I haven't written a running update to anyone (Mitch included) in a long time. Not because I've been particularly lazy but because, up until now, there hasn't been too much of interest. Here's a weekly summary: 33 miles, 53 miles, 57 miles, 67 miles. That's really all you need to know. All mileage was at a steady effort and I've just been getting back into the grind and plugging away like I did last (northern hemisphere) summer. The difference? I'm 100% healthy! I'm hoping to keep it that way by focusing on the new calf/glut routine, yet keeping with past ankle/flexibility/drills that I found useful under Mitch's watchful eye. So now that you're caught up in under 5 sentances, let me narrate the result of that work.

1st ever "WTF am I doing" steeple clearance

I'd been looking forward to today's 2k XC race (steeples included) for some time now. Not just because I love racing, but because I was going to get an experience I hadn't before and may never have again: International XC! Man we're a bunch of wimps in the States, running around on manicured golf courses and calling it rugged XC. Today however, I got a dose of kiwi XC and "Hey Mikey, I think he likes it."

Lead up: Yesterday, I meant to only do 45min to freshen up for this race. That plan was confounded when I hit the restroom mid run. I only realized the significance of said event when I returned to the door of my apartment and realized my keys were no longer in my possession. Thus began the second half of my run, a 40 minute out and back, with 20 of those minutes in earnest prayer the keys had not been noticed and nabbed. Fortunately, they were sitting right where I absently placed them and 85min after it began, I finished my Friday "shakeout" jog.

So today I was once again in the "Screw it" mood, happy to just bake in the sun and enjoy the scenery. Man, this is real New Zealand. I haven't realized how much time I've been spending in the city! It's been 3 months since I saw the grassy hills and dells of the rest of the island, but today, our race was enveloped by rolling hills of cow-studded farmland (I've never seen cattle so fit, not even on Stone Hill). I jogged the course with a smile on my face. Well, that is until I saw the course. There were 6 hurdles total (the last of which was a meter high and at the top of a ridiculously steep climb) and 1 murky stream. I was in for some fun alright, but would I survive this "fun"?

Eventually, I donned my borrowed Scottish club singlet and took my place on the line next to the Kiwi 1500m champ, Hamish Carson. My goal was always to stick with him and push him through the line. However, when the horn sounded, and we leapt off the line, I saw my hope run away from me as fast as the long-haired fellow I sought to push. So 400 flat meters in I found myself in no man's land, 20m in front of the peloton but 20m back of my opponent. However, I felt a flicker of ambition again as I realized Carson was no longer pulling away from me. Soon after  awkwardly clearing my first two ever steeple barriers, the competition ceased to matter. The course is what captured a majority of my thought and 800m in, 4 steeples down, it was just me against the course. This might be why I was surprised to come up on Hamish and gave little thought to passing him as we began our first gradual incline. The move I thought stupid at the time (why would I lead on a course I'd never run before?) turned out to be the right one as I discovered Hamish was practically gasping for air at this halfway point in the race. I suppose that's what you get for burning rubber out of the blocks buddy. To his credit, he was going for the course record, and neither of us would have run as fast if he didn't take the chance.

After the gradual incline, we pulled a U-ey and headed right back down... towards the stream. Now, about 4 steps from the water, it occurred to me I had made a mistake during my earlier warmup scouting expedition, and was now lacking a crucial bit of intel -- Water depth. Not that I think any of the spectators minded. I'm sure it was an entertaining sight when I took the leap of faith and landed 6 inches earlier than my best guess of knee height. Fortunately for the rest of the world, a camera was on scene to capture the event in stop-motion.

The course got really interesting for the remaining half mile and, for this reason, kept my mind off of the burning in my legs. Then, quite suddenly, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself 100m from the line and I dashed home to tag off the next leg in the relay (oh yeah, this was an XC relay with 6 members to a team). It finally donned on me what I had accomplished and several other bits of information brought a new smile to my face. Not only did I have the fastest time on the day, but one of the fastest ever, and in fact running the race faster than even Nick Willis had done in his lifetime! I'm going to take this as a really good sign of where my training is headed.

