Signals, Calls, and Marches

Not Quite the Easy Weekend

2008-07-14T12:41:00.001-07:00

Photo by Naz Hamid

And just like that, the despondency in my veins from last week has evaporated. Spent Saturday morning working on the thesis, just listening to the rain fall outside. I'd woken up early to go to Metropolis with the crew, with a ride to follow, but precipitation has its ways and we called it off. So, I hung out at home, got some work done and relaxed – no pressure. At noon, I went for an easy ride to Glencoe and just rode to enjoy the ride. I had my PowerTap on, but I stuck a Post-It on top of the display, just so I wouldn't be tempted into gassing it or taking it too easy – I just wanted to ride my bike and take in the sights.

Got home, cleaned-up, and Allison and I went out walking. Wandered around the neighborhood, went to Berger Park (or Cheeseburger Patch) and went to Ethiopian Diamond for dinner. The food sat not at all right with Allison, so we went home and watched Control, a dramatization of Ian Curtis of Joy Division's life.

Sunday, I woke up at 3:55 AM so that I could get to Naz's place where Dave Bowers picked the both of us up for the Hampshire Time Trial that our team, Half Acre Cycling, helped run. As a team, we are required to host an event in order to maintain our USA Cycling certification and the time trial fit the bill. The volunteers I conscripted bailed, which hurt my chances to race, but no matter, what was important that things would go off without a hitch.

After a drive with the sun rising in the rear view mirror, we made it to Hampshire at about 5:45. Dave and I got our bikes off the back of the car and rode around in the lot 'til the organizer showed up. Bob Meinig was already there waiting for us and he let me try out his sweet time trial rig. The air was cool and there was already a strong wind blowing from the west – weather conditions more familiar to early April than mid-July.

The organizer showed up shortly and put us to work – I was tasked with assembling the staging area and platform with Bob, Naz and Dave were to drive around and place signage on the course. Kevin Clark, Helge, Ryan Thormann, and others started arriving and soon enough we had a good crew, all looking at each other for instruction and throwing rocks at anyone who ventured into the nearby cornfield to evacuate their bladders.

By 9, all setup work was done and we were assigned corners to watch and direct traffic. Bob and I rode to our station about four miles away, Corner 3, and set up camp. We were joined shortly by Dan Labovitch and Helge, who supplied us all with orange safety vests and flags – we looked the part of a highway crew, albeit with skinny, shaved legs. Shortly, the first racers came through and our real work had begun – as our station was on a somewhat busy road, we had to stop cars coming in three different directions so that cyclists could come through without stopping. Most drivers were understanding, but a few shouted at us, cussed us out, or just floored the gas as they accelerated past us as we let them go.

The disregard these drivers have for someone who has just stopped them for less than a minute so that a bicycle race could proceed is amazing. Luckily, most people aren't sociopaths behind the wheel, and my faith in humanity was assured by some people who waved and smiled at us as we let them through after a cyclist turned the corner. Thank you, whoever you are.

After a bit, racers started coming back through the course and we waved them through the minefield of gravel (kibble!) that littered the middle of the intersection. One cyclist, buried deep in the pain that is time trialing, missed the corner, overcorrected and endoed over his bike onto the pavement. He got up, but could hardly walk as he'd landed mostly on his butt. Luckily, it seemed that he wasn't badly hurt, but I was dreading the 911 call that I had my phone out to make. His bike, a ~$5,000 Cervelo, had a broken seat post and likely other, less obvious, damage. Helge drove him to the start and made sure he made it to first aid.

By 11, the last of the riders had gone out and we were waiting patiently for them to roll back on in. Saw Ben Popper, Mike Hemme, and a bunch of the Half Acre team really tear it up and eventually we got the word that our services were consummated and that we could come back in to the finish line. Bob and I struggled back in the wind – at 15 MPH, in the crosswind, I could hardly ride straight and I was pushing 280 watts – I couldn't imagine how my numbers would've looked if I were racing.

After breaking everything down, we were free to go. Got back to the city around 3 and after a short, pleasant ride up Clark, I was home, showered and on the couch for a nap.

Eh.

2008-07-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

Full of the self-loathing, bile and spit right now. The only thing keeping me on the bike right now is cyclocross in the fall. I've posted up a schedule of the races I've done/am planning to do, and they're all the light at the end of the tunnel right now. I am in dire need of some fun social time on the bike – my schedule's not afforded me much of that, but I'm aiming to change that up this week.

I am doing the Hampshire TT tomorrow, which I am kinda afraid of doing. I feel like I'll be slow as a drugged sloth and that I won't deserve to wear the skinsuit that's sitting, unworn, in my kit drawer. But, I'm doing it anyway, 'cause I like time-trialing. I've given up on mass-start road races – I've seen too many bad crashes and the risk/reward payoff, at least for me, is nil. I've won some big races, and I've found my true bike-love in the form of 'cross. I'll let big guns such as Chris Padfield take on and slaughter those squirrels in the crits – he's faster than me and I don't like losing to friends.

Oh, and despite my better judgment, I've registered for the 200K Insane Terrain Challenge up in Wisconsin. 12,400 feet of climbing over 121 miles. The longest I've ever ridden is 90 miles, so this might prove to be one humiliating day on the bike. But, I've paid my entry fee, and I've got friends in the ride, so there ain't no backing out now. I figure it's going to be a 7-8 hour day on the bike – I'm going to push hard with any comers, so if I can get below 7, maybe 6.5, I'll be really happy. Maybe I'll just keel over on some hill and they can drag my carcass into a ditch and leave me for good. That way I won't have to complete the damn thing and I won't have to ride a bike ever again.

Punk Rock

2008-07-08T20:02:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, back in 2001, me, Russ and Kevin put together a band, with music influenced by the Mushuganas and reruns of the Kids in the Hall. Musically we played mediocre-to-competent sloppy punk rock, lyrically, we were rather deficient (I never got around to writing lyrics, so I just screamed a lot.) Our one redeeming trait, was that we found a schtick: we named ourselves after Oil Can Boyd, a player for the Expos, who was known for more his name than his outright ability to play. Adding to this gimmick, we played most of our shows in sports uniforms that we bought from Play it Again Sports or thriftshops. We would toss out Big League Chew to the audience, elicit fights, and would hand out baseball cards to our fans. I played guitar, Russ bass, Kevin on drums. Kevin would make funny faces when playing fast and I earned a drumstick to the head one time for making a mockery of him. I deserved it.

