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Wednesday, May 31, 2006
At the Ocean
Gentle Reader,
Yes, it's been a while, and the fiendish "countdown meter" that Kathy has installed on the site is spinning as ominously as the National Debt whirlygig in New York. Countdowns often seem to have an ominous cast to them, yes? Countdowns to launch (the device is usually built by an aggregate of low bidders), countdowns to "milestone" birthdays (gleefully anticipated by everyone except the birthday person), countdowns to weddings (no comment) and, in my case, countdowns to dental and colonoscopy appointments (again, no comment). So the row's start date, set in ink at August 5, approacheth. But ominously? I think not. And, I have evidence!
Last weekend we were able to spend the weekend on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and as we drove there (along with everyone else on the planet), I was mindful that this would afford me an excellent opportunity to survey a beach not unlike the one I will be skirting in New Jersey. My date of August 5 is set in stone. I will leave, rain or shine, and the whims of the atmosphere are still framing what the weather will (randomly) be on that day. As we drove south, I played the game of "what if." What if I were to be along the stretch of beach we would be visiting during my row? What would the winds and surf be like? Could I picture myself effortlessly coasting along the beach at my steady 4+ mph, assisted by a slight tailwind, just outside of the surf line yet within a short swim to shore should disaster (a.k.a. shark attack) strike? We'd be at a beach-front condo (borrowed) for three days, so it was a hypothesis I intended to test often...like every five minutes. Gentle Reader, I can be tedious in that way
I'm happy to report that over the three days, two would have been excellent for rowing. Day One, Saturday, dawned clear and calm, and the prospects of a 32 mile day in such conditions would seem excellent. The surf was steady, predictable, and shallow; pulling the boat up for a periodic stretch and swim would definitely be in the cards; getting the boat off the beach and beyond the surf line would have been within even my modest abilities. Frankly, getting back into the boat after a stretch and a swim would have been the motivational challenge.
Day Two presented somewhat more robust wave action - attentive rowing to get the best lines along the beach would have been mandatory, but achievable - and there was a fine 8-10 knot breeze from the north, one that would have been a nice boost from behind. A 32-mile day would have also been a good bet, even if without the ease of entry/exit off the beach.
But Day 3, Monday, was a different matter. Strong rollers were hitting the beach hard from the north-northeast (a good thing; anything from a northern quadrant is good), and I would have had to be many hundreds of yards offshore to be able to make steady headway....farther from shore than I would feel comfortable on such a day.
A three-day sample, hundreds of miles south of my intended route and 65 days before my launch is hardly relevant to my prospects, yet it was good to feel the surf, watch the water, and dream. No, my goal will not be met with a series of 32 mile "average" days with two on, one off...but I don't suspect that I will be able to force an "average" series. Day by day, day by day...we'll see what comes.
It was no small irony that during our visit we walked the spaces between the stones that mark the Wright brothers' flights at Kitty Hawk. The first flight of 104' or so seems ludicrously short when you walk it in 2006, but heavier-than-air flight over level ground was the magic of that moment and, as the tour guide sagely pointed out, it led to (among other things) the very possibility of the cell phones we were carrying. I thought it a most unfortunate corellation, but even more strained "Big Row" analogies are at this moment leaping to my fingertips. I won't give vent to them. You can thank me later.
I did get to test my GPS gizmo during a walk on the beach on Sunday. Here's how it worked: I placed a footprint in the sand discreetly above the high tide mark, pressed "start," walked exactly 3.5 miles up the beach, did a precise Forest Gump-like about-face, and when I returned to my footprint...voila, 7 miles on the nub at an average of 3.52 mph. This wristwatch will be teriffic for tracking pace and distance covered during the row. I guess I have the Wright brothers to thank for this service, too.
In the meantime, today I put a new head on my toothbrush, talked Shakespeare with my eighth graders, played a blues harp at a school talent show, ate a baked potato slathered with chili and cheese, serenaded car pool with my mandolin, saw Peg fete friends she has known here in Baltimore for more than thirty years, and watched her turn on the AC tonight for the first time this summer. Life is good.
Blog you this weekend. And I like what you continue to do to the Pledge Paddle.
Pulling towards August,
Mr. Frei
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
May Madness
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
It's been a long time since the last entry, and I have no excuse other than the nature of May in the life of a teacher. We do pay our dues for the halcyon summer days ahead, and May is uphill in many ways. Sure, there is the euphoria that students and teachers alike feel as we anticipate summer, but end-of-year stuff (exams for students, everything else for teachers) has a way of making one gasp for the finish line.
