be on the same tour, but serendipitously it turned out that way. I spent the next four hours in a group of 10 people being herded around Cusco and its immediate surroundings by a young guide whose very third word was “please.” His English is fine enough for this kind of tour, especially when the tourists don't speak Spanish, but after a week of training my ear to only hear Spanish, I spent the first 2 hours asking, “what did he say?” If I had my druthers, I would stretch today's tour into a full day rather than a half day event. The cathedrals and ruins are so amazing, I wanted desperately to see everything and soak it all in, but it was not to be.<br />
After our return from the trip, we were to meet the others from our group in the plaza for dinner. After taking a turn around the plaza, we sat down on a bench until one of them came and found us. We then went to a very nice restaurant where they had a concert planned, with Andean Music and folk dancing. This music is so passionate and moving that I actually had goosebumps on my arms and tears welling up in my eyes. The dancers were great and at one point I was invited to dance with them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVthhWRjgCu1jCc4cqkwHSrXIWQTdTbBbuS191ObLaGwoDrtQh1Qfl_Q7k4w6A1dccGwvqQq9t6t3-Z38wd5sp2nHfttsNEFNnQJzknsxEAZgndWQ9BNQ2ccm-YkibhY5jLWO6w/s1600-h/100_0352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVthhWRjgCu1jCc4cqkwHSrXIWQTdTbBbuS191ObLaGwoDrtQh1Qfl_Q7k4w6A1dccGwvqQq9t6t3-Z38wd5sp2nHfttsNEFNnQJzknsxEAZgndWQ9BNQ2ccm-YkibhY5jLWO6w/s320/100_0352.JPG" /></a></div>What a blast! Except, the rapid pace of the dance had my heart beating 150 beats per minute and my head throbbing from lack of oxygen. High altitude effects have begun. I have carried a rather steady headache since about 3:00 this afternoon. It's time to go to sleep and see if lying down and resting might help a little.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-23655343227247981472010-03-20T20:38:00.000-07:002010-03-20T20:38:07.297-07:00Peru Halftime ReportIt's Saturday morning and exactly one week ago I was sitting in the Nashville airport waiting for my flight to Atlanta, then on to Lima. It's 8:30 am and I am sitting in the Lima airport waiting for my flight to Cusco. It's been a crazy week and a lot of great stuff has happened. Yesterday morning I woke from a dream in Spanish. It's been a while since I have dreamt in Spanish and I miss it.<br />
I gave my presentation yesterday afternoon, and it's hard to be one of the last presenters in a conference. Most people are burnt out on papers and just want to get out and play. Others give their papers at the beginning of the conference and don't even stick around for the end of it. My session was right after lunch. All four of the presenters were there at the appointed start time, but nobody else. We waited eight minutes for anyone to appear, and then began, with the first presenter speaking only to us. One person showed up halfway through her paper, and then the people I had recruited to come listen to my presentation began trickling in. Hint: if you are going to attend a conference like this, it is usually wise to network by attending several other sessions and making friends with those presenters. Let them know you were interested in their work (even if you weren't) and they'll usually return the favor by attending your session, if only for your paper. People are also tired enough that Q&A or discussion is extremely limited by that point. Nobody had any questions for any of our presenters, so our session ended ten minutes early.<br />
Last night was the last official night of the conference and we had the optional “cena de despedida” billed as a traditional Peruvian meal. I have been here nearly a week, and I have been eating traditional Peruvian food the entire time, so I was rather disappointed that I paid 3 times more than what the meal was worth. The one benefit was that I got to socialize with other colleagues. I met several people who teach at different universities in Utah, and we actually know some of the same people. It's quite fun to build networks and see my degrees of separation get smaller and smaller. Most likely, within another year or so, I will be encountering several of the colleagues from this conference at other conferences. It reminds me of David Lodge's novel, <u>Small World</u>.<br />
After dinner, we were on our own to get back to the hotel, and a couple of the colleagues that I met at dinner wanted to get out and see something of Lima. (They arrived Thursday night, and has spent the entire day in the conference.) Having stayed in Miraflores for the first part of the week, I felt familiar and confident enough to recommend a couple of different options. All of my suggestions were shot down, and we ended up going back to El Barranco, the “area bohemia” where I had the privilege of seeing Uchpa in concert. After getting out of the cab, we went right instead of left, and ended up at the ocean. Our path was blocked by a stretch of solitary, dark walkway in which we could see the outlines of a couple of young men lurking. We outnumbered them 5 to 2, but three of our party were women, so it just wasn't worth the risk. We never got closer than 75 feet, and stayed well within the lit portion of the walkway.<br />
