Recently, researchers in Finland made the discovery that some people’s bodies do not respond as expected to weight training, others don’t respond to endurance exercise and, in some lamentable cases, some don’t respond to either. In other words, there are those who just do not become fitter or stronger, no matter what exercise they undertake. Here is a copy of the article reviewing the Finnish study: The Workout Enigma. The article goes on to note:
Hidden away in the results of almost any study of exercise programs is the fact that some people do not respond at all, while others respond at an unusually high rate. Averaged, the results may suggest that a certain exercise program reliably will produce certain results — that jogging, say, three times a week for a month will improve VO2max (maximal oxygen capacity) or reduce blood pressure; and for almost any given group of exercisers, those results are likely to hold true. But for outliers, the impacts can be quite different. Their VO2max won’t budge, or it will fall, or it will soar.
The implications of such wide variety in response are huge. In looking at the population as a whole, writes Jamie Timmons, a professor of systems biology at the Royal Veterinary College in London, in a review article published last month in The Journal of Applied Physiology, the findings suggest that “there will be millions of humans that cannot improve their aerobic capacity or their insulin sensitivity, nor reduce their blood pressure” through standard exercise.
So, given that I just got back from a wicked hard interval set on the track, I can safely say that notwithstanding the article above, damn, are my legs beat! We have to factor in that sometimes these studies have limited application to real worl athletes - that even in the face of the study itself, while it is certainly worth reviewing, it really can never hurt, as the Nike ads are famous for stating, to "just do it".
Ironically, today I was going to write the 2nd installment of my "Rants" about the idiotic runners who insist on heading out with enough water strapped to their bodies to last 3 days - even though they are running so bloody slowly and only going probably 5km...you know the ones I mean: the ones who take the Running Room courses and buy into [pun intended] their ludicrous philosophy of massively over hydrating, which in turn leads to sales of 8 bottle fuel belts: 'cause you REALLY need 5 liters of water to run like 25 min...for god's sake, I ran nearly 300km across the driest desert in the world - the Atacama in Chile - with less water. And yes, these are the same simpletons who jog in place at red lights - arghhhh - stupid is as stupid does. And then, in the Globe & Mail, there was great article on the possibility that indeed we may be over hydrating as athletes: Rethink how you rehydrate when exercising - The Globe and Mail.
The study reveals that the loss in weight we experience after a long run is not necessarily directly connected to pure water loss, as initially suspected. Rather, the South African study, published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine by researchers at the University of Pretoria, adds fuel to a simmering debate about whether weight loss during exercise corresponds to water loss. They argue that some of the weight loss is from the energy stores you burn, and that your body has “hidden” stores of water that are released during exercise – which may mean we need to rethink how we approach hydration. The article goes on to note: Scientists agree that when you burn carbohydrate, fat or protein, the byproducts are carbon dioxide, which you breathe out, and water, which actually adds to the fluid available for hydration. Perhaps more significantly, your body stores carbohydrate in a form that locks away about three grams of water for every gram of carbohydrate. This water doesn’t contribute to essential cellular processes until you start unlocking the carbohydrate stores, so your body sees it as “new” water when it’s released during exercise.
In fact, a 2007 paper by British scientists at the University of Loughborough estimated that a marathoner could conceivably lose 1 to 3 per cent of his or her body mass without any loss of water.
While the findings are currently much debated, what is not in dispute is how ridiculous those water burdened camel runners (as pictured above getting ready to head out for a blistering 3 km run in the latest fashions) look like as they plod along. peace out
Just got back from a great 16km on the trails (10 miler to my yankee friends). Went to grab a post run shake and get some protein into my craving system; as always, I was aware of the calorie/sugar/sodium content...then said "screw it" and had a big glass of chocolate milk (which by the way is actually a really good post work out fuel!). So, just as I am fueling up, however, thinking I still have a few pounds to drop to get back in race shape, I see that there is hope for me yet: that yes, I can eat all the Smarties and oatmeal raisin cookies I want. But not because I am running 70-100km a week; not because I am on my winter trainer 4-5 days a week - nope. All I have to do is throw away those $150 compression tights and get me some "Gluttony Pants". The perfect outfit for the holidays: Gluttony Pants
Ya gotta love the way eat - Denny's anyone?
