are you there, god? it's me, mad city

I've always thought of Christmas as one of the more religious times of the year. Certainly more so than the 4th of July, or Valentine's Day, or spring break. So, this may be as good a time as any to expound on my religious beliefs, for the benefit and enlightenment of all.

So, this whole story about Jesus: I have to confess, I'm not really into it. I'll be the first to admit that it is a great story, with a lot of twists and turns and dramatic build-up and so forth. I just don't really believe that it all happened that way. I'm not sure when I started believing that - maybe sometime in high school? But here's the funny thing: I still considered myself a Christian until sometime in college! Mainly because I'd been raised with a Christian background (not that we were hardcore churchgoers or anything), and I had the rest of the WASP baggage as well. And also, I'm not an atheist - I do believe there's some higher order in the universe. I'm just not convinced at all that that order is named Jesus, or that that order would need a guy like Jesus for any good reason. I just think the universe is supposed to be somewhat of a mystery.

At any rate, at some point I was finally all like, "Wait! Jesus puts the 'Christ' in Christian! You have to believe in the divinity of Jesus to be a Christian! And I don't! So I'm not a Christian." It was that kind of a revelatory moment, with a lot of exclamation marks and so forth. And I've been at peace with it ever since.

Of course, now I've probably lost all the Christian support for my triathlon. Damn! Why do I keep upsetting people? I have got to learn to watch what I say ...

seymour

Some sad news from home last week: our dog Seymour had to be put to down due to old age and illness. Our guess is that he was about 15 years old. And I say "our dog" because even though he was back in NY with my father, he was a presence in my life for a lot of years.

Seymour was a mutt, probably some combination of German shepherd and something else and maybe a little something else too. He didn't really look like any breed I'm familiar with. Prior to Seymour, my family was always a golden retriever family. We got our first one (Brandy) when I was in 4th grade, and had him until a year after I graduated from college. Next was Toby, who was an awesome dog but who was hit by a delivery truck when he was about 2 years old; and then Quincy, who was also a great dog and helped us get over the loss of Toby.

Seymour entered the picture during the Quincy years. My brother originally adopted him, then passed him on to my parents when he couldn't keep him. And I soon realized something very important: dogs are happiest when they have a dog friend around. It wasn't like Quincy was depressed or anything before Seymour moved in, but you should have seen them together! Damn! Good friends, good friends.

Quincy was also a great dog. He passed away while I was in med school, and then we got Zachary (aka Zeke) who is currently the golden retriever of the house. Seymour didn't know what to make of Zachary at first, because he was an animated little puppy, so there was a little snarling and nastiness for a while. But with time, and a little maturation on Zachary's part, they got to be good friends, too. I wouldn't be surprised if Seymour showed him the ropes around the house, the doggy ropes.

So that was Seymour: a beloved friend to man and dog alike. Intelligent, but not flashy. Loving, but not overly obsequious. A little bit of a hellraiser (he liked to run off and look through garbage cans in town), but also obedient when it mattered. He could shake with both front paws, and speak, and he always knew his place. He was a great dog, and I'll miss him.

in the spotlight

Well, things have been pretty busy around here for the past few days! Really, I hadn't anticipated the avalanche of comments that would be set off by my remarks about bike suspenders. I'm the first to admit that I'm a glutton for attention, but you know what they say: be careful what you wish for. While the comments have been supportive so far, with the harsh glare of public scrutiny now falling squarely on "Mad City," it's just a matter of time before some suspender-lovers show up and start causing a ruckus. And with my triathlon/NBMR campaign now officially underway, I'm trying to keep the focus on the positive around here.

So let me explain a little more about the suspenders thing: I just don't get it. That's all. It's me, not you. Because I've always thought of suspenders as an alternative to belts. I've never really considered them in any other way. Don't like belts? Well, here's some suspenders! That sort of thing.

But most people don't wear belts with bike shorts, because bike shorts are like the tightest kind of pants you can possibly wear. They're like tights, except they're a little thicker and a little tighter and they stop above the knee. And who wears a belt with tights? The same goes with bike shorts.

Except ... OK, I have a confession to make. I'm not exactly naive when it comes to spandex shorts. They looked good, they felt good, the price was right: who knew that it could go so wrong? The problem is, my legs are pretty skinny (that's me up above, with the sunglasses), and my glutes are also sub-massive. So, there wasn't a whole lot to keep the shorts in place. They looked like they had a lot of grip to 'em, and I've never heard of spandex losing its elasticity. But ... long story short, it wasn't happening. It was like a constant battle against slippage and exposure. But I did have a very nice Calvin Klein brown leather dress belt which I managed to rig through a couple straps; and believe it or not, it worked. It was a little binding around the mid-section on longer rides, but I considered that a small price to pay for modesty. But after a while, it hit me: I was wearing bike shorts and a belt.

So that's my story. That's the explanation behind my aversion to modern cycling gear. Are you happy, people? You've brought a proud man to his skinny knees ...

absurdity

People, I have a theory about recreational bicycling: 90% of the equipment worn or used by modern bicyclists is completely superfluous. There are some hardcore cyclists among my audience, including at least one rider who's completed the legendary annual STP ride, so I know I risk bruising some egos when I say this. But come on! When you see someone cruising up the Burke-Gilman Trail, and they're dressed like they're riding reserve for Team Motorola in the Tour de France, don't you just wanna say, you know, something? Something like, "Uh, do you really need all that fancy shit? Does it really make you a better athlete?"

