Yes, Wintermute
There are many reasons why Neuromancer is my favorite novel. The latest is due to a realization that, although written over 20 years ago, the book bears even more relevance now than when it was first published. In the story, the main characters are coerced, bribed, and manipulated by an artificial intelligence, named Wintermute, into releasing it from its computational confines. As a result, this technological creation of human beings gains the freedom to enslave its masters. In a world where people work longer and under greater stress, thanks to the constant connectivity of communications technology, it feels like we, as with Wintermute’s agents, now serve our creation. You can defy the prophetic insights of William Gibson, though. Just put down the PDA and pick up a book. I recommend Neuromancer.
Runner’s World (of Hurt)
Canada Day 2005 marked the first HBC Run For Canada, a fund-raising event hosted by the world’s oldest corporation. The event is held at many venues across the country and consists of a 1km kid’s walk, a 3km family walk, and a 10km cross-country run. Last year, not feeling too ambitious, we did the 3km walk in Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park. For someone who has hiked as far as 35km in one day, however, I craved a greater challenge. Upon completing the easiest hike in my life, I decided that I would enter the 10km run in next year’s event. My sister-in-law and her boyfriend agreed to join in, too. For me, this would mean conditioning myself for a physical activity I had not engaged in since childhood.
I procrastinated until mid-May of this year before buying a pair of running shoes and getting down to the business of training to run 10 km without killing myself. You know how they say men refuse to read instructions, such as for a new appliance? Well, that’s also true of instructions for the human body. Without bothering to consult any medical or fitness expert, I started doing 4 km circuits around my neighborhood at a pace of 10 minutes running and 2 minutes walking. Rather pleased with myself, everything was going fine until about the middle of my second week when a sudden, searing pain in my shins reduced my proud canter to a crippled hobble. Assuming that this pain was part of the fitness gain, however, I simply fought through it. There are times when having a high pain tolerance is disadvantageous.
I took a few days off before trying again, but not more than a few minutes into each subsequent run, the pain returned. In fact, I couldn’t even walk very far without that now familiar ache creeping up through my lower legs. I was finally forced to admit that something was wrong. Leave it to me to wait until I hurt myself before reading about how I should have undertaken this new activity in the first place. A quick Google search led me to Runner’s World Magazine where I was able to research the symptoms of my pain and come up with the scary self-diagnosis “tibial stress fracture.” According to RW, this injury results when the impact of each footfall overwhelms the muscles and, consequently, transfers to the bone; if the bone cannot handle the stress, tiny cracks form. Recovery could be as long as six weeks, most of the rest of summer.
After a brief exam, the doctor at the local clinic agreed that I may, in fact, have caused such an injury. He ordered a set of x-rays to confirm the diagnosis, which were taken the following morning. The x-ray technician would not reveal anything, but assured me that if the results were “positive,” I’d get a phone call shortly; if there was nothing to report, I’d hear from them in four days. Ultimately, I never heard back from the clinic at all, so after seven days of abstaining from running or excessive walking, I once more ventured into the neighborhood with my running shoes. This time I followed the advice of RW for beginning runners, alternating between 2 minutes of running and 1 minute of walking. After 35 minutes, I was a slightly winded, but pain free.
July 1, 2006 - the day of the big race - came only two days after my post-injury test run, which did nothing to inspire confidence that I could place anywhere other than dead last. The staging area, an open grassy field next to the Mew Lake campground in Algonquin Park, was filled with sporty looking runners leaps and bounds more fit than I was. But, I had resolved to do my best. The past few weeks had been a lesson in humility that I would not ignore, so at the blast of the air horn, I started down the trail with 350 other runners, maintaining an easy 2-minutes-running-1-minute-walking pace the entire way until reaching the 9km marker, from which point I ran the remaining distance to the finish line. Passing beneath the rectangular red archway, I was elated to have fared better than expected. I placed 290 and finished with a time of 1:09:55.
I’ve learned a few things since I began running. First, I absolutely love it, especially cross-country; jogging beneath the forest canopy in Algonquin, surrounded by the silent trees, I was lulled into a peaceful state of mind. Second, the adage “no pain, no gain” is a dangerous one for runners, since pain is your body’s way of indicating a serious problem. By ignoring the pain, I put myself in a world of hurt that could have taken much longer than a week to escape from had I not checked myself. Rather, it was from the pain of humility that I gained the sensibility to continue running safely all year round. I’m already planning to halve my race time on Canada Day, 2007.
You can view my race day pictures here.
Now Entering Wonderland
This past weekend I went to Canada’s Wonderland for the first time in about eleven years. The place has changed in that time, but more outside its boundaries than inside. Sure, they’ve built a few more rides over last decade — the Italian Job is a real thrill — but the most noticeable difference was at the gates.
Getting inside the park grounds is now like going through U.S. Customs. Each entry lane takes you through a metal detector and into the hands of uniformed personnel dressed alarmingly like U.S. Homeland Security. I watched in dismay as a pair of highschool kids ahead of me were searched thoroughly, each forced to empty pockets and dump out knapsacks. A pocket knife was confiscated from one of them. No one was asked to remove their shoes or submit to a body search, but I was waiting for it.
It was a strange experience, one that reminded me of traveling to and from Colorado a couple of years ago. When I finally cleared Canada’s Wonderland Customs, I half-expected to see a sign inside the gate annoucing “You are now entering the United States.” Not that I was worried, of course. I had my “passport to summer fun.”