For some reason, we actually earned something of a fanbase, which was made up mostly of our friends. It was a good time and I miss playing in the band terribly. Oil Can Boyd gets brought up with some regularity, most often by me, and if I had my druthers, I'd still be doing it. The only reason we stopped was that our work schedules couldn't really fit the band in, plus Kevin was in Death in Graceland, Russ in a precursor to Voyageur, so our joke band became less a priority. We played something of a reunion show back in 2005 at the Warner House basement, our setlist consisting of the song "Oil Can Boyd" four times and I think "Boomer Esiason's Son..."

Favorite show? Probably at the 2001 "JamFest" in the Cheviot Fieldhouse, which was broadcast live on Public Access. Russ said some terrible things; I acted the rockstar. One of my favorite nights ever. We played "Oil Can Boyd" three times at the end and I jumped over the fence separating the audience from the stage.

I have a copy of the CD we recorded in storage in my dad's basement, but imagine my pleasure and surprise when I discovered that someone went through the effort to rip our album and load it onto Mediafire. Click here and download it and try to imagine me, 21 and with hair, playing shitty punk rock in a suburban basement. Few things are less important in the makeup of who I am as a person.

Oh, the Media!

2008-06-24T15:39:00.000-07:00

My guilty (or not so!) pleasure Gawker, just featured a most-excellent blog post on getting a media/journalism job in NYC, and the extreme difficulties of earning such employment. Certainly, I don't live in NYC, but the point is still the same: it's hard as hell to get a job, meaningful or otherwise, in the media world without connections. Oh, and a desire, or rather a willingness, to work for free or below-subsistence wages helps, too.

Here are some of my favorite comments:

1) Temp.
2) Do not ever, ever, ever, get sick, start planning for retirement, or need a vacation.
3) Repeat.

Kiss. Lots. Of. Ass.

Nepotism. I wish I was kidding.

and for advice that's a bit more helpful:

You start by freelancing. Editors everywhere are desperate for copy. Pitch good stories and they will publish them. Give them a list of your best ideas. Get your name in print. Stay current. Don't submit clips that are more than one month old. Meet people. Make connections. Nobody gives a f%&^ about your resume. Just deliver the goods and you will get paid. End of story.

This made me depressed, though:

If at 26 you just had to do your internship, then I think it's time to go look for another career or profession. There's always law school and b-school.

Being 28 is for suckers.

Gapers Block

2008-06-19T05:38:00.000-07:00

I've just now realized that I haven't yet gotten around to crowing about my gig covering cycling in Chicagoland for Gapers Block. My beat is the sport of cycling, which encompasses road, 'cross, mountain, track, advocacy, and so on. It's a bit overwhelming trying to sort through all the information out there, without stepping on the toes of some of the other discipline-specific sites such as Chicago Bike Racing.

I do plan on incorporating some interviews and profiles on Chicago bike racers, from Cat. 5 to Pro – if you're interested in stepping-up, let me know.

Thinking About 'Cross

2008-06-18T19:05:00.000-07:00

For the year so far: 4243 miles, 254 hours. Time to incorporate intensity, reduce durations, and get myself together for 'cross. Last year was a disappointment, if not just because I didn't get to do all the races that I wanted to do. This year, however, things are going to be a bit different. The new team and the tons of awesome races this fall are going to conspire against complete and utter suckage. It's hard to bag out of going to a race, especially a local one, if 20 of your teammates and friends from other teams are there as well.

Also, I'm pumped about the Ohio Valley CX series. A weekend of UCI racing in Cincinnati is going to have me and a whole gaggle of Chicagoans coming down to tear it up. Plus, the Louisville/Lexington USGP races are worth the drive. Looks like I'll be back home more than I thought this fall. At least I get to do my laundry for free.

I'm also starting to incorporate short, intense runs into my weekly regimens. I run for 30 minutes and then go for about a 1-1.5 hour hard ride. Afterward, I'm whupped, but refreshed in the way that only running can do, strange enough.

Hey! Pittsburgh!

2008-06-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

Lest I forget, I actually have a blog here that I need to post on occasionally.

I've had a hectic two weeks. I spent this past weekend in Pittsburgh, watching my cousin Isaac Ward get hitched to a Gina Martino. Their wedding is the second of four that I am obliged to attend this summer. Next up is Kevin M.'s to Gena and then Ben Popper's extravaganza (bike-themed?) to Julie Eisenhardt. It's good to see everyone in wedded (or soon-to-be) bliss, but thank god for good buffets to make up for driving half-way across the country every couple of weeks. I kid, of course.

One thing nice about going to Pittsburgh was that I was able to spend some time getting acquainted with the city in more than a cursory manner. Allison and I came in Thursday night with David Oresick, a classmate of Allison's, who also incidentally has the nicest parents besides my own. They fed Allison and I and gave us a place to crash. Curtis Mann and Brooke stayed there a night, too, on a long trip back from NYC, and they said the same: that the Oresick Manor is the place to be in Steel City.

On Friday morning, I went for a good run through Highland Park and explored the reservoirs at the top of the hill. The hill leading up to the reservoir was a killer, just as steep as anything in Cincinnati. I was planning on bringing my bike, but I decided that the hassle of lugging a bike around wasn't worth it, considering that I wasn't even sure how much time I would have (and how well I would feel). After showering, eating and packing-up, Allison, David and I were off to the Carnegie International for the biennial Life on Mars art exhibit.