And while we're on the topic of gasping, because of the aforementioned, my training routine has not been established. I'm kind of resigned to the fact that I really won't be training in earnest...or with intensity...until June. So for those of you good-naturedly asking me, "How's the training going?" even as you observe no apparent change in my physical appearance, back off for a while, OK? I'll be good to go. How far is the question.
I've gotten some great training tips from you, my readers. For example, Kate recommends yoga. I know nothing about yoga, but it is clear that if I followed some of her suggestions, I would come to know a lot more about myself. And at last weekend's Yale graduation, Mark said that Jorge Posada urinates on his hands during the pre-season to toughen them up more quickly....which begs the question, if this is true, of how might I induce Jorge to urinate on my hands? I'm attentive to all of your helpful tips. Keep them coming.
My only relevant training yesterday involved resetting a portion of an obstacle course we set up for our students. One of the tasks was to carry a cinder block about 30 yards, and I volunteered to "reset" the blocks after each pair of contestants passed through. Good arm and back work, I thought. We have about 178 kids in our school; they all ran the course in pairs, and I will only report that brushing my teeth last night was a kind of mechanical affair.
And the pressure to perform on the water builds as well. If you run the numbers on tonight's Pledge Paddle, I'd be raising $12.65 with each mile rowed to Baltimore. At 4 mph, that's over $50. per hour....$400. per diem (8 hrs, of course, unless I start the yoga and urinating program right away)...so clearly, even at this point, the incentive to pull is significant. Thanks, folks, for making it happen.
It seems that each time I read a little bit in depth about waypoints on my trip, I find my eyes resting on copy which, before, would not have drawn much attention. Tonight I was reading about Cape May, NJ, my turning point into Delaware Bay presaging my final sprint (yoga, urinate!) to Baltimore. The Chamber describes the rip currents through their canal (built to shelter ships from marauding U boats during WW2) and celebrates their shark tournaments. Clearly, this was not written to entice the Adirondack Guideboat community. Upstream from Cape May, the C&D canal offers a 6 knot current as the tide goes out...and the promise of either a Nantucket Sleigh Ride-like launch into the top of the Chesepeake or the embarassment of a majestic -2 knot reentry into the Delaware, depending on how I time it. Metaphoric, yes? I'd hate to see that Pledge Paddle meter running backwards.
More soon, Gentle Reader. Thanks for being aboard.
It's been a long time since the last entry, and I have no excuse other than the nature of May in the life of a teacher. We do pay our dues for the halcyon summer days ahead, and May is uphill in many ways. Sure, there is the euphoria that students and teachers alike feel as we anticipate summer, but end-of-year stuff (exams for students, everything else for teachers) has a way of making one gasp for the finish line.
And while we're on the topic of gasping, because of the aforementioned, my training routine has not been established. I'm kind of resigned to the fact that I really won't be training in earnest...or with intensity...until June. So for those of you good-naturedly asking me, "How's the training going?" even as you observe no apparent change in my physical appearance, back off for a while, OK? I'll be good to go. How far is the question.
I've gotten some great training tips from you, my readers. For example, Kate recommends yoga. I know nothing about yoga, but it is clear that if I followed some of her suggestions, I would come to know a lot more about myself. And at last weekend's Yale graduation, Mark said that Jorge Posada urinates on his hands during the pre-season to toughen them up more quickly....which begs the question, if this is true, of how might I induce Jorge to urinate on my hands? I'm attentive to all of your helpful tips. Keep them coming.
My only relevant training yesterday involved resetting a portion of an obstacle course we set up for our students. One of the tasks was to carry a cinder block about 30 yards, and I volunteered to "reset" the blocks after each pair of contestants passed through. Good arm and back work, I thought. We have about 178 kids in our school; they all ran the course in pairs, and I will only report that brushing my teeth last night was a kind of mechanical affair.
And the pressure to perform on the water builds as well. If you run the numbers on tonight's Pledge Paddle, I'd be raising $12.65 with each mile rowed to Baltimore. At 4 mph, that's over $50. per hour....$400. per diem (8 hrs, of course, unless I start the yoga and urinating program right away)...so clearly, even at this point, the incentive to pull is significant. Thanks, folks, for making it happen.
