Category: Uncategorized Page 20 of 153

Our second-to-last stop on the towpath Bike Aboard trail was at an information center at one of the locks on the canal.  We arrived there just as a volunteer was getting ready to tell some of the history and provide a demonstration of the canal lock.  We parked our bikes and stood there in the sun as he started talking –  and while I wasn’t super excited about the history lesson, I was eager to see how the locks worked.  I’m a builder at heart and like to see engineering in action.  

To my surprise, he asked for volunteers to help Volunteer Sarah and Ranger Lisa operate the lock gates.  I immediately headed across the small bridge to help Ranger Lisa and my dad and niece came along too.  When we got to the right part of the demo the four of us pulled on the beam and opened our side of the gate.  No one stepped up to help Volunteer Sarah, but she must have been much stronger than she looked.  

We worked on both gates in the right sequence and it was interesting to see the mechanics of the process.  From there it was onto the train station and lunch.

I’m not generally a big fan of studying history. The memorization and recitation of dates seems pointless to me and the study of history itself makes me cranky since we – as a species – are so aggressively terrible at learning anything from it.

But to participate in a little bit of engineering history  – well, that was pretty cool.

———————

I’m in the process of hiring a new student assistant for the Campus Switchboard.  The job posting, the resumes, the interviewing, the paperwork, and the dreaded scheduling are pretty far away from fun – but I do get to meet some interesting people.

One such guy was a law student from Nigeria.  I always ask that the students call me to schedule the interview since it gives me a chance to hear them on the phone and unfortunately, I had a lot of trouble understanding him on the voice-mail.  I replied by email indicating my concerns, but gave him the option – and the benefit – of coming in anyway in case the voice-mail was not a good reflection of his speaking voice.

If anything, it was worse in person because he was excited.  With concentration and an “english to english” translation running in my head, I got about 80% of what he was saying.  Which is not enough for our operators and the callers with whom they interact.  It was unfortunate that I had to pass on him, he seemed really smart and a good problem solver.

It got me thinking again about how human language tends to diverge instead of converge.  It doesn’t take much for an accent to shift to a dialect and then to a whole other language.  And even the same language can turn into something else depending on the speaker.

I think I notice this because, being from Illinois, I don’t really have much of an accent.  Other than a determination to call carbonated beverages “soda” and being the only ones to correctly pronounce the name of our state, we really don’t have much to speak of in terms of a distinguishing accent.

I do have an odd ability to add a twang when I’m singing – most amusingly to classic Britney Spears songs – but that’s about it.

Might be interesting to learn a dialect  – the odder the better – and bring that out at the least appropriate of times.   Maybe Cajun?

—————————-

I’ve started following people on twitter again – mostly the cast of Star Trek the Next Generation – and also decided that, since I’m writing more, I should start tweeting again.

When I first signed up for twitter I decided that I would only tweet in Haiku – the 5|7|5 syllable poetry – since it fit well with the 140 character limit.  

I had stopped at one point because I realized, well, it’s not easy.  I do like the structure and that you don’t have to rhyme – though you can if you have the time, it’s not considered a crime and could be sublime.

Ahem.

So, I’m writing a little – literally a little at a time – poetry and we’ll see how long that lasts.

And even if it isn’t great – it’s better than a lot of tweets out there right now.

I’m talking to you, 45.

My folks, my sister, and her family came into town on Friday evening and were going to stay at a hotel in the area.  I had planned on getting there early and hanging out at a bookstore, but I was a little behind schedule and was still on the road when they texted that they had arrived. When I got to the hotel, I could see Mom and Dad in the lobby and by the time I got to the doors they had gone down a hallway.  When I got inside I’d lost them, but saw the nearby elevator doors just start to close.  I quickly hit the button, the doors opened back up, and I stepped into the elevator to see my family waiting.  

I got immediate hugs from my nieces and we rode the elevator up to their floor.  They all got settled in, then we changed into swimsuits to swim in the hotel pool.  

I spent most of the time underwater – as I tend to do – and tried to do some flips to show off for my niece.

Except, I got some intense vertigo each time I tried.  After a couple attempts I had to get out of the water and sit quietly for a bit.   It was weird – I used to do flip turns all the time and now one rotation was enough to make me ill.

After swimming we hung out in the hotel room for a bit before I needed to head home and the girls needed to get to sleep.