There was so much to see at the Carnegie, but favorite pieces were Cavemanman by Thomas Hirschorn
, Matthew Monahan's The Feral, and Barry McGee's graffiti/video work (which featured Eddy Merckx content!) After seeing most of what there was to see, Allison and I left David and went off to meet my brothers who had gotten into town and were at the hotel. After getting lost and confused in the non-gridded street plan of Pittsburgh, Allison and I found where we were staying and met up with Ian, Eric, and Eric's girlfriend Kemen. Long story short, Eric and I coerced Ian into jumping into the Allegheny River in an effort to catch a football. Ian cut himself on some rusty metal and then freaked-out when we noticed the signs warning of sewage in the water after rainstorms, which incidentally, had come through earlier that day. So far Ian's not turned septic, so I think we have little to worry about.

After our return to the hotel, we all went down to what is supposedly Pittsburgh's best pizza place for dinner. We arrived later than most everyone else, but we still managed to eat and drink like pigs. Once things winded down, we stumbled back to the hotel and passed-out. In the morning, I went running again, explored the parks on the southern side of the Allegheny and enjoyed a quiet time by myself, sweating and listening to the sounds of my shoes slapping against the sidewalk. Running, for all its annoyances, is in certain ways so much more enjoyable than cycling. All you need is a pair of shoes, easily packed, some shorts, and that's it. No fuss with dragging a bike, kit, tools, helmet, shoes, etc. around. Just shoes and shorts and 45 free minutes.

The run made me hungry, and it was 9:30, so I woke up my brothers and Allison and we went downstairs and got breakfast. Ian told us of wandering around the hotel at 4 A.M. and hanging out with the hotel employees preparing the breakfast and of reading the newspaper when it first arrived – I may wake early, buhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gift not nearly so early as he. I at least wait until the sun's risen.

With our bellies full of tolerable food, we were off to the Mattress Factory Art Museum. The main exhibit titled "Inner and Outer Space" consisted of riffs on space, place and what it means to navigate and move through the world. I enjoyed being there by Mark Garry, which consisted of a rainbow made-up of colored threads beaming down from the ceiling to the floor to the wall. Got spooked by the permanent exhibitions, especially Pleiades, but Eric ruined the effect of floating in the vacuum of space by opening his cellphone up and killing my dark vision. Thanks. After lunch, we messed with the outdoor water feature, and then looked at bad art at the auxiliary Mattress Factory museum down the street.

That night was the wedding and I, and my brothers, and Allison and Kemen, burned off our dinner and drinks through some of the most ferocious and violent dancing around. The ceremony itself was beautiful, and short and sweet, just as weddings should be. Passed out at around 1:00, just from sheer exhaustion.

Sunday morning, we all gathered together downstairs for brunch and Father's Day with my grandfather. I ate mostly fruit to make up for Saturday night's dinner of BBQ chicken, macaroni and cheese and cake. Said goodbye to my family about 100 times per person and Allison and I were off to pick up David. After retrieving him and enjoying some food at his parent's, we were finally on the road back to Chicago.

The Heat

2008-06-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

Did a 50-ish ride with some guys from Campus last night. Rolled down onto Rt. 8 in Kentucky, up a huge hill (and then some) and felt like absolute garbage. I'll blame it squarely on the heat: here in Cincinnati, highs have been around 93 F° and near 100% humidity. Hellish conditions for sitting outside; misery on the bike, climbing a 15% grade at 12 MPH. I felt strong enough that I could crank at 300 watts on the flats, but any time I tried to snap things with a sprint, I started cramping up, even with plenty of water.

I did see 195 BPM on the heart-rate monitor while climbing up Uhl Road in Silver Grove, KY, so let's assume that I was going pretty hard. I certainly felt every single beat.

I took today off (and missed Mark Hooton's latest alleycat) because I didn't get back until just a little while ago from Athens. Tomorrow though, I'll probably repeat yesterday's route, but also take it into Ohio via the Anderson Ferry and through the Westside. 75-85 miles, and I'll be happy.

Numbers (Goodbye)

2008-06-06T18:08:00.000-07:00

So, I guess it must be clear that I'm not a numbers person.

Had the big meeting with my thesis committee this afternoon at 1. I was asked some hard questions, gave a few lousy answers, but hashed out the remaining bit of research that'll earn me my M.S. To make a long story short, my thesis has become less a content analysis which would entail deep, close counting of paragraphs and sentences with mentions of organic agriculture, and moreso a textual analysis, which would be more "open-ended" and curious as to the types of framing that stories about organic agriculture receive.

I have about five pages of notes that I have to go through, but my project's been streamlined to such an extent that I'll not have a problem with finishing it by my August 1st deadline. Yes, I've been saying similar things for a while now, but this time I'm for real. My lit review and preliminary research is so complete that with just some changes to accommodate the suggestions from today and a citation conversion, it's almost a copy-n-paste jobber into my thesis.

I'm still doing a basic count of articles about organic ag., but I'm looking just at articles with first-order prominence of the topic, i.e. organic ag. is mentioned in the first five paragraphs, in the hed, dek, pull-quotes, or any infographic. Same with if the cover mentions something on the topic – I consider that now, too.

What I'm really excited about is the opportunity to do some close textual analyses of the texts, with discussion paid to the corporate hegemony of the farming industry (including farming magazines), the social and fiscal economies of farming, and so on. I'm thinking out the list, and upon return to Chicago, I'm cracking open my books on social and literary theory in hopes of gleaning some additional insight into these systems.

Yes, it's confusing stuff and mostly theoretical, but it'll all come together. Hopefully.

Gads...

2008-06-04T07:22:00.000-07:00

Just got word from my thesis committee that I am to meet with them this Friday at 1 p.m. in Athens to defend my work thus far and receive a heaping of constructive criticism. Finally. I've been in a sort of limbo for the past month, just waiting for the word and spinning my wheels as I try to sort out the next stage of my thesis and my life.

But with that, I won't be in Chicago for the next three weekends. I have a friend's wedding shower to attend to this weekend, plus I'll probably spend a couple of days with the parents, eating their food and spending time with my friends and eating their food as well. Then I'll come back to Chicago for several days, only to leave again on Thursday for Pittsburgh for my cousin Isaac's wedding. Allison wants to scope out some museums, ala our trip to NYC, and since Pittsburgh is an awesome town, I'm game. The bike is coming along, too.

Then, after we get back, it's back down to Cincinnati on the weekend of the 20/21 for another wedding, this one for the couple whose shower I'm attending this weekend. After that, I'm back in Chicago for a while – and a good thing at that. Traveling's great and all, but at the same time, it's nice to spend a weekend in Chicago, going to markets and spending quality time with friends.

So, to all those who feel snubbed by my recent absenteeism, I'm sorry.

NYC

2008-05-28T19:48:00.001-07:00

I had a whole post ready to go on my first day in NYC, but I decided to delete it and start anew. More Twitterish than expository – me and Allison did so much, that I really feel that I can't describe it all without writing a complete volume of books. Not that everything I did was interesting; rather, our time was spent in constant motion with few respites for tired legs and blistered feet.

Tuesday 5/27

1:30 Got to the chateau VC, unpacked, relaxed.
2:00 Walked around the corner to a mediocre Mediterranean restaurant
2:45 Walked into Central Park, rolled around on the grass, griped.
3:00 Entered the Guggenheim and caught the last day of Cai Guo-Qiang's amazing and incendiary (rimshot!) show.
6:00 Went to Union Square, ate mediocre but delicious and filling Mexican food
8:00 Wandered around, went into The Strand and walked out with some Mailer and Sam Harris
10:00 Went back to the CVC, passed-out

Wednesday 5/28

7:30 Woke up, had breakfast with our hosts, went for a run along Riverside Park
9:00 Woke up Allison, got ready to go out
10:00 Out the door, walked through Central Park to the Whitney Museum of American Art for the Whitney Biennial
1:00 Left the Whitney a bit disappointed by said art, went back to the house for lunch
2:30 Went downtown to Times Square to brave the unwashed masses, discovered the beauty and deliciousness of Mr. Softee
5:00 Hung out around Rockefeller Center, bravely resisting the Mr. Softee truck parked on the corner
5:02 Broke down and bought some more Mr. Softee, I think chocolate.
5:03 Felt guilty, but yet, incredibly happy.
5:04 Jogged in place and hassled Allison in an effort to burn off some more calories in anticipation of further tastes of Mr. Softee later in the evening.
6:30 Met with Nate and Heather from Allison's program in order to see an exhibition of one of Allison's professor's work
7:30 Realized that we had the date wrong, went for dinner at a mediocre Cuban restaurant in Greenwich Village.
9:00 Ate some GROM gelato in Washington Square Park
11:00 Walked around for a while, went home

5/29 Thursday
7:30 Woke up, ran, hung out with the hosts
9:00 Allison finally got out of the bed and got herself together
10:00 Maintenance guys came and fixed a window, hung out for a bit
11:00 Off to Chelsea for an afternoon of gawking in galleries – saw some bad work, saw some good work, ate more Mr. Softee.
4:00 Walked around Wall Street, then went to Battery Park where we watched the sun start to set, marveled at some skateboarders and peered in the WTC hole
7:00 Got lost on our way to meet Allison's ex-roommate from undergraduate days for dinner in the LES. Got Mr. Softee afterward.

5/30 Friday
8:30 Woke up, ran
9:30 Got out of the house, went for a walk with Allison for a while in Central Park
11:00 Ate a light lunch of guacamole, bread and apples
12:00 Took the train back downtown to the International Center of Photography and saw some amazing work, especially that of
4:00 Went to MoMA for Free Fridays, almost got kicked out of the sculpture garden for freestyle walking on a rail
5:30 Met with Nate and Heather again, ate in some cafeteria 'cause we were dying of hunger
6:00 Went to the Southport Sea Festival to see Wire, one of my favorite bands, play an absolutely explosive set for FREE.
9:00 Met up with Allison's ex, George, who took us to Brooklyn to a bar called Enid's. Got completely lost on the way, but we entertained ourselves by freestyle walking on various shrubs, planters, and chains. "90& of survey respondents say that Enid's is the next street...Oh, should've listened to the other 10%" Had a few, freestyle walked on some more planters; ate some awesome pizza. George and I caused trouble at a party and then Allison dragged me home to Manhattan.
2:30 Passed out exhausted

5/31 Saturday
9:00 Woke up, didn't run
10:00 Got Allison up for a walk to the New Wave Cafe for an awesome brunch – I had a Greek omelette.
11:00 Walked around Central Park for the last time and I complained about my coccyx and the topography of the rock we were sitting upon
11:30 Bought some bagels at H.H., cleaned up our room, packed-up and hailed a cab to Laguardia
5:00 Got back to Chicago, ate dinner and bought groceries.

I'll go more into detail later, but this is more a placeholder just so I can remember how we spent the past couple of days terrorizing NYC to the best of our abilities. To all that live there: you have an amazing city.

NYC

2008-05-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Allison's parents, who were generous enough to get me a plane ticket for my birthday with some unused frequent flyer miles, I am off to NYC tomorrow for five days. We're staying at a friend's parent's house in Manhattan, just steps from Central Park, which is pretty much incredible. Our itinerary includes tours of every single major art museum, including the Whitney Biennial, The Met, MoMA, ad infinitum (and by day three, likely ad nauseum.) That's Allison's itinerary, at least. Me? I'm content with an afternoon in some used book stores, hunting down some first-edition J.G. Ballard, followed by bagels sandwiching plain cream cheese and lox. Oh, some latkes with applesauce and sour cream on the side – maybe a Dr. Brown's root beer, too.

Pictures and entries will follow from our stay. I'm also looking forward to some time OFF of the bike – I've put in some serious hours this spring and I need to take a breather. My running shoes are coming with, so I'm looking to get my running legs back together with mid-paced jaunts through Central Park with all the stockbrokers, tourists, and celebrities.

I'll be back Saturday and lookin' to ride Sunday. See most of you then.

