Welcome Aboard the New H.R.S. ‘Tacular

Hi, everyone!  I wish to make some announcements regarding the future of the ‘Tacular’s  expedition.

First, if you are looking for my entry on barefoot running, here it is.

Second, I’m going to change this blog a bit.  First of all, I am going to move all content to this web address:

chasgillespie.tumblr.com

I heard tumblr is a slightly better platform, and I think that’s probably true, so I’m making the change.  I know this new web address will be hard to remember because, I mean, “chasgillespie”—what exactly does that refer to?  I don’t know, and I don’t think anyone will ever know.  It was the only address available.

If you get an email when this blog is updated, you’ll have to make the switch.  Sorry for the inconvenience, but if you click the “follow” button at the top of the tumblr page and submit your email, I think it’s the same deal.

Third, I’m going to try to make the content more user friendly and more choose-your-own-adventure.  The posts have been a bit long, so I’m going to split them up.  I will submit my training in a very simple way every Monday, so if you’re interested in that, then it will be there.  The style will be plain and straightforward—basically a replica of my own personal training log.  Then, at different points in the week, I will publish other things—things that capture your imagination, take it far away, and never in a million years give it back.  I’m going to publish about two of these per week.  If you like one aspect but not the other, it’s easy to choose what you like. 

That’s it!  I hope you join me on this new adventure!

Upcoming entries to the blog may include:

Real Reasons for the NBA Lockout

A Comprehensive Performance Review of the 44^th Presidency, Written by Sasha Obama

What the Jewish Community Thinks When People Use the Phrase “The Jewish Community”

Television Commentary of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Featuring a Caveman Who Has Never Seen a Balloon Before

Plus: Short Stories.  Video.  Original Music.

This Week’s Entry: The Wednesday After Thanksgiving Shall Henceforth Be Known As “Steal Shit Wednesday”

Enjoy.

chasgillespie.tumblr.com

Barefoot Running Ideology

Foreword

Sometimes I read the foreword to literature I encounter, and other times not; it usually depends on how exciting the first sentence is. 

For example, if it starts, “I woke up in a giant pool of blood,” then yes, I’m definitely on board.  What the heck is going on that made that happen?  If it starts, “I woke up in a bathtub full of blood,” then I’m not so sure.  A bathtub is much smaller than a pool, so the explanation is probably more straightforward.  (It was like that when I got there; I was taking a normal bubble bath of blood and just fell asleep; my mom is coming to visit me and I wanted to spruse the place up for her, also she is a vampire; etc.)  I’m 50-50 on that scenario.  If it starts, “I woke up with a 44 oz. Big Gulp of blood somewhere in my vicinity,” then I’m sorry, but that’s just not good enough.

The following is an essay I have written on barefoot running.  I’m not usually one to share my opinions or arguments in such a public manner because I grew up in the Midwest—well, technically an idealized, stereotyped, pop-culture projection of the Midwest.  And where I’m from, you keep your opinions between you, your priest or spiritual adviser, and your spouse. Any other way would be just plain gauche; we have to get along with each other, after all.  There is some truth to this paragraph.

Please keep that in mind.  Yet, I felt strongly that I had to write this essay, and I think you will see why.


The remainder of this article will be appearing again soon.  Thanks!

The Barefoot Running 'Tacular: Preview

The Homemade Running Spectacular Presents…

In Conjunction with…

A Barefoot Information Amalgamation…

A Spike Lee Joint…

Starring

Chas Gillespie

As

Rex Malloy

In

The Barefoot Running ‘Tacular

Preview:

            By far the most important and visible figure in the barefoot running movement is Christopher McDougall, writer of the best-selling Born to Run.  The book is a narrative of Mr. McDougall tracking down a tribe in the Copper Canyon of Mexico and observing an American eccentric coordinate an ultramarathon between that tribe and some American ultramarathoners—all of it interspersed with McDougall’s personal, injured history with running, how he is trying to run barefoot and change his form, and various diatribes against the running shoe industry and the modern lifestyle.  He celebrates many aspects of the Copper Canyon tribe, which is called the Tarahumara, especially their health, love of running and their excellent running form.  They are known to run marathons over rugged terrain in sandals.  The story is compelling, and it got readers to consider that running shoes cause people to get injured because they are unnatural and promote improper running form.  And being injured is a big deal.  Possibly the majority of runners get injured every year.  And, because running is so good for you, if one could figure out an injury-proof way to run, then one could have solved a huge problem and done a great thing in the realm of public health. 

            The publication of Born to Run coincided with exciting research by Daniel Lieberman, professor of human evolution at Harvard, who has argued that distance running was essential to human evolution.  The argument goes that preceding human evolution, the landscape of Africa was changing due to climate change, creating savannah where thick jungle used to be.  This change in landscape selected for endurance because food was farther apart; one had to be able to conserve one’s energy during locomotion.  Further, the ability to hunt was hugely valuable because meat is nutrient-rich, so those who could hunt were more successful.  Distance running could have been an avenue to hunt through the technique of persistence hunting, whereby a group of hunters doggedly pursue their prey in the mid-day heat until the prey simply collapses from heat stroke.  It is a brutal method, but one can see how the morphological advancements that homo sapiens developed would enable this way of getting food—namely, the ability to sweat large amounts, a springy Achilles tendon, an arch in the foot to absorb shock, tendons that support and hold steady the neck, and long limbs.  All these changes compared to earlier Homo and Australopithecus species made humans the greatest distance runners to roam on earth.  Other species could sprint.  Humans could run for hours, even in the heat.  We were born to run, and born to run barefoot.

            Mr. McDougall and the barefoot running movement think they have found the way to stay healthy, in line with the evolutionary hypothesis.  Are they correct?

The official release date is Monday!

Escape to Rejected SAT Prompts Island: Redux

Hello!  Good-day to you! 

Two weeks ago, I had to retract “Rejected SAT Writing Prompts” soon after I published it for reasons I won’t get into (the usual suspects: the exchange rate for the Yen, what would Zuckerberg think?, I feared it came before its time, etc.), but now I’d like to put it back up:

Rejected SAT Writing Prompts

Sometimes people commit crimes, but they believe they are justified.  Is lying on your tax return even a crime?

“College should be accessible to everyone.”  Please give an argument for why this is not the case, particularly by providing the names and addresses of students you know who just aren’t ready for college.

