Today I set two personal bests. First, I swam a mile in 1:08. My previous best time (that I’m aware of) was 1:12. I say “that I’m aware of” because I usually don’t keep track of when I get in the pool. Today, I looked at the clock right as I started.
Secondly, I did my longest swim ever today. 2200 yards. I wanted to break my previous record of 2000 yards, and usually I would do so by swimming only 100 yards more. But when I did my calculations before I swam, I saw that 2200 yards would bring me to 28,200 yards total, which happens to be 16 miles! In reality, it’s 16 miles + 40 yards. So I pushed it to get it.
In any case, I felt great after the swim. I still haven’t decided 100% if I’ll go swimming tomorrow or not. It will depend on when I get up and how I feel when I do. But right now I’m leaning toward going about 75%.
We now have even more tangible evidence as to why socialized healthcare is a BAD IDEA. Sure, all anyone’s had to do is watch how many Canadians flee to America for healthcare treatment instead of using their lovely Canadian “free” healthcare, but the argument could always be made that Americans will do it better.
Now we can respond with a resounding: “Whatever.”
The problem with socialized healthcare is that the government is involved in the process. And if you want to know what will happen to you on healthcare, then look no further than the boondoggle that was (notice the past tense) the “Cash for Clunkers” program. Yes, that program lasted…a whole six days before the gum’ment realized they were running out of money to fund it.
Quote of the day: “If they [the government] can’t administer a program like this, I’d be a little concerned about my health insurance.” – car salesman Rob Bojaryn (Source).
Here’s some more from the same article that the above quote appeared in, with emphasis added by me:
In a shocker, the government announced it would suspend the program at midnight because demand was too great.
…
On Thursday night we learned the program was only good until midnight, all because of a backlog of red tape. [Note: it’s not ALL because of red tape—ed.]
…
But the money may be running out faster than anyone imagined.
And this encapsulates the problems inherent in government “oversight” of the free market. 1) The government is run by people who have, by and large, never run a lemonade kiosk let alone a business. As a result, they 2) lack the ability to imagine all the relevant reactions to their dictums in a market situation. It wouldn’t have taken a marketing genius to realize that if you give people $4,500 for a car that’s worth $12.87 you’re gonna end up with a lot of worthless junk and not much money, but it does take a government official not to realize it. 3) Additionally, anything that government touches is covered in so much red tape it takes a machete, two flamethrowers, and an ancient Mayan treasure map just to get to the box containing your “prize.” If you look up “efficiency” in the dictionary, you won’t find “government” as a representation of that concept.
With all this in mind, you already know what will happen with socialized medicine. People are told they can get “free” healthcare. If people swamp the market with junk vehicles because they get a good deal, how much more so will they swamp hospitals when they’re told they get free healthcare? It’s a hypochondriac’s dream!
In 2010, this story will be written about healthcare, complete with sentences like: “In a shocker, the government announced it would suspend socialize healthcare at midnight because demand was too great.” And: “On Thursday night we learned the program was only good until midnight, all because of a backlog of red tape.” And: “But the money may be running out faster than anyone imagined.”
Because this is the inevitable result when you let government intrude into the free market.
Quickly, Algore remains tragically wrong today as fall temperatures freeze out Colorado Springs. I swam another 2,000 yards today, bringing my total to 26,000 and leaving 1,734,000 yards to go. 26,000 yards is roughly 14.7 miles. Proof that even Dan Rather would accept that Obama was not born in the United States!. And that’s about it for now.
First off, I didn’t think it was possible to get hypothermia in July, especially with Global Warming going on, but it’s frickin’ freezing Mr. Bigglesworth. How cold? 54 degrees right now. That would be downright hot in February, but not for July.
In any case, my suffering was made worse by the fact that when I left work it was in the middle of a downpour. I went to the Y and swam 1800 yards, got dressed in my soaking wet clothes, and stepped into 54 degree air temperature with the wind blowing.
Not fun.
As I said, though, I got 1800 yards swimming. It was my first swim this week since I was sick on Monday and didn’t go to work, and on Tuesday I still hadn’t recovered fully. Not swimming for 5 days took a noticeable chunk out of my speed, but my stamina was fine. I would have tried for 2000 yards but for the fact that I ran out of time and had to catch the bus. As it was, I pushed it somewhat just to squeak the mile in.
Anyway, that means I’ve done 24,000 yards now with 1,736,000 to go. Oh, and since I missed a couple of swims earlier this week, I’m thinking I’ll probably head down to the Y on Saturday and do a make-up swim. Depends on if I end up with any other plans then first though.
Signs is one of my favorite movies, largely because of the philosophical issues raised in the film. Since I’ll be addressing them, I should warn everyone right now:
Major Spoiler Alert!
In fact, if you haven’t seen the film (it came out in 2002, so there’s no excuse for you!) and wish to do so, then don’t read anything that follows.