I ran a significant 40min cooldown, taking advantage of the fact I was once again in the beautiful hills and trails of backwater NZ. I finished the meet with some small talk and a nice juicy sausage hot off the "barbee".

The rest of the day was spent visiting a friend in the area, playing a little 2 on 2 basketball, and organizing an "American-style" party with Cary, jointly for his birthday and my farewell.

Well that was the "Good". The "Bad" and the "Ugly" are what happened that night and the next morning, but I'm not going to elaborate on that...

Suckers!

Hi mom

OK, now that we're in the spirit, here we go... Today is the final day of this culminating Kiwi meet. So far the weekend has been going well, but as I put weight on my feet this morning I knew I was in for a tough race. What a difference between wearing spikes and not. I'll have to look into my spike's  affect on my stride in more detail in the future... Today though, it was all about squeezing the last drops of performance out of my calves.

So I got to the track feeling fit but not too springy. I took a great deal of time before hand just lying in some obscure corner of the locker-room listening to some tunes and massaging my calves. Finally, about 45min before the race I went out for a nice jog. Temperature was cool, clouds were heavy, and despite the calves, I was feeling pretty sharp physically.

What I wanted (ideally) was a good pace where I could get dragged around to the fast time I knew I could run and drop some of the big competition with the process. Unfortunately, that dream lasted about 100m. I went out at the usual slow acceleration, taking in the competition's movements and interpretting their intentions. Unfortunately for me everyone slowed up on the turn and so I just slowly took the lead after a slow 62 first lap. I was actually happy when I found myself in the lead because I still didn't feel like I was exerting as much energy as the pack jostling in back of me and 63s felt mad easy. I broke the waves for everyone through 1000m and just about at the bell Brett Tengay (sp?) absolutely bulled his way out of the pack to dead sprint kick with 400 to go. From my perspective I just saw Matt Smith grab at Brett's singlet to prevent being blown out of the water. Within 10 steps, I was passed by 6 athletes. I finally got my chance to move out and push into pre-kick mode. I was still in good position with 200m to go and I'm convinced I could have had second place with a little more strength in my achilles. But you can literally see in the footage how flat my feet were landing. I had good turnover but it's almost like I stick in place unnaturally. I finished 5th behind all the big guns minus Tengay who paid pretty dearly for his aggressive all-or-nothing attitude.

The race result brought me back from Cloud 9 (where does that saying come from!? I hear it everywhere), but all in all, it was a successful and confidence-building weekend of racing. I'm proud to say I was the best doubler and therefore in some ways the most fit (recovery wise) of the competition (though carson might have been able to pull off a double victory but I completely understand his choice to focus on winning the 1500m). From here on out it's all about falling back into 3 weeks of base-like building full of calf exercises, plyos, and strengthening drills. When I next emerge onto the track for some workouts, the big thing I want changed is I want to be able to crack 25 in a 200m (I happen to have tried a few all out 200s recently and I failed to even break 26). But huge room for improvement in my stride and my power, something that I've never been super impressive at. Get excited!

I woke up and immediately assessed the discomfort level of my calves. I cautiously stood up and walked to the stairs, then took a step, then another. Shockingly, my calves didn't feel at all worse for wear! I still took it really easy though, slowly stretching and resumed drinking liquids.

All too soon we headed over to the track for my 11:38 race. Warmup went well and I congratulated myself for having the foresight to wear flats the day before (nothing like a good self-pat-on-the-back...) This time, unlike yesterday, I was ready for the 20minute wait we were required to sit through (in a tent) before the race got under way. I laced up and was feeling sprightly when the gun went off.

