Monday, February 18, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
The results are in!
Ritchie and I ran in the Love 'Em or Leave 'Em race at Greenlake on Sunday. Our team, Blimey (he chose the name, obviously) came in 22nd out of the 127 in our division! That means that we were faster than over 100 other teams! I probably ran past those people. Ha! I'm totally kidding, though I did run past a few five-year-olds and some dogs on leashes.
Also, I ran alone. Why? Because Ritchie is way faster than me. I finished the race in a sad 25:33, while Ritchie finished in a jaunty 21:33. That's pretty good for a guy who never trains. He met me near the finish line and yelled encouraging words. I thought this was sweet - until he told me that it was because I looked like I was 'struggling.'
Lovely.
Also, I ran alone. Why? Because Ritchie is way faster than me. I finished the race in a sad 25:33, while Ritchie finished in a jaunty 21:33. That's pretty good for a guy who never trains. He met me near the finish line and yelled encouraging words. I thought this was sweet - until he told me that it was because I looked like I was 'struggling.'
Lovely.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
How to stay sane in Statistics
Statistics is a necessary science, but it will suck your soul if you let it. My professor is young and eager and, as some might say, genki, but even he can't make those probabilities pique my interest. No, this is something that I have to do myself.
When in Statistics, I've found that I can best stay sane by devising inane stories for the symbols we're taught. I try to keep these to myself, but sometimes I like to bother my desk-mate. For example, yesterday we learned about P hat (yes, that is a technical term) and had the following, VERY exciting conversation:
Me: What kind of hat do you think that P is wearing?
J (Rapidly taking notes): Um . . .
Me: I mean, is it a beret? Or a sombrero? Or one of those hats that people picking rice in China wear? I think it's a beret.
J (no longer taking notes): Oh, definitely a beret. For sure. P-hat also kind of looks like he's carrying a baguette.
Me: Hoh-hoh! Is he riding a moped?
J: Oui-oui! And smoking a cigarette!
Me (disapointed): Actually, Monsieur P chooses not to smoke. It was a good try on your part, though.
Unfortunately, this whispered conversation caused me to miss the explanation of what P hat means. So, while I remember his name and shall hereafter fondly think of him as Monsieur P, in Statistical notation he means nothing to me.
When in Statistics, I've found that I can best stay sane by devising inane stories for the symbols we're taught. I try to keep these to myself, but sometimes I like to bother my desk-mate. For example, yesterday we learned about P hat (yes, that is a technical term) and had the following, VERY exciting conversation:
Me: What kind of hat do you think that P is wearing?
J (Rapidly taking notes): Um . . .
Me: I mean, is it a beret? Or a sombrero? Or one of those hats that people picking rice in China wear? I think it's a beret.
J (no longer taking notes): Oh, definitely a beret. For sure. P-hat also kind of looks like he's carrying a baguette.
Me: Hoh-hoh! Is he riding a moped?
J: Oui-oui! And smoking a cigarette!
Me (disapointed): Actually, Monsieur P chooses not to smoke. It was a good try on your part, though.
Unfortunately, this whispered conversation caused me to miss the explanation of what P hat means. So, while I remember his name and shall hereafter fondly think of him as Monsieur P, in Statistical notation he means nothing to me.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
The fragility of life
This is not going to be a post about how short life is and how we need to value every moment of it, though that is true.
Rather, this is about how fragile life really is. I'm thinking about this today because, in the past two years, two good friends of mine have fallen very, very ill. In short, two good friends of mine have almost died.
These are not girls who lead unhealthy lives. Quite the opposite, actually. These are girls who exercise regularly (one is even an ultra-marathoner), eat well, don't use drugs, and generally respect their bodies. However, these healthy habits weren't enough to keep their bodies from acting up - one suffered a brain tumor and the other went into cardiac arrest while running.
I've never believed in the 'invincibility of youth,' but I still find myself stunned when these kinds of things happen. You hear stories about how strong the body can be - a man surviving a forty-story fall or a person with two prosthetic legs competing in an Iron Man - but stories of how precarious life is rarely make headlines.
I know that my two girlfriends are strong enough to make their lives into great comeback stories, but for now I find myself wondering, 'Why them?'
Why are we so fragile?
Rather, this is about how fragile life really is. I'm thinking about this today because, in the past two years, two good friends of mine have fallen very, very ill. In short, two good friends of mine have almost died.
These are not girls who lead unhealthy lives. Quite the opposite, actually. These are girls who exercise regularly (one is even an ultra-marathoner), eat well, don't use drugs, and generally respect their bodies. However, these healthy habits weren't enough to keep their bodies from acting up - one suffered a brain tumor and the other went into cardiac arrest while running.
I've never believed in the 'invincibility of youth,' but I still find myself stunned when these kinds of things happen. You hear stories about how strong the body can be - a man surviving a forty-story fall or a person with two prosthetic legs competing in an Iron Man - but stories of how precarious life is rarely make headlines.
I know that my two girlfriends are strong enough to make their lives into great comeback stories, but for now I find myself wondering, 'Why them?'
Why are we so fragile?
Monday, February 04, 2008
Yesterday, some people played football. Do you really care?
Yesterday was Super Bowl Sunday and I didn't care.
The Super Bowl is good for eating fried food and drinking beer, but other than that it's boring. I've kept my silence for so long, but even when the Seahawks played it was boring! The half-time show is somewhat interesting, but that doesn't involve men in pads, so the point is moot.
You know who else doesn't care about the Super Bowl? The rest of the world, that's who. They have a different sport that also happens to be called football. The main difference is that it's fast and fun and the game doesn't stop every thirty seconds.
It's amusing when, at the end of the Super Bowl, they pronounce the winners the "World Champions of Football." Somewhere out there, a lone Englishman is cheering.
Right name, wrong sport. I think I'll go skiing next year.
The Super Bowl is good for eating fried food and drinking beer, but other than that it's boring. I've kept my silence for so long, but even when the Seahawks played it was boring! The half-time show is somewhat interesting, but that doesn't involve men in pads, so the point is moot.
You know who else doesn't care about the Super Bowl? The rest of the world, that's who. They have a different sport that also happens to be called football. The main difference is that it's fast and fun and the game doesn't stop every thirty seconds.
It's amusing when, at the end of the Super Bowl, they pronounce the winners the "World Champions of Football." Somewhere out there, a lone Englishman is cheering.
Right name, wrong sport. I think I'll go skiing next year.
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