Sunday afternoon

2008-05-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I came down home to Cincinnati in order to participate in my friend's wedding as a groomsman, and to take care of some business associated with school. Oh, and to get some good riding in. The wedding went well, the school stuff didn't happen, but I've been tearing it up with good, hard 35-60 mile rides. Since I don't have a car (Allison and I share one), I depend on my bike to get me around this town. Mostly, I take the long way whenever I go somewhere, which on Sunday, had me going from my mom's to Allison's parents. Did the 47-48 miles or so in about 2.5 hours, which is a pretty decent pace considering the terrain. A good amount of climbing, including a few steep pitches, and none of it was really easy. I was hoping to get more time in, but I had obligations, as I almost always do, so instead of looping around Roundbottom road for another 10 miles at the end, I brought it in and let her parents feed me.

I'm about to head out now for 50-75 or so. I have nothing to do today, other than some work on the thesis, so I have the whole day ahead of me to ride. If only I were independently wealthy and able to enjoy this life of leisure all the time.

Some exciting news

2008-05-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

EDIT: Decided to include information on the conference itself. Click here. There's not much up just yet, besides the schedule and itinerary, but I think over the next couple of weeks there'll be more information on just what's happening with the conference.

Just got this in the mail, and I'm just a bit excited about it. Last year, I wrote-up a research paper on the effect the Unabomber/Ted Kaczynski manifesto had on the press. It's a long story that I can't get into at this exact moment, but the gist of it is, is that the Unabomber held the media hostage with his manifesto, threatening to maim and kill innocent civilians unless the manifesto was printed in its entirety in a paper such as the New York Times or Washington Post. This set up quite the ethical quandary, as one of the major tenets of the journalistic world is that no one tells the press what to print. However, the press couldn't well ignore such a threat – the Unabomber's track record of dozens of people killed or injured by his bombs could bear truth to that.

The Washington Post printed the manifesto and the Unabomber was caught as a result of that, but there was a whole lotta soul-searching and anger in the media over the publication of that piece. My paper examined the prevailing attitudes in the media at that time in history, from newsroom pros to those in academia. All interesting stuff and I'm extremely excited about the opportunity to present it this fall.

Hi,
Pardon the form email, but it is good news: Congratulations! Your submission(s) to the Conference on Media, War and Conflict Resolution has/have been accepted.

The conference registration form is attached.

We are also excited to offer excellent pre-Conference sessions, so please check out that link in the conference web site, too.

If you have any questions, please let me know.

I hope to see you this September!

28

2008-05-14T07:03:00.000-07:00

I became 28 years old at about 9:25 EST.

No, I'm not going to celebrate the occasion, beyond going to dinner with Allison at Frontera Grill or more likely, Udupi Palace. That's it. I want no party, no night out on the town, no big to-do. I'm just a year older, not a big deal.

Since my phone is still screwed up, despite my best efforts (thanks Verizon!), I still can't receive most calls. Feel free to send me an e-mail or SMS wishing me a happy day.

The only thing I really want, besides copious amounts of money, is an unlimited supply of Fage. Oh, I'll take a Pegoretti Responsorium Ciaveté, too, with Campy Record and Shamal wheels.

EDIT: Mike's comment got me thinking – maybe a beer would be worth having with some friends. Anyone around tomorrow (Thursday) night?

My building

2008-05-13T06:39:00.000-07:00

Thanks to building owners who have neglected the basic tenets of building upkeep and tenant happiness, including maintaining a semblance of security through an outer gate and doors that actually lock, a non-working buzzer system, hot water that isn't, insect pests, and rising rents, the tenants in my building have jumped from this sinking ship much like rats (which thankfully we DON'T have.) It's not for lack of groundskeeping or general cleanliness – both of those needs are addressed in full. It's just that all those other things seem to be just a bit more important to those who actually have to live in the building.

As such, this place has become quite the ghost town. Our building is divided into six distinct units, those divided further into six individual apartments. In my particular unit, only three apartments are actually occupied, and it was only two months ago that we had a full house here. The chief complaint due to those peoples' moves being the rent – in other parts of the building, it's the inconsistent, and sometimes mysterious, appearance of hot water. With all problems in concert, the incentive to move away seems greater with each day.

From my perch on the third floor, I get to see many of the people who come and go throughout the day. I'm not looking out with binoculars and keeping tabs, I'm just curious is all. I've come to the conclusion that only a few people are left here, despite the number of names still on the mailbox. Here's the list as far as I can tell:

1. Chris
2. Amy
3. Shirtless drunk man, who is always taking bags of trash out
4. Shirtless drunk man's roommate (?), who carries a cane and a Dominick's bag everywhere he goes
5. Frizzy-haired lady in sweatpants
6. The stoner skateboarders on the first floor who go skateboarding at 4AM with some regularity
7. The really nice woman who lives below me who likes to smoke in the hallway of our unit, which makes me think she isn't really all that nice
8-20. Miscellaneous Loyola students

Hopefully, all the above move out so that only Chris and Amy are left. That way, we can have band practice in the courtyard and raucous parties in the laundry room.

An apology of sorts

2008-05-07T13:19:00.000-07:00

If you've been around me lately, you've noticed my bloodshot eyes and dripping nose. Don't lie and say you haven't, because I'm such a major wreck right now with the seasonal bane of spring allergies. I've had them since I was 18, which incidentally is the same year that I picked up a smoking habit. But when I quit the cigarettes, the allergies stayed with me and seem to be getting worse every year.

I've tried all the remedies and medicines: some work, some don't. I started off on Claritin, which took care of things, but a year later didn't work for me. Then it was onto Allegra, and finally Zyrtec. Zyrtec's worked great, but my sinuses are still in misery and ain't getting better. The result of all this is that I've become intractably irritable – it's hard to be pleasant when your nose is chafed raw and you can't breathe without hanging your mouth wide open. Sleep's been a joke, too. I fall asleep fine, but wake up in the middle of the night all congested, and I'm up with the sunrise at 5:50 or so, without fail.

So, with that in mind, bear with me for a little while longer. The pollen should be out of the air in the next week or two and until then, I hope that I can get a scrip for some Flonase or other nasal cortisteroid (or whatever they're called.)

Best,

Zach

So much for the weekend

2008-05-05T11:18:00.000-07:00

Winona, Indiana is not the same as Winona Lake, Indiana.