Once again I felt the race out from the back, watching the jostling ahead and trying not to gawk at having to run 56. It's a pretty easy race plan when you have nothing to lose. That's not to say I didn't have a goal and a focus for the race. I really wanted to see if I could get foward onto my toes and close well since I have not accomplished this for over a year now. I don't think it's an essential part of running fast, but I do see it as a requirement for winning! At the end of races I just end up reaching more with my stride to get that extra speed rather than using the sprinting muscles that should be relatively fresh. My problem for quite some time has been that those muscles have received no specific training, and the calf/glute/stride issues I've had for a few months has really highlighted that weakness.

So with 400m to go, I tried to get into sprinting position without picking up my pace too much (ended up in a failed move around a few guys). Stay on my toes. It felt awkward and I really couldn't imagine having more efficiency in that position. However, soon there was only 100m left in the race and I felt like I was stuck in sprinting position,  exactly what I wanted. I closed pretty well, but more importantly, I confirmed my hypothesis when I started to rig. This is important! I have not rigged in a LONG time. I have fatigued at the end of races, but that's really quite different from what happens when your feet splay out and your hammies clench (even when they should be releasing). When you fatigue, your hips just sink and it looks to the public like you weigh a million pounds and are about to fall over. When you rig, it's like a full-body cramp. It was great!

Silver Fern Silver Medal

Oh and the race result: I came in 3rd - 1:53. Interestingly enough though, on the podium I was given silver! The change in result happened because the winner was Canadian and each event requires a kiwi podium. So naturally, the kiwi that came 2nd, the lithe Aniel Smith, was boosted to gold as well with the Canadian. Then I assume the official's thinking was "We can't give this kid from the States a bronze and then the kiwi he beat, a silver!" So I shared the silver medal spot with Josh Komen of Canterbury. James List, a Welly training buddy, was 3rd. Crowded podium...

I wasn't done yet though. The real consequence of the rig was that I knew my calves had taken a beating. I had 4 hours before the 1500m and I managed to get back home for some lunch, and, I was hoping, a nap. However, all of a sudden, I was eating a piece of toast with butter and cream cheese when JVD commented, "Well, 2 o'clock. Better think about heading back." What!?! Somehow I had lost an hour and here I was eating cream cheese less than 2 hours before my race. Stupid. And missed my 30min nap too... Great.

I wasn't as lucky in 1500m heats as I was in the 800. I was in the first heat and it looked stacked. No flats for me. That decision was solidified when I looked up and saw a strong overcast grey. Wet track and flats is a disaster.

My race went out and I settled right in a the back (starting to sound like a broken record). However, this time I noticed a gap forming less than a lap in. Looking ahead there were 5 solidly in the pack, and Aniel, the other doubler, was already trying to cover their move. No one said it would be easy but I was feeling up for it and so I moved out and stuck right on Aniel's shoulder. We picked up the pace but never gained ground on the front pack, staying about 10m clear.

2:07 at the 800m.

With 600m left I saw the pack getting restless and Aniel was starting to look the part of an 800 gold medalist as his shoulders began to sag. I moved around him and made the conscious decision to get with the front pack in about 200m. However, as I finished my move on the turn and looked up, I was puzzled. The pack was no closer than before. I redoubled my efforts for the next 300m but still couldn't get any closer to the 5 up there. Now, top 4 make it from each heat and next 4 fastest so I was understandably starting to panic. I went into full gear with 200m to go like I would at the end of a final. I closed pretty well again but realized I wasn't going to get the still quite strong 5 guys in front of me. I accepted my fate with 80m to go and stepped off of 100% to cruise through the line. They actually did the same thing and I finished half a second behind in 6th. For some reason I thought I ran a 3:56 and I was a bit bummed for a few minutes thinking it might be likely I would be first out. However, I was quickly reassured by one of the guys in front that we had finished in 3:53. Wow! I'm actually impressed I ran that fast.

The second pack scared me by running 62 for the first lap but then went through 800m in 2:10 so I had nothing to worry about there. They ended up running 3:58 with my cousin Cary picking up 5th and the last place qualifier spot in 3:59.

