Writing Beats Everything!

Absolutely beats any other activity you can possibly imagine doing. It's exercise for your brain allowing you to stretch and flex. It's exercise. It's fantastic. The feeling you get after a good workout, fill your lungs with air, stretch out your body, jump and skip, sweat and get tired. That's what writing does.

Drawing does that too.

Even doodles free the mind. If you want to doodle. People like to write, but not to draw. It's because of that emphasis in school of writing. It's writing, writing, writing all the time.

I had an art teacher in high school. I don't remember art much, that's because early on, she told me that I'd never be good at it. So I didn't take art classes beyond the first year of high school. I switched to metal workshop.

But I later on learned that there's nothing to be afraid of. Just draw. I learned that the best way to learn is by copying. Isn't that what all children do? Hear what their parents and then imitate it. Isn't that what school children are taught? Read this book and then regurgitate it in an examination.

Why are we so drawn to writing? So much to say, so little time. But still we write and continue to speak. It's better than sitting down to watch television. It occupies like no drug occupies. Fills those long drawn moments whether they be in the morning or in the evening.

And so I'll continue to write and draw because it fills a part of me that nothing else is able to fill. I'm happier when I write. I'm happy when I draw.

I've fallen, but I'm back up again!

Brace yourselves. The pictures you're about to see are quite graphic!

I woke up as normal. My alarm going off at 4:30am, a pleasantly soft and rising tone that eventually turns into a full orchestra blast unless I turn it off. Ten minutes later I got out of bed and proceeded with getting my ration of fluids and taking care of toilet issues. At 5:04am precisely, I was heading out of the apartment into the still dark night.

It was dark, drizzling, but I had my wind-breaker jacket on and even though it was a bit cool, I was comfortable. In my ears, Aretha Franklin was cranking out Jump! Jump! Jump! to it!

In 3 minutes I had reached Eglinton by which time my legs were fully awake, my body bouncing along lightly, and I felt like a god!

I always enjoy that first stretch along Eglinton. It's flat with a slightly downward incline once you cross the intersection at Martin Grove road. This is certainly the best way to wake up the body, at least for me, that early in the morning. The hills will come later. I continued to cruise along Eglinton, not paying attention to anything in particular, listening to my music and keeping my steps light and short, bouncing on my forefoot. Under the 427 highway and now going uphill towards Renforth Avenue where I made a left turn onto Renforth heading south toward Burnhamthorpe Road. It was possibly around 5:30am at this point. But Renforth is nice and quiet. There's enough light from the streetlights that it's easy to see where you're going. And the gentle curves left and right and left and right so that it's not a boring straight path. And it's all downhill with a slight rise as you get towards Burnhamthorpe Road.

Burnhamthorpe is a busy road and after the peace and quiet of Renforth my meditative state was disrupted. I had to pay attention to cars and the occasional person. Burnhamthorpe also runs over highway 427, a bridge, unlike Eglinton which goes under the 427, and so I have to run on the bridge over the speeding cars below. The 4-foot sidewalk is now just the side of the bridge, next to a railing with a long drop to the highway below. I hate looking down at the fast moving traffic going in the opposite direction it makes me feel unbalanced. The same feeling you'd get if you were spinning around on the spot, around and around and around, with your eyes closed and then you stopped and opened them.

It must have been about 5:45, or anyway a little before 6:00, leaving Burnhamthorpe road I turned left on Martin Grove heading now north as though back towards Eglinton. I like this stretch of Martin Grove. Its residential, old residential, with nice looking homes and large trees. Very quaint. Very quiet. At that time in the morning you really can't see the homes, but it's good to be in silence again.

Martin Grove at this time in the morning was indeed very very dark. The sun hadn't risen yet. Martin Grove is lined with old mature trees. Big trees. Tall trees. So the sidewalk was difficult to see in places. The street lights don't penetrate to light up the sidewalk. In some places, I could only faintly make out the sidewalk. It is an uphill run from Burnhamthorpe but even close to an hour of running I still felt normal. As I got closer to the top of the rise I noticed a couple of people ahead walking their dogs.

