« March 2005 | Main | May 2005 »

April 29, 2005

Community and Place

Our church's small "academic" discussion group convened last night to discuss a trio of short essays by Caleb Stegall (including this one from the New Pantagruel) focusing on the concepts of place and community as a response to unbridled liberalism (in the traditional, political sense of liberalism). Stegall's general line of thought contends that modernism and liberalism have uprooted our connections to place and community -- we are nothing more than individuals whose only connections are voluntary ones -- we are bound to little more than our whims.

We shared several conclusions. First, we all agreed with Stegall's assessment of the modern condition -- that is, we as a culture are not well-grounded to either place or community. As he says:

It was easier for civil society to flourish when people were stuck—with a family, a job, a church, or a community. But in the modern world, people are rarely stuck anywhere, or with anyone. We moderns are mobile partly because it is easier and cheaper than ever to seek greener pastures in the next state or on the other side of the globe. But we are also mobile because civil society itself has taught us to be. One need look no farther than higher education, site of Anna Quindlen’s paean to radical individualism.

Several of the "real" academics noted that academia, by its very nature, tends to displace its members. Should you choose to attend graduate school, you will doubtlessly be uprooted to attend the school of your choice. Five to seven years later, you will be uprooted again during your job search. And with tenure and better offers, you are not guaranteed you won't be uprooted again. Does this imply that pursuing academics is a distinctly liberal, modern pursuit? Perhaps. But should we reject it strictly for that reason?

There was also some trepidation expressed about Stegall's distrust of individualism. While the idea of complete community is attractive, total integration into a community (meaning the complete loss of individuality) ignores the fact that we are, in fact, individuals. If the nuances of our personalities are not fostered, our spiritual life will suffer. At some point in such a community, we will realize that we don't quite conform with the group, or vice-versa. It was also pointed that while conservative favorite son Wendell Berry favored the agrarian structure of community and family, his characters are also what we might call "rugged individualists." Yet these individualists understand their larger participation in family and community, and understand their responsibility lies not strictly with themselves, but with that community.

Ultimately, Stegall is advocating "resisting the disorders of the age." The cat is out of the bag, so to speak, and we aren't to put him back. We enjoy the fruits of the Enlightenment each day, and we can't turn back the clock. We can, however, swim against the current a bit and find those lost connections to our family, community, and place.

April 28, 2005

Doppelganger

Apparently, there is another sideburned person riding his bike on the streets of Pittsburgh with a motley bag on his back. For the third time in as many weeks, a car pulled up next to me on the morning commute, and the driver rolled down the window, and said "Hey, Seth!" I simply shrug my shoulders, smile, and say "sorry, wrong guy!"

April 27, 2005

Boredom

The redesign work seems to be finished. I worked through a few issues this morning, and we're both pretty happy with the final product. Enjoy.

Work has been painfully slow. I'm in a holding pattern on several projects, which means things will come crashing down all at once. I've been so bored I'm not even motivated to write. Such is life.

In political news, Slate's Fred Kaplan tell us what the meeting between George Bush and the Saudi Crown Prince really means. I find it hard to believe that the Republican party actually allowed a photographer to snap this image (yes, they are holding hands). An picture, as they, says a thousand words.

Also, Reason's Cathy Young examines how the Right has played the faith card in response to opposition of their judicial nominees.

April 26, 2005

New Design

The redesign is mostly complete. I'm sure I missed a template or two, and for whatever reason, MTOtherBlog isn't working in this section's monthly archive -- it pulls in the entries for this blog, rather than my sidebar blog. Minor problems.

Things to Come

A complete site redesign is currently in the works. It's been two years, so I think it's time for a change. The actual layout and design is finished, but I've still got to convert the copious number of MovableType templates we use. Expect a new look by the end of the week.

April 22, 2005

Design

A friend passed along this website, IDFuel, an industrial design blog. Lots of interesting stuff, with an emphasis on environmentally-conscious design.

April 19, 2005

Cycling News

Two professional cycling items hit the major newswires yesterday....

Lance Armstrong to retire after 2005 Tour de France.

I wasn't particularly surprised or saddened by the news. Armstrong had been hinting at this since early spring. Most talking heads outside of the cycling community are lamenting the loss of American's great cycling hope, but those in the know understand that George Hincapie (Armstrong's teammate) has become a force in the Spring Classics, and Bobby Jullich remains a contender in the TdF. I would have enjoying watching Armstrong become a Classics rider (as many TdF winners have done) later in his career. Just imagine the Texan fighting for a win on the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix.

Tyler Hamilton has been suspended for two years.

Hamilton failed a blood doping test at last year's Vuelta d'Espana, and also failed a test after his gold medal ride in the Olympic time trial (though that test was discounted due to mistake in handling Hamilton's B sample). Hamilton will, of course, appeal the ruling, and regardless of the outcome, Hamilton's career will doubtless have an asterisk beside it. Two years ago, Hamilton was a critics darling for finishing fourth in the TdF after breaking his collarbone in the opening stages.

April 17, 2005

Spring Dandy

The lot of us stared down the 200 meter stretch of tarmac before us. For whatever reason, I have decided it best to trackstand at the start, and now I was smashed between a half dozen riders, unable to put a foot down with taking someone out.

"Go!"

I'm one row back, so I bid my time, and within 100 meters I've joined the boys at the front. This will be short lived, however, as the tightening downhill left turn to Liberty Avenue forces me let up a bit, check my speed, and take the turn wide. Skip skip skip. The sound of a half dozen rear tyres skidding together. As a group, we fly through the intersection, and the pack separates into three groups. I hang on to the group on Liberty, fighting tailwinds and trading pulls. The leaders slip too far ahead, so I settle in behind two people until the 10th Street Bridge, where I peel off and catch the group ahead of them.

We pass the Penn Brewery and the day's first true test is ahead -- Troy Hill. It's perhaps three-quarters of a mile (maybe more) to the first checkpoint. I stay in the saddle for as long as I can -- my upper body swaying from left to right, hands only sitting on the bars. I stand up for the last 100 meters, catching the fixie in front of me, and we ride to the checkpoint together. We pick up our tag (in this case, an old freewheel cog), and head back whence we came. Troy Hill has few intersections, and a short rise at the bottom, allowing us to spin spin spin down the hill.

Our group cuts across to East Ohio Street, and we navigate the paths around Allegheny Center to reach the Aviary. The bike takes a terrible pounding as we hop curbs, slip on and off the path, and then hit a section of cobbles just before the checkpoint. But truthfully, this is the easiest part of the ride. This checkpoint requires us to draw a quick self-potrait, and I oblige, creating a stick figure on a bike with a pink pencil. We're off again, around the circle and across the Roberto Clemente bridge and into downtown. I slip off the back of the group across the bridge, and soon I miss a green light at Liberty and 9th, and the group is gone, gone. Alone again, I suppose.

Across the Smithfield Street Bridge and I'm the South Side, fighting a headwind, alone, along Carson Street. I'm really not pleased about what's next. 18th Street. There was much moaning and gnashing of teeth as the organizers passed out the manifest before the start because of this. While it isn't among the Dirty Dozen, it is nothing to sneeze at, especially on a track bike. As I reached the business district along Carson, I caught a pair of riders. I hung on the back until the base of 18th, where I slipped by the slower of the two (a kid wearing a skating helmet and rec-specs, riding an old, old mountain bike), and hung on the wheel of the other. He, smartly, had a geared bike, and soon he stretched ahead of me, but I was content to simply have someone to follow.

The traffic signal at Mission Street was red, but I was having none of that. If I stopped now, I may as well walk the remainder of the hill. Traffic was light, and I didn't even need to let up my cadence, thankfully. The hill steepened here, and my previous plan of alternating between sitting and standing with hands on the bar tops was proving to be ill-advised. At this point, I broke the cardinal rule of climbing and hunkered down into the drops of the handlebars. Lacking brake lever hoods on my bars, I didn't have the option to use that optimal hand position, so, instead, I bent over, compressing my diaphragm, but at least able to generate some momentum with my arms. Five riders sped by on our left, having reached the checkpoint, and with bikes pointed downhill, they enjoyed the rest the hill afforded. I took two small comforts here:

1. The local messenger who was the favorite to win the race went past. I wasn't too far behind him.
2. Only four other riders wooshed by soon afterwards. I was still in the hunt for a place in the top 10.

As we rounded another corner, I saw the mural which was the landmark for the checkpoint. I breathed (or, perhaps, gasped) a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the joke would be on me.

As we rolled up to the house, we were handed a balloon. There were several other racers already there. The kindly ckeckpoint volunteer informed us we had to inflate the balloon. Good one. I took a deep lungful of air, put the balloon to my lips, and blew.

The balloon barely inflated, becoming slightly round, only the size of a superball.

Rinse, lather, repeat, and the balloon was only marginally larger. Several other riders had inflated theirs to proper diameter, and were preparing to leave. I changed tactics. I took lots of small breaths, never filling my diaphragm, only my mouth. This seemed to work better, as my lungs could rest, and soon, my balloon too was the proper diameter. Promptly, we were all on our way. I knew that I'd lose this group, however, as none of them were on fixed gears, thus have the dual of advantages of coasting and having brakes. And soon enough, they broke away and I was alone again. Several sharp corners forced me to keep my speed in check, and my legs were feeling the effort. Finally, I swung around the last, tight corner, and I was in the Flats again.

Three blocks later and I was on Carson Street. Traffic was thick, but only inching along, affording me plenty of room to maneuver. I turned on the Birmingham Bridge, and felt the strong crosswinds, wishing I could huddle in the shelter of a group. This stretch, which felt so hard during the last alleycat, now allowed me to rest while still spinning fairly hard. The next checkpoint was the pool at Schenley Park, and I quickly decided to take a shortcut from Forbes Avenue that would deposit me on the Boulevard of the Allies much closer to my destination.

Traffic was light again on Forbes, fortunately, as the Birmingham exit merges in the middle of three lanes of traffic. I was out of my saddle, sprinting for the next exit, the bike swaying back and forth, back and forth, under my effort. I slip off Forbes and congratulate myself on this shortcut. The road cuts left, then quickly right, and my enthusiam is short-lived -- I'm confronted with a steep, short hill. Soon enough I'm back on the drops, panting, barely moving, forcing the bike up the hill. I hit the crest, and I slid back into the saddle, but I don't let up. Four blocks later, I'm on the Boulevard, spinning madly down a hill toward Bates. Looking ahead, I see the group that dropped me on the descent from the slopes, and I hit the next rise out of the saddle, determined to reel them in.

The group is obviously unfamiliar with the park, and they take the long way to the pool entrance, while I hop a curb and nearly beat them to the punch. We pick up our tags at the gate, and quickly point our bikes toward the universities, and the next checkpoint in Highland Park. The hard part is over -- the rest of the ride will be on relatively flat roads, and I'm more familiar with the ebb and flow of traffic here. Once we're through CMU's campus, we slip across Shadyside and hit Negley Avenue. I'm happy to be hanging on the back of this bunch as the winds are stiff again, and we alternate at the front, sharing the load. We hit the checkpoint, receive our streamers (yes, streamers) and turn around. The last checkpoint is on Penn Avenue, not far from here.

Negley is a shambles heading south. Potholes, sinkholes, you name it, it's got it. Any advantage of the group is now neutralized -- sitting on someone's wheel gives you nanoseconds to deal with irregularities in the road surface, so I drop off the back a bit, close enough to still cover the gap with a bit of effort. We turn on Penn Avenue and attack the short rise. We've got less than a mile of riding to do now. The group is lost again, only armed with vague knowledge of the location of the last checkpoint. I shout directions, but they still seem confused, so I jump to the front and pull everyone down Penn Avenue. A left on 40th, and a quick right on Miltwood, and we're there, decorating a birthday cake. The group lingers a bit, talking to the volunteers, but I'd like to get this finished, so I swing my leg over the bike and sprint up the hill, back to Penn. Allegheny Cemetery is only a few blocks away, and I continue my pace on the flats, and soon enough, I'm riding between the massive wrought-iron gates. I see a handful of racers already back, but as I stop and drop off my manifest and collection of stuff, I'm told I finished 9th.

I'm content with this, knowing that one or two green lights downtown and I would have finished with the lead group. I'm also surprised at how well the fixed gear contingent faired. We all decided before the start that the course was rather fixed gear-unfriendly, but here at the finish, five of the top of ten (including the overall winner) rode track bikes. As I feel the effort soak into my legs, the organizers point to a table of food, provided by the Zenith gallery in the South Side, and tell us to dig in. The food is excellent, and we sit on the sidewalk, comparing notes, cheering the remaining racers as they pull in.

April 15, 2005

Spring

The air is uncharacteristically calm. I'm spinning quickly past the Sunoco fuel storage facility and out of the industrial wasteland and into Lawrenceville. After a fall and winter of dingy grays and browns, I notice the long parade of now-white dogwood trees lining Butler Street. They stretch on beyond the corner at 50th, on beyond to the corner of 52nd. In that moment, the grimy, dusty Butler Street faded away.

Skip, skip, skip. Traffic slows at the cemetery bend. I skip the rear wheel to check my speed and assess the traffic. The light has turned green, but the monster pickup truck a few cars ahead has to wait its turn to move. As the cars begin to creep ahead -- snap -- I pedal hard and slip into the narrow gap between traffic and parked cars. I slid back into my saddle and take the momentum up the hill to the next bend. Traffic slows again -- skip, skip, skip -- and I finally slow to a trackstand at 46th.

April 13, 2005

Linkage

Dignan has two good posts that are worth passing along.

First, a short post containing a quote from author of the Left Behind series, worth repeating here:

"Revelations" is "a mishmash of myth, silliness, and misrepresentations of Scripture."

That's really laugh-out-loud funny, considering the source.

Also, Dignan passes along some "wisdom" from James Dobson. It seems Dr. Dobson has compared the scourge of the Ku Klux Klan to another robed group -- the judiciary.

April 11, 2005

The Sporting Life

It was a fine weekend for less-than-mainline sports...

First, the queen of cycling's spring classics, Paris-Roubaix (the Hell of the North) was run today in Northern France. Belgian Tom Boonen capped a fine week, winning in a sprint ahead of George Hincapie and Juan Flecha (Boonen took the Tour of Flanders last weekend, joining the elite company of those who have one both races in the same year). Hincapie also made history, becoming the first American to ever stand on the podium in the Roubaix velodrome. If you've never been exposed to Paris Roubaix before, please at least look at the images from the Velo News or Cycling News coverage -- you'll find the road race often resembles a mountain bike race.

Also, this weekend was the Rallye New Zealand, the first "proper" fast gravel rally of the season. Citroen's Sebastien Loeb took a comfortable win, with Peugeot's Marcus Gronholm and Subaru's Petter Solberg following. Neither Gronholm or Solberg pushed for more points, content to bolster their championship totals. Solberg, as champion, ran first on the road on Friday, playing the role of street sweeper, clearing the stages of any loose gravel. He finished the day in fourth place, only thirty seconds adrift of Loeb. Solberg decided to play for points the remainder of the weekend, and was content with third place (which keeps him atop the championship points table). Subaru's young recruit Chris Atkinson had his first points finish of his career, finishing the rally in seventh place, and taking his first scratch time in the process. This was also Subaru's first double points haul for the manufacturer's championship. Both Peugot and Citroen had fine rallies as well, with Francois Duval (Citroen) taking fourth (his first points of the season) and Peugeot's Markko Martin finishing in fifth. Martin's finish, while helping Peugeot's manufacturer's championship campaign, dropped the Estonian further down the driver's points table -- he now stands in third, three points behind Solberg.

And finally, the family loaded up the car and went climbing at the New River Gorge. It was a fine weekend (albeit a little hot for April) with loads of sunshine. I am horribly out of climbing shape, but it was still good fun to be out of doors, climbing real rock. And, best of all, Sebastien enjoys being outside in the dirt.

April 04, 2005

Scorching

Via Matt Chester:

NPR's All Things Considered took a look at scorchers way back in 1998. The interview deals mostly with off-road scorchin' (a la Matt himself), but it's an interesting listen regardless of where or what you ride.

April 03, 2005

Why Americans Don't Get It

Today was the Tour of Flanders, one of European cycling's spring classics, and one of the season's first true tests. This year's race was won by Tom Boonen, and American hopeful George Hincapie could manage no better than winning the group sprint for seventh. Lance Armstrong finished with the peleton in 28th, and while this was well-reported in the American media what these stories miss is that Armstrong was nothing more than a domestique for Discovery teammate Hincapie. Simply put, Armstrong did not start the race with the intention of attempting to win it. Armstrong was involved in several chases, but his participation was in support of Hincapie. The American press had a similiarly ignorant reaction when Armstrong abandoned Paris-Nice due to illness. Nice was the first race of the season for Armstrong, and was nothing more than a guage of his training thus far. The retirement meant absolutely nothing to his chances in the Tour de France (and it's also important to note that none of his rivals had even started their racing season at this point).

April 02, 2005

Finally

The first alleycat of the year is coming up April 17.

Springdandy Alleycat.

April 01, 2005

Stop

There are days on the bike when things converge into a single point of perfect motion -- legs pumping like pistons, cranks spinning effortlessly, the current of traffic seemingly standing still as I pick and weave my way through it. There are, of course, also days when these feelings are fleeting, and lines are skewed.

Those days start with heavy traffic on Smithfield Street just outside the office. A car parked (illegally) surprises the unaware driver, and two lanes are blocked with no chance for escape. I snap out of the trackstand to just barely slither through the green light, only to snap back to a stop at Third Avenue. The signal changes, and the scene is repeated at Fourth Avenue, thanks to wandering pedestrians. There will be no rhythm found today.

Finally out of town and in the Strip District, I'm given the chance to stretch my legs and find a cadence. The moment is short-lived, as a truck turned left leaves no room next to the curb. I wait. I find the rhythm again as Smallman expands at the docks. As the road bottlenecks at 21st, I stake my claim to the center of the lane, and traffic fumes behind me -- I won't fight through the maze of potholes that litter my usual passage a few feet from the curb. Cars are piled up at the stop sign at 28th, and I slow down, looking for a slot to escape. A hippie in a Jetta is, literally, riding on the curb. I hop up to the sidewalk, giving him a brief sideways glance, and slip back into the street, and in a moment, I'm beyond the traffic. The cars thin in Lawrenceville, and soon I'm through 64th Street and spinning home.