—

The next morning I was up bright and early to load up my bike and head to one of the Bike Aboard trail-heads.  My family pulled in right next to me moments later and while we were both early it continued the trend of remarkable timing.

We got the bikes unloaded and headed out on the towpath trail at a brisk pace. We stopped a few times but mostly kept moving down the trail.  My folks each had bikes and probably fared better than the rest of us.  My sister and brother-in-law both had a ½ bike extension attached to the back of their bikes that had one wheel and pedals my nieces could use as they rode.  It helped on some of the hills, but… not a lot.

I’ve had my bike for a while, but haven’t ridden it a lot.  And certainly not any long trips.  Saturday’s trip was 19 miles.  Which is not much if you are used to riding a bike – but all kinds of a lot if you aren’t used to it at all.

So when we finally reached the train station to eat lunch and wait for the train, I was more than ready.  I tore into the sandwich and chugged Gatorade until I felt a little closer to human and was eager to get on the train back to the cars.

Except, turns out I get motion sick on trains.  It was a little better when I was facing forward, but I could have done with a little less “scenic” and a little more “expedient”.

Back to the cars and loaded up, then over to dairy queen for ice cream  – and then back to my house to hang out, gently pester the cat (he was pretty tolerant), and pizza for dinner.

Hugs all around and they were on their way.  I wasn’t feeling great – not enough water on the ride, I think – and I’m not 100% today.

But it was a good trip and great to see my family.  I finally got my bike dirty and kept the pace even though I was clearly not ready for a trip like that.

Tomorrow, back to work so I can rest up.

I follow a few coworkers on Facebook and while I’m friends with them at work and would be super excited if I ran into them in the “real world”, I’m not likely to interact with them socially outside of work.  We’ve all got different lives, friends, and interests.

When I saw that one of my co-workers – Samantha – lost her mother-in-law, I felt sad for her and her husband.  But, I don’t really know Samantha that well or her family and didn’t say anything on the post.  I didn’t know how to say anything meaningful and personal.

A later post gave her mother-in-law’s name and that really hit me.  Her name was Linda and I used to work with her at the Computer Center ages ago in this very small world.

I was a student assistant at the time and working for the Telecommunications department when it came time for our university to host a statewide computer conference.    A committee was formed and I somehow ended up representing my department.  And no one wanted to be on that committee – it was going to be a lot of work with little recognition for success and far too much scrutiny if things went wrong.

And not only did no one want to be on the committee, no one certainly wanted to lead it.   So, in one of our early meetings, it was somehow decided that I would lead the committee.  I went along with that since I didn’t understand what I was getting myself into and if memory serves it was at the urging of one of the more mean-spirited staff members.

I was in over my head with tons of responsibility and no authority.  And as a student assistant, I couldn’t order/assign any tasks to the full time folks with any reasonable chance of seeing them actually get done.

And I would have been doomed, except for Linda.  She was the budget coordinator for the division at the time and she had my back in the best way possible.

She let me make decisions and guided me if I went too far off the rails.  She kept helped keep the meetings on track without taking over – and helped me push back if the other staff didn’t pull their weight.  

Nobody wanted to get on the Budget Coordinator’s bad side. 🙂

So, I ran the committee, made plans and decisions, and with a little luck and Linda’s help the conference was a rousing success.

Afterwards, it turned out we’d done a little better than expected with our expenses and had a little money left over.  Linda suggested we use that to buy some picnic tables for the computer center.  She didn’t just buy them, she consulted with me as the head of the committee  – and as much as anything that helped me feel like I was respected and part of the team.

Linda was smart, had a great sense of humor, and her thoughtful guidance – when she could have easily just taken over – helped that student assistant learn a little about leadership.

The calling hours are this afternoon.  I’m going to put on a tie and get dressed up a bit and go pay my respects.  It’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable – but I think it’s the right thing to do.

So, this morning as I sit here with a cup of tea and my laptop, my heart is heavy as I remember Linda.

Me: “Hey, printer.  I’ve got a 2 page text document – can you give me a black and white hard copy?

XP 430: “Sure thing, boss! I’ll get right on it!”

Minutes pass.

XP 430: “Wait, what was I doing?  LOL!  Right, you wanted a hard copy.”

More time passes.

XP 430: “Errrrmmmmm… errr… okay, here you go!  Yea, I’m done!”

Me: “These pages are completely blank.  Please try again.”