I acknowledge that I'm an outlier, a lonely wolf, in the world of contemporary recreational bicycling. I don't own any lycra or spandex clothing. (Not even for the triathlon, people! I will not wear spandex in my triathlon!) But I know a lot, in fact probably most, of today's cyclists wear spandex riding shorts. And that's OK. But these biking suspenders go beyond the limits of acceptability. Frankly, they're ridiculous. I don't know how you can convince yourself that you need these things. But please, if you do have them, wear them with a jersey. Even if you're as studly as this model guy here, you're gonna look like a jackass. Especially if you pout ...

joke of the day #3

Q: Which herbivorous marsupial, native to forested regions in Australia and other parts of Oceania, ironically carries its young in its uterus for an abbreviated gestation period lasting just 26-28 days, after which the young continue to develop in the mother's pouch as is common for most if not all marsupials?

A: The womb-at.

roosting

So, if you're one of those people who automatically checks the time when a blog entry is written, you'll see that I'm writing this at 5 am. (Is that what it says? I think this Blogspot site is on Singapore time or something. Just take my word for it: it's 5 am.) And I am not an early riser! Not at all! So, how did this happen?

Roosting. It's a term I've coined to describe falling asleep on your couch without intending to, then waking up in the middle of the night and stumbling to your actual bed. Except, sometimes when I roost, I have a hard time getting to sleep again. In fact, I'm totally wired right now. I feel more alive than I ever have before! But I just want to feel sleepy, so I don't end up snoozing until the afternoon tomorrow.

I don't roost often, maybe once every 3-4 months. And it's usually by accident. Here's what happened to me today: dropped my car off this morning to get snow tires, since it's winter now in Mad City but they don't maintain the roads worth a damn. (My street is a sheet of ice! Literally! Maybe I'll post a photo tomorrow.) Took the bus to work. Worked all day. Went to the gym after work. Tried to take the bus home, which was not as easy as taking the bus to work since it was about 8 pm and the Mad City buses don't run as frequently then. It ended up taking me an hour to get home, and it was freezing. I basically huddled and shivered within my coat for an hour. I felt wiped out. Then I ate a bunch of leftover, tryptophan-laden Thanksgiving turkey, since it's now over a week since T'giving and I'm trying to finish those leftovers off. Then I sat on the couch to relax a little and get ready to watch "The Prestige" on DVD. Then I stretched out on the couch. Then, the next thing I knew, it was 3:30 am.

If I had gone straight from the couch to bed, I might have been groggy enough still to fall back asleep right away. But I had a bunch of turkey stuck in my teeth, so I felt obligated to brush and floss first.

And FYI, roosters aren't the only things that roost. Bats do, too. Also, more noble birds like the great horned owl and the golden eagle, and other lethal raptors. So yes, you can think of me as a "rooster" right now. But please keep in mind that birds-of-prey roost, too. Often, with pieces of prey stuck in their teeth ...

i'm in

As everyone knows, the most magical shopping season of the year is now underway. And in honor of that occasion, I would like to offer a special deal: become a member of the National Bone Marrow Registry. Only $52! Ethnic minorities may be able to join for free! And sometimes they even offer special discounts for white folks, too.

Now, I know what a lot of you are thinking: "Is he blogging about the NBMR again? Haven't we heard enough about this already? How about a Joke of the Day instead?" True, I have advocated for the registry before. But this time there's a catch: you get a chance to be my sponsor.

You see, ever since the triathlon here in Mad City a few months ago (see my 9/13 entry), I've been kicking around the idea of attempting one of those nightmarish endurance events. As I mentioned before, registration for the 2009 triathlon here filled up quicker than you can say "Mad City," and I was left out in the cold. (Probably for the best, though. I would perish if I tried a regulation, bona fide triathlon. I wouldn't stand a chance. Game over, man.)

So, what I've been doing instead is writing random numbers on the side of my leg with a Sharpie before my daily jog. For a while it actually made me feel like a real triathlete. But lately the thrill has worn off, and I decided it was time to bite the bullet. So, I am now registered for the Ironman 70.3 Boise next June. The 70.3 stands for the length of the race, which is half a full-length triathlon. I guess that means I won't be a real Ironman. (Iron Baby? Iron Tween?) But it's more than enough triathlon for me. Trust me.

So here's the deal: I am looking for supporters. To be a member of Team Trevor, all you need to do is sign up for the NBMR. No need to send me cash and wonder what I'll do with it, like that debacle with the 5K race back in 2002. And if you're already signed up for the NBMR ... well, you're hosed. I'm only taking new signees. (No, just kidding. Just donate $50 or more to the NBMR, or the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, or some other organization involved in bone marrow transplant work, and you're in! A two-dollar savings on the regular cost! What a deal! Woo woo!) Just sign up, or donate, and then let me know so I can add you to the list. My goal: 100 sponsors. I'll keep a "running" tally here.

So, what was the inspiration for this? Well, there's actually several factors. People who read this blog are probably also familiar by now with Steve Rider's blog, and are cheering him on as he prepares for his stem cell transplant. But that's not the whole story. Would I swim 1.2 miles for Steve? Absolutely. Would I then bike 56 miles for Steve? Ummm ... all right. Sure, yeah. He's a David Cronenberg fan, after all. Would I then run 13.1 miles for Steve? Are you insane??? I just met him a few months ago! I wouldn't even do that for his sister! Although, I would be happy to hand off the baton to one of Steve's friends, if it was like a relay effort and they were prepared to take over after the bike stage (or better yet, the swim stage).

But in all seriousness, Steve is a very decent and well-liked guy, and it's awesome that they found a good match for him on the NBMR. But there are also a couple other motivating factors for me:

1. As an oncologist-to-be, I order a lot of palliative chemotherapy to help people live a few months or maybe a few years longer. It's an honor to be able to do this for patients. But at the same time, an allogeneic stem cell transplant is potentially curative for a variety of hematologic diseases, and that's a very appealing thing.

2. My mother passed away about 6 months ago from primary myelofibrosis, a rare hematologic malignancