Shattered records [warning! very boring running minutae involved]

Today was the beginning of my race "season"--the first of the two half-marathons I'm doing this fall. I was planning to take this one, the Toronto Waterfront conservatively. It was supposed to be a fast course, basically flat along lakeshore, but not as fast as the mostly downhill International in October. I didn't get as much sleep as I want, given that I'm not used to getting up at 5:45 am, and was feeling all achy and painy as I made my way to the race start. My goal was to, at minimum, set a personal best (previously 1h 54 min), finish under 1:50 (my realistic target), or break 1:45 (a pace that was theoretically possible). I planned to find the 1:45 bunny and follow him until half way and make a decision to speed up or slow down at that point. However, this was not to be. The 1:45 bunny had decided to start right at the front of the pack and I was stuck somewhere behind him. I raced ahead trying to find him. I eventually caught up at about the 4k mark, but racing ahead meant that I had gone out too fast. I had done the 4 k in about 16 min--a ridiculous 4 min/k pace. I stuck behind the bunny for a couple of kilometers and then realized: I can go faster than this. So I moved on ahead, set my own pace, and finished in about 1:37! I even managed a slightly negative split. For comparison, I ran a couple of 10k's in the spring and my best time was about 47 minutes, in this race my second 10 k split was about 45:30 minutes, directly after running a 46:30 minute 10k.

Anyway, I'm babbling and sore. More babbling and soreness promised three weeks from now for the next race

I own a speedo

It's not as bad as it sounds.

Update:
The problem with speedos is not that "speedo" sounds bad, but in how they look.

It really isn't that bad either. While they are "speedo" brand, they're more like bikeshorts than bikinis. I've signed up for this swimming class that teaches the butterfly, turns, and starts, and sets you up on a swimming program and I realized that I didn't have a bathing suit. I've been using my running shorts for swimming, which works fine for splashing around, but are very susceptible to falling down. So I went for one slightly inappropriateness over another. It's really hard to find anything to swim in, most of the stores I went into didn't even have a men's swimming section, except for a couple surfing shorts.

Not overwhelmed or anything

I just realized the irony of that last title quote from Yvan Attal, "who hates french music" and if you were there it was clear that he is quite emphatic about this. The irony is, is that his wife is Charlotte Gainsbourg. Why would that be ironic? You may want to talk to her father, Serge about that. Well, if he weren't dead. I sense some issues here.

Nearly finished the marathon that is the film festival. Saw 5X2 which is bad. Not badly done, just no redeeming qualities. It was an interesting juxtaposition with the Attal film--both films are about french couple in their early thirties with young kids who are having difficulties, but in the Attal film you like the characters and they at heart like each other. In 5x2, nobody likes anybody.

Also saw Millions, which you should definitely see when it comes around. I hope it gets another edit, because it was about a finger's width away from being perfect, but marred by a couple of scenes that pushed it over the edge from endearing to shlocky. I'm a sucker for this kind of film though: whimsical and magical with little kids as the heros.

"I love france. I love french wine, french food, french women. I hate french music."

Today's film was "Ils se marierent et eurent beaucoup d'enfants" by Yvan Attal, the director of the somewhat similar "my wife is an actress." This was definitely not a heavy, weighty film, but very charming and funny with a delicious bittersweet tone. Charlotte Gainsbourg is worth the price of admission herself. The director was there to answer questions afterwards and the title of the post is taken from one of his responses to a question about why there was so much American music in the film (including 4 prominent radiohead songs). Anyways, if you happen to see it around, it's a great date-type movie.

New multimedia experience

18 months ago or so when I was still living at my grandmother's house, I helped my little 8 year old cousin write a song and record it digitally. He didn't play any instruments exactly, but he did, through the use of humming, communicate what the music should be, and then wrote the lyrics and the tune and sang it. I quickly mixed it together and added some highly unnecessary twidling over the top and we finished it all before dinner time. Now, it's been a while since I was eight, but I was surprised at his reaction. He found it so embarrassing to listen to that he refuses to this day to even acknowledge its existence. So take a listen and tell me,is it really that bad? How would you respond to it, if you were the eight year old composer?

I saw my first film fest movie this year, and already, it's going to be an improvement over the horrors of last years' movies. It was the new production of "The Merchant of Venice" with Jeremy Irons, Al Pacino, Joseph Fiennes, and some hot english chick. Everybody but Pacino made an appearance at the theatre. I have to say that I wasn't expecting much. I'm not a huge fan of shakespeare on screen, as it really has to justify its existence, and tends to be burdened with all sorts of Shakespearanisms and the hoity english (and wannabe english) actors who perpetuate them. Plus, Merchant of Venice is...well, you know. But it was really well done overall and very powerful stuff. The problem that the film had was that it achieved superbly a sympathetic protrayal of Shylock. It also had this romantic comedy thing that worked very well, with Joseph Fiennes re-playing his Shakespeare in Love role, that hot English Chick, and a marvelous Jeremy Irons playing Antonio as Joe's unrequited lover. So there's this Shylock guy you're rooting for, and this romantic coupling (love triangle here) you're rooting for, and then someone's got to get their pound of flesh. It's an awful, awful-quesy in the pit of your stomach-scene where you want everyone to get along, to understand each other. And they just don't . The stopping of Shylock is fine and happy, but then they keep twisting the knife and twisting it again. It's terrible, and then everyone goes off all happy back to romantic comedy land-to their palaces, their servants and their witty quips. I'm not sure if it works, but it's a feeling that is very unusual, especially from a hollywood type film.

I have hopes the rest of the festival will continue as strong. Next up, is "5X2" from the director of swimming pool and 8 women; then the new movie from the "my wife is an actress" couple; and "Millions" from Danny Boyle.

Happy New Year!

One of the sensible things that Jews do is put the new year at an appropriate time: in the fall. Maybe it's the years of ingrained pavlovian response after years of schooling, but there's something about the change of seasons from summer into fall that feels like a beginning. At least, it makes more sense than the break between cold and slightly colder that we get in January. A case could be made about springtime, but summer feels more like the reward, the dessert at the end of a year of brussel sprouts. I actually quite like brussel sprouts, but that isn't the point. Fall, more than any other season, feels like it's time to wake up and put your head back on your shoulders.

This fall, again, brings the promise of a new year. I successfully, albeit very poorly, defended my master's thesis a few weeks ago, and am free to start the phd with more or less a clean slate. My other projects are wrapping themselves up and soon will lead to a whole new set of challenges and other assorted fun.

Fall also brings me into my new room, in my new apartment. A room with the biggest window that stretches all the way across the long end, enough room for my comfy chair and my bed and my desk and enough room left over where I can spin around in my desk chair without touching anything. A room which has elicited the comments of "you're such a neat freak" and "I don't know many boys into decorating"--each so wrong and yet so awesome.

And most importantly, I guess, I enter fall a single man. I broke up with Dolly last week, after finally coming to terms with the fact that unfortunately I was never going to fall in love with her. I'm okay with it, having realized a while ago that I just wanted to be friends. Besides, this week I've been having more fun than any one person should be allowed to have, which is sort of like the cherry of top of this brussel sprouts of a year, if you know what I mean.

So I start September with a real clean slate and a stomach full of vegetables and candy. I think it's a good sign. I wish a sweet and happy new year for us all!

Rugged Matt 

More Mull 

Clouds over Mull