Run! Run!

And! Consider the Army Physical Fitness test passed, circa 6:00 or so tonight. Thanks, YMCA!

I'm not slick enough to read on the treadmill (currently: The Phantom of the Opera, which is surprisingly good even for people like me who've never seen the musical), so instead running is all music. Lady Gaga and I crossed the (theoretical, treadmill-based) finish line with seconds to spare. Go team!

Anyone got some stretching tips, though? I seem to have pulled some muscles in my upper back during the push-up component of the test, and I'm not overly psyched about it. I've never been as good about stretching as I should, but I'm genuinely not sure what to do differently!

Wind? Still no.

Despite restoring the box kite (this time with the Education section of the NY Times), the second flight attempt failed -- I think that flying a kite of this weight will require more wind than I'd planned on.

Updates on other discarded badges: I still need to run 2 miles to pass the Army Physical Fitness test and, therefore, to earn the Athletics badge. A blend of colder weather, personal laziness, and a soul-draining job have kept me exercise-free lately, but I joined the Park Slope YMCA this morning (making use of John's faculty discount!), and so I can promise (or nearly so) a solid badge-finishing effort this very week. Hooray!

This week was a long one, and not entirely in the best of ways. I knew going in that it was going to be my final week teaching at the public school of despair, but I'd thought my last day would be Friday. Until Tuesday night, when my principal asked me to shift my final day to Thursday instead. This was kind of great (hey, extra day off!), but also meant that I had to spring into action-Emily mode, finishing all kinds of project grading, summarizing of student progress, etc. a day ahead of time for the hand-off to the new science teacher. Things went a little bonkers then, and it's hard to feel like you're doing a good job when you're in a great huge rush all the time.

Somehow, all my students found out by Wednesday that I was on my way out (I didn't tell them, I swear), and they were apologetic and guilty about it, though my leaving actually had very, very little to do with them. I told them so, again and again, but reasoning with 13 year olds is tough, especially when you're trying to do it while remaining reticent about your actual motivations, and there were a lot of tears from the girls. (One, though, took me aside and, hilariously, asked "Why is it that people are nice to you when they think you're leaving or dying? I'm not going to change, though. I'm just a bad kid. It's who I am." I have to respect that self-awareness.)

In good news, I'm employed again -- I start on Monday at a private school, teaching elementary school science in Manhattan. Wish me luck! I feel a little social-justice weird about it (is the message I'm sending "yo former students, I'm going to go teach rich kids instead!"), but that's not the point, I promise. The school is gorgeous, and I'm going to have a lot of freedom to design the curriculum, so I'm feeling good about things.

Tonight: Halloween parade in Manhattan. John and I are both going as Philly aspiring celebrity blogger Arthur Kade. We've even got the hats.

Track and field

Oddly, I've been putting this (near-final) Athletics badge requirement off, but with the help of John's poker night, I'm finishing up once and for all. It's time to post the rules for one track and one field event.

I think, strangely, the rough part for me has been choosing which events to write about. I don't have a ton of interest in this particular aspect of the Athletics badge, I'll admit, and its just been feeling more like homework than like entertainment. Of course, I'm in the minority in my general lack of sports-interest, I'm sure -- drive past any college campus in the fall and see thousands of sports fans out to prove me wrong (and to watch football, too, I'm sure, but I like to think they're just out there in a "so there, Emily!" kind of way).

So, given that I'm a less enthusiastic sports, um, enthusiast than most, I asked two of the card-players to pick track and field events for me to investigate. Matt chose the pole vault, and team Ro and Evan chose the 400 m hurdles (specific, but we'll go with it).

This one's for you, dudes.

I've pole vaulted once in my life, in middle school gym class. I believe I cleared the same jump level that at least one slightly taller kid stepped over, which gives you an idea both of my size in middle school (rather petite) and my jumping abilities. That said, I also have a very dear cousin who, I believe, was some class of pole vaulting champion when she was in high school, so I'm aware that some folks can be quite successful at this kind of activity. I just don't quite understand how.

In order to pole vault, you're going to need, um, a pole, usually fiberglass, and usually from 10 to 17 feet long. You'll also need a mat (3-5 feet thick), a crossbar, ad a 40-45 m long runway. In order to successfully vault, you must, first and foremost, clear the crossbar. It's acceptable to hit the crossbar so long as you don't knock it down, but since the crossbar falls quite readily, it's for the best to avoid it altogether.

There are other ways to mess up your jump, too. Touching the mat before jumping would count as a jump failure, as would taking more than two minutes to complete a jump attempt. Finally, remember that a single failed attempt isn't the end of the world -- generally, a competitor will receive a maximum of three attempts at any given height and will be eliminated after his third unsuccessful attempt.

Finally, there are a few very specific equipment rules: no gloves are allowed, nor is more than two layers of adhesive tape. Jumpers may use chalk or rosin, though.

For the 400 m hurdles, we'll get a little more complicated. Men's hurdles are 36 inches tall and women's are 30 inches tall, while the hurdles are evenly placed 35 meters apart, with the first and last hurdles each 40 m from the starting and ending points. (Is it a testament to international unity that we're mixing units of measurement here, or is it just poor coordination? Does it matter?)

It used to be that knocking down 3 hurdles led to instant disqualificiation; however we're either kinder or more effete now, and competitors are disqualified if they intentionally knock down hurdles, but not otherwise. (Also, competitors may not jump over another runner's hurdles, though I can't imagine why they might want to.)

General race rules apply, as well -- runners may not begin running before the race actually starts, may not shove other runners, and so forth, though these things seem obvious as well.

Thursday run

I know I promised you guys a run on Tuesday, and, straight up, that promise was the only reason I did it at all today. It's been a stressful few days at work, and the very, very beginning of fall is just starting to show up in the air. When I left, around 5, I could feel just the tiniest bit of a chill in the very tips of my fingers. (I'm cold all the time, dudes. Really.)

I headed out towards the library, untimed because of the last traces of Elmo-titis. I was slow tonight, I think, but in general, it was straight up glorious. There are certain early-evening moments where the quality of light and the buildings are working together just right, and even the guy jumping rope in the middle of the sidewalk didn't slow me down.

On the way home, though, I got distracted, and just went to the library instead of past it. I'd just returned two (Collette's Cheri and The Last of Cheri, which was absolutely heartbreaking, and Shelby Foote's The Civil War, which was intermittently excellent and way more than I could handle), and I was sort of in the market for something different.

Today's haul: Sinclair Lewis' It Can't Happen Here, which has been on my list forever, Clare Boylan's Emma Brown, cobbled together from an unfinished Charlotte Bronte manuscript (hard to say how this one is going to go), and Vincent Louis Carrella's Serpent Box, which I saw on the shelf and grabbed, without any prior knowledge whatsoever. We'll see how it goes, right?

At this point, I'm going to sign off with a plea for help: oddly, finding private plane airports/folks who are interested in recreational aviation is proving more difficult in the city than I think it would have been anywhere else I've lived, ever. Does anyone have a hot tip? I've got some feelers out, but I think there's a very strong suspicion of weird, airport-related requests that I hadn't entirely anticipated.

Traning to run

The Athletics badge asks the applicant to explain, in 500 words or so, how to train for an athletic event. Now, I'll admit, I'm not much of a competitive athlete, so instead, I'm going to address how I went about practicing for the 2 mile run I've been working on (for the Army Physical Fitness Test), and how many, many things I've done wrong. (After a weeklong cold, I'm shooting for another run on Thursday, since I'm hideously busy Wednesday nights.)

Hey, after all, Goofus was always much more interesting than Gallant, right?

To begin with, I started running after something like a 2-year period of nonrunning, as well as a 2-month period of exerciselessness. In general, this is a bad way to start. Honestly, though, these 2 months have been the longest period of time I haven't exercised since I was something like 16 or 17 and going to the gym with my parents after school. Even through college and grad school (especially grad school), I was religious about exercise. Since moving to Brooklyn, though, things have really fallen by the wayside. And for an incredibly stupid reason: there's no available gym that's easy to walk to. Somehow, taking the train to the gym seems like it defeats the entire purpose of going to the gym. (On this front, I feel similarly to the way I used to regard people at my tiny New England college who would drive to the athletic center, which, on a residential campus maybe a mile square, seemed absurd. Does this make me a snob? Maybe.) There are regular promises to open a second branch of the YMCA, and my stubbornness is compelling me to hold out for this new, easier-to-reach branch. I will not take the train to exercise, though it's only punishing my own self.

Regardless of all that, I used a modified version of the couch-to-5k running program, which had served me well in the past (well, moderately well, in that it got me up to being able to run for some distance without stopping, but wasn't all that useful for the building up of speed). Rumor has it that if I legitimately want to become fast, I'll have to train for it -- doing things like the hilariously-named fartleks (Swedish for "speed play," or "running real fast for a couple minutes until your brains fall out, going back to regular pace, and repeating ad infinitum). There are legitimate explanations for fartlek, including all kinds of ideas about how fartlek can increase aerobic capacity, can simulate actual athletic events (sprinting to catch an opponent, for example), and theories about how doing this will allow you to actually run fewer total miles in training. Frankly, I've ignored nearly all of this with the explanation (to myself) that I don't need to get that much faster.

In terms of equipment, my dear shoe-selling uncle would recommend that a new runner might see some class of expert who could recommend shoes with appropriate arch support, correction for pronation, and so forth. I did this, too, once, and it was pretty great (I wound up with a pair of Asics I still have). The truth? Um, remember how I said I still have those Asics? Yeah. I'm running in them, three years later. I've swapped out the insoles for a pair of prescription orthotics (hey, I'm a teacher and on my feet all day, and these orthotics were my last gasp of health care benefits before a multi-month gap in coverage). I was actually extremely interested in an article in the NY Times last week suggesting that shoes, in general, aren't actually all that necessary. However, I've seen what people do on the street, and I refuse to haul around my neighborhood with my poor toes a'hanging out. Hell, I've seen what the soles of my feet look like on a day around the city while wearing flip flops. It's not pretty.

So, to sum up: minimal training, no emphasis on speed, old shoes.

Up next: Running Thursday, then on to beginning the next badge. Aviation?

Thirty-four seconds.

I failed the Army fitness test today.

I considered lying to you about it. I went over the allotted time for the 2-mile run by a healthy thirty-four seconds, and I spent some time at the laundromat today reflecting that, well, maybe if I'd jaywalked a little more aggressively, or if I'd decided to run a little earlier in the day, when there was less traffic, I could have pared away that thirty-four seconds easily. But the truth is, that would be a lie. I failed the running test because I didn't run fast enough and that's that.

I thought so hard about lying (I told myself it was just tweaking my results a little bit, honestly) that I even floated it past one of my friends, the way we look for approval when we don't really think what we're doing is right by the approval of others might make it so. Fortunately, one thing pulled me out. First, the one I wish it was: my own moral compass. I mean, how can I lie, right? Lying is bad! But the real reason is the spirit of the project itself. If the object of this project of mine is to actually complete the badgework, then my own honesty is the only thing keeping this from turning into some kind of peculiar but fictional real-time story. And that's no fun. If I start lying about silly things (say, thirty-four seconds), it can become way too easy to move into bigger lies -- did I really successfully cook an all the required food for the Camping badge? Did I convince Prospect Park to let me raise corn?

As the Handbook (and my dad, actually) remind me, a scout is trustworthy -- heck, it's the first piece of the Boy Scout Law. It's not just honesty the scout should strive for, either. "The honor of a scout is a sacred thing, and cannot be lightly set aside or trampled on." This doesn't just apply to commitments to others (foolish as they may be -- are you, internet, really going to judge me for whether or not my run time was off by thirty-four seconds?), but, more importantly, to self-respect.

Now, I know that a few days ago I had some less-than-polite words for the Handbook, in general. I had a bit to say about mouth breathing (bad!), and a bit more about frogs' legs (huh?). But this bit right here, this is a critical one for me. I really do love that the Handbook sees behavior towards others as inherently tied to a sense of self -- it's almost Golden Rule-like. It's a nice bit, and maybe my favorite part of the Handbook so far. (If you're following along at home, you can check it out at Project Gutenberg, then just move down to the "Scout Virtues" section.)

This bit here, really, is what scouting should be about, and kind of what being an actual human being should be about, too. Don't we all want to think the best of ourselves? Don't we all want to have faith in those around us?

To lie to you about thirty-four seconds. Psh. You deserve better.

(Also, a quick reference to a bee-related article in today's NY Times!)

More running but (sadly) less bugle

I just got home from work. (For those of you on the east coast, yes, it's 9:30 PM.) Now, out of respect for my neighbors, sadly, that means no bugle. Not even taps. This is probably for the best, of course, though I may have to reconsider when I actually can do things like play taps, at which point we can consider switching things up a bit. But, for the time being, no bugle.

However, I did take the third run in four days today, for a grand total of more running than I've done in the past two years put together. I have high hopes for this section of the athletics badge, and I should be at the passing-the-run stage soon. I've been measuring the distance of my run very vaguely (oh! this seems like it's been a couple miles!) and timing it even more vaguely (oh! I put songs each of which are roughly 3 minutes long on my ipod and I've been out for 7 songs!), but I think I've got a good shot. For Thursday (I think), I'm going to actually time myself and actually run a pre-charted course. I'll keep you updated. (For the record: the Army physical fitness test standards are not actually all that stringent. It sounds tough, right? Not really.)

Other upcoming events: tomorrow (if I'm lucky), I'll get to downtown Brooklyn to complete the Pathfinding badge. Friday or Saturday I'll post my how-to-train essay (a 500-word requirement for Athletics), and Sunday and Monday there is a top-secret plan in the works. One hint: swimming fully dressed. Be prepared, folks.

Finally, a question: the Athletics badge requires that I explain the rules for one track and one field event. What field event should I investigate? (Heck, what is a field event?)

Running with MJ

You may not know this, but I'm a really bad athlete.

This has always been the case. Last finisher at the Olympic Day races in elementary school. Actually permitted not to play volleyball in high school gym class because I was so inept. I exercise regularly, but it doesn't really make much of a difference -- I was born a klutz and will remain one.

This relates directly to today's topic: my first run for the athletics badge. See, I'm no great shakes at most athletic events, but man, running. So bad. So, so bad. A dear friend of mine (actually, several dear friends) worked for the NF Endurance Team and, as a result, I spent a little time volunteering at their marathon expo centers. This got my confidence up -- I could hang around near runners, so this meant I could become one. Right?

I signed up for the Philadelphia Distance Run and, several months before, began to train. Really, I did. I did the whole shebang -- long runs, short runs, rest days, weights, everything. But it was ultimately kind of a disaster. I finished the race, but in the throes of such tears and vomit and cursing (sorry, mom) that I swore I would never run again. (See the happy faces in that photo? Lies!)

Anyway, this is to give you context for something very, very important: while you may see this and suggest that running only a couple miles in a not-very-brief period of time isn't so bad, trust me. It is.

Now then.

As you may have figured out, I've realized that, for the athletics badge, I will indeed have to engage in some athletic activity and so, this morning, I went on my first actual run in, well, years. And know what? It wasn't that bad. This isn't to say that I'm fast, or that I went very far, but I finished up feeling pretty good. I did indeed both run and walk (which I swear is okay!), but, once again, have pity on a poor wimp.

While I was out, I noticed a huge number of cops in and around Prospect Park, and a bunch of people wearing Michael Jackson memorabilia. Somehow, I had totally missed knowing about the Spike Lee-sponsored Michael Jackson birthday party going on today. (Conveniently, I had loaded up my iPod this morning with nearly entirely old Jackson 5 songs.) Clearly, I have to stop by later.

New badge!

While I do believe my bugle should arrive tomorrow, I still want to get started on a new badge. I'm strongly considering the athletics badge, but there's one problem.

I'm not a 15 year old boy in 1911.

Seriously. The badge requirements are pretty unforgiving. I'd need to write an article on how to train for an athletic event, provide rules for one track and one field event, and meet some very strict physical standards. How strict? Oh good heavens.

The Handbook divides young aspirants into five weight classes: under 90 lbs, under 110 lbs, under 125 lbs, under 140 lbs, and over 140 lbs. (First, do we even need to talk about what a different time period this was? These boys were scrawny.) I will openly admit I fall into category 3. So what do I need to do?
* A running broad jump of 14 feet
* A running high jump of 4'4"
* A standing broad jump of 7'6"
* A standing high jump of 3'6"
* 9 pull ups
* A 20 yard swim in 16 seconds
* A 40 yard swim in 38 seconds
* A 50 yard dash in 7 seconds
* An eight-potato race (kind of a shuttle run) in 41 seconds
* Throw an 8 lb shot put 30 feet
* Complete 13 push ups
* Climb a rope in 12 seconds
* Run a 13 second 100 yard dash

This seems absolutely impossible to me. Seriously. I'm the first to admit this, but I'm kind of a klutz and kind of a wimp. (Also, as previously mentioned, a teenage boy and I are totally different animals.)

So what do you think? What physical fitness standards should I shoot for? I've been considering the APFT (push ups, sit ups, and a run)? The Presidential Physical Fitness standards I missed every time when I was a kid? Something else completely? I'm completely at a loss here -- help!