It seems that each time I read a little bit in depth about waypoints on my trip, I find my eyes resting on copy which, before, would not have drawn much attention. Tonight I was reading about Cape May, NJ, my turning point into Delaware Bay presaging my final sprint (yoga, urinate!) to Baltimore. The Chamber describes the rip currents through their canal (built to shelter ships from marauding U boats during WW2) and celebrates their shark tournaments. Clearly, this was not written to entice the Adirondack Guideboat community. Upstream from Cape May, the C&D canal offers a 6 knot current as the tide goes out...and the promise of either a Nantucket Sleigh Ride-like launch into the top of the Chesepeake or the embarassment of a majestic -2 knot reentry into the Delaware, depending on how I time it. Metaphoric, yes? I'd hate to see that Pledge Paddle meter running backwards.
More soon, Gentle Reader. Thanks for being aboard.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Time and Distance
To those of you who anxiously await the next entry on this blog, my apologies for the lag since my last missive....and, please, see someone soon for counseling.
I'm astounded - and to some degree daunted - by the recent surge in pledges. My early fear of having each mile represent such a material increment to a good cause (thus compelling me to pull harder and longer than might be good for this aging frame)is materializing...yet I'm delighted at the spirit of support behind this endeavour. To be honest, the seminal motive for this trip was not to raise money, but I couldn't be happier at the notion that what will be good for me will bring some good to someone else as well. To those of you making Kathy fret about having to recalibrate the scale of that thermometer-oar thing, thank you. Way cool. Groovy, even.
While I'd like to report that the training program is well underway, I'm woefully behind in my prep. Other than cavorting each day with my 8th grade lacrosse team - an activity that gives me much joy but little tangible benefit - my only preparation last week was the acquisition of an $89 GPS unit that will enable me to track my location, speed over the ground (or bottom), average speed enroute...all the time/distance stuff that a GPS magically does. The device is the size of a large wristwatch, and I've played with it in calibrating the distances I walk to the usual places around the neighborhood: the 7-11, the dry cleaners, the liquor store, Regi's, Cross Street Market, Peg's office. This captivating tool will enable me to track my pace and give me a sense of what I'll need to do to complete this trip in the 14-16 days I'm allocating to it, yet I can see that it will also be the equivalent of having a barking coxswain in the stern of the boat. I'll need to average 30 mile days to bring it on home in time for school in August, and this electronic Jiminey Cricket will be a relentless taskmaster indeed.
On the training front, I got some sage advice from my good friend Peter, a Dartmouth colleague and former competitive rower. His counsel is that there are two bodily elements that I'll need to bring up to speed before departure: my hands and my derriere. This advice corresponds to my experience at long distance days on the water last summer. I think I can handle the hand thing; there are all kinds of ways to build up hand strength and tissue resliance...but the endurance of one's backside for a venture like this is probably only augmented by the doing of it...and in-the-boat training will be scarce until July. Some have opined that if you drive a Mini (a stiff suspension) within the Baltimore City limits (a lunar-esque landscape) as I do, one's posterior is already pretty resilient. But I suspect that I'll need to better simulate the experience...soon...and often. Informed advice in the "comments" column will be welcomed and appreciated; just keep it PG, OK?
Peter's other observation was that I'll be wise to discipline myself to the "30 mile day" objective and not get too carried away by favorable weather or the vodka tonic just around the next bend. He suggests that I get out of the boat whenever I get to 30 miles, even if it's well before dusk...the epiphany being that having adequate recuperative time OUT of the boat will be as important in sustaining the pace on the water.
Now I ask you, is that good advice or what? Peter, you get a pledge pin even though you haven't yet answered the bell on the fundraising.
So the net of it all is that the time and distance so coldly and accurately calculated my my new GPS doodad will need to be complemented by my own sense of "time until" the trip starts and my "distance to" fitness...and while I know I'm behind the curve, it's not as if I'm starting from a point of complete physical degradation. I'll be good to go. You can count on it.
Kathy, as always, thanks for your electronic stewardship of this gig in my absence this week and Peg, just, as always,...thanks. :)
And to you, Gentle Reader, stay aboard. This trip is already more fun with you in the boat.
Latah!
Mr. Frei
I'm astounded - and to some degree daunted - by the recent surge in pledges. My early fear of having each mile represent such a material increment to a good cause (thus compelling me to pull harder and longer than might be good for this aging frame)is materializing...yet I'm delighted at the spirit of support behind this endeavour. To be honest, the seminal motive for this trip was not to raise money, but I couldn't be happier at the notion that what will be good for me will bring some good to someone else as well. To those of you making Kathy fret about having to recalibrate the scale of that thermometer-oar thing, thank you. Way cool. Groovy, even.