Yesterday was the second day of a long schedule of training to get back to race form; I went out, in nasty 40-60km winds, on a totally exposed road, and ran 14km. My training goal was 4km warm up at 4:30km pace and then cruise the last 10km at 4:10-15 pace - it was pretty tough when forging right into that friggin' wind [straight from the west at howling proportions] but it is not like I haven't been there like a 1000 times before - and as my old friend Billy H used to quote: "the wind is your friend". Anyway, I finished the run, with gluts and achilles not too bad all things considered - and feeling might impressed with myself, came home and entered the data for the run into my logbook. Then, in the spirit of seeing who else is running as fast as me lately (haha), I surfed around my fav running sites on the 'net. And then I found this: Leonard Komon Of Kenya Smashes World Record In The 15K. G*d damn - too put this into perspective, I ran 14km in just under 60 min - granted, I was only training - but still, Komon ran 15km in 41:13 - he ran 1km more than my whole run nearly 19 min faster.
(here is a pic of Komon setting the World Record in the 10km - 26:44 in Utrecht, netherlands earlier this year. 26:44!!!! nearly 9 min faster than I have ever run 10km - b*stard!).
So, this certainly put me in my place after my run yesterday - and puts things into true perspective; makes me want to head out to the track and do some speed work.
I thought I would use this blog as "sometime" forum to vent the stuff that really pisses me off.
Today - the red hand counting down at an intersection. You know, the one that says "DON'T WALK". As in "hey, pedestrian, STOP", there are cars turning and it is NOT SAFE TO WALK". It seems so straightforward: green light, green hand - walk. Green light, flashing red hand [see above] - don't walk. Yet every single bloody day, regardless of where or what time, people cruise through the red hand with a sense of entitled nonchalance. No wonder so many pedestrians get hit walking across the street. Sure, most cars drive too fast and pay far too little attention to anyone but themselves - hey, that also describes pedestrians at a green/yellow light. And don't even get me started on those idiot "joggers" (not "runners" - we have too much dignity) who when they reach a red light jog slowly in place, like they may just miss cracking the 12 min mile pace they are shuffling along at...
So, walkers (and "in place joggers), give it a rest and wait until the next cycle of the green light. Remember, I am out there, like Batman, always watching....
When I was a wee lad, my Mom made all our lunches - her fav, and definitely not ours, was the time -honoured bologna sandwich: two slices of the world's driest white bread and a slice of "hmmmm yummy" bologna. Or, when pressed for time, Mom would whip together a lunch time treat - the same two pieces of white bread with (as Mr. Burns on The Simpsons would comment) "exxxxcccceeeeelllleeeennntttt" processed cheese and lettuce. Yup, one slice of cheese with lettuce - which made "trading up" at lunch with my fellow middle schooler's damn near impossible. I mean, who (in their right mind) wants to trade a cheese/lettuce sandwich in return for, say, a chocolate bar or Twinkie, etc? And in case you are wondering, I really do have the world's greatest Mom; it was just that our lunches were not a priority in her attempt to get three kids off to school on time. Further, before ye judge, note the article I recently read: Mom gives joint to 2 yr old - and video tapes child smoking!
Rather than whip up lunch - even a cheese/lettuce sandwich - this Mom shares the magic weed with her 2 year old daughter, and then, films it - seriously, what the hell was this woman thinking? I still marvel that we require people, as an example, to take a test to get a driver's licence, but alas, there is no such test to be a parent.
Suddenly a cheese & lettuce sandwich doesn't seem so bad....but I have to admit, it would have been wayyyyy easier to make a trade at lunch if Mom had packed a bag of weed instead of a bologna sandwich.