The term “heroism” is often thrown around in culture.  Name someone who you think is a hero, and explain how you will slay him or her to gain immortal glory.

Tim Allen is a great actor. Discuss.

            Please rank your writing ability on a scale of 2 (worst) to 12 (best).  No explanation is necessary.

Do you promise to do your homework in college and not cheat or anything?

Please summarize (including characters’ names) one single book you read for class more than two months ago.

All animals have instincts, but humans have also developed a sense of reason.  Under what circumstances is it better to trust your instincts rather than “think” about the “consequences” to your “actions?”

            Marx believed that knowledge is power.  Is this still the case, or are there instances when a powerful weapon is power?

            Technology is improving at a rapid pace, changing our lives.  Does technological innovation always lead to human flourishing?  Whom should we kidnap to stop technology?

We all make choices.  Sometimes, these choices turn out to be regrettable.  What would you do to amend your wrong decisions, assuming that apologizing and admitting them would cost you 10 to life in the slammer?

            In what ways does “experiencing adversity” make for a good college entrance essay?

            Some say the system of public education in America is broken.  How should we fix it?

            There have been many “outlaws” in American culture.  What does this say about Americans’ view of independence?  What do you think a good occupation would be for someone on the lamb, assuming the person is well educated and has a background in writing?

            Public figures’ lives are very public.  If you were a public figure, how much sexting would be too little?

            Do we learn more from our mistakes, or from the times when we watch the members of Jersey Shore make mistakes?

            Our knowledge of impending ecological disaster has never been greater, and yet there has been very little widespread action to fix the situation.  Do you own a habitable spaceship or Post-Apocalyptic bunker that has extra room?

            “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”  Specifically where do the tough get going to?  What’s so great about that place?

            Heidegger wrote, “The existential and ontological constitution of the totality of Dasein is grounded in temporality. Accordingly, a primordial mode of temporalizing of ecstatic temporality itself must make the ecstatic project of being in general possible.”  Is this always the case?  Or are there times when a primordial mode of temporalizing of ecstatic temporality itself does not help make the ecstatic project of being in general possible?

            Our culture is surrounded by images and messages that try to convince us to do certain things.  Who is the hottest celebrity and why?

            Imagine someone commits a completely nonviolent crime against your best friend.  How vengeful would you be, and where would you look to find the offender?  If six months have past, is the search over?

            People ask all sorts of questions.  What are some good questions that test intelligence and writing ability?

Last Week’s Training:

Sunday, 10/30: Biked for an hour.  Everything felt fine.

Monday: 3 miles easy, one hour bike, plus calf exercises, hip exercises, 10:00 core, extra stretching, massage.

Tuesday: 5 miles easy on the river, plus same as above.  There’s this one wooded corridor along the river I run through, and all the leaves are still green, which seems weird.  I read in Slate that that was because of global warming, but then the studies the article cited seemed only about halfway-committed to that thesis.

Wednesday: Five miles, plus same extra exercises.

Thursday: 7 miles at Fresh Pond.  Felt OK, left Achilles seems to be coming around.  Plus the usual stuff.  Got Spotify the other day and thinking about how it’s weird that it tries to share all the songs you listen to.  It’s like, a little privacy, please.

Friday: 7 miles at Fresh Pond plus the usual stuff.  Achilles a bit tight but not too bad.

Saturday: 5 miles, a little faster than the past couple days.  Very little extra stuff.  Had another thought: You know how when you’re nibbling on your lunch of a male pig heart, and the woman sitting across from you on the subway says something really wise like, “Please stop making that face at my children,” and you’re like, “Mind your own business, lady.”--?  Isn’t that so annoying?

One bit of news: later this week, I will post an unprecedented second blog post of the week.  It’s taking a bit of time to write, but get ready.  It’s about my take on barefoot running.

SNL clip of the week:

Lil Poundcake
It's worth it if you tend to enjoy the SNL faux-commercials.

In conclusion, I would like to quote at length the Wikipedia entry for the My Little Pony (TV Series) entry.

The Little Ponies of Paradise Estate included:

-Earth Ponies that are brightly colored, talking versions of real horses.

-Pegasus Ponies with feathered wings and capable of sustained flight.

-Unicorns, with horns that grant each of them a unique magic power. They are also able to teleport in a process known as 'winking in and out', though they can't displace solid objects, and thus are limited to winking through open air environments.

-Flutter Ponies are shy but powerful creatures with magic in their gossamer wings. They live in a remote area of Dream Valley known as Flutter Valley.

-Sea Ponies are brightly colored seahorse-like creatures who dwell in the rivers and lakes of Dream Valley. They vanish from the scene after the introduction of the Baby Sea Ponies.

-Baby Sea Ponies are brightly colored seahorse-like creatures who dwell in Dream Valleys's rivers and wear floats that look like aquatic animals

-Spike, a lone baby dragon who lives with the Ponies after being separated from his own kind

-The Bushwoolies, a joyful species of furballs that think alike. They seem to be led by a blue Bushwoolie named Hugster.

-The Furbobs, Cousins of the Bushwoolies. They walk on four legs primarily as opposed to Bushwoolies who seem to walk on the equivalent of two legs.

-Stone Backs, a ferocious looking species that is sort of a dragon/armadillo cross. Sworn Enemies of the Furbobs until Megan helps the Furbobs realize that the two species can overcome their differences with love and understanding.

-The Grundles, a small race of creatures ruled by the Grundle King. They used to live in Grundleland before it was smoozed and now live in Dream Castle.

-Three human children often fly across the Rainbow to join the Little Ponies - siblings Megan, Danny and Molly. The group often say advice on magical matters from the Moochick, a wise but eccentric gnome who lives in the nearby Mushromp, and his rabbit assistant, Habbit.

Groupon Holiday

            A week ago, my friends insisted that I sign up for Groupon, and boy, what a week it’s been!  I’ve never had so much fun in all my life.

            On Sunday, I took the first plunge and signed up for half-off nachos ($4 value) at this local bar 9 miles from my house.  I went with my friend, Tim, and we watched football all day!  It was super fun, and we met these cool guys who told me to “Sit down. Shut up” after I greeted them. They were wearing a bunch of leather and smelled like cigarettes.  Turns out it was a biker bar!  I had always wanted to join a biker gang, but I don’t think this gang was accepting applications at the moment because when I handed them my CV, they tossed it to a big guy with a mustache, who put Tobasco Sauce on it and ate it.  Tim and I laughed about it all the way back from the hospital.