That much makes sense, but my mind on Saturday morning, in a fog induced by antihistamines, couldn't decipher between the two.

Half Acre teammate Adrian Silva and I decided to do the the Fat and Skinny Tire Fest race at the last minute, and I offered to drive. Simple enough, as it almost always is. When I googled-up some directions, I typed in "60626 to Winona, IN", printed-off what Google came up with, and didn't think anything else of it. I assumed that since the town of Winona was so small, that it would be easy to find where registration was. In the past, this was the tack that I've always taken and it's never failed me once.

Almost always, there are signs directing racers to where the race is, with arrows, flags, and banners. So, after driving two hours, Adrian and I pulled into Winona, marveled at the hard wind from the west, and looked around for any signs of bike-racing activities. It was a fruitless effort. We drove around for a few minutes, and I finally decided to stop in at a bar to ask where the bike race was.

Bartender said, "Oh, yeah, we saw a bunch of bikes go by a little bit ago."

"Oh, yeah? What kind?"

"Y'know, Harleys..."

"Uhh, OK...thanks."

So, I made the call to Naz and he informed me that we were a full 47 miles away from where the race festivities were. And our race was due to start in an hour. We could've risked life, limb, and license to drive at full speed to Winona Lake; we could've gone home to Chicago; or we could make the best of a bad situation and go for a ride in the desolate flatlands of northwestern Indiana. We chose the latter, found a church to park in, changed into our kits, and put together our bikes.

The farm road system in the Winona area is mostly on a grid, but we were in no mood to get lost, so we decided to do an out-and-back for two hours at a hard pace. We set off into the aforementioned headwind, and I led the way, pushing hard. With the occasional drops of rain, the shaking trees, and the dark, menacing sky, it felt like we were out for a ride in Belgium, so in the spirit of those Hardmen, I put in a hard effort. Adrian hung on admirably, but he's so much more a climber than a straight-line Rouleur, so he suffered at times.

On the way back, our toil into the wind was rewarded by the inevitable tailwind. I was spinning out my 53x12, and for most of the trip back to the car, our speed averaged around 28-30 MPH. We took a detour down a gravel road to try to change things up and lengthen the ride, but after only 1:50, we'd covered only 32 miles, with a few stops on the side of the road for "relief". I'd like to have gone for longer, but it was already getting late in the day and we both wanted to get home. (Did 70 yesterday, though.)

Back at the car, we changed, ate, and set out for the return trip to Chicago. While the trip itself was a failure, by no means was the day a wash. Few things are as pleasurable as a solid, hard ride in the countryside and this Saturday's ride was no exception to that rule. But now I miss Athens even more. However, next week I make the trip down that way for my proposal defense and to pick-up material for the data analysis portion of my thesis, so I'll visit my favorite sites and go for a ride with the Athens crew.

May

2008-05-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of Ben Popper.

My most favorite season is in full swing. And my most favorite month is just now easing out of the gates. So too are my sinuses, but that's another story, best told with a kleenex nearby.

It's raining right now and the air temperature is hovering about 58 degrees. Perfect for a day spent inside, working, cleaning, and getting stuff done. Today, I have thesis work to do, and I need to rewrap the bars on Big Orange. As for the rest of the day, my slate is wide and open.

Maybe a walk to the beach might be in order, to take in the verdant creep that is spring.

Another new bike, and an appreciation for obsolete technology

2008-04-25T05:57:00.001-07:00

(Just a sneak photo from Photobooth, 'cause the digicam is MIA.)

Last night, I picked-up a 1989-ish Schwinn Prelude for a very fair price from a fellow ChiFG-er to use as a commuter and foul-weather trainer. I don't particularly mind taking my custom orange machine out in the rain, but at the same time, I'm so obsessively compulsive about keeping it clean, that I spend an hour or so post-ride washing it of grit, gravel and grease. This Schwinn will get a set of fenders, Look Keo pedals, and a good bearing overhaul and that's it. Nothing all too exciting, I know.

However, I am really excited about this bike for just two small reasons – the two downtube shifters. I love shifting a bike from the downtube, removing my hand from the handlebars to click the shifter up or down a notch, to match the terrain and my strength. Nowadays, an Ergo/STI/Double-Tap equipped bike is so much faster and user-friendly than a bike with downtube shifters, but in capable hands that old tech still competes well with the new.

Last year, when I was living in Athens, I was out nearly every night with a crew of cyclists, exploring the hollers of SE Ohio. One had a custom Calfee with Record, others on new Cannondales, and I was either on my Redline 'cross bike, or my 1992 Schwinn Paramount PDG. I was usually beat-out on the town line sprint by Rik Van Der Akker on his Calfee, but I held my own with my 15 year old heavy steel bike. I eventually upgraded the rear shifting to 8-speed Ultegra 600, but I always knew that I could switch it back to full downtube shifting if I wanted (and I might still do, seeing as how the shifter doesn't like shifting sometimes.)

But now I have this Schwinn to enjoy here in Chicago and I'm just about as excited about that as I was when I picked-up my other newer, nicer bikes. Could it be because now I can commute and train in the city without fear of trashing my race machines? Maybe. However, I prefer to think it's because I get to ride a bike regularly with obsolete tech just a few inches from hand. And if I beat-out out my teammates on their nice, CF superbikes, then all the better.

The English Language

2008-04-24T15:30:00.001-07:00

For someone who earned his undergraduate degree in English and has received, or is working on receiving, advanced degrees in journalism, I tend to slip-up and make mistakes with cases, create overly long sentences, and make gratuitous use of commas, em and en dashes, and semi-colons in order to create one coherent thought (which is directly tied into slip-up #2).

(Funny, the above sentence is a too-long sentence, but I like it that way.)

(And at least I've got my parentheses right. Right?)

So, while I'm consistently self-abasing, self-aware, and hyper-critical about my hold of the English language (as an aspiring editor, it comes with the territory) I also like reading about errors of language, malapropisms, and the importance of punctuation.

(The recent clamor about the Founding Father's intent when punctuating the 2nd Amendment comes to mind.)