When I was a wee lad in grade school, like most, I was kind of (ok, not "kind of" - I was) dorky, and so, I dreaded the day when we had SCHOOL PICTURE DAY [esp since my Mom made me wear a really ugly tie and my hair was always a major concern and you were pretty much guaranteed to have the world's largest zit either on your nose, forehead or chin...]. You get the idea - I still shudder at the memories of just how bloody traumatic it all was. And, it didn't get better in high school either - until I was able to realize that no one, except parents and granparents, actually cared about those pics. Anyway, thank god (get ready for some serious sarcasm here) that we had the ability to have our pictures "photoshopped/re-touched", just like kids today: No Boo-boos or Cowlicks? Only in School Pictures - NYTimes.com. I mean, can you friggin' imagine the possibilities? That is me above, before my parent's re-touched my picture; notice (see pic below) the slight and ever-so-subtle changes they requested to show off how they proud were of me to all their friends...
Whew. thank god for Photoshop; we wouldn't want any child to actually look like he/she does in real life. Nice message we are sending to our kids. And so, once again, I am left to merely shake my head and mutter: "stupid is as stupid does".
Ok - we live in a wacked out world: 4 year old now facing (civil) liability for riding his tryke on the sidewalk: 4-Year-Old Can Be Sued, Judge Rules in Bike Case - NYTimes.com. And then we read a parallel story that no charges filed in Montreal after 3 cyclists hit and killed:
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/montreal/story/2010/10/26/cyclists-rougemont-killed.html?ref=rss. Ya, we can certainly debate the merits of each position/story, and yes, often justice is complicated - if not blind - but these two stories, with their radically different results, certainly reinforce the maxim I have noted several times heretofore:
stupid is as stupid does.
Ain't life grand...
peace out
johnny boy
I often get up early and head down to the beach to swim, ride (either my Trek TT or stylin' mtn bike) - and/or run (I have even surfed down in ol' Lake O - but that is a different tale for a different day). I love to run in the Fall - especially in weather like now; it is much cooler and wayyyy less people buggin' me as i cruise along the Boardwalk/beach. And the sun - god, it rises like some slow giant ball of fire, lighting the sky on those perfect mornings with colours ablaze. And then there is this; I think this video below looks like one helluva way to start your day - a little less "Zen" than running solo on the beach...but man does it look like fun!
Pop princess Hatsune Miku is storming the music scene.
With her long cerulean pigtails and her part-schoolgirl, part-spy outfit, she’s easy on the eyes. Yes, her voice sounds like it might have gone through a little –- OK, a lot –- of studio magic. Legions of screaming fans and the requisite fan sites? She’s got 'em.
And, like many of her hot young singer peers, Miku is extremely, proudly fake. Like, 3-D hologram fake.
Miku is a singing, digital avatar created by Crypton Future Media that customers can purchase and then program to perform any song on a computer.
Crypton uses voices recorded by actors and runs them through Yamaha Corp.’s Vocaloid software -– marketed as “a singer in a box.” The result: A synthesized songstress that sounds far better than you ever have in your shower.
A few months ago, a 3-D projection of Miku pranced around several stadium stages as part of a concert tour, where capacity crowds waved their glow sticks and sang along. Here's the starlet performing a jingle titled, appropriately, "World Is Mine."
The virtual diva’s albums have also topped the Japanese charts. She’s on Facebook. We’ve seen living, breathing musicians at the Hollywood Bowl get less love.
It all reminds me a bit of S1m0ne. Remember her? She’s the sultry actress who captivated adoring audiences in theeponymous 2002 film. She was also completely computer-generated by Al Pacino’s character.
Really makes me long for the Replicants from "Blade Runner" - where's Decker when you need him?
One of my favourite movies is "Rudy" - ya, it is weepy sentimental dreck, but I defy anyone watching not to tear up when Rudy (i) gets into Notre Dame and (ii) takes to the field in the ND blue and gold.
There is a great scene when Sean Austin [of "Lord of the Rings" fame], who plays Rudy, stands in the Notre Dame locker room and quotes from perhaps the most famous of sports speeches - that of Knute Rockne. I confess I had never known the providence until now: Rockne Inspires with his "Win One"Pep Talk: “I’ve got to go, Rock. It’s all right. I’m not afraid. Some time, Rock, when the team is up against it, when things are wrong, and the breaks are beating the boys, tell them to go in there, with all they’ve got, and win just one for the Gipper. I don’t know where I’ll be then, Rock. But I’ll know about it, and I’ll be happy.”
