For those of you wondering what happened today (3 Jan 2009) when you tried to access this site (or send me an email, ping me on IM, or anything else network related...), here's your explanation:

Due to some much needed rehauling of both network infrastructure and firewall policies, our network went down for some 6 hours. And yes, I had to work on the thing during the entire 6 hours. But, while there is no such thing as absolute security, ours is substantially better now than it was.

So. My apologies for the problems, please come back and visit soon. I promise, we won't be doing this again any time soon.

... though not in the traditional sense.

I have thoroughly enjoyed creating and maintaining this little blog. I get my programming fix and take care of that little writing bug, all at the same time. I've also enjoyed watching the rest of the family (specifically my parents) step up to the plate and take a crack at blogging. I've enjoyed these things so much so that I've decided to call for a contest.

I've struggled to come up with the right rules and the criteria for judgment, but here's the summary of what I've got so far:

Rules

• No minimum length.
• 1000 word maximum.
• Any format- prose, poetry, or anything else you can think of.
• Subject matter is entirely open- family stories, personal life and experiences, research projects, journalism or reporting, math, anything goes.
• Multiple submissions is great

Judging

• Peer judged. Those that participate judge all pieces according to the established criteria (and their own opinions)
• When the submissions are in, you'll get a judges form- just read each submission and fill out the form

Criteria

• Creativity. Of course. This includes the format- poetry could be a more creative form. Content is, of course, the major contributor.
• Style. By style, I mean voice, awareness of audience, and choice of language.
• Appeal. Try and make it interesting. You'll get marked down for putting people to sleep.
• Personal opinion. After all, the judges are human!

This is a draft- I'm looking for feedback here. As soon as the groundwork is set, we can make the call for submissions and start having real fun. Please post comments or email me with your ideas and criticisms!

Every now and again, especially as I lay my head down and attempt to put myself to sleep, I will listen to my favorite NPR podcasts. Topping my list of favorites is, "Wait, wait, don't tell me!". A close second is, "Car Talk". A not-so-distant third is, "This American Life". I'm not an avid listener of the latter, but there are some precious gems among the archives.

Last night was one of those nights- I was trying hard to get over a cold, had spent the entire day in bed, and was having a hard time sleeping. I had exhausted my thin supply of other NPR bedtime favorites, and "This American Life" had published an episode the week prior that caught my eye- "20 Acts in 60 Minutes". They departed from their normal format of publishing a few stories on 2 or 3 themes, choosing instead to publish as many shorts as humanly possible. I enjoyed it- it was (to me) a very successful experiment.

One story in particular caught my attention. It was regarding a man who recognized a woman, could remember emotions and the importance of the prior relationship to her, but could not place the face, the name, or any of the circumstances. He spoke of the void into which memories had fallen and continue to fall.

This strikes a chord with me. I dare say that I am much younger than the man in the story- I stand still shy of 30 years- but the faculties of memory left to me are slim at best, growing leaner by the day.

Last week, my father put out a plea to us, his children, to come up with stories about Christmas' past. I was excited to participate, to give new life to those old memories, but I couldn't remember.

Anything.

At all.

Do you understand how disturbing that is? Those memories were and are important to me, but seem just beyond my reach. I struggle so hard and get no farther than fleeting and disjointed images that must somehow be associated with those events, but whose strings are cut.

I have never put these thoughts to paper before and I have shared them with precious few people. It is difficult to explain both the challenge this presents as well as the empty pit it leaves in my stomach to consider. For years, I considered my memory on par with the populous, yet for at least the past decade, my memories have been fleeing far faster than any other's I know of, including those of advanced age (and no, Mom and Dad, you don't count as "advanced" yet).

I used to have memories rich with color, smells, and emotions, yet when I look back now, I find a stale and sparse landscape with little but broken images. When my wife speaks to me of the first steps of our daughter (our first child, only 5 years old), or compares the antics of our current younger set, I struggle to find and latch onto the memories they touch. Sometimes, my wife will push and try to help me remember, only for us both to find that some memories are full and truly gone. Disappeared. Vanished into... some kind of Void.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised at the loss of long-term memory, as I have struggled nearly my entire life with a poor short-term memory. Just a few days ago, a conversation with a friend at work was interrupted. He grabbed me a few minutes later and mentioned that he had thought "it" was a good idea. I honestly had no idea what "it" was all about. He proceeded to explain that I had made a suggestion that he had though wise. Even after the ensuing (and interesting) chat, I had absolutely no recollection of the idea. None whatsoever.

I would assume that most of you have experienced walking into a room, knowing you had a purpose, only to find yourself meandering around, lost as to why you are there? This happens to me 5 to 10 times per day. At least 5- I've counted that high before, but always forget what I'm counting things for before noon.

You may think I exaggerate, but I assure you that I do not. If anything, the truth is under-represented due to the simple fact that I do not remember it all. This obviously skews the results, but if 6 hours counts as a representative sample (and it is all that I have), the numbers I've cited must be low.

Fortunately, I do have compensatory methods. I have a toolbox full of ways to prevent forgetting important things. Over the past decade or so, I have tried desperately to hypothesize exactly what is wrong and how to fix it. As a programmer, I gain some comfort and success in treating my brain like a computer with some flawed parts. Here are some of my findings, and some of my tools:

• Finding: 3-5 minutes is the upper bound for the majority of all of my thoughts. If I do not take action to preserve them, they will be completely gone and irrecoverable by the end of that period of time. Generally speaking, it takes ~30 seconds for a stray memory to disappear forever.
• Tool: I can encourage retention of a memory through sufficient associations- meaning if I can tie a thought or idea to enough of the surrounding circumstances, images, etc., there is a much higher chance I will remember it in 3 minutes
• Tool: I can encourage retention further by repetition. It raises the upper bound to something on the order of an hour or two, but the memory is doomed unless I take further action.
• Finding: The "Void" is real. I have tried so hard as to the point of tears to recover some vital thoughts, ideas, or memories. I have tried for literally hours to salvage some things. The end result of such extended effort has always been failure.
• Finding: Some memories, especially those that make it to what people like to call long-term storage, seem to persist. It appears that the *references* to those memories are damaged or removed, making it nearly impossible to bring those memories back.
• Finding: It's getting worse. While I don't remember much, I do remember being able to do some things that are currently impossible to me. I remember being able to retrace my steps, mentally, to recover some lost thought. This process no longer works.

It is depressing to write of this- and depression, for me, is extraordinarily rare. Solemnity is equally rare (just ask my family). My natural disposition seems contrary to both. In fact, if my memory serves me well, my transition to an almost entirely depression-free disposition matches quite well with the degradation of my memory. In fact, I don't think it would be too much of a stretch to call them related.

If you can imagine, it is very difficult to remain depressed when you can't remember what got you there. This may also be one of the many items of saving grace for those I call friends- offenses pass either unnoticed or soon forgotten (though I can't remember being offended by any of my friends... I suppose that may represent "case and point").

As it boils down, I have learned to live life as it comes. Fortunately for my family and myself, we have been extraordinarily blessed as to make that possible.

We'll start with a bit of catch-up, rapid-fire-style:

• Running sucked. Knees hurt.
• Broke back. Back hurt
• Started physical therapy. Knees and back still hurt.
• Ran. Hurt more.
• Doc said stop running. Stopped.
• Knees stopped hurting, back got excruciatingly painful.
• Started running again. Back got better, knees got worse.

In case you are wondering, I've been sticking to the letter of the Doctor's orders, running when he tells me to, resting, icing, heating, electrocuting, stretching, the works. I've been a good boy for a change! Let's continue.

• Therapist says, "Get a cortisone shot".
• Finally get around to going to the Doc, got cortisone shot.
• Run some more. Knees are better.
• Back still hurts, but not as bad.
• Yay.

That brings us up to speed in preparation for today's [mis]adventure.

Fun in the Sun

I wish. We've had snow coming down almost daily since the beginning of the week (it is Friday today, in case you were wondering). I can't really afford to take any time off the training schedule, as it's the only thing holding the pain in my back to a sane level (on a scale from 0-10, 0=no pain, 10=passing out, I sit at a 3 consistently when working out. Shoots up to 8 or higher when I'm not. Yes, I've nearly blacked out from it before, but don't tell my wife :) ). I ran on Monday, just after the first snow of the week. We had about 2 inches at the house, about 4 on the mountain a few hundred feet up from us.

Set the Scene

I am not a typical road rat when I'm running. We live on the foothills of some beautify (albeit desertish) mountains, slashed by ATV, game, and foot trails. When I run, I run trails. The experience is so much the better for the scenery and the mountains offers an unparalleled challenge.