            Speaking of hospitals, on Monday, I cashed in on 60% off new eyeglasses ($70 value) and X-Rays ($125 value) at this local hospital 17 miles from my house.  I didn’t need either per se because I have perfect vision and intact bones, but it seemed like it couldn't hurt.  I went with my friend, Becky, and we got our whole bodies X-Rayed!  We’re going to turn them into a Halloween costume for sure.

            Hey, did somebody say Halloween?  Because on Tuesday, my friend Abigail and I went to this local pumpkin patch 25 miles from my house and got two pumpkins each for 40% off ($18 value).  But then we thought, hey, why end the Halloween fun there?  So on the way home, we stopped at a glamour photograph studio and got 70% off professional glamour shots of us with the pumpkins ($40 value).   I couldn’t believe it when I saw the photographs because they were Photoshopped so well, I looked like Brad Pitt and the pumpkins look like the Kardashians!  It’s going to be a great holiday card.

            I liked the pumpkin experience so much that on Wednesday, my friend Robert and I went to this local vineyard 49 miles from my house, where we picked grapes all day for 75% off ($28 value).  Who knew there was a vineyard near where I live?!?!?!  Certainly not me, until I went there and saw it with my own two occhi.  While there wasn’t a wine tasting the day we went, Robert and I snuck some grapes that we picked, and they were delicious!  The weather was beautiful, and we were out there from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. with other Groupon takers and some folks who looked like they worked at the vineyard because their hands were calloused and faces sullen.  But I couldn’t be happier.  Only a few dozen bucks to pick grapes that will become wine!

            Thursday was an interesting one.  I went all day without seeing a Groupon that I really liked until lo! What’s this?  Spend all night in the drunk tank of my local jail 65 miles away for only $15 (80% value)?  Why, yes, thank you.  It was the night of a lifetime!  I went with my friends Mark and Lisa, and we had a blast!  I brought Cranium, Mark brought cards, and Lisa brought Risk, and we played and laughed all night.  Meanwhile, some other takers of this Groupon were having a great time because they kept saying, “I’m never drinking again” and “Uuuuughgghghggh!” while punching imaginary friends.  I agree with them; who needs to get belligerently drunk when you’ve got Groupon?  Not me.

            Well, sort of not me!  On Friday, I purchased a Groupon for this local bar 73 miles from my house—no, a different bar this time!—that was advertising 14% off margaritas ($2 value) so long as you stay all night washing dishes.  Um, yes, please!  The very same bar was also advertising 60% off a bicycle tune-up ($40 value) and 35% off raw venison steaks ($18 value).  Naturally, I got all three.  When my friend Amanda and I got there, this was no ordinary bar.  Gone were the artificial social trappings and trite pub décor.  Instead, it was a nice, one-story bungalow, where a teenager and his grandmother lived.  So authentic!  When I told Mr. Andrews, the teenager-cum-owner of this establishment, that I had ordered the “tri-fecta,” he said, “Great!  Now, give me your bike, and I’ll be back in 1-2 days.”  I did so, and when he came back, there was venison as far as your eyes could see, and my bike was tuned-up, up, and away; plus, the margaritas were delicious.  Mr. Andrews was so modest about them.  “I’ve never made these before,” he claimed.  Yeah, right!

            Saturday was my last day, and while I spent most of it in Mr. Andrew’s bar, chained and handcuffed with interest to Mr. Andrew’s grandmother’s stories about the magazine epidemic of 1961, I did get home in time to tackle 50% off yoga at this local yoga studio 91 miles from my house.  My friend Josh and I took part in this new kind of yoga called “Clown Yoga,” invented by some gurus in India (!), in which everybody dresses in clown suits and laughs all the toxins away while engaging in all sorts of poses.  The most cleansing was probably Down Dog Pie in the Face, in which you face the ground and bend your head down into the belly of a fresh-baked blueberry pie while stretching your legs back.

            I had so much fun, it’s no wonder that Groupon has engendered its share of imitators.  First, there’s Riotmobon, which is very similar, except partakers tend to engage in more extreme activities that will get analyzed by social psychologist in a few years.  There’s also Specieson, which is like Groupon if Groupon was run by people who look like spiders.  Finally, I just heard about Thirdwheelon, which gives even bigger discounts if you and your date bring an additional friend who makes things awkward, but you insist that it’s OK.


The latest straw poll is in.

There is not much to say about training this week.  My left achilles started to feel pretty bad on Saturday, 10/22, so I took the whole week off.  As I write, it feels fine, so that was probably a good decision.  Biked 60-90 minutes everyday, got massage and chiropractic work done for the achilles.  Ready to get moving again.

Corrections

On October 6^th, the author wrote that his six-mile morning run was an “afternoon delight.”  This makes no sense.

On September 15^th, the author mistakenly wrote that he “ate his fill of Tostitos Scoops just because.”  They were actually Tostitos Hint of Lime.

During his morning run on August 29^th, the author questioned the veracity of a local first-grade girl’s t-shirt, which read “Pretty Princess.”  He stands corrected.

On September 1^st, the author claimed that it was “raining” during the run and that he went out with Natalie Portman shortly afterwards.  It was actually “drizzling.”  He was also thinking of a dream he had.

In the Alarming Introduction, the author cited the shock-statistic that “68% of organic water bottles are made from retired pianist fingernails.”  The actual figure is 65%.

On September 21^st, the author thought he was going to take out the trash, but then he mostly just wandered around, wondering where to put egg shells.

In third grade, the author allegedly claimed he didn’t not like a person but as a friend and that it was also opposite day.  NASA logicians have been unable to untangle this paradox ever since.

On October 18^th, the author wrote a catchy anecdote followed by a 200-page parade of pop-psychology and pop-sociology studies interspersed with the trappings of a narrative, which he then published and sold millions of copies of.  He regrets the mistake.

Two weeks ago, the author claimed, “Anybody who grows up just watching cologne and Axe Body Spray advertisements will definitely mature into a normal human.”  A complete retraction is called for.

On October 24^th, the author referred to a number of passages from previous posts.  These were all fabrications, including this last one.