As the article goes on to review, maybe the quote's source is in question - but, damn, when the scene is played out in Rudy (Rudy reads from the plaque with the quote at 30 secs into the clip below), gives you goosebumps.
We have been considering a move to a bigger home - to make room for the animals when they return...
here's hoping the Xmas bonus is bigger than last year, so we can buy the house we truly deserve: 1220 South Ocean Blvd. Palm Beach, Florida . No doubt the commute is a little longer for me to get to work...but, you must admit, if you can afford this, you own a private jet or two. But doesn't everyone need - and deserve - a 30,000 sq ft place to call home?
And they say that America is in a housing crisis? Stupid is as stupid does.
peace out
johnny boy
Just in case anyone accuses me of not being an equal opportunity Dad...all is fair in love and parenting.
Conman - this is (for) you...
pace out
Johnny Boy
No, go ahead. Soak it in. It’s black. It’s white. It’s fairly tall. Tall-ish. If you want to get technical, according to its title, it’s “Large.” The question is, is it $35 million worth of “Large”?
Proving that the global recession remains an abstraction to some people, Andy Warhol’s painting of a Coke bottle, entitled Coca-Cola (4) (Large Coca-Cola) sold on Tuesday for $35.67 million (CDN). That was more than $10 million higher than the pre-auction estimate. The anonymous buyer purchased the artwork in a phone bid.
In an advertorial video released ahead of Tuesday night’s auction in New York, Sotheby’s contemporary art expert and Bond villain Tobias Meyer praised the 1962 work as “one of the key paintings of the 20th century.”
Later that same day, Meyer lost his briefcase. Asked to describe it at the Lost & Found department of the New York City Transit Authority, he baritoned, “You can’t miss it. It’s one of the key briefcases in the history of New York City commuting.”
First, pity the guy who had to shoot this video. There are only so many ways to zoom in and out on a colourless replica of a Coke bottle. Arguably, there’s only one way. And this guy came up with a 147 ways. So he deserves some credit.
Meyer? No credit.
Because his job here is to justify why someone should spend one-tenth the GDP of Tonga on a bus-shelter ad. So suddenly, he gets all Masterpiece Theatre on us.
“In my own research (i.e. in my unpaid intern’s research) on this painting, I came upon his own diaries that were published in the late ’70s,” Meyer says, brandishing pages. “He talks about this very painting and what happened. I will read it because it makes everything very, very clear (i.e. it makes Sotheby’s very, very rich).”
Now, if you’re the sort of person who reads this and starts choking on your sandwich when you get to the price tag, stop reading. Seriously. Stop reading. This will make you crazy. This could push you over crazy and into violence.
If you’re an aspiring artist, this will drive you to tears for a whole different bunch of reasons.
Speaking in Warhol’s voice, Meyer breathlessly recounts how a buddy of Warhol’s showed up at his home/studio one day, where he’s taken in to look at a pair of paintings. Both are paintings of Coke bottles. One’s roughed out, with hash marks. One is basically a linear copy.
“Well, look, Andy,” the friend, filmmaker Emile De Antonio, says. “One of these is a piece of sh--. Simply a bit of everything. The other one is remarkable. It is our society. It is who we are. It is absolutely beautiful and naked.”
Somehow, Warhol resisted the urge to punch this guy. Instead, he nodded sagely and thought, “Some day I’m going to be able to afford a really bitchin’ wig.”
“So you see from this text,” Meyer says, arms now moving up and down like he’s conducting an orchestra, “that Andy took it to heart.” (Meaningful pause.) “And this is the painting that he would go out into the public with, because at that very moment pop art was born . . . It is art history in itself.”
It gets way better. Meyer clearly feels that he needs to stop talking about history and start getting arty on us.
“What’s astonishing about this picture (i.e. what’s not astonishing at all) . . . there are so many things, apart from it being so stark (i.e. boring) and so impressive (i.e. it’s a painting of a Coke bottle),” Meyer said, building to something. “It’s over life-size. The Coca-Cola bottle is bigger than I am.”