While I'd like to report that the training program is well underway, I'm woefully behind in my prep. Other than cavorting each day with my 8th grade lacrosse team - an activity that gives me much joy but little tangible benefit - my only preparation last week was the acquisition of an $89 GPS unit that will enable me to track my location, speed over the ground (or bottom), average speed enroute...all the time/distance stuff that a GPS magically does. The device is the size of a large wristwatch, and I've played with it in calibrating the distances I walk to the usual places around the neighborhood: the 7-11, the dry cleaners, the liquor store, Regi's, Cross Street Market, Peg's office. This captivating tool will enable me to track my pace and give me a sense of what I'll need to do to complete this trip in the 14-16 days I'm allocating to it, yet I can see that it will also be the equivalent of having a barking coxswain in the stern of the boat. I'll need to average 30 mile days to bring it on home in time for school in August, and this electronic Jiminey Cricket will be a relentless taskmaster indeed.
On the training front, I got some sage advice from my good friend Peter, a Dartmouth colleague and former competitive rower. His counsel is that there are two bodily elements that I'll need to bring up to speed before departure: my hands and my derriere. This advice corresponds to my experience at long distance days on the water last summer. I think I can handle the hand thing; there are all kinds of ways to build up hand strength and tissue resliance...but the endurance of one's backside for a venture like this is probably only augmented by the doing of it...and in-the-boat training will be scarce until July. Some have opined that if you drive a Mini (a stiff suspension) within the Baltimore City limits (a lunar-esque landscape) as I do, one's posterior is already pretty resilient. But I suspect that I'll need to better simulate the experience...soon...and often. Informed advice in the "comments" column will be welcomed and appreciated; just keep it PG, OK?
Peter's other observation was that I'll be wise to discipline myself to the "30 mile day" objective and not get too carried away by favorable weather or the vodka tonic just around the next bend. He suggests that I get out of the boat whenever I get to 30 miles, even if it's well before dusk...the epiphany being that having adequate recuperative time OUT of the boat will be as important in sustaining the pace on the water.
Now I ask you, is that good advice or what? Peter, you get a pledge pin even though you haven't yet answered the bell on the fundraising.
So the net of it all is that the time and distance so coldly and accurately calculated my my new GPS doodad will need to be complemented by my own sense of "time until" the trip starts and my "distance to" fitness...and while I know I'm behind the curve, it's not as if I'm starting from a point of complete physical degradation. I'll be good to go. You can count on it.
Kathy, as always, thanks for your electronic stewardship of this gig in my absence this week and Peg, just, as always,...thanks. :)
And to you, Gentle Reader, stay aboard. This trip is already more fun with you in the boat.
Latah!
Mr. Frei
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
A Message from Ms. Webmaster
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Pattern Interrupt
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
I'm interrupting my typical pattern of Sunday evening blogs for no particular reason, yet it is worth noting that we have cleared the $3,000 mark in pledges which, you will remember, go to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School. This is an extraordinary sum, considering that we have not made it especially easy for you to pledge. Many of you have emailed your pledges directly to Kathy, some have intercepted Peg or me in person, and still others have emailed me at alfrei@earthlink.net. If you choose to employ any of these resourceful mediums, please make sure that I get your home address so that I can expedite the shipment of your "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" button. They're hot. I draw blood each morning putting mine on, but don't let that deter you. I'm not a morning person.
I do hope that you will take advantage of the "Notify" list (look to the left: there it is!) so that you can get a heads up whenever I update this tome. Just follow the simple directions - as I have not yet been able to do successfully - and you will automatically be kept abreast of The Plan. You are certainly not going to be sitting on the edge of your seat while the launch date is still three months away and, frankly, once I push off, it is not as if I will be heading to Baltimore at breakneck speed. But just knowing you are interested is an incentive of sorts. So sign up.
My journey was almost cut tragically short today, three months before it will begin.
One of my duties as an eighth grade English teacher (under the "other duties as assigned" fine print of my contract) is to help with the end-of-day car pool at school. Picture, Gentle Reader, a phalanx of autos (a high proportion of them SUV's)heading up the hill to our school, driven by anxious moms and dads on tight schedules, many with the ubitiquous cell phone affixed to their ears, jockeying for an advantageous position from which to snatch their sons from our care. It's great fun, actually, and I'm always amazed at the grace and consideration which most of the contestants show for one another and for the the hapless faculty members who masquerade as traffic directors. It imbues in us a false sense of vehicular authority, dressed as we are in our natty end-of-day athletic garb and wielding pedagogical responsibilities for their sons.