Last Week’s Training

Sunday, October 16^th: 14 miles, 95 minutes. Biked to nearby the Fells and ran from there.  Nice run.  Finished with a couple laps of the track to gauge the pace at the end, and they were at 5:30 pace.  Feeling pretty good overall.  Best run in a while, actually.

Monday: AM 5 miles easy.  PM 8.5 miles, 60 minutes.  Feeling OK, a bit tired, but fine.  Plus lift, ice bath, hip exercises, lift, chiropractic work in the early afternoon, core, etc.

Tuesday: 8 miles with three miles in the middle faster.  At Fresh Pond.  Wanted to go 6:00 pace in the middle, did 6:10, 6:05, and then got pretty frustrated and hammered the last mile, not sure what the split was.  Not such a great day, but it was a sort of progress I think.

Wednesday: AM 9 miles, 62 minutes.  PM 4.5 miles 30 minutes.  Raining and windy.  Plus extra stuff (same as Monday).  No aches or pains, so the somewhat harder day yesterday worked out fine.

Thursday: 12 miles, 80 minutes.  At Fresh Pond.  Had to get up early for work, so didn’t get quite enough sleep.  Tried to pick up the pace a little in the middle, and it didn’t take.  An OK run.

Friday: Did a progression run on the river in 7:00, 6:45, 6:30, 6:15, 6:00 5:45, 5:21, then a mile cooldown.  All paces are estimates except the last two miles, which are accurate.  Didn’t feel too good until the 5:45 mile, then got a little more comfortable.  So, an OK workout; things aren’t coming as quickly as easily as I’d like.

Saturday: 7 miles, 48 minutes, easy.  Feeling OK, left Achilles sore.

Week in Review: 75 miles.  14 mile long run.  Two very conservative workouts.  Things aren’t coming very easily right now.  It’s hard to try to do something well, really try to do something well, and everything seems conspired against it.  I know from experience that things tend to turn around, but when you’re actually in the middle of it, it’s very frustrating.  I feel like I’m doing the best I can to get back to 100%, and maybe that’s where the thought process should stop.  There is a passage from The Art of Fielding, which is about baseball, that creates a relevant representation.

All [Henry had] ever wanted was for nothing to ever change. Or for things to change only in the right ways, improving little by little, day by day, forever.  It sounded crazy when you said it like that…The dream of every day the same.  Every day was like the day before but a little better.  You ran the stadium a little faster.  You bench-pressed a little more.  You hit the ball a little harder in the cage…Your swing grew a little simpler.  Everything grew simpler, little by little.  You ate the same food, woke up at the same time, wore the same clothes.  Hitches, bad habits, useless thoughts—whatever you didn’t need slowly fell away.  Whatever was simple and useful remained.  You improved little by little till the day it all became perfect…

An Evaluation of Hindrances

            This one is going to be a bit different.  I wish to make a comment on the psychology of the athlete.

            All I ever want is for easy things to go right, and for bad things to slowly go away through learning the bad things’ weaknesses and exploiting them ruthlessly.  I demand my hindrances revere me and fear me, for I desire to get rid of them.  There are a few problems.  The first is arrogance, which makes me think that I can do new things well and do old things better with less effort.  The second is that I am merely one person, and while I know many things about myself, I don’t know quite how they interact, particularly in a relationship to time or context.  This is why athletes have a constellation of advisers around them who know them and who are, ideally, less susceptible to the first problem because they are motivated inherently by selflessness in the relationship.  (Athletes are always by necessity self-centered.  There are no exceptions.)

            Do you ever feel like you make a mistake, and since any mistake is almost certainly a result of bad faith, the mistake was a result of another mistake, which was a result of a mistake, and on and on down the line?  Perhaps that is an idle feeling, for you should just make a re-commitment to fix what you can and move on.  There is a way to be active in the situation, forward-facing.  To say that a problem is a learning opportunity is easy to say and hard to act out with equanimity.  When things are going really well, it’s never easy, but it is always simple; there are very few questions.  It’s always a spectrum, I suppose.

            There are a certain set of calculations, which, being followed, tend to guide the ship rightly.  And yet you never know for sure, I mean for sure for sure, that the ship is going in the right direction until you actually get to your destination.  That's a wild existence.

Sunday 10/9: 10 miles, 66 minutes.  On the Minuteman trail. The best I’ve felt in a while, around 6:20s the last 4 miles.  This was my third day back after most of last week off.

Monday: AM 3 miles easy. PM 5 miles easy plus lift, core, ice bath, massage.  Good to get back into the rhythm of doubling even though they were short.

Tuesday: 9 miles, 60 minutes at Fresh Pond.  Mostly 6:30 pace, then stretched the legs out a bit the last two miles, perhaps 5:50 pace without really going for anything.  Things are turning around.

Wednesday: AM 4.5 miles easy. PM 6 miles easy plus lift, self-massage (rolling out on this pin type thing), ice bath.

Thursday: 9 miles, 62 minutes at Fresh Pond.  Quads a little beat up, but that’s it.  Plus massage.

Friday: 8.5 miles, 60 minutes at Fresh Pond.  With 6x30 second pick-ups in the midst of it.  A good way to get a little bit of pace into it.

Saturday: 6 miles easy on the river plus core.

61 miles.  Made a re-commitment to stretching and lifting this week and got back into the rhythm of regular training.

The Invention of Hallways

The Invention of Hallways

Dark Castle

Outside the King’s Bedroom

The Dark Ages

6 p.m.

Servant: OK, it’s time to pick who’s going to the Prince’s bedroom to ask him what he wants.

Chef: No way am I doing it.

Maid: I did it yesterday.

Nurse: I’m off the clock for the next hour.

Servant: Well, nobody volunteer all at once.  Fine.  I’ll do it.

Chef: It’ll be dangerous.  I’m almost positive he wants what he had yesterday: an entire chicken, cooked on a spit, with ale and a side of another chicken.

Servant: But, we can’t be sure.  It’s best if I check.

Maid: Remember, you’ll have to go through the king’s bedroom, the queen’s other bedroom, the princess’s bedroom, the bathroom, and the library before you will get to his bedroom.  You’ll never make it.

Servant: Oh, excuse me, your highness.  I didn’t know you would be in here.

King: Well, I am, filthy knave.  I’m a bit busy staring at the wall, if you don’t mind.

Servant: I can come back.

King: No, no.  What do you want?

Servant: I was just trying to get to your son’s bedroom to ask him what he wants for dinner.

King: Well, be quick about it.

Servant: Yes, your highness.  [Pauses.]  Actually, may I trouble the king for a question?

King:  [Grumbles.]  Fine.

Servant: I was just, well, I was thinking.  You know the person who designs all castles?

King: Yes, my cousin—a blind, toothless, vagabond architect.  They say he’s the best.

Servant: Verily, verily.  Well, do you think he’s ever been inside a building with more than two rooms?

King: Oh, heavens, no.  He lives in the forest and comes to town only to sell the boars he catches.

Servant: Right, I was thinking that might be so.  See, the other domestics and I were talking, and it seems like it’s kind of a hassle for everyone involved that we have to go through private rooms just to get to where we want to go.  There has to be a better way.

King: What do you mean?

Servant: What I mean is, can you imagine a structure such that I wouldn’t have to walk through your room, the queen’s room, the bathroom, and your daughter’s room in order to speak with the prince?

King: You mean, have many different houses, each being its own room?

Servant: Not exactly.  I was corresponding with my friend in Denmark, and he says that they are thinking of building a castle that, instead of having many rooms connected with each other, it has many rooms that are connected through a different, very long, narrow room that serves as a conduit between the rooms.

King: I think I understand.  Build a separate house for each bedroom.

Servant: No, no.  Well, sort of.  It would be like if each bedroom was a separate house, and each house was connected to a long, narrow house, and all the houses were inside the castle.

King: Of course.  And what would be the point, again?

Servant: What we want is separation, so that fewer workers get harassed and the members of your family don’t scream and threaten us every time anybody tries to get from one place to another.

King: I suppose I can see how that might be a problem.

Servant:  For example, as it is right now, if I want to get to the storage room in the basement for salt, I need to pass directly through the dungeon first.  There are criminals in there.  They’re hungry and thirsty.  They beg for food.  They’re spiteful and experienced with makeshift daggers.  Four servants have been bitten this week alone.  Although, one servant has unexpectedly been smitten, so maybe it evens out.

King: Yes, build a separate house outside for the dungeon, and then another separate house outside for the storage room, and also many other separate houses for the different bedrooms.

Servant: Sort of.

King: This is a fine idea, knave.  I’ll talk to my cousin.

Servant: [Walks past.]

Queen: AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

And on to training:

Sunday: 14 miles. 97 minutes. On the Minuteman Trail. Just not feeling good. Definitely something wrong with my right calf, and tired overall.

Monday: Off. Rest. Massage, which I think helped.

Tuesday: Off.

Wednesday: 1 hour bike.

Thursday: 1 hour bike. Cleared to run.

Friday: 6 miles, 42 minutes on the river. Calf feeling much better, but very sluggish overall.  Running after time off is the worst, the worst I say.

Saturday: 8 miles, 54 minutes on the River. Felt much better, and calf has loosened up, feeling good enough.

Week in Review: A week to recover and get better.  Very frustrating, but hopefully this is just a minor setback.  The problem was likely a minor calf strain, which occurred about two weeks ago.  I remember the workout precisely.  It’s weird sometimes how if you’re in the middle of something, it can be hard to see outside it and it seems like this big thing; but then once you get outside it, you look back at it and realize that it was merely this isolated, strange, messed up thing that means very little.  For all you experienced with a key, the key to the previous sentence is as follows: it/thing/something=injury, not it=beyond the injury, and grammar=an indulgence not called for in this context.  But, like, all my sentences, it was highly symbolic and discursive.  Take from it what you will.  I learned from the injury and am moving on.  There is much work to be done.

Press Conference

Forward Transcript of Press Conference Speech of Professional Athlete Who Suffers Great Humiliation by Acts in His Personal Life

Good morning.  I wish to thank you all for coming today.  And for those who chose not to come, I wish they hear what I have to say and instantly forgive me, forgetting everything I did wrong, as if they got zapped by the memory eraser from Men in Black.

I have many friends here.  I also have many co-workers, sworn enemies, and parasites who feed upon the discourse surrounding my public persona, which has become a veritable cottage industry.  Regardless of which category you fit in, I wish to say: I’m sorry for what I have done.  I have made serious mistakes.  I have made terrible, ugly decisions directed at clowns.  Please forgive me and my pet tiger.

I admit fully to what I did, and I make no excuses.  It is true, however, that I grew up without a father who didn’t make weird jokes and talk about girls with me as if that was OK.  Therefore, I had no one to give me a viable model of masculinity. (Except for my father in a general way, my grandfather, brothers, uncles, everybody I read about, casual acquaintances from church, numerous teachers, and my personal mentor, His Holiness the Dalai Lama.)  Without any role model, how was I supposed to know not to do what I did?  Further, I was raised on a very simple diet, so when I started to get a salary, I acquired an expensive taste for copper wiring and aluminum siding.  It is not so hard to see how I first began eating those apartment complexes.

Many of you might not know this, but I was raised in a religious household.  Snake handling taught me to see the value of a simple life, to shun alcohol and sex, and to never get caught or bitten while doing something violent.  Clearly, I have strayed from my roots.  With the help of my pediatrician, Dr. Phil, I have learned to return to the core values that first shaped me.  For example, he has repeatedly reminded me that renting a blimp for FGM-148 Javelin ATGM Rocket Launcher target practice—but instead of launching rockets I launch my local school district’s textbooks, hermit crabs, and cafeteria food—was a poor idea.  Further, hiring a skywriting plane every week and instructing it to write “Marry Me [name of the week]” on the chance that a woman of that name would be on a date with her boyfriend is funny, but it’s damaging on an emotional level to other people. 

While many fans have been understanding and have forgiven me, others have not.  Some stories about my personal life have surfaced that are complete fabrications.  I never once hired a team of assassins to explode the top of Mt. Everest after I climbed it so that no one could ever climb as high as me ever again.  Besides, what happened there is a private matter between me, my beautiful wife, and the Indian Subcontinent.  My wife, Amanda, I mean Sarah, has been there for me since the very beginning of last October.  I know this situation has been tough on her, especially because I lost some of my sponsorships.  Especially since I lost some of my sponsorships.  It’s like, I know, baby, but we’re going to get through this, and that’s when I can hire a team of conservationists, scientists, and bartenders to rid our private island of its flesh-eating locust/indigenous subpar margarita problem.

Despite this support, I know that some fans will never believe in me again.  They will use my name as a punch line.  When I take the field, they’ll toss oranges and apples at me.  They’ll fire guns at me.  They’ll train attack dogs to hunt me wherever I go and sick me where I stand.  After the game, they’ll search for me in an attempt to taze me or at least get information about their children, whom I kidnapped.  I understand this urge, but I exhort everyone involved to forgive me and just move on already.  I went to prison for what I did.  I was technically just visiting as part of a reality TV show, but that was rock bottom for me.  I have learned from my mistakes.

I am taking steps to rectify all the wrongs I did.  My foundation is working with youth to promote positive life choices, such as not running for and becoming president of Belarus and then using their tax money to build a giant castle made of whale hearts.  I have also partnered with Human Rights Watch, the World Wildlife Fund, and UNESCO to repopulate Brazil’s native soccer ball population, which was decimated after I hired a team of assassins to steal all their soccer balls and send them to the Arctic, where I thought polar bears could use them as flotation devices.  It was my signature green initiative.

Some say that the quality of your intellect can be measured by your choices; others, that it can be measured by the last book you refer to in a social setting.  It is at this point that I wish to say that I recently read Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. I apologize to everyone involved.  People also say it’s not your words or beliefs which define you. It’s your acts.  That’s pretty ironic if you think about it, but my question would be, does dressing up as a woman farmer and then committing unspeakable grain atrocities qualify as an act?  Like, if you only do it once?  What if you sincerely believe in your heart that it was a dream?

I once heard, and I believe it’s true, it’s not who suffers on account of you that matters; it’s the extant to which you be you, no matter the consequences.  I encourage all my fans to follow their dreams and live a life that, when you look back on it, you can think, “That was some crazy shit!”  I believe in second chances.  I believe in third chances.  I believe in an infinite number of chances.  I believe the Chance cards in Monopoly are real.  I’d like to return to the game and get things right this time around.  I thank you for your time. 

Conversation between two E. Coli bacteria

Cow’s Intestine, 12:15 p.m.

Donna: Hey Stephen, what’s for lunch today?

Stephen: Lower intestine pathogenic bacteria.

Donna: Again?

Stephen: Yeah, I know.  It’s ridiculous.

Donna: Ridiculous is right.  I’m trying to raise a family of healthy, gram-negative, rod-shaped bacteria that grow up to be productive prokaryotes, and it seems like all we ever have to eat are lower intestine pathogens.

Stephen: It seems crazy, but these are tough times.  Did you see the paper this morning?

Donna: No, what happened?

Stephen: Do you remember Nicole and Alejandro—Jesse’s kids?  Looks like they got fed uncooked to some human multi-cellulars, who got really sick.

Donna: They used to be such good kids.

Stephen: Well, now they’re wanted for poisoning.  Whole neighborhood has been put under surveillance.

[Enter Sasha.]

Sasha: I heard that’s not the whole story.

Donna: What?  What is it?

Sasha: Well, now the multi-cellulars have blacklisted the entire E. Coli community, including the innocuous strains.  They say the attack was on purpose, was coordinated from the inside.

Stephen: From the inside?

Sasha: Say everyone was in on it.  From Prime Minister Coli on down.

Donna: No way.  Not the Prime Minister…

Sasha: See, it was just too perfect.  What happened was, Bessy was slaughtered on Thursday by the multicellulars.  My friend Yunis was walking the beat near Pathogen Mile, and he gets a call.  Caller says his host’s dead, time to find a new place.  Obviously, he’s devastated.  He’s been living there for months, has his roots there, you know?  But, he does the brave thing and gets on the PA and makes sure all the e. coli with pathogenic capacity know to get out.  He stays behind and makes sure the whole neighborhood has evacuated.  Then, just as he’s leaving, he spies the prime minister getting out of her grass limo.  He thinks, no way.  Either the prime minister is intentionally staying in a dying carcass, or that’s a fecal transmission I’ll never understand.  But, then he remembers.  You know what day Thursday is?

Stephen.  The Prime Minister’s weekly gutbike ride.

Sasha: Exactly.  Unaccounted for from 4-6 p.m.

Donna: So what if she was in Bessy’s lower gut?  That doesn’t prove anything.

Sasha: True.  I’ll just state some facts, and you make your own conclusions.  Thursday at 5 p.m., my friend sees the prime minister intentionally staying in Bessy’s gut.  Everyone else is evacuated except for the members of that grass limo.  Later that night, Nicole and Alejandro go missing.  Their mother says they were interning with the prime minister’s office after school.  Friday, Bessy is slaughtered.  Sterile environment, peroxide, the whole nine yards.  Saturday, Bessy is transported in parts to the Coli Restaurant.  By Tuesday, there are five cases of e. coli poisoning from that same restaurant.

Donna: These are merely coincidences.  Isn’t the prime minister back and safe?

Sasha: Yes, she is.  But, remember, what was the campaign that the prime minister ran on?

Stephen: That she was from humble beginnings, that she knew how the pathogens lived because…

Sasha: Because?

Donna: Because her father was an e. coli of pathogenic capacity.

Sahsa: And therefore?

Donna: Therefore she has the genetic code that could express itself as a pathogen!  And this code can be transferred through horizontal gene transfer, not even requiring offspring or duplication!

Stephen: Oh no.  So she could have taken Nicole and Alejandro hostage, transferred the pathogenic genetic code to them, kept them in Bessy’s gut, and then returned to the community by Thursday night!

Donna: Right, but, wouldn’t have Nicole and Alejandro—O157:H7 bless their souls—died in Bessy’s slaughter and the meat preparation?

Sasha: Remember what else was in the prime minister’s platform?  About her personal traits?

Stephen: Sure, that she was strong, independent, resilient.

Donna: Resilient!  Those weren’t personal traits.  They were genetic traits!

Stephen: Right, like resilient to peroxide and other anti-bacterial cleaning solutions.

Donna: So, all that would have been necessary would be undercooked meat, almost a guarantee based on the history of the Coli Restaurant. 

Stephen: But, why?

Sasha: See, this is where it gets interesting.

[Enter Prime Minister Coli and E. SWAT Team.]

!!!

To be continued…

The Week’s Training:

Not such a great week.  Started out fine, but Thursday through Saturday were rubbish.  Some problematic sensations need to be resolved.  No good workouts this week, although got in 20 miles on Sunday.  81 miles total.

Personality Quiz

Readers, I found the following quiz in a nondescript public garbage can outside the soda fountain near my house.  I recommend you take a minute to fill it out.  It is very enlightening and gives you insight into who you really are.

Personality Quiz from the Year 2180: Find out who your true self is, what your destiny entails, and how to follow your dreams.

Preliminary Information for Statistical Analysis

What is your race or ethnicity?

1. South Antarctican
2. Staten or New York Islander
3. Robot
4. Constantly Sun-burned
5. Schwarzenegger

What is your gender?

1. Female 1
2. Female 2
3. Technically born of a frog embryo
4. Post-structuralist, i.e. male

How tall are you?

1. 7’1-7’3
2. 7’4-7’7
3. 7’8-7’11
4. Taller than 8’0 

How much do you weigh?

1. 0 pounds
2. .5-1 pound
3. 0 pounds
4. Greater than 1 pound

Thank you.  The quiz will now begin.  Directions: Please use whatever writing implement is closest or seemed least beat up in the bric-a-brac drawer in your kitchen.  Read each question quickly and haphazardly, missing key details.  Respond to each question in nonsensical, incomplete fragments.  The time limits are arbitrary; you may ignore them.  You may not talk to your neighbor unless you are discussing which answer is best.  If you have a question, keep your hands down, gaze intently at your quiz, and ask your question multiple times in ascending volume until I hear you and respond from a distance.  You may start now.

1. Which best describes your typical Tuesday night?

A. Ironically barbeque up some Hot Pockets, then eat them while ironically watching reruns of “Home Improvement.”  Then pass out on the couch and ironically dream of a better life.

B. Go out with your buddies to the Hole in the Wall.  Steve, what up, man?  Pass me some of that PBR.

C. Hit the e-books!  I’m an e-student and need to e-study!

D. Get a quick bite to eat after work at the In-N-Out Burger on the Moon and then watch the game with your kids, whom you adorably call Sport, Honey, and Bottom Feeder.

2. What is your ideal first date?

A. Enter a virtual reality simulator, go to the mall, eat cheese fries, and people watch while discussing how awesome high school was.

B. I hate first dates!  Can’t we just skip to the second date?  We would already know the basic stuff, so we would be comfortable with each other and could do something really fun, like go to the beach and build a sand castle, where we would benevolently reign for eight fortnights, two nights and a foghorn.  We could make a declaration, yes, a set of rules that govern all human behavior.  Everyone would be equal and all talents would be valued.  It would be an ideal society, and we could unblock the vast reservoir of human potential.  No Canadians.

C. Enter a virtual reality simulator, where you go to a nice restaurant, see a 9-D movie, and take a virtual walk in a P.A.R.K. (Partial Aphrodisiac Reaction Knapsack), before having your date signals app instruct you on whether or not a kiss would be appropriate.

D. Hit the town!—where you enter a virtual reality simulator and go to a concert, followed by a hike, cooking a nice breakfast, eating breakfast for dinner, and staying up all night just talking—you as a 75-foot gorilla, your date as a new animal that flies and looks like Mila Kunis, made possible by virtual reality.  (BTW, boyish man-slob who turns out to be a gorilla and inexplicably charms Mila Kunis is the plot of the next Judd Apatow movie.)

3. You’re going to be stuck on a desert island.  What five things do you bring?

A. Gunnysack filled with etch-a-sketches.  Record player. Generator. Popsicles.  Halloween costume for party situations.

B. $150,000,000,000 American.  Dylan Zorbzrob’s Survival Guide for the Modern Paranoid Maniac. The Desert Island Botanical Guide to Edible Plants, Animals, and Adrift Plastics. Rice. Portable water purifier.

C. Your favorite novel.  A guitar.  Favorite sweater.  Barbeque sauce.  Fully-automatic AK-47.

D. Your five best friends, but don’t tell Jenny because she’s ranked #6 right now.

4. Fill in the blank.

I wish I were _______ so I could _________

A. The same_____do the same thing.

B. Healthier ______ live to be 350.

C. A better cook ________ cook better.

D. A little bit taller, was a baller, had a girl who looked good _______ call her.

5. This is the final question.  Imagine the following scenario.  You’re the leader of a ragtag crew of scrawny misfits, and you’re going up against the strong, non-prudish rich kids in the championship game of summer league zoom ball.  You’re all about to start high school, and you want to enter with a bang, completely reshaping your loser middle school image.  Plus, the guy/gal of your dreams but also of real life will be watching, and you could be the new it couple.  However, your coach was injured in a tragic accident (picnic, lightning, pack of Segways gaining self-consciousness and rebelling against their human overlords), so now you’re in charge.  What do you tell your team to pump them up for the big game?

A. Well, we made it this far.  Nobody could have predicted that.  Now let’s make Coach Cox proud out there, although he could be dead by now.  And even if he’s not dead, he might be so badly injured that he has no concept of what zoom ball is anymore, and he might not even remember who each of us is.  So, no matter what happens out there today, let’s tell Coach that we won, and that we did it for him.

B. Listen up!  I want you to wipe those stupid looking frowns off your faces!  We’ve got a game to win!  It’s time to ship in or ship out!  Is that it?  Ship in or ship out?—something about doing something or shipping out.  That means you, Turner!  And you, Rodriguez!  Let’s get ‘em!!!!!

C. OK, bring it in.  Let’s face it.  They’re bigger than us.  They’re stronger than us.  And dang it, they’ve gone to more school dances than us.  But, guess what?  We’re smarter.  It’s time to talk strategy.  They’ll get off the line faster, so I want a man-to-man defense, but I want Gottfried playing loose and helping out downfield.  If they go to a 4-6-1, we’ve got to match up.  And this is important: instead of going for the big play, let’s just chip away one point at a time.  That means when we get the ball in their mouths, we do the ceremonial dance for no more than ten seconds before getting back on d.  And if they start doing cartwheels to get the bonus scrim, we need to counter with a pack of ferrets that we let loose.  Harrelson, I want you to be ready for our special Hammock Parachute play, so suit up in your astronaut costume at the end of the second.  No mistakes; tighten your control.  Let’s go.