It’s bigger than I am. Or you! Or you! Even you, Andre the Giant! Okay. Maybe not you.
A couple of years ago, I put together an IKEA bookshelf that would make Tobias Meyer pee his pants.
“It’s meant to stand and stare at you, almost as a human being would,” Meyer continues, comfortable in the knowledge that if he ever says this sort of thing to someone who doesn’t work in the art business, he is in physical danger.
“Then what you see is Coca-Cola (is written) twice,” Meyer says. “He uses it on the bottle . . . but he uses it again, up here . . . and then to make it even more abstract, or less painterly, so to speak, this is Letraset. This is not hand-painted.”
I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP! TOBIAS MEYER SAID THESE THINGS IN FRONT OF A CAMERA!
“Here then, you have this sort of iconic pop symbol that, in a way, really plays with perfection. Plays also in the anthromorphic image of the bottle. Because Andy was deeply interested in stardom, deeply interested in celebrity. What he’s saying is that what he loves about Coca-Cola is that everybody drinks it.”
Did I mention that Coca-Cola is written twice?
There’s more. I’m too frustrated to continue.
To whoever bought this painting – please, enjoy. I’m sure it’ll look great in the lobby of your massive insurance conglomerate - note: you’re an idiot.
I just found this tonight - a classic - and men think they rule the world?
ha. It is a woman's world and we just play in it!
It also made me wonder about all the times my innocent little babes was actually the cause of strife and angst in our house...hmmm, angel or devil?!
enjoy
johnny boy
So, as I wrote last week, throwing "paper rock scissors" to decide the overall winner of a race is pretty lame. In fact, the more I think about it, while it would have been pretty funny to see, it is ultimately disrespectful of the other runners. Thus, it was so refreshing to read about an American high school coach and his cross country team conceding their 2nd place spot to the team behind them: Sportsmanship wins the day in Ashland. It seems that the 3rd place team had been so relegated to 3rd due to an (with all in attendance agreeing the decision was incorrect) officiating decision that one of their runners had, in the final sprint, caused his arm to accidentally impede the runner beside him [the kid was on the team that came, initially, 3rd]. Because of the contact, the runner was d.q.ed - and his team dropped to 3rd...the team who came 2nd, now heading along with the 1st place team to the State Championships, met and after much discussion, chose to give their spot to the team who rightly earned and deserved it... that is fair play and honour at its highest. Glad to see that no one threw down paper/rock/scissors. It is never easy doing the right thing - in fact, it is often damned hard. Well played, sir, well played. On a sadder note, possibly the best runner in history, Haile Gebrselassie retired yesterday after dropping out at mile 17 in the NY Marathon. He has raced for 18 yrs, has 2 Olympic silver medals, 8 world titles and 27 - 27!!! - world records, as well as holding the current world record for the marathon - a friggin' unbelievable 2:03:59. Rest well, Haile - you have earned it.
With all our kids nearly (and I stress "nearly") past the age where they have to dress up for Halloween - just wait until their 1st year at university to let the good time costumes roll - there were a couple of articles here in the Big Smoke [aka "Toronto"] that seemed to stress the perils of costumes.
The first, while not per se a H'ween story, does involve a helluva costume: Man’s disguise expertly made, but performance key to deception . The man in question, a young, 20 something asian, disguised himself as a 55yr old American citizen - while en route to our fair shores, he and his older accomplice switched boarding passes on the plane - in full prosthetic mask (see pics ) to fool Customs upon arrival in Canada. Upon being discovered, he immediately claimed refugee status....whether as a Chinese nat'l or American, not quite sure.
The scary thing is the frighteningly similar image to the young actor/thespian in the house - our oldest - who dressed up for H'ween a couple of years ago as, apparently, a 55 yr old American refugee claimant. He thought he was merely dressing up as an old man, but, seems he was in fact initiating a trend in prosthetic masked refugee claims. Now that he is trying to obtain a Green Card, maybe this will help speed up the process - he could simply claim he was nearing retirement - not too mention death - and jump the queue.
The next story is not quite as amusing, in any sense; one of those situations where you sit back and muse, "what the hell were they thinking?" KKK Costume - wtf? I will bet most would agree that most times it is better to dress up as an old person than the Grand Wizard - actually, make that it is ALWAYS better to dress up as an old person...
This weekend marks the running (pun intended) of the NY Marathon - it seems like just yesterday when I was living in the Big Apple, and try as I might, I could not get in thru the lottery. (I only learned too late that one could also qualify by running a sub 1:30 half marathon, a pretty straight forward matter, but one which I was unaware of - damn). It used to drive me nuts - NUTS - to see the race fill up thru the lottery, tour groups etc, and I had to stand on the sidewalk, watching the elites and then the ever-so-slow walkers at the back (the ones who stole my rightfully deserved spot - haha). I would walk a couple blocks down from our house and watch as the race unfolded off the Verrazano Bridge through 4th Ave in Brooklyn - a truly awe inspiring spectacle.
This is a pic of the elite men I shot in 2007; epic running by the world's best:
Speaking of which, there are definitely upsides (backsides too) to watching a race, esp as the lead women go by...
However, this week I want to write about the 2010 NY marathon; what with, among others, Haille G (current marathon world record holder, 2:03:59 - damn!), Ritz and Canada's own SIMON BAIRUgunning for the victory, I thought maybe a bit of Canadian national pride would be of use to those who are following along on my blog journey. Thus, the following 2 links will jump you to a bit about Simon B, who is making his marathon debut this weekend in New York. He is also currently the Canadian record holder in the 10,000m (27:23); the Can cross country champ 2002-2009; and holds a PB of 1:02:08 from the Philadelphia Half Marathon set in Sept 2010; he also soundly spanked (the great American hope) Ryan Hall in a half earlier in the year. Bairu was also the 2005 and 2006 NCAA cross country champion. However, although a world class runner, Bairu is still, unfortunate as it is, a great unknown here on his own home turf. According, I present, without further ado, Simon Bairu: the first thing ya gotta read is a great blog piece written by Bairu himself that was published in the New York Times on Oct 18, 2010: Simon Bairu - the Long Road to New York.
TheSpec - A gentlemen’s finish Saw this article (click above to read) recently - gave me pause for thought on the notion of "sportsmanship", "winning" and "fierceness". Seems these two high school runners, who competed for different teams, were so far out in front that at the finish line of the race, they threw down paper/rocks/scissors to determine the winner. Noble? Or flaunting and mocking the competition behind them? I recall reading how Steve Prefonataine, an Olympic athlete and World record holder at several distnces over 3000m, had made a guest appearance at a local grade school. He ran with the kids in a mocked up school yard race; running along side the group of kids, Pre sprinted at the end to cross the line first, defeating the grade schoolers and crushing the spirit of one young boy who clearly idolized him. When asked why he would do that to such a young fan, who would have remembered forever the moment where he "defeated" the great Steve Prefontaine, Pre dryly noted without any hesitation, that he didn't let "...anyone beat him, ever". Look at yesterdays posting on "sports parents and rants", and compare that to Pre's attitude. I would like to think that I would have let the young grade schooler take the "victory" - but perhaps that killer instinct is what separates the amateur from the elite/Olympian. I know that when I race - be it a local 5km or at the World Championships representing Canada - I have to admit I go in with a "take no prisoners" approach. I want to win - not to the point where I would cheat, say, by cutting the course, or, god forbid, taking performance enhancing drugs. But, I train as hard as my aging body and mind allows, and lay it all on the line. I have always admired Pre - I try to attack off the front like he did in every race, but sometimes have to settle for a "sit and kick" race plan (a reflection of my age as much as much as my running style) - and have little time for people who quit in a race when it gets hard, or they aren't winning, or whatever. As Pre used to say, "To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift". Or as I like to say, "quitters suck". If I was in first place at a race and had the chance to do something noble i.e., allow a young kid with cancer to take 1st (why that kid would be up front in a position to take 1st is a different story - but go with the hypothetical here, k?), would "letting" the kid take 1st - when the kid would know they did not win per se but were gifted the victory - be noble or condescending? Does playing paper/rock/scissors seem any different?