Today I made the nearly-fatal mistake of assuming that the halo effect of successful carpool management at school could translate to the mini-mall at the bottom of our hill where I often pick up an early evening latte (a.k.a., a seditive). As I was approaching my car which was parked on the far side of the parking lot, an imposing SUV (Lincoln Navigator? Ford Expedition? Escalade? Whatever. The ground shook.) It headed for me at a pretty good clip. Trapped awkwardly in the middle of the thoroughfare, I casually raised my hand in a smilingly submissive request for a stay of execution - a gesture that works magic in the BL carpool - only to discover that my appeal had a Bizzaro World effect. The SUV charged on, accelerating, it seemed, and I stepped briskly out of the way, safe by scant inches. The SUV shot past me, the faceless drone offering me her own winsome "gesticulation" as she rumbled by.
I'm being overly-dranatic, to be sure, but crimminey, this thing could be over in a heartbeat. So keep the pledges coming and, considering incidents such as these, maybe pre-payment is a good idea?
As Kay, my mentor and friend, sagely displays on her bumper: "Put the cell phone away. You're not that cool."
Latah!
Mr. Frei
I'm interrupting my typical pattern of Sunday evening blogs for no particular reason, yet it is worth noting that we have cleared the $3,000 mark in pledges which, you will remember, go to the Financial Aid budget of The Boys' Latin School. This is an extraordinary sum, considering that we have not made it especially easy for you to pledge. Many of you have emailed your pledges directly to Kathy, some have intercepted Peg or me in person, and still others have emailed me at alfrei@earthlink.net. If you choose to employ any of these resourceful mediums, please make sure that I get your home address so that I can expedite the shipment of your "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" button. They're hot. I draw blood each morning putting mine on, but don't let that deter you. I'm not a morning person.
I do hope that you will take advantage of the "Notify" list (look to the left: there it is!) so that you can get a heads up whenever I update this tome. Just follow the simple directions - as I have not yet been able to do successfully - and you will automatically be kept abreast of The Plan. You are certainly not going to be sitting on the edge of your seat while the launch date is still three months away and, frankly, once I push off, it is not as if I will be heading to Baltimore at breakneck speed. But just knowing you are interested is an incentive of sorts. So sign up.
My journey was almost cut tragically short today, three months before it will begin.
One of my duties as an eighth grade English teacher (under the "other duties as assigned" fine print of my contract) is to help with the end-of-day car pool at school. Picture, Gentle Reader, a phalanx of autos (a high proportion of them SUV's)heading up the hill to our school, driven by anxious moms and dads on tight schedules, many with the ubitiquous cell phone affixed to their ears, jockeying for an advantageous position from which to snatch their sons from our care. It's great fun, actually, and I'm always amazed at the grace and consideration which most of the contestants show for one another and for the the hapless faculty members who masquerade as traffic directors. It imbues in us a false sense of vehicular authority, dressed as we are in our natty end-of-day athletic garb and wielding pedagogical responsibilities for their sons.
Today I made the nearly-fatal mistake of assuming that the halo effect of successful carpool management at school could translate to the mini-mall at the bottom of our hill where I often pick up an early evening latte (a.k.a., a seditive). As I was approaching my car which was parked on the far side of the parking lot, an imposing SUV (Lincoln Navigator? Ford Expedition? Escalade? Whatever. The ground shook.) It headed for me at a pretty good clip. Trapped awkwardly in the middle of the thoroughfare, I casually raised my hand in a smilingly submissive request for a stay of execution - a gesture that works magic in the BL carpool - only to discover that my appeal had a Bizzaro World effect. The SUV charged on, accelerating, it seemed, and I stepped briskly out of the way, safe by scant inches. The SUV shot past me, the faceless drone offering me her own winsome "gesticulation" as she rumbled by.
I'm being overly-dranatic, to be sure, but crimminey, this thing could be over in a heartbeat. So keep the pledges coming and, considering incidents such as these, maybe pre-payment is a good idea?
As Kay, my mentor and friend, sagely displays on her bumper: "Put the cell phone away. You're not that cool."
Latah!
Mr. Frei