D. In June, would anyone have said we’d be here today?  No!  They all said that the Chesapeake Dogwalkers were a loser team!  That we’d never win!  Well, here we are.  To all those people, we need to go out and prove that they are factually inaccurate!  That their powers of prediction lack along one, maybe two vectors!  Coach or no coach, the Dogwalkers are going up against the Grizzlykillers this afternoon, and I want to see some Grizzlykiller blood out there!  Now everybody take a knife.  Also, there’s an old zoom ball rule that if your coach can’t make it to the championship game, then you can hire a different coach temporarily.  So, here he is, Mr. Zoom Ball himself, Titian Macromanager!  [Titian:] When I heard about what happened to your coach from my supermodel assistant who rarely wears clothes around the office, I thought to myself, Wow, how sad.  I wonder if I can do anything to help that takes no effort.  I couldn’t think of anything, so my other supermodel assistant suggested that I coach the team for a game.  And here I am!  I know how you guys play.  I’ve seen the tape.  I’m impressed, and I know you can beat this team!

Scoring

If you answered…

Mostly As:

The whole “life is boring so let’s make fun of it by doing things half-heartedly and then sleeping in a pile of regret, broken promises, and CAN records” shtick is getting old—really old.  Half of you is a lame sourpuss whose vacant insides are projected onto the events that surround you, but the other half is sincere, showers, and downright loves life.  Embrace the second half of you, cultivate it, and watch it ripen and flower come harvest-time.  Make sure to eat plenty of nitrogen-rich fertilizer.

Mostly Bs:

You, sir or madam, are a king among kings, a queen among queens, which is to say, pretty much like everybody else around you.  It’s time for some excitement!  Some joy!  Some spontaneous acts of windigglefrazzling!  But I understand: you’ve been beat down, pushed around, treated like trash.  It’s been a tough few months, but it’s time to pick yourself up and dust yourself off.  Find your center and focus on the important things in life—specifically, exacting terrible revenge on those who did this to you.

Mostly Cs:

“Hey, what happened to the friend I used to know?”  Are your friends asking that behind your back?  If so (and they are), then let’s face it: you’ve changed.  While you used to be quirky, spontaneous, and downright criminally negligent, landing you 15 to life in the slammer, now you’re conservative, frigid, and bland—like a frozen, worn-out pair of Cheerios jeans.  Your friends want you the way you used to be.  You’ve done your auto-da-fé, and now it’s time to party!  Find a rager and rage like you’ve never raged berage.  Just don’t get caught and violently harassed by the police like last time ;)

Mostly Ds:

We all get it.  You’re a working professional with many “obligations,” such as “tending to your family,” “performing ER surgery,” and “courageously fighting the onslaught of mutant scorpion-kings.”  Big whoop.  Well guess what?  Nobody cares.  You seem constantly to exude joy and happiness, but what’s this?—I think it’s my fist, exuding joy in your face.  Take it down a notch.  No, take it down three notches, then another five notches, then six more notches until you’re hypoglycemic, comatose, and sleeping inside your dishwasher.  See how that feels for a while; then re-enter the world a little more apathetic.

I hope you enjoyed the quiz and are happy with your results!

The Week’s Training

Sunday, September 18^th: 10 miles, 65 minutes.  At the Minuteman Trail.  Right calf had been feeling a bit iffy the past 48 hours, so decided to take it easy.  Feeling better, though.

Monday: AM 5 miles, easy on the river.  PM 12 miles, 83 minutes.  Three times around Fresh Pond, very relaxed pace.  Calf starting to loosen up.  Behind in mileage for the week because of the light day yesterday, so I might be playing ketchup*.  (*The need to “play ketchup” was first coined by football announcer John Madden in the year 1793.  Originally meaning “to pour ketchup on yourself, then put leeches on the ketchup to get the demons out, followed by jumping into the ocean to see if the ketchup floats,” it has been generalized to mean “take steps to rectify falling behind.”  It is never written “play catch-up,” even though many people, even learned people, sometimes spell it that way.)

Tuesday: 14 repetitions of a segment of Heartbreak Hill.  A bit faster than the last time I did this workout, but not feeling too great.  Stopped a little before the goal.  14 miles total.

Wednesday: AM 12 miles, 80 minutes.  Took the T to the Fells, like last week.  Was a delight.  Legs a bit beat up from the hill, but in general doing fine.  PM 6 miles easy easy easy on the river.

Thursday: 14.5 miles.  93 minutes.  Very pleasant run at the Fells.  Or, as David Attenborough would say, “The single greatest smallest migration to the Fells ever undertaken by a person named Chas at the end of September 2011 in humankind’s 200,000 year history.  Astounding.  Beautiful.  Humans may never witness anything like this again ever until next week.” 

Friday: 10 mile tempo run.  Warmed up to the Chestnut Hill reservoir, which is a gravel path around a reservoir near Boston College.  A flat, nice surface, and we deduced it was about 2500 meters around (around 20 seconds longer than 1.5 miles), although we should measure it exactly.  Loop splits of 8:25, 8:17, 8:13, 8:04, 8:16, 8:15, last mile perhaps 5:15.  So, an average of around 5:20, fastest mile around 5:10.  A fine workout, a nice improvement from last week.  I feel like I’m rounding into shape, not quite there, but getting there.

Saturday: 6 miles, 42 minutes, easy on the river.  Legs very tired.

Week in Review: 96.5 miles, two long, decent workouts.  No long run, but a shorter version of a long run on Thursday of 14 miles.

Yoko Ono tweet of the week:

yokoono Yoko Ono

Send a paper moon to your friend. Ask them to burn it.

17 Sep

Words of the Week

“The Lee Shore” Chapter of Moby-Dick:

Some chapters back, one Bulkington was spoken of, a tall, newlanded mariner, encountered in New Bedford at the inn.

When on that shivering winter's night, the Pequod thrust her vindictive bows into the cold malicious waves, who should I see standing at her helm but Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic awe and fearfulness upon the man, who in mid-winter just landed from a four years' dangerous voyage, could so unrestingly push off again for still another tempestuous term. The land seemed scorching to his feet. Wonderfullest things are ever the unmentionable; deep memories yield no epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only say that it fared with him as with the storm-tossed ship, that miserably drives along the leeward land. The port would fain give succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that's kind to our mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship's direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing, fights 'gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks all the lashed sea's landlessness again; for refuge's sake forlornly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!

Know ye now, Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore?

But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God--so, better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing--straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!