That night I repeated the same routine of getting a massage and having a beer and light calf hot tub run. This time though, the masseuse pulled my hairs. Waaa

That first post was meant to be put up prior to the event so I could cement my mindset. However, lack of internet stifled my ambition. Since then, I've been tying up a ton of loose ends, emails, little requests and other whatnot, and at the same time, trying to minimize the amount of time I sit in this chair (possible cause of fatigue). So I apologize for the tardiness of this entry.

I actually booked my flight with Alex Wallace for Friday morning knowing that I would get to the city, move into my room (planned on the colorful GO Hotel), and scamper off to the track for my 800 heat. Luck would have it that Awal was being picked up in a Wellington-sponsored van from the airport so I tagged along to get closer to the city. Upon reaching his destination: the impressive Camelot motel, I slid open the van door and jumped out.

No sooner had my feet hit the ground than I heard a familiar voice, "Mack Daddy!" - JVD

Camelot

The van had dropped us right at the doorstep of room 744, home to the Scottish ringleaders (Scottish being one of the Welly running clubs). "Where you staying, mate?"

"Haven't booked a room yet. Thinking about ..."

"Oi, I reckon we have an extra bed, eh Josh." Fano was way ahead of me.

"Uh, nope."

"Noooo, it's you, Japes, and Scotty downstairs so just me a Luke up."

"Yip, and there's only 2 beds upstairs..."

"Nooo, there's three beds you idiot."

"Nope, I remember. There was only two."

"I sleep up there you <beep> retard."

"Shall I check? I'm gonna check."

2 seconds later from the balcony, "Aw, yup. K," to me, "You should stay."

Love to. I immediately cut a deal: I would pay for the room's groceries as my part of the cost and we would live like kings! The next three days really reminded me of spring break a bit. Just chillin' with a bunch of runners, trying to relax between sessions, eating food, watching tele, sipping beers. Great times. Great times!

After an hour of catching up we all headed off to the track for day 1 of competition. For me it was just an 800 heat.

Now I was thinking about running in my Piranha flats prior to getting to the track, but once there I had a very pleasant surprise. Turns out, one Nicholas Willis had scratched from the 800m, choosing instead to head back to the States to focus on his training and nurse his knee a bit (I completely understand). Not only that but 1:49 runner Tim Hawks was still feeling worn out and would not be running. Between the two of them and a Canadian with a 1:48 under his belt, I think a lot of Kiwis were scared into the 1500m for their chance at a national title. So now the 800m was suddenly wide open! I was pretty confident about making the final and if I couldn't do it in the flats, I really didn't have any business racing anyways. So in 24 degree heat (no more conversions for lazy Americans) our two heats went off.

I was in the second heat and I smiled a bit as the first went through in 60. Sweet. They finished up in 1:55 and I was all but in to the final. My race goes and I tag along in back at what was probably a 56.

Nope -- 58.

The heat+flats scared me with a lap to go, which was a good thing because I finished in 1:56 after straining down the home stretch. I would have been more worried about how hard that 1:56 felt except that everyone else was panting after their equivalent times as well.

Grabbed a light calf massage (more of a rub) from the Wellington masseuse (the second mooch off the Wellington squad. I owe them big time), and tried to relax with a beer in the hot tub back at the Camelot. Tomorrow, big day! (And don't worry, I hydrated well after the beer...)

Look at me being proactive about my writeup! Well today, for the first time in many moons, I was forced to see the unholy hour of 7AM. My flight to Christchurch is scheduled to leave at 9:15 (in about 9 minutes) and so far so good. One incredibly suprising characteristic of Kiwi airports is that the flights are easy to find, easy to board, and easy to ride. The security is lax (to the extent that officers would probably be taken out and shot if they were executing with the same level of friendliness in the States). But then again, I suppose that in NZ, you have a high chance being remembered when you inevidably meet again on this island nation. But get this, they're playing light rock/pop music videos as we're finding our seats. The experience is similar to what I would expect a private jet to be like. You can just walk up, hop on, and be on your way with less than 20min of waiting. The difference between this and a private jet? Here you only pay $35USD but no hot air hostess flirting with you.

Buildup to this ultimate NZ event has been lackluster. I've done significantly more mileage that I did pre-ITM but it's a far cry from what Mitch would have me doing if all was well. I also didn't meet his expectations for my Tuesday workout. However, I have begun to feel a little more powerful again (though only for up to 25 minutes at a time). With 4 races ahead of me, I have no idea how well or poorly I may fair. The really important thing though: I'm excited about racing right now. I believe in my abillity to race well, even if I'm completely lacking the fitness to finish a tempo at the moment. We'll see how it goes...

I had been targeting this meet since January, when I first worked out my racing schedule for NZ. However, in the month of February I kinda struggled, working on my stride and rehabing some withered calf muscles. During that time I let that meet slip from my mind. Then, two weeks ago, everything started clicking. My new stride felt bouncy and fresh, and I was ripping up my tempos. The week culminated in a fall in an 800m race around the 600m mark. I was through in 1:25 and feeling explosive. I didn't even bother writing it up but, I'm certain I was going to be close to my PR of 1:52. "Ah well." I thought, "I'm gonna kill these next 2 weeks and dominate ITM." Immediately I phoned up the meet director and weasled my way into the meet, citing my workouts of late and promising a near-PR performance in the mid 3:40s.

However, since that magical week things have been less than stellar... I had to take a few days easy after the 800 because my calves were just one big knot. And since then, I've just been struggling with general fatigue. I've never had such a rapid turnaround in general energy level week to week. So leading up to ITM, I was more than a little nervous and it caused me to put top priority on just feeling fresh again. I only ran 15 miles in the 4 days leading up to the meet and only one easy workout, 6x200m. It had the desired effect. My fatigue broke on the day of the meet. For the first time in 2 weeks I didn't whimper at the thought of bounding upstairs or jumping over a bench.

QEII

The QEII stadium environment was a lot more impressive this time than when I ran a local 5k back in December; there were cameras and tents all over the place and almost 2000 people in the stands. Warming up, I was grateful to feel my strides flow crisply and not tire my legs. It allowed me to actually think about the race and not my conditioning. That said, the gameplan going into the race was always the same. The pacemaker was instructed to push 2:27 through 1000m, a pace I have no business running right now and so the plan was to hang on the back of the pack. Draft and stay out of trouble for 1200m and see what happens in the last 300. Try and pick off as many stragglers as possible.

With a simple gameplan, a long stride, and some confidence that I wouldn't embarrass myself, I toed the line. Gun went off and I was immediately blown away! I think every racer got out to a 14s 200m and I nestled down second to last.

Lap 1 - 60

Lap 2 - 62

Lap 3 - 61.5

I was DFL entering the last lap and the time to move to put myself in the race had come and gone. The upside of running like such a wimp was that I was able to call another gear for the back stretch of the last lap, taking down 3 people (who had presumably raced harder in the early stages) in the process. On the home stretch, I wasn't able to get high on my toes and my kick floundered in the last 50m, just like it always does. However, I had closed in 43 and put myself through the line in 3:48.3, a time that has given me some confidence that I can compete on the elite level again. The kick will come with more calf rehab and future plyometrics. I'm just grateful to have spared myself embarrassment. Not the mindset I want to have very much, but this was definitely a race that was tailored towards the southern runners that are peaking at the end of a season, aka not me.

Looking ahead, I'll float for the next week before NZ nationals before getting back into the grind. At that point, all eyes on June in the States and hopefully some new PRs.

Quick, say 7 digits out loud!

.

.

Creepy Over-Zealous Guy

Well whatever you came up with, it probably had a sequence in there. And if you're a hot brunette trying to quickly ditch a over-zealous creepy guy (see right), you may be left saying something like, "Oh, my number? Why it's... 123... 1.. 34.. 7! Can't wait to hear from you!" And cackle all the way back to telling your girl friends how cute you are.

The number that I received for my Vodafone cell is... 123.1347. And as you've guessed by now, I have received a couple mysterious and sometimes funny txts. I then proceed to add to contacts as Poor Bloke1, Poor Bloke2, etc... I do that in the event that they call (and they have). At which point I let them down easy via txt. Anyways, it's Saturday night and I just sent this fellow a txt after he called. He responded, "Ouh. I'm S0ry." Drunk at 9:30? Standard...

So now the race of twice the usual distance, 3000m. I ran 53min yesterday to prep for it. Felt a bit fatigued but got this surge of adrenaline thinking that NCAAs would be the next day (today). That got me fantasizing about running 8:19 and just keep going to 5k. Hah! Anyways... who starts a race writeup talking about the day before? Oh yeah, I felt a bit fatigued.

So I woke up this morning and did my standard calf exercises but no morning run. Sat around passing the time 'til 10AM: Division III Indoor Champs kickoff with the mile. Connor was in the first heat and ran solid, qualifying onward. As the day progressed I started flipping between DI and DIII. Over the next 3 hours I got the chills watching the races and was incredibly pumped for mine!

Got to the track and warmed up for 15min followed by leg swings and drills and strides. I still felt a bit fatigued but I've felt the same before sooo many races. The good thing was my calves weren't knotted anymore (slowly working themselves out over the past few days). So I put on the victories and waited for the gun.

You'll have to excuse me, this writeup may be a bit scatterbrained as I'm watching the Phoenix vs. Sydney soccer game right now. So a bit distracted...

The gun goes off and immediately our pacer (Josh Van Dalen) went to the front. The target: 67s.

First lap: 66.high. Awesome.

Second lap 2:14. Nice. For these first two I was riding right on his shoulder, feeling strong and really expecting a harder time dealing with the paces. Made me get a bit close to him at times, each time forcing me to mentally relax, chop my stride, and stop tailgating so hard.

The 3rd lap felt perfect and we came through the 1k in 2:48 and the 1200 in 3:22. Unfortunately, this is where Josh pulled out with a "Sorry mate." I think his calf must have been bothering him a bit. Well I got the lead at that point and while Stefan had offered to try and take 400m after Josh pulled out, he was a step behind and I didn't want to fall off the pace at all so I took it at that point.

I don't know any other splits except 2k -- 5:36. So perfect 2:48 - 2:48. I had planned to start dropping the hammer here pre-race and maybe that was a bad thing because I went from feeling average with 1200 left, to feeling awful with 800m to go. I really felt like I should be kicking at that point. It was horrible. The result: I basically hung on to my stride for 600m and then couldn't muster the mental or physical effort (or both) to get on my toes and close hard. Plus I came through to the bell lap in 7:20 so I knew I wasn't going to hit my mental goal of 8:19. Anyways, I closed out the last lap in 70......... Hardly elite closing speed... For all you arts and humanities students out there: that's an 8:29.

Post-race I walked around for 12 minutes trying to stop my sides from aching before finally getting jogging. And I emphasize jogging. I was supposed to do a bit of a 45min tempo after the race but 10min in to cooldown I knew that wasn't in the cards. So 13min easy cooldown followed by 20min chat. Then 10min light jog home to watch the D1 DMRs.

About 30min later though, with some recoop food/lactate drain, I got back out and finished the session. 40min starting 6:30, finishing ~5:40 by best estimate. Done.

Thoughts afterwards are mixed. I certainly would like to be a bit faster on my own but... with the sun, and wind, and fatigue from the week, and leading over a mile... I'm not suicidal. New goal is to just break 3:50 at ITM though.

Later mates.

I was feeling a little flat (understandable as I'm doing calf exercises twice a day for achilles rehab... though I skipped the Fri-night and Sat-morn sessions)  when I went to the track at 2:00PM today. For the first time in a long time I thought and sweated over the race enough for my body to actually go into race mode (got a little chilly in the morning and needed to hit the stalls a ridiculous number of times leading up to the race. I was sweating not for any reason than I wanted to run well. Amazing the amount of pressure you can dump on yourself.

"Work!" - Mitchell Baker's instructions for the race.

I blatantly wanted to hit 3:52 going 62-63-62-45 but admitted to myself I would be happy with anything under 3:55.

So when the gun went off. Things got boring real fast. It was me vs myself vs time vs a slight breeze.

The result was 62-64-64-46 = 3:56... bleh. Its not bad enough for me to be frustrated, just annoyed. Good news is I did win, led the whole race, and had a slight breeze (calm for Wellington) to slow me. Best news is I felt like I could race again 45min later. So the recovery is there, and, as expected, the speed isn't, but I was hoping there was a little more natural talent in these ol' legs.

Anyways, better than the 4:19 start indoors at MIT last year, but slower than the 4:10 I ran this same weekend in 2009. So yeah, nothing too remarkable one way or the other. Like I said: boring.

And no pictures/video. Enjoy your black and white report.

"Beware, En Zed. Beware!"

"I'm gonna have to stop you mate. There's a Tsunami warning in effect."

"What? Wow, uh, thanks!... Good to know."

I immediately got a surge of adrenaline before realizing that the threat was probably pretty minimal and a ways off if this guy was still on the beach. And I know I'd seen other people on the beachfront sidewalk (though indeed no one was on any of the beaches I ran by, a fact that I chalked up to there being absurd gusts of wind). As I ran along, eager to get away from the cliffs trapping me on the waterfront, I actually realized there was no way a wave was just going to rush in and dominate me. The two main reasons being I was on the downwind coast (I didn't know it was earthquake induced at this point), and the South Island was barely shrouded behind misty low-hanging clouds across the channel. Surely it would block most of the raging Tsunami, all I would get is a gradual swell of water and some flooding. Indeed, the whole global incident proved to be quite subdued and I laughed when I read the media's post-"Tsunami" reports which were decidedly disappointed in tone.

Today is an sublimely beautiful day. The sun has been out regularly this past week, so I can't complain, but most times, it has been accompanied by an energetic wind that forces you to chain all your belongings to the ground. Today however, there is only a lazy breeze, just enough to breath fluttering life to the scenery. I've actually gone out and just walked around the city a couple times on these really great days, following my nose and allowing any street vendor to capture my attention (such is the luxury of setting your own minimal working hours). Heh, I remember a week ago I had a bit of a chat with a woman handing out free books on Hinduism. Her opener was, "Today we're giving free books to anyone dressed in white!" (I was athletically geared in white adidas shorts and a plain cotton T), "Here, have a look!" I eventually declined her products, but I found her sales method particularly interesting as she claimed, upon learning my nationality, to have spent some time in Boston. A follow up question illuminated the bluff as she didn't remember the name of the bank she supposedly worked at for 4 years... but I had some fun (and good conversation) digging into her fictional character, forcing her to exercise her imagination. To her credit, she humored all my purposefully probing questions and we had a few laughs along the way. Upon reflection, I don't blame her for pretending at all. If I was trying to get people intrigued in my products (or in this case evangelizing), I would surely make up ridiculous stories about myself, not only to form a connection with the customer, but also to just stay entertained. Sales must be a pretty demanding job. I could never do it... not because I can't be devious, but because I would never be able to handle all the rejection.

Well that was some tangent... Anyways, back to the investigation. Most people have a pretty simple gage for how their life is going and at the moment I'm no different. Career, Hobby, and relationships. Looking at "the bigger picture", and if we take this popular measuring stick of success, things are looking up for me. Web work has been good to me, keeping me as busy as I could hope to be and allowing me to get rid of some of my substantial college debt. Recently, I've also been hitting some new ground in my track workouts. I'm feeling the speed returning and my calf/hip drills are starting to feel more natural.

So now I find myself, baking away, reminising about the week that was, both at the center of it all, and yet sheltered from the bustle. And so now you see why I say, "I have a peaceful easy feeling..."

Time for a nap.