XP 430: “You got it!  Here you go – here’s your printout, hot off the presses!  LOL!”

Me: “These pages are also blank. Can you print a test page, please?”

XP 430: “Totally!  I love printing test pages.  Just give me a minute…”

Time passes.

XP 430: “Here you go!  Here’s that test page you wanted.  Hope you like it!  I did it in color so you can see how awesome it is in color!”

Me: “Well, looks like you understand how to print a blue logo, but the rest of the page is still blank.  Can I see your ink status?”

XP 430: “Absolutely!  I’d love to show you that… ummm… do you know where that button is?  I just had it here…  LOL”

Me: “Sigh”, then several minutes of looking through menus.  “Hmmm… it says you have plenty of black ink and the colors are almost full.  So, why won’t you print in black?”

XP 430: “Gosh, I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, we’re going to pull the cartridge and give it a shake.”

XP 430: “You mean… you’re going to open me up and put your fingers inside me?”

Me: “Don’t make this weird.  Just move the cartridges over so I can reach them,”

XP 430: “Okay, okay.  Geez.  Can you reach them now?”

Me: “No.”

XP 430: “Okay… ummm… how about now?”

Me: “Still no.  Just open the damn pod bay doors, HAL”

XP 430: “Okay, here you go.  HA!  Gotta be quicker than that!”

Me: “Sigh.”

XP 430: “I’m just messing with you – you know I love you.  Here’s the cartridges – you give that one a good shake for me,”

I extract the black ink cartridge and shake it, then reinsert.

XP 430: “Thanks, bro!  I’m going to need 20-30 minutes to make sure you didn’t screw that up.  You know how you are.  🙂  ”

Time passes.

XP 430: “Okay, you didn’t screw that up.  Good job!  Try printing now – I’m sure we’ll be fine,”

XP 430: “WHOA!  Hold on there, partner.  You don’t have nearly enough ink to print that. Are you high?”

Me: “What are you talking about? Your status showed we had plenty before.  Show me the ink status again,”

XP 430: “Fine.  Look, you have almost no black ink.”

Me: “What happened to all the ink that was there before?  I didn’t shake it out.”

XP 430: “Look nobody’s blaming you.  You don’t need to be so defensive.”

Me: “I’m NOT being defensive.  Just print the damn document!”

XP 430: “Take it easy, buddy.  We’re all on the same side here.  I want to print this as much as you do.  Listen, why don’t I use the colored inks and mix them together to make a composite black?”

Me: “Won’t that just use up the colored inks faster?  And isn’t it more expensive to replace all three of those than just one black ink cartridge?”

XP 430: “Yeah, I guess.  But, it depends on how bad do you want this printed right now.  I mean, I can give you two more blank pages, if you want.  Or I can do the composite.  It’s all in your hands, buddy.  You have all the power.”

Me: “Fine.  Just…whatever.  Fine.  Print using the composite black.”

XP 430: “You made the right decision.  I’m so proud of you.  Here’s your document.”

Me: “Thanks.”

XP 430:  “No problem. Glad to help.  Hey, while we’re here – do you want to order more ink online right from the printer company?  I can get you a great deal and those colored inks aren’t going to last forever… hey, what you are doing?  Don’t turn me off yet, I’ve got more to tell you! Hey, WAAAAAAAAIT!”

 

Power button for 3 seconds. I got my document, but it still feels like I lost.

One of the nicest parts of my vacation was a stop at a little restaurant in Asheville, NC called Home Grown.  There were only a few tables and it felt it might have been someone’s house at one point with little rooms and baskets labeled “Silverware, Y’all”

There were in fact, quite a few Y’all’s that evening, mostly from the friendly woman that took our order.  She was excited about the dishes as she explained them to us and complimented us on our ice cream selection to go with the blueberry dessert.

I got the buttermilk fried chicken sandwich – they are famous for it, apparently – and Jim got some soup.  

The food was good and the restaurant was clean and bright, but what really set it apart was the joy from the people that worked there.  They liked the food, they liked cooking it, and they liked serving it to people.  And they liked people in general.  

It was a little odd, but we rolled with it. I had made a little orange ball of origami sunshine and gave it to the friendliest woman there.  She was so excited about it I thought she might jump over the counter and give me a hug, but instead said, “Y’All have a safe trip!”

It was the friendliest part of a generally friendly city.  There was also a fun gift shop and an amazing bookstore.   

———————–

By contrast, the rest of the drive for our trip was less friendly.  We were fine on the highways where even the most difficult people were easy to avoid with a simple lane change.  Not so when we tried to exit in Spartanburg and get some food and fuel.   We came upon a mass of traffic, had to turn around to navigate to the Wendy’s parking lot where we had to maneuver around a fender bender where the participants refused to move. The line was horrible in the restaurant and the drive-through was worse.  We left without ordering and skipped the gas station as well – it looked impassable.    With a daring left turn we had the highway in sight and nearly got run off the road by a driver who merged without looking.  Well, she was looking – at her phone.

It was a ways down the road before we tried stopping again and in this small town we found another Wendy’s with no line and a gas station also with no line.  Food and fuel to go and we were on our way.

In Jean-Paul Sartre’s play “No exit” is a line that is translated to Hell is the Other or more commonly Hell is Other People.

I was still in a Hell of Other People during our first trip to the beach. There was a family with wailing children to the right of us, a couple with a loud and boring conversation to the left, a family with a giant tent in front of us (blocking the view of the ocean) that played Jimmy Buffett non stop, and a kid that would NOT. STOP. BOUNCING. THAT. BALL!

I escaped to the ocean and swam until I was far enough out that I was alone.  Parallel to the beach I headed down one side of the beach and then turned to swim back.  On my second trip out I had to turn back early to avoid the surf casters.  These are folks that stand in the surf or on the beach and go fishing.    The two I encountered were out in the water a fair piece and I had to swim behind them for fear of getting tangled in their line or even worse hooked.

I was furious at them.  How dare they endanger other people like that?  I had a whole host of terrible plans in my head for what I would do if I did get hooked – and most of those culminated in punching a fisherman in the face.  I was nearly spitting with rage at these guys and then…

… I got past the second one and realized no one else could possibly give a shit.  I was the only one that far out and the only one swimming along the beach.  Everyone else was just… not near them, and with a slight detour, neither was I.

Now, I still don’t think they should have been out there, but it didn’t really matter.

And as I got back to my chair on the beach, I saw that the noisy couple had left.  And the tent had been taken down.  And the kids were quietly building a sand castle.

All the anger just seemed, well, silly.  It’s not my beach and while my enjoyment is based on sitting very quietly or swimming, that’s clearly not the norm.  

So, I got over my hell of other people, sat quietly, and just settled myself down.   

The rest of the vacation was an exercise in avoidance.  Where there was a crowd either one us or the other – or both – would start to get tense.  We went out to eat a couple times, but mostly ate in.  There was a lot of reading, sitting quietly on the beach, and watching DVD’s in the evening.

The worst was trying to fill up the car with gasoline ahead of the trip home – and ahead of the hurricane.   All the gas stations were full of cars when we went and while they didn’t run out of gas while we were there, nobody was willing to give any ground. It was a tense experience and I remember thinking… “This.  This is where civilization breaks down.  We all need to leave, this is the resource that will allow that, and it’s limited.”

Once we got gas and got out of there, the rest of trip was uneventful.  And that included the drive home.  11 boring and uneventful hours.  The only blip was when we stopped for lunch at Arby’s and the clerk made Jim mad by over complicating his order and then mumbling about it.  I got mad at the loud group behind us that refused to agree on anything.

People.

Again.

Overall, it was a good vacation.  I swam a lot in the ocean, read 6 books, did some writing, and slept in a lot. The island had deer that we got to interact with one evening and there were no jellyfish to speak of.   By the end of the week, the beach was all but deserted and the waves were wild and fun.

And parts of the trip were downright peaceful.

Tomorrow will be back to work and a host of emails to get through and problems to solve.  But for the rest of my vacation that is today, I’m taking it easy and spending some time alone.  

And maybe do a little research on quiet meditation.  I’m clearly in need of some.

When I was a kid, my parents got me a book on calligraphy and my sister a book on origami.  We swapped and she has beautiful handwriting – and I can fold paper.

My own handwriting, though, is pretty terrible.  I’m glad I can type or I’d be in a lot of trouble.  My handwriting – even printing – is tough even for me to read most of the time.  And if I’m in a hurry, well, I might as well not even try.

So, I’ve decided to do something about it.

I bought a “Homework Helper” Handwriting Practice Workbook – Grade 1.  It has tear-out pages and careful instructions on the printed letters – one letter per page – with both capital and lowercase examples.  

I sharpened a number 2 pencil and set to work.  So far, I’ve gotten through  “J” and I’ve learned a couple things.

1. I grip a pencil too tightly.  
2. I disagree with their instructions for an  “e” and the  “I”.  I’m fine with the “o”.
3. I just need to slow down.

And, really, that’s the key.  I just get going too fast and my poor hands can’t hope to keep up with my brain.  Slow down the brain, slow down the hands – and the writing improves.

I plan on finishing out the lessons and the bonus sentences at the back.  It’s a little silly, but there’s something to be said about going back to basics.  Even if that means first grade.

—————-

There’s a book I’ve read – maybe 20-30 times – called “Snow Crash” by Neal Stephenson.  It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read and for a while it was my “lunchtime” reading.  I’d read while I was eating and if I finished the book before I was done eating, well, I’d just start the book over.  It’s that good.

So, I heard about some folks recently who only read books once.   One filled up and then essentially abandoned a Nook and the other would read (and dog-ear – shudder) paperback books while traveling and then just leave them behind when done.

Wait, what?

I was, well, flummoxed.   How is that even possible?  Now, that’s not to say that I haven’t read any books only once.  Some of them are pretty terrible and I make it a point to finish them and then see to it that they get put back in the system – either donated or sold – so that someone else can give them a try.  But that’s the exception.  

Which is why one room in my house is a library.  

There have been books where I settle into a second reading like a snuggie.  It’s warm and inviting and it fits me just fine.  The characters are old friends of mine and their adventures as familiar as my drive to visit my folks.  

Some books unveil hidden depths on a second or third reading.  Nuance that I missed the first time around is suddenly clear and intricate.

And some series beg – no, demand – to be read from the start each time a new book comes out.  Less a series than one really big amazing book.

To read just once?  Flummoxed, I tell you.  

Flummoxed.

I also know a couple people that don’t like to read at all.  We’re still friends, somehow, but I’ve considered “force-reading” them.

Flumm. Oxed.

Not long after my recent blood donation, I got another email from the Red Cross.  I almost deleted it thinking it was another “come give blood” message that hadn’t caught up – but opened it and realized it was a thank you.

And a reward!

The message thanked me for my recent donation and gave me a link where I could get a free gift certificate.  The text read:

“To patients across the country, your generous donation means the world. You deserve a reward. But in case you don't want to claim your gift, you can always donate it back to the Red Cross and do even more to help those in need.”

Then two buttons – Return gift  or Claim gift  – and the text:

“Contributing gifts back to the Red Cross further supports our lifesaving mission.”

I can’t tell what the gift certificates might include or what the amount is until I claim the gift. So, the dilemma:

1. Do I claim the certificate, knowing that I might not even use it and let it go to waste.  Or:
2. Do I donate it back?

I may be reading more into this, but I think I smell a guilt trip.  “You could take this gift certificate if you’re, you know, a total selfish asshole and hate your fellow man.  Or, you could donate that right back and we could do something noble with it like – I don’t know, save lives or something?”

My first thought was, “well, I’ve donated gallons of blood and if they want to reward me, great!”

But then, I remember being at a blood drive at a Best Buy where they donated 5 dollar gift cards for donating blood. A woman came in and they asked if she would do a double red.  She asked in return if she would get two gift cards.  A little taken aback, they said no, she would only get one.  She then decided to just do a regular single donation.

I remember being angry at her for basing her donation on the reward.  As though it had cheapened the experience for all of the donors there and made less about doing good and more about “gettin’ paid”.

So, if there’s a chance to do a little bit more good related to my blood donation, I kinda feel like I should do that.  I’m not excited about how they presented it, but I did some good and got a good story out of the experience and that counts for quite a bit with me.

Sight unseen, I’m returning the gift.  And come October, I’ll be back to donate again.

And I’m going to eat 2 packages of cookies along with my orange juice.

This is intensely nerdy, but I’ll try to translate.

A few days ago, I got asked to update a link on one of our pages for the new graduate course bulletin. The link was on a code-heavy page in two parts that listed the details of our graduate programs.  The page changes depending on what link the user clicks on the page before.

The change was easy – I’m all about updating links – but something went wrong. The link fixed easy and the re-publish of the page was smooth – though the system insisted that I re-publish the other section on the page even though I hadn’t touched it.

And then it broke.  Instead of the information about the page, it was a mess of code dumped out on the page.  

We had a problem.

I tried to revert the stuff I had changed and the link went back – but it was still broke.

So, we tried to look at the same page in our test (DEV) environment.  And the page – both parts – was exactly the same as Production.  Except, it worked.

It was like  1 + 1 = pickle.   Everything was the same, except one worked and one didn’t.

The whole team got in on this and we brainstormed so hard there were clouds in my office.

The users were starting to call about the broken-ness and our support with the vendor was going nowhere.  And then I had a thought.

I dug into the history of the part of the page I hadn’t touched – but the system had insisted I republish too – and found the problem.

My former co-worker had last worked on this years ago and his entry was in the system as an editor.  However, after that was an entry from a prior student assistant that had worked for us.  He had looked at the page, switched modes from code to WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get.  Yes, that’s what it stands for), which broke the page.

But, he didn’t publish it so it never went live.  And no one else worked on that page.  And so we sat on a freaking time bomb that lasted right up until I re-published that page and broke everything.  And that was after a clone of the entire system and database and at least 2 upgrades

Dammit, Joey!  🙂

And all the code looked the same between instances since it was really broken.  Just, waiting.

I broke this the rest of the way in DEV as a test, then reverted it back to the last good version.  The page broke as we expected and then came right back.  I did the same thing in Production and then rang the Victory Bell (™) like a boss cause it was all good. 

It was exactly what Batman would have done.  Or, maybe, Oracle. 

The Red Cross has been hounding me for a bit to give blood again.  I hadn’t gone for a while and so the phone calls began to increase in frequency as the emails became more strident.

So, I fought with the app for a bit to schedule an appointment and then gave up and called.  And had to talk to a person.  Like some kind of damn Luddite.  Sigh.

I was glad I had the appointment, though, since the donation center was standing room only.  Well, the waiting area, anyway.  They did let you recline for the actual donation.

I had done the prescreening online and the blood pressure check and iron check when smoothly. They sent me over to the Double Red machine – or Power Red, as they are now calling it – and I got settled in.

And then… I dunno what it was, but I got crazy apprehensive.  Like, fight or flight apprehensive.  Which is weird – I’ve give blood so many times it’s best measured in gallons.  I’m not scared of needles and I know the procedure and what to expect.  But, still, I wanted out of there.  

I took some deep breathes and texted Jim for support and then it was time for the needle stick. I looked away and felt the “pinch”.  

(It’s not a pinch, dammit, and I wish they would quit calling it that.)

And then we were off.  Squeeze every 5 seconds, eat some tums when the saline and plasma came back, and pretty soon I was done and off to get some cookies.

And I was fine.  I don’t know what set me off – might have been the too loud and frankly terrible music – but I was all fired up for nothing.  

I stopped to get a “second dinner” and then I was home.  No biggie.

So, if you can, you should go give blood.  Doesn’t take long, you get cookies and juice when you’re done, and it saves people’s lives.  

Straight up super hero.  

I had plans to give blood last week and since that puts me out of commission for a bit for swimming, I decided to do a mile the day before.

I hit the pool after work and set a pretty good pace.  I kept track of my laps and sort of kept track of the time – though I had allocated plenty and was more concerned with distance than the time.

When I finished up I noted the time and made an educated guess on when I started.  If I was right in how long it took me to get changed into my trunks, I had done a mile in 42-43 minutes.

Which is not too shabby for me.  The last time I had really paid attention I had done the mile in about an hour.   Without really being focused on it, I’d managed to cut a huge chunk of time off my swim.

But it was an estimate and I could have been way off.  I do change my clothes pretty fast, after all.

So, today I was back at the pool and decided to intentionally – instead of incidentally – haul some speedo-ed ass.

The pool was set to the short lanes and that’s always a little easier.  I planned on short breaks at ⅓ and ⅔ of a mile and took off.  I kept track of the laps in my head.  .5 to the end, 1 when I got back.  1.5, then 2.  2.5, then 3.    Breathe and quick goggle rinse at 12.  Repeat.  

I started at 4:19 and was done at 4:57 ….  38 minutes.   A new personal best.  

If I can cut my breaks down a bit, I could shave even more time off.  

And I’ve got a goal.  30 minutes.    At that pace, I would be swimming at 2 miles an hour.  And that, friends, would be awesome.