They're walking away from me.

Not a problem, this isn't new. I see people walking their dogs early in the morning from time to time, especially around Martin Grove, Islington and Kingsway.

If they're walking away from me, in the same direction that I'm running, I step onto the main road, leaving the sidewalk. This is so that I don't startle them as I pass them. It's also because in nearly all cases, the dogs are scampering about in front of them, on a long, long, long leash. I've found that dog owners are selfish this way. A sidewalk is barely capable of allowing three people to walk comfortably side by side, let alone two people passing each other in opposite directions trying to avoid bumping into each other, but dog owners believe, have strong convictions, that they alone in the universe own any sidewalk, or space for that matter, that they find themselves in. So in most cases, the dog's owner is normally well behind, either smoking, or talking on a cell phone, with dog scampering about at the end of a leash that's a mile long.

If I pass by the walker, startle him, or her, I'm then between the walker and the dog. And dog's get excited when they see you running. It's a call to play for them. But they're also especially protective of their owners, and if they see their owner startled, or the least bit frightened, they move into attack mode.

So I've made it a habit to step onto the road to pass any dog and their walkers, especially when its early in the morning. If they have their backs to me. On the other hand, if they're walking towards me they'll see me coming, I'll look at them, they'll look at me, and if I see them pull the leash to control their dog, then I might stay on the sidewalk. Sometimes they might just continue staring at me, in which case I'll point out that obvious rudeness by stepping off the sidewalk onto the road. Sometimes I make a point of running right in the middle of the road and looking over nervously at the dog. I've had a few run-ins with dogs so I don't take any chances.

Back to the story.

There I am, running up Martin Grove. I see the couple, and dogs and they can't see me. It's dark. I can barely make out the sidewalk so its time to leave the sidewalk and run on the road. It's going to be perfectly safe, there are no cars on the road and I'll be under the street lights instead of running in the dark. All positive advantages.

As I'm passing a house on my left, I decide to run down its driveway to my right which slopes nicely to the road. But I step to the right a little too early and my foot trips on something, possibly the edge of the driveway where it meets the lawn. It takes less than a second to fly face down to the ground. My hands don't even have time to react and I land on my left side. My face hits the ground somewhere above my left eye and I feel the asphalt, almost taste it. My left hand is still facing inwards so my knuckles also hit asphalt. My right hand slides forward to control the fall, too late.

My right knee takes most of the hit. I don't know how that happens because I mostly fall on my left side. My left leg lands well, straight.

 

But I pick myself up quickly, take inventory and start running again, slowly. I find it difficult to breathe because my left hand landed under my ribs and they're sore. It's difficult taking deep breaths, so I take short, shallow breaths. Each time I breathe deeply, it hurts and so I sip the air. I contemplate walking but I'm too far from home. At Rathburn Road I turn right, heading towards Kipling, which I pass and on to Islington. It's about 2 or 2.5 K from where I fell till I get to Islington, and by that time my right knee has stopped really hurting. Thoughts of stopping and walking have subsided so I feel mentally relaxed again. I'm able to complete my morning run.

I manage to run all the way home, and that's when I see the damage that was done. My right leg is bleeding all the way down into my socks. That looks like a lot of blood but surprisingly I don't feel too much pain. I stretch my knee and it feels sore, but not broken. My kneecap feels OK. That would have been a worry, any leg injury would be a worry to a runner. I have to wash my clothes then shower have a quick bite and head into work. After my shower, trying my best to wash my knee I notice that there are two especially deep cuts, holes, in my knee. They continue to drip blood.

I bandage the wound because it won't stop bleeding. By the time I get to work, the bandage that I put on is soaked through and there's a patch of blood on my jeans near the knee.

 
I change the dressing in our wellness room at work. It also gets bloody in less than 30 minutes.

 
By 10:00am I decide the best thing to do is remove the bandage and air the wound. So I roll up my jeans, remove the dressing and allow the wound to have some air. Blood is still coming out from the lower part of the knee. There's an especially deep hole in one of those wounds. It's dripping slowly. I use napkins to keep wiping the blood that's dripping down my leg. By noon I'm getting a bit worried. The wound hasn't dried up. It's getting harder to walk. I'm lucky that the only meetings I have are in my office so nobody can see under my desk where my jeans are still rolled up to my thigh.

 
By 3:00pm I've made up my mind to go to the walk-in clinic after work. I decide to go to the one at Richview near my apartment. I get there after work, close to 7:00pm. Once again the dressing I put on just before I left work bled through. After a relatively short wait, short for a clinic or any type of hospital, the doctor comes and sees me. He asks a few questions, puts on a glove and gingerly touches the knee, asks me if I think I need x-rays, if I think I've broken anything. I answer in the negative. I don't think anything is broken. He finally gives his recommendation, or prescription, which seems fairly obvious. Just keep cleaning the wound, keep applying Polysporin to help healing, changing dressings. If things don't look any better in a couple of days, return and see him. He also advises that I should take a tetanus shot, a booster he calls it. He then walks out saying that the nurse would be there to clean the wound for me and give me the booster.

The nurse is extremely gentle as she cleans my wound. Applying almost no pressure just soaking a piece of gauze in antiseptic and laying it on the wound. Not scrubbing at all. She uses long q-tips to apply generous amounts of a gel on the wound. I'm assuming that was Polysporin. And finally does a professional job bandaging my knee. She then does the same for my knuckles.

I'm still worried about the upcoming booster shot. Needles are not my favourite and I have particular memory of a vaccine that I received at Kenyatta Hospital in Kenya a long time ago. I must have been close to 12 years old but the pain I felt still reverberates 37 years later. Like the big bang that created the universe. The nurse prepared the needle, it looked small, non-threatening. I tried to laugh, joke about the pain factor, nervous. She asks me which arm I'd like it on. I say my right arm. I ask her if it will hurt. She tells me that the pain goes away in a couple of days. She then asks me which hand I write with. I tell her that I use my right hand. She says that perhaps we should inject the left arm. My brain wonders what kind of pain wouldn't allow me to keep writing. I don't tell her that I use both arms since I mostly type these days. I take my left arm out of my shirt. She proceeds cleaning a spot on my upper arm, takes the syringe, grabs my arm and after taking a few breaths (she takes the breaths since I'm holding mine) says, "here it is!"

The needle's a non-event. I feel nothing. Other than a tiny pin prick, there's no pain at all. I've felt more pain sneezing, and there's much more pain still on my left side when I breathe.

It's been at least 5 hours and I still don't feel any pain in my left arm. Perhaps tomorrow.

Terrorism in Nairobi

On Saturday September 21 while shoppers were enjoying a nice outing at one of Nairobi's best malls, terror struck. A number of terrorists threw a bomb into the mall and proceeded to fire on innocent shoppers.

Within a short time we were getting reports that there were twenty confirmed dead people. That number proceeded to increase and by Monday morning the news was that there were sixty-eight people confirmed dead. By Monday morning, the Kenya police and the Kenya army who had been trying to flush out the terrorists still hadn't captured the terrorists.

Sometime during the day on Saturday, the day it all started, the Al Shabaab terrorist group claimed responsibility for the killing. From what I've gathered, this was in retaliation for the invasion of Somalia by Kenyan forces. An invasion caused by the instability around the Kenya-Somali border.

By Monday, I was still waiting to hear what the Al Shabaab group wanted. They had some hostages in the mall but weren't making demands of any kind. Unlike most terrorist strikes, this one is quite bizarre. You'd expect the mayhem and havoc to result in maximum casualties at which end the terrorists would escape, die on site, or demand some sort of ransom, at least so that they can get out.

Not in this case. Not a peep from them. In fact, the single terrorist that was captured died of his injuries in hospital -- or was it before he got there? I forget.

In any case this attack is different from the one that Al Qaeda claimed responsibility for in the attack on the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi. Two hundred people lost their lives in that one in a single bombing. That's the sort of terrorism you mostly hear about. The quick in-and-out type. Not this siege that lasts days and days. Seems sort of medieval. I realise that the police and the army don't want to rush in and cause more innocent civilians to die, but given the fact that the terrorists area holed up inside a Nakumat store in the mall, they will have plenty of food and water.

A friend of mine told  me that religion poisons everything. He took this from Christopher Hitchens I'm sure. I've read the book. I read that on the Saturday that the terrorists walked into the mall, they asked all the Muslims to leave shooting at the non-Muslims. They supposedly identified the Muslims by asking them a question. The question was, "who was Muhammad's mother?" So clearly this was a religious war, whether the Muslim organisations will believe it to be so. If Christians were to walk into an establishment and start shooting Muslims, of course by first validating the Christians by asking them who was Jesus' mother, that would also be a religious war. It would also be a great time for good Christians to reconsider their choice of faith.

Kenya still sits in a precarious position as far as Al Shabaab is concerned. Even though there are many Somali Muslims who live in Kenya, many who were born there, many who run successful businesses there, including many who hold high government positions, it's still problematic that Kenya is so accessible to Al Shabaab.

President Uhuru Kenyatta came out with strong words during the crisis. He told Kenyans that we would not be intimidated by this act. In his words, "terrorism in and of itself, is a philosophy of cowards." This I totally agree with. Especially in the case of Al Shabaab where religious fanaticism has blinded an entire group of people. I find this disturbing. We are all brainwashed to some extent to follow some herd mentality. Whether it's in the way we obey western values, how we conduct ourselves, our business, raise our children or practise spirituality. Nobody stands alone. Is unique. Is one of a kind. But religious fanaticism is threat especially in the hands of maniacs.

A Dr. Seuss Day

My hat is old

My teeth are gold

I have a bird I like to hold

My shoe is off

My foot is cold

(c) Dr. Seuss

I had one of those days where words were just running through my mind. Wordless words, jumbled up, but making some sort of sense. Like the words above. I didn't know what was going on. Spinning out of control, not knowing if I'm going forward, if I'm making any progress at all, or if I've stalled. Nothing seems to be going.

The enemies have pitched their tents outside my castle and they're waiting for me to come out.

My shoe is off

My foot is cold

I have a bird I like to hold

My hat is old

My teeth are gold

And now my story is all told

(c) Dr. Seuss

Time to get out of under my skin and see what's really out there.

All Night Dancing!

When you get the feelin' deep inside your bones

Dancin' is the thing to do

Step into the lights, it'll take you to new heights

Dancin' is the thing that you do

Fantasize that you're the greatest

Close your eyes and make believe

You know you can do the latest dance

So dance with me, won't you do it with me

All night dancin'

I think about it all day long

All night dancing

Think about it all day long

Copyright: Lipps Inc 1981

That song's been buzzing around my head all morning. Forgot how good it was to dance to that music. What a group!

I'm on a running spree. Covering an easy 14.28 k every morning during the week and adding a couple more k's for the weekend. So far I'm healthy and injury free. I had hamstring tendinitis on my left leg which seems to have eased off by sitting on a tennis ball at work all day! Now I'm dealing with a problem with my right Achilles tendon. I suspect that a good stretching session will take care of it. It's all thanks to a change in my running form.

If I knew then, what I know now! Hindsight is 20/20! As clear as a cool northern brook. As obvious as a hangover after a night of shots. How youth is wasted on the young.

By changing my running technique to follow a more forefoot/mid-foot strike, my knees have miraculously healed themselves and my running has relaxed. It's about finding the dots (which I'll explain one day).

That's me above, I think it's close to the tunnel, finishing the Mississauga Marathon in 2013. As you can clearly see, I'm landing on my heels. I was tired and it's natural that I'm not as springy towards the end of a 42.2 k run as I would be near the start. But I'm noticing that if I concentrate on form even when I'm tired, I'm able to conserve energy and move a bit smoother.