It's a way of granting myself a small shred of smugness, as I know the folly of these errors (but I often make some of them myself). The internet is chock-full of plenty of pages writ up by grammarians and sticklers, and this one is one that looks to be more extensive than the rest.

Exciting stuff, I know. (So I say with a tongue-in-cheek.)

Epic rides in cold, grit and gravel

2008-04-12T16:19:00.000-07:00

Me and Kevin Clark: Photo by Ben Popper

For a while now, there's been some noise among some of us from the Half Acre and Killjoy squads about spending Saturday mornings out in the far reaches of Chicagoland, putting in good long efforts, with few respites for a breath or nature break. Earlier in the week, it was determined that today was to be the first of many of these jaunts, with the weather forecast more in line with that from the gray drear of February than the middle of April: 37 for a high, snow showers, mist and fog. I've never been much bothered by such conditions – my only major dislike is the cold below 25. My hands freeze and my toes turn numb, and the whole effort of riding my bike becomes just less an exercise in pleasure, but more of an obligation. But 37 degrees? I can handle that; I've handled worse.

So it was this morning that I drove down to the rendezvous point at Kevin's place in Logan Square, and followed Ben out to Yorkville. The plan was to ride the Prairie Path out until we were near exhaustion, then turn around. I was on my Voodoo, Kevin on his Jamis, and Ben on his Kelly mountain bike. I was the only one genius enough to use fenders, but as some of Ben's pictures from the day show, my butt ended-up with a fair dousing of muddy water.

The ride out was at a hard pace – it's almost comical how all rides, no matter the plan (ride slow, tempo, easy, whatever) degenerate into a quasi-race, with relentless attacks and on-the-rivet efforts. Today was no different. Paris-Roubaix is tomorrow, and this ride was in a way a homage to that brutal test of strength, will and weld strength. 20 miles out and 1:40 into the ride (hey, riding offroad on 'cross and mountain bikes can be slow going, compared to the open road), we came to Elgin, stopped at a Marathon where we made a mess while we purchased some coffee and apple pie, and turned-around the way we came to York.

On the return trip, we opted to ride on an alternative trail, which was no less treacherous, and less encumbered by stop signs. Our energy levels at this point started to flag, but no way did we take things easy - we just stopped attacking each other at every slight rise in the elevation. We made better time on the return trip, due to a tailwind, but when your feet are numb from the cold, your hands are sore from gripping the handlebar, and your legs are throbbing from turning the pedals, time seems to slow down and each mile becomes longer than the last.

Once we got off the trail and our bikes, our immediate assessment of each other was "Man, you're just covered in mud." As mentioned before, I was less filthy than the other two, but I was still sopping wet, cold, and just glad to have made it back alive. Few times in my career as a mediocre cyclist have I ever felt that way at the end of a ride, and while the 'epic' nature of this ride related mostly just to the weather and conditions, it ranks up there on my list of misery. But don't get me wrong – misery in cycling is often synonymous with amazing and fun, and certainly today's ride was that as well.

Things moved aside

2008-04-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

After going for my typical ride from my home in Rogers Park to Promontory Point, and back, I got to cracking on the albatross that's been around my neck since July of last year: my thesis. I've never spent more than a day or two away from this beast and all that it demands: the stacks of research papers I've had to dig through, the books I've had to read. The seemingly-insurmountable aspects of writing an academic treatise on a topic that I thought I knew so much about, but truly didn't know much about at all, is a frustrating one. Organic agriculture's not that complicated of a topic, is it? What about the farm press, that academically-ignored division of the media that is as utilitarian and sweat and grease-stained as its readers? No, I thought things would have wrapped themselves up nice and neat, and that I would have by now finished up my academics and started work at something resembling a real job.

Instead, I'm still working on this monstrosity – 60 pages and counting. I think about it all the time and get pissed when I miss another self-imposed deadline and get even more pissed when I approve of yet another loan to add to my already impressive debt. The bit of cash is necessary, seeing as how I don't really have a job, even though I do intend to (rather NEED TO) pick up something part-time soon. But that money just serves to increase the gravity just a bit on that albatross. I've resisted the temptation to blow it on sweet bike stuff, but it still flows out of my bank account like a rent balloon. There's a Starbucks within spitting distance of my place, and Evanston, the great outdoor mall of Chicago, is a short bike/train/car ride away.

But today I moved a step closer. After lunch, I sat for a minute digesting, and then got on the computer and cranked things out. If you could see my desk, you would see piles of printouts, notes, textbooks, and Brendan Mullen's biography of Darby Crash, and it would all look like a big mess. Everything's in its place, but one careless bump or a bout of cleaning just renders it all completely disorganized. However, after working for a while, with only occasional glances at Gawker, I tacked some stuff together and sent the albatross off to my chair. A round of edits later, I'll have it back for me to rip apart and put back together. I'm a bit closer, though, and coupled with the weekend, I'm in better spirits than I was yesterday. My foul mood yesterday could've poisoned a small village. My apologies to Allison. :(

Two Days

2008-04-07T06:13:00.000-07:00

Team Half Acre, by Julie
from left to right: Adrian Silva, Tim Strege, me, Kevin Clark, David Bowers.

Two days spent exploring everything I both love and hate about cycling; Saturday spent riding up to Whitewater, Wisconsin to Dan Labovitch's lake house; Sunday out at the Burnham Super Crit at Blackhawk Speedway in South Beloit, Illinois. One weekend away from Chicago, out in the sun, out on the bike, and with the burned skin and aching legs to prove it.

A couple of days ago, I was out with Kevin Clark and Kevin Warwick at Handlebar, after helping Warwick move in to Casa de la Kevin, when plans for the weekend came up. Warwick was going home to Cincinnati, but K. Clark was planning on a trip up to Dan's place to ride and hang out on Saturday, and then race on Sunday. I was planning on spending the weekend in Chicago proper, maybe go for a ride on Saturday and then do a time-trial on Sunday or just ride around for fun. Nothing exciting, but that's kind been my motto as of late: boring, unexciting, tepid. I feel like that's how things ought to be. But that's all beside the point and material for another blog post, I suppose.