Directed by M. Night Shyamalan (before he lost his talent), Signs tells the story of an Episcopalian minister, Rev. Graham Hess (Mel Gibson) who has a crisis of faith after losing his wife Colleen (Patricia Kalember) in a tragic accident. Graham’s brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix) moves in to help Graham raise his two children, Morgan (Rory Culkin) and Bo (Abigail Breslin). But all this happens chronologically before the opening scene of the movie.
The Hess family was excellently developed by Shyamalan. In addition to Graham’s struggles with having lost his faith, Merrill is the story of a great baseball player who could have been. He has the record for the longest home run (and the bat is proudly displayed in the Hess house), but also held the record for most strike-outs. As a result, he’s going through life as a sort of drifter, and in one scene he’s flipping through brochures for the Army.
Bo has an odd phobia of water—she takes two sips and says, “This water is contaminated” and puts the glass down. In one scene, Graham finds two glasses of water and picks them up to return them to the kitchen when he finds several other glasses on another cabinet. In frustration, he gives up and leaves all the glasses where Bo puts them.
Morgan is the closest person resembling a “normal” boy, but he has asthma, which makes him somewhat physically weak—a failing he makes up for with his intelligence.
With this backdrop, the story unfolds. The movie opens with children’s screams of terror. Graham and Merrill rush out to find Graham’s children, and discover a crop circle in their farm. This unnatural phenomenon sets the stage for the action of the movie.
The title Signs obviously refers first to the crop circles; they are signs used by aliens to navigate on Earth for a hostile takeover. If that was all the movie depicted, it would be little better than an expensive B-movie. But they are much more than that, as viewers discover. Indeed, while it is almost certainly not M. Night Shyamalan’s intention, Signs eventually becomes one of the greatest illustrations of deterministic compatibalism ever released in Hollywood. The question was first raised in an interaction between Graham and Merrill after alien lights are seen in the sky. Graham says:
People break down into two groups when they experience something lucky. Group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence.
They see it as a sign…evidence that there is someone up there watching out for them.
Group number two sees it as just pure luck, a happy turn of chance. I’m sure the people in group number two are looking at those lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation isn’t clear. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they’re on their own. And that fills them with fear.
Yeah, there are those people. But there’s a whole lot of people in the group number one. When they see those lights, they’re looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever’s going to happen, there’ll be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope.
So, what you have to ask yourself is, what kind of person are you? Are you the kind who sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or look at the question this way…is it possible that there are no coincidences?
After Merrill assures us “I’m a miracle man” he asks Graham where Graham stands. After trying to avoid the question, Graham finally responds:
There is no one watching out for us, Merrill. We are all on our own.
After this exchange, the aliens turn hostile. The Hess family boards up their home and is eventually forced into their basement. While there, Morgan has an asthma attack and Graham realizes in horror that Morgan’s medication is in the kitchen, unavailable. Graham stays with Morgan through the night, trying to calm his son. It brings him to his breaking point. Graham, in the basement, is as low as he can go physically, spiritually, and emotionally. He looks up to heaven, thoughts of his wife clearly on his mind, and says:
Don’t do this to me again. Not again. I hate you! I hate you!
But after venting his anger at God, Graham continues, trying to soothe his son:
Don’t be afraid of what’s happening. Believe it’s going to pass. Believe it. Just wait. Don’t be afraid. The air is coming. Believe. We don’t have to be afraid. It’s about to pass. Here it comes. Don’t be afraid. Here comes the air. Don’t be afraid, Morgan. Feel my chest. Breathe with me. Together. The air is going in our lungs. Together. We’re the same. We’re the same.
And Morgan stabilizes through the act of belief. Then morning comes.
The family has a radio and learns that the attack is over. Humans have found a way to defeat the aliens, but the news doesn’t know what it is.
Morgan is still in trouble from his asthma as the Hess family come out of the basement. And as Merrill goes to get his medication, Graham retrieves the TV so they can watch the news, when a remaining alien captures Morgan. As Graham stares at the alien, he has a flashback to the night his wife died, and everything clicks into place:
And here, literally in the last ten minutes of the film, comes the payoff. All the things that occurred beforehand have explanations. Why did Colleen die? So that Merrill would move in with his brother. Why was Merrill able to do so? Because he held the strikeout record and couldn’t make it in baseball. Why did Bo have her strange water phobia? So water would be all over the house in the time of need. Why did Morgan have asthma? So that he never inhaled the poison the aliens secreted. And why did Graham go through his crisis of faith? So that in the end he could “see.” When Morgan asks if someone saved him, Graham responds: “Yes, I think someone did” (a definite reference to God).
The movie then wraps up after some amount of time has passed. Children’s screams are heard again, but this time they’re screams of joy. And Graham leaves the bathroom wearing his priest’s collar, his faith restored.
Within the context of the story, all the events are determined. By this I don’t mean that M. Night scripted the events—obviously that’s true, but irrelevant to our discussion. Instead, if you consider the story as if it were true, the end is still deterministic. It all served a purpose, and there were no coincidences.
More importantly, however, and what sets this movie apart from others such as Final Destination is that this determinism is not fatalistic. That is, the characters are not trapped by fate and unable to alter their final destination no matter how hard they strive. Instead, every single member of the Hess family behaved exactly as they would have under those circumstances. Indeed, they acted freely and were never coerced.
Yet they did exactly what was determined that they must do.
As the characters proceed through the story, there is no indication that they feel that they are being manipulated by some higher power or purpose. Bo’s water phobia, for instance, is never perceived as being intended for some end result; it’s just a “weird tick” that she has. It is only in the end, looking back, that the hand of God can be seen working through all the events that occurred.
As a result, Signs exemplifies the Christian concepts of predestination, foreordination, and compatablistic free will.
Apparently I am slacking in that I have only blamed Bush 283 times, according to Google. I blame Bush that I only got 283 times! Well, 284 times once this page gets indexed…
Every once in a while, I have to make a few observations. They’re not necessarily observations that no one else has made, but they’re the kind of observations no one talks about.
Like how our Arminian brethren have discovered the word “irenic” and like to put it in as many comments as they can post, most often in the accusatory sense to make their use of the term irenic rather ironic. Thus: “The disagreement is surprisingly civil and irenic (which proves that both Peter and Paul know how to disagree with each other without resorting to childish rhetorical tactics as are so often employed by them against non-Calvinists).” (I may have edited that slightly there at the end.) And: “I hope Peter finds this post irenic, as I have tried to be. If he decides to respond I hope he can refrain from the normal, sinful Triablogue behavior of calling names, insulting intelligence, and using abbreviated bad words.”
I suppose I could point out the unnecessary comma after the word “normal” in the last quote above, but woe to me if I would be accused of insulting someone’s lack of intelligence! After all, the most important thing in my life is to look good in front of irenic Arminians. Because really, who wouldn’t want their behavior as the standard of righteousness? (Yes, that sentence has an intentionally ambiguous “their” in there, because that’s how I roll.)
Be that as it may, I’m sick of the term irenic. So I offer an exchange. From now on, whenever an Arminian talks about how irenic Arminians are, I’m going to talk about how anfractuous their arguments are. Further, because I care and wish to show the utmost respect for my Arminians, I will no longer engage them as I have up to this point, but will instead view them as intellectual equals, viz.:
Birch’s billingsgate vituperation was manifest via the attendant extract: “[I]t should not at all be assumed that any of the five Calvinists who contribute to blogging on Triablogue are born again Christians…” With no pretense proffered in a homogeneous riposte, one must admit it disquieting that this is beheld as a nonpareil rejoinder, though we must receive that the quip is notably breviloquent. Notwithstanding such ephemerality, the postulation merely traduces Triabloggers while proffering no theological remuneration. Consequently, Birch’s ejaculation is sub judice inasmuch as Birch himself indites his own injunction. Subsequently, no antiphon is obligatory for it is oft affirmed that the one who would impute malignance in others endows veniality himself.
Thankfully, there is no need for further dialogue with such irenic fellows.
This time, it was like my swimming routine was reversed. I started out really sore and tired. By the 300 yard mark, I was seriously considering stopping at 500 yards. But then I caught my rhythm and pushed on.
I also finished my 2,000 yards a full ten minutes faster than yesterday’s time, even though it was my third straight day of swimming 2,000 yards.
I think most of the reason was because I had the lane to myself for almost the entire swim. However, when that changed, boy…
Let me just say I’m still ticked at the guy. There’s no nice way to say this: the guy who entered my lane was a complete ass. First off, I was about to hit 1,600 yards, and I’ve been alternating between freestyle and backstroke (doing either sets of 50 or sets of 100). So I was on the return trip, assuming as had been the case for the last 62 lengths that my lane was, well, my lane. When suddenly, there’s a DB shooting past me. He was wearing flippers and hand paddles too.
Now since I didn’t know he was there, I’m in the middle of the lane. Like I’m supposed to be when it’s my lane.
Common freaking courtesy, which everyone who swims knows, is that you wait until the person in the lane gets to the end where you’re standing and you say, “May I join you?” Since the answer is always “Yes” you can even step into the lane without any problem, so that someone who’s doing kick turns will be able to tell someone wants to enter the lane.
I’ve never turned anyone down, and no one’s ever turned me down, when it comes to sharing a lane. But what you don’t do is just jump into the lane and start racing out when the guy who’s been there solo for the last 62 lengths doesn’t know you’re there! That’s a good way to crack skulls.
And I should note, the lifeguards agreed with me.
Oh well. I only had to share that for about 150 yards. Then the lane beside me opened up (it really should have been open the whole time because it was two kids who had been kicked out of the free area of the pool when they closed it at 6:30 and turned it back into a lane, and they were just messing around with a paddleboard). Anyway, I ducked under and swam the last 350 yards to get my 2,000 yards.
And the ass who stole my lane? Yeah, he was gone after a whole 10 minutes of swimming. Seriously, what’s the point of A) cheating by wearing flippers and hand paddles and B) only swimming for ten minutes? IF YOU’RE GOING TO BE AN ASS TO PEOPLE, YOU SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE A REASON TO BE THERE!!!!
But enough of that. I’ve got 22,200 yards now; 1,737,800 left to go.
If you understand logic and have been following this blog, then you’re obviously not a Wesleyan. (Yes, I put that in here just to make sure Travis reads it.) As you can tell from my blog title, I swam at least 1400 yards today. In fact, I got a full 2000 yards.
That means my current total is 18,200 yards down, 1,741,800 left to go. Thus, I’ve swam more than 10 miles since June 23. In fact, to be as precise as possible, it means I’ve done 10.341 miles. Or you could look at it this way: go 10 miles. Then go the length of a football field, and back. Repeat. Then repeat it again. That’s how far I’ve swum—600 yards more than 10 miles. As you can tell from the decimal above (assuming you actually learned something in school), 600 yards is more than 1/3 of a mile.
So I’m now over 1% toward my goal! And with this milestone, time for a bit of a reflection on how things have gone so far.
First, I am obviously in much better shape than I was on June 22. My muscles have become more defined on my arms, legs, and even my pecs. I assume my back as well, but I can see that. My chin has also firmed up a bit. But my stomach only looks a little smaller, and sometimes not at all. I gained five pounds, but have lost three of those again—and I’m not concerned about that because I know I’ve lost far more than that in fat weight, gaining it back in muscle weight.
My endurance has improved. I remember dying after 200 yards the first day—of course, that was all leg work because I had forgotten my goggles. Even so, my first full swim on June 24 I got a whopping 350 yards. I could have done more because I had misread the bus schedule and was in a hurry, but considering I only did 550 yards the next day I doubt I could have done much more than 500.
I now do 500 yards without breaking a sweat. Okay, I’m in the water so I can’t PROVE I’m not breaking a sweat. But still, I go 500 yards and feel like I’m just starting to warm up now.
Which is actually fairly true. My exercise is kinda strange in that it takes me a while to get my lungs going, so I have to stop after every lap until after I hit a certain point, at which time I can go without stopping all the way to the end of my swim. That point was roughly 1400 yards the first time I did a mile. Even though my legs were sore before that, by the time I hit 1400 yards I didn’t have to stop at the end of the pool—I could just hit it, turn, and continue.
Now, that’s down to around the 500 yard mark. Furthermore, I know from the past that I can get it all the way down to where I can swim a full mile without stopping. My personal best on that was that I swam three miles in three days, and each mile I swam was without stopping.
That’s the next goal I’d like to get in my current routine. I hope it won’t be more than about two weeks before I can swim a mile without stopping. Furthermore, my goal is to do five days of a mile per day, and eventually do 2,000 yards five days a week, all without stopping. At which point I will then work on increasing my speed.
A few other observations I’ve noticed. Waterboarding isn’t fun, but it ain’t all that bad either. I get swamped with waves all the time, and it’s uncomfortable but no big deal after a while. For that matter, I’ve inhaled waves before. That’s definitely no fun, but when you’re in the middle of a pool, you can’t stop to cough. As a result, I’ve learned how to inhale a bit of water and keep on going. It feels a bit like it did the time I had pneumonia, but usually that only lasts about a lap.
I’ve also learned that if the tendon in the middle of my foot cramps up on me, I can still swim to the end of the lane. I don’t thrash around and sink, even though it wouldn’t be bad to get mouth to mouth from some of the cute life guards. (My luck: the guy would be the one to get me.) I can make it to the end of the lane freestyle without kicking if I have to, just dragging myself by my arms. It’s a whole lot slower, but it’s not drowning.
I’ve discovered that I sweat chlorine now. I’ll just be sitting there and someone will turn of the air at work and I’ll brush off my forehead and will smell the pool. Of course, if the air doesn’t come back on, then that’s very temporary.
But it does bring up another point. I have a towel that I use when I go swimming. The only time I use it is after I get out of the pool and then take a shower. Theoretically, I will never be cleaner than I am at the point in time that I use that towel. Why, then, does it only take three days before that sucker reeks like last week’s fish heads and starts to waltz around the locker room hitting on single-celled life forms? Someone ‘splain me why!
Oh well. I’m sure I’ll have more observations after my next ten miles. Which I’m quite certain won’t take anywhere near as long as these ten.