Fantasize that you're the greatest

Close your eyes and make believe

Because when you're tired, you forget form. You forget all about your posture. You have to consciously remember to relax, get off your heels, and step back lightly.

The theory is that when you land on your forefoot, or mid-foot, there's minimal vertical impact. Minimal braking force. When you land on your heels, it's as if you're applying a braking force with each step. As though you're pressing on the accelerator and the brakes at the same time.

The ankle is plantar flexed (as opposed to dorsiflexed) when it lands. It lands close to the centre of gravity, not in front as it would in the braking motion. The body is moving horizontally above the landed foot. As the heel starts to come down to the ground, the Achilles stretches (loading like stretching a rubber band or a spring).

Then the body moves over the foot, not too much vertical motion. As it prepares for take-off, the Achilles shrinks back, lifting the heel off the ground.

The energy that the Achilles gets from stretching is then released as it shrinks. Allowing the toes to push off. The other foot is swinging forward on its own. Not because of force from the hamstrings. It will land also near the centre of gravity, not forcing itself forward and stretching out.

Source: https://sites.sas.upenn.edu/biol438/files/barefoot_running.pdf

It's about finding the dots. The simple way of doing things. The atomic, essence of the thing. And in running, this means the simplicity of slowing down and taking easy steps.

Think of skipping. You can't do that on your heels.

Think of dancing.

Wilson Kipsang breaks marathon world record.

I missed the race. Then again, Canadian television wouldn't waste a couple of hours showing a person running. It's OK that they would waste four, five, six or an entire day showing the Blue Jays spitting tobacco while trying to convince the world that they're athletes, but not running.

What Wilson Kipsang did on that sunny Sunday morning in Berlin is quite amazing. 2 hours, 3 minutes and 23 seconds to run 42.2 km. I'm very impressed. Then again, I was also impressed when Patrick Makau ran the same distance in 2 hours 3 minutes and 38 seconds. 15 seconds slower than Wilson Kipsang.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/30/sports/kenyan-wilson-kipsang-sets-world-record-at-berlin-marathon.html

Paul Tergat was the first ever recorded to run under 2:05. And that's on a World Official Marathon course. I say recorded since you can be almost certain that others have run that distance, under that time, just not recognised or recorded. But a World Marathon official course is a good thing otherwise Boston would be the home of record breaking, not Berlin.

And a 2:05 is damned impressive. That's 125 minutes to run 42,200 metres. Or 7,500 seconds to run 42,200 metres, which boils down to just under 5.63 metres per second.

More statistics.

Tergat was running each kilometer in just under 3 minutes. And for those of you who haven't scaled to the heights of metric thinking, that's under 5 minutes per mile. Roger Bannister first broke the 4-minute mile in 1954. And that's running at top steam for a single mile. Tergat ran 26 of them in under 5 minutes each!

And Wilson Kipsang was even more impressive. As far as I know nobody has yet run a marathon under 2:03. But it's going to happen. I can feel it in my bones. As I sit here and breathe, a 2:03 will happen soon. After the race, Wilson Kipsang said that he felt fine and that he could have gone quicker. Looking at how he pulled away at 35k, I believe him.

But let's not forget the women in Berlin as we drool over how well the men did. Berlin isn't the home of the Women's world record, that would be London. That one safely in the hands of Britain's Paula Radcliffe. I think it will be quite some time till someone comes around to snatch that record out of her hands. The closest anyone's come to her world record time of 2:15:25 is Kenya's Catherine Ndereba who held the record for a year when she won the Chicago Marathon in 2:18:47. More than three minutes slower. In Berlin the women's winner was Florence Kiplagat who finished in 2:21:13. Not quite a world record, but impressive all the same. More impressive despite the fact that she had a blister in her right foot that forced her to slow down. This is the second time that Florence Kiplagat has won Berlin and in her interview said that she'd be back again. Unlike Kipsang, Kiplagat said that the race was tough. Not only did her blister bother her but the conditions were very windy from about 25 K onwards. In any case, that's all history. She has the cash, all $54,000 of it.