After a week in Lima, I feel fairly comfortable with the geography of Miraflores, and have a vague idea of the location of a few of the more significant landmarks in Lima: the airport, Catholic University, El Barranco, the LDS Temple, and a couple of artisan fairs. I am most disappointed that I never made it to the centro, but time just didn't allow. I'll post this afternoon's adventure in another post later tonight. Now I have to get on the plane for Cusco.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28280153.post-19317147265472693492010-03-19T09:33:00.000-07:002010-03-29T06:16:36.209-07:00There simply aren't wordsThis is when a picture is definitely worth a thousand words. I only wish I had grabbed my camera as I left the hotel room tonight. Alfredo and I decided to meet at the HAITI cafe in Miraflores at 9:00 and grab a bite to eat. I wanted to get back to the artisan fair before I head to Cusco, and HAITI is only a block away, so I went an hour early and did a little shopping. I almost bought a charango and zampona, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I'll research them a little more in the next couple of days and maybe pick one up in Cusco or send Alfredo back to get the one I looked at in Miraflores. But that's all beside the point.<br />
We caught a bus down to what Alfredo called the Bohemian Area. When he was younger, all the people who frequented the area were drunks. Now evvery door leads into a club, a bar, a pub, or combination of all three and some other things. We wandered into a couple of the pubs looking for some of Alfredo's old friends. After ten years, there were still a couple of guys who recognized him. One of these friends told us about a concert they were having in the same pub tonight. I only caught part of what he was saying because music was blaring all around us, but Alfredo got pretty excited about it, so he grabbed a drink and we went to the next door to sit down for the concert. Time: 10:15 pm. Concert start time: 11:00 pm.<br />
We went upstairs and sat down. Alfredo asked for a plate of anticucho (beef heart shishkebob) and then asked when they expected the music to start. The waiter said, “about midnight...” Current time: 10:30. At this point I am beginning to think I am getting too old for this kind of fun. By 11:05, the house was full, but no music. At 11:15 people began whistling to signal their desire to get the concert underway. At 11:30, someone walked out onstage and introduced a young man who entertained us with some acoustic blues guitar. He sang in English, but his pronunciation was poor enough to lead me to question if he actually memorized the words he was singing or just the sounds the words make. (It makes a difference, believe it or not.) Alfredo looked over at me and admitted he didn't like the music. At this point, I was beginning to feel a lot more tired and not really excited about hanging around for who knows how many more hours for a concert that I knew nothing about. Actually, I had this much to go on: this group is a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-TWUo73eVdg&feature=related">fusion</a> of blues and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ykl88bg4nk&feature=related">Andean music</a>.<br />
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What image is that supposed to evoke?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumkgBh9qPsHoMOsHcs53CBk4T5e9eiHQ-a-BZhdT4HHayJdhguh0id5jCyVaMV2WfDBCu7TgITqorxoRQSMb2i6mUHhSQrGH8t1zmnOFWN2MqE-sBbXkzTl2FT6brnhd2sEXstA/s1600-h/FredyetUchpa3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhumkgBh9qPsHoMOsHcs53CBk4T5e9eiHQ-a-BZhdT4HHayJdhguh0id5jCyVaMV2WfDBCu7TgITqorxoRQSMb2i6mUHhSQrGH8t1zmnOFWN2MqE-sBbXkzTl2FT6brnhd2sEXstA/s320/FredyetUchpa3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So, by 12:05 the concert actually began and Oh. My. Stars. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next. Try and imagine this. Aerosmith, Steven Tyler dressed in semi-traditional Inca costume. Next to him, a 4'0” man dressed in shiny white traditional Inca costume. Onstage, a full drum set, two guitarists, a bassist, and the front man, Peru's Steven Tyler waving a Peruvian flag. Next to come on stage, a 50-something and a 20-something man in traditional Andean cholo garb carrying horns that play pretty much like bugles. Throw in a 60-something cholo violinist and a guy with a quena and zampona, and you've pretty much got the picture.<br />
What does it sound like, though? How do you fuse Grunge, Rock, Blues, and Andean Music? <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uchpa">There aren't enough words.</a> Actually, there are, they are just all <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quechua">Quechua</a>. The only word that truly describes it is: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhdNRU7wuvU">UCHPA. </a><br />
The front man spent most of the night playing air guitar while the real guitarists rocked out. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAMoQ6L6tjL2pvoVCLuQ4D8-1FEoPyQNl3uZpcdHmqny_AYfH_mtJqwZ_En5vvTVweGpgOZlcsHEUKDuoKOUjGViDxpVL1ut9_mEMTDJqUwOKEL54qeNnQKFELYi0zY2sVu7myQ/s1600-h/uchpa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOAMoQ6L6tjL2pvoVCLuQ4D8-1FEoPyQNl3uZpcdHmqny_AYfH_mtJqwZ_En5vvTVweGpgOZlcsHEUKDuoKOUjGViDxpVL1ut9_mEMTDJqUwOKEL54qeNnQKFELYi0zY2sVu7myQ/s320/uchpa.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Yeah, I just don't have the words.<br />
<br />
On a side note, throughout the evening I vacillated between thinking I was way too old for this kind of thing, and enjoying myself tremendously. Alfredo joked that my students might find me "cool" if I were to take them to this kind of concert on a study abroad experience. Any opinions?Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15828226848615239312noreply@blogger.com0