Friday night, Allison, Amy and I walked up to Heartland Cafe for dinner and after upon our return home, I went to the Burnham Racing website, filled in my info and registered for the 3/4 race. Confirmed with Ben and Julie that I had a spot in their car for the ride up, and then crashed. Woke up bright and early on Saturday, got Allison up and then went to Ben and Julie's place, whereupon Ben, Julie, Kevin Clark, Molly the Pitbull, and myself all crammed into Ben's Jetta, and drove north. After a stop at Woodman's for food, Taco Bell for unfood (where Kevin and I did wind sprints and got yelled at for trying to climb a lightpole), we met up with Tim Strege and drove another 40 minutes to Dan's.

Got to the lake house, ate a bit, and then got kitted-up, aired up the bike tires, and got out onto the road. Ben had planned a real kicker of a route, saying "This thing is going to be brutal. The closer the topographical lines were, the better." The route had us circling the lake, climbing out onto Territorial Road, and out along some access roads, into Whitewater proper, back out onto Bluff Road, up a Connery road, and back to Dan's: 48 miles, lots of climbing. Kevin and I attacked each other up nearly every single climb, no matter how small. One of us would wait for the other to draw near, downshift a cog or two, and kick it upward, leaving the other to scrounge for remnant of a draft. This constant battle never got old – it felt great to push myself in challenging terrain with a rider of comparable strength. Ben and Tim were pushing things hard as well – Ben's building-up for 'cross in the fall, so he wasn't inclined to hurt himself to the same extent that Kevin and I were, and Tim's strengths lay more in sheer power and flatland speed, but both were keeping things on an even boil at nearly all times.

Everything went fine until it came to make the turn onto Connery. The problem was, was that Connery seemed not to exist, so we continued on Bluff for a number of miles, turned around and ran into Dan, who was out on an icecream ride (the best kind), at a bike shop/restaurant. Tim split off to ride back with Dan, and Kevin, Ben and I knocked out another 15 miles over even hillier terrain. After our return to the house, a well-deserved shower and a couple of oranges, we grilled out and knocked back plenty of beers. Dan's wife, Lisa, Kevin and I built a fire and told stories about our hooligan years, BBQed fruit, and enjoyed one of the more pleasant nights in a long time. For the first time in a while, I could actually see more than three stars in the night sky.

On Sunday morning, we all woke up at 8AM, had breakfast together (I had oatmeal, of course), cleaned-up after the previous night's excitement, and got out onto the road to South Beloit. Kevin discovered that Taco Bell for a late breakfast is not nearly as pleasant as Taco Bell for lunch – the food is marginally edible already – adding eggs to a beef taco in the guise of a 'breakfast' taco is just asking for gastronomical hellfire. We made it to Blackhawk in short time, registered and scoped out the course. A long straightaway, swung right, chicaned, and then went east, where it swung back upon itself, made a bend to the right, to the left and then straightened out for a 1/4 mile, where it turned right again for a long straight before the home stretch. 1.7 miles, lots of wind, and flat as a board. It was going to be a fast, hard race from the getgo. Since my race wasn't until 2:55, and we'd arrived at 10:30, I had plenty of time to hang out, spectate, and just take things easy in the sun.

At 1PM, the 4/5 race went off, albeit with a bad start, as Adrian managed to snag his jacket in the front wheel of his bike and endoed right in front of everyone. He and his bike were fine, albeit not for long. A couple of laps left into the race, he slid out and banged himself up pretty badly. His thigh, elbow, and brand-new Sidis taking the brunt of his fall. Oh, and his new Half Acre kit is trashed, too. While Adrian was the only Half Acre to take a spill, there were several other crashes in the 4/5 field, one of which caused by a rider who dropped his chain, and tried to put it back on while in the middle of the pack. I counted 6-8 riders who went down and went in to the officials' area to protest and/or get their free lap.

Kevin, Tim, and Dave Bowers had better races, especially Kevin, who finished with the main group. He didn't contend for the finish, which was understandable considering the sketchiness of the pack. And those guys wonder why I punish myself with the 3/4 race. Speaking of that, after warming up, I rode the course and settled next to Ed White, who was racing the 3/4 race with me. He wasn't feeling the competitive spirit, nor was I. I've made no secret of the fact that I don't like crits – I'm not aggressive enough, nor do I trust my fellow racers enough for them to hold their lines through sharp corners. I prefer hilly courses where my strength and climbing ability comes more into play than luck and peloton/breakway tactics.

This race was less a crit and more a circuit road race, albeit at a crit length. Strange, I know. As I said before, I predicted that this race would be fast and so it was. As we set off from the starting line, I was in my 53x13 by the first corner and it stayed in that gear for most of the first couple laps. At lap three, a break of guys went off down the front stretch and one took a spill for some reason (Ben said it looked like he just fell off his bike), as I was near the back of the pack, I fell off and struggled like hell to catch back on. It then became more apparent with every single second that I'd been dropped. I'll spare you (and myself) from all the cliched euphemisms for being dropped, but whatever it's called, it still sucks and is incredibly demoralizing.

However, since I'd paid my $20, came out all the way to this corner of Illinois, and had friends watching, I made a determined effort to keep from being lapped. I went into time-trial mode, practicing the artful skill of riding at the cusp of LT or whatever they call it (I need a powermeter badly), and fended off the pack for six laps or so. With two laps left, the breakaway and main field finally reached me, and I came back into the infield where I changed, loaded-up my stuff, and rode back into Chicago, just in time for the Half Acre meeting at Black Rock.

So, while I have yet again DNFed in a race, I feel that things are going to start swinging my way soon. I wasn't plagued with the jitters and utter sense of dread that I experience before the start of Hillsboro Roubaix, which is a major plus, as one reason why I didn't race much through 2007, besides 'cross, was that I was utterly scared of racing. I know I'm strong enough for 3/4 races; now I just need the guts to go along.

Caffeine

2008-04-03T18:17:00.000-07:00

My new favorite webforum is Coffeed.

I'm already thinking up new ways of getting my jitters on.

That is all.