I have several "favorite" routes- ranging from 2 to 13 miles. I've been running a 4 mile route for the past month as I've struggled to let the knees and back heal. This route takes me about a mile into the mountains then cuts North for another mile until it butts up against the fence line of Camp Williams (an Army facility). The terrain is pretty rough- field and wild hills with a swath of a path cut by farmers and base personnel. Apparently, it gets a fair bit of snow too.

Monday's run was great- the weather was clear, the snow on the ground was crispy and offered fair traction, and it wasn't too cold. Things started to change on Wednesday, though I was still able to get a good run in without too much of a weather impact.

Then there was today.

At Least I Had My iPhone

I left the house and headed for the mountains with broken clouds and a weather report calling for a "chance" of snow". We had some snow flakes floating on the breeze as I stepped out the door, but not nearly enough to detract me after my 20 minutes of stretching. It was cold (25, wind chill bringing it down to sub-twenties), but I had three layers. I was prepared!

When I hit the mountain (350 yards from the house), I noticed that the snow was getting deep. Looked to be about 6" on the ground, drifts upwards of a full foot. I tried to keep to where I knew the path would be, which actually proved to be less of a challenge than it may sound. I had tire tracks to follow for the first quarter-mile. After that, I was cutting my own path.

If you've ever trained by running in sand, you have an idea what it's like to run in the now. Take that and multiply that by 3 and you've scored the difficulty of running snow without the appropriate snowshoes. Add a 4% grade and difficult terrain... you should have the picture.

The weather held until I reached the base fence line. It's the two mile mark and my turnaround location and I had kept a decent time, regardless of the conditions. As I turned the corner and started heading for home, a large gray mass began gathering over the fence behind me, moving my direction. I started making good time as the wind picked up and pushed me down the hill toward home. Then the clouds began closing and the features of the distant landscape slowly began disappearing. Ever more quickly, closer artifacts began fading into a white mist until all that was left ere the footprints in front of me. Finally, those were gone.

It took about 5 minutes for things to go completely white. When the footprints disappeared, I knew there was some potential for serious trouble. The path was unmarked, I was at least a mile from home in an area only snowmobiles could access. I had less than a hundred feet of vision, closing at times to 10 or 15 feet. Although I had put on three layers, they consisted of two technical shirts and a fleece- not nearly enough to hunker down and weather it out.

Two options remained: I had my iPhone and my (hole-ridden) memory of the landscape. I'm not directionally challenged, but I am certainly not gifted, so I settled on a compromise:

• I would use my (potentially) flawed memory of the landscape, plus a little feeling around with my feet for footprints (they might be covered, but they were still there) and see if I couldn't make it to the tire tracks leading to home.
• If, after 10 minutes of running, I couldn't find the tracks OR lost the footprints at any time, I would whip out the trusty iPhone, pray the battery hasn't frozen to death, and use Google Maps and it's "Locate Me" feature to navigate my way home.

And no, I didn't stop running to figure this out. I kept going, feeling for footprints where I thought they should be.

After nearly exactly 8 minutes, I stumbled into soft powder of a tire-sized trench. I kept to the trench (which sent powder into my shoes straight away) until I broke out onto the roadway, which took me all the way home. As I rolled in the door, I checked my watch. I posted a better time than Wednesday, despite the rather poor conditions. Wow. And phew.

So, here's the post-mortem, the things I've learned from this experience:

• Age makes you feel guilty about doing adventurous things that, not so long ago, would have been an adrenaline rush.
• I'm still not old enough to make that stop me from doing it again.
• Running actually is a pretty good way to keep warm in a snow storm.
• It's also a very good way to get you more lost.
• Two technical shirts and a fleece isn't enough to weather a small blizzard. Not by a long shot.
• The 10 Essentials really are essentials. All right, so I've know that for a while. I've always broken my 10 down to the 3 that could make all 10 (can you figure out which three?), but sometimes, conditions make all 10 absolutely critical.
• This cortisone shot seems to have done the trick.
• Snow is cold. Snow + wind + clouds is colder.
• ...and so much more.

Enjoy the winter months. Be smart and don't do what I write about doing here. If you're a Metge, or related to one, expect things to go wrong in the worst possible way. That way, you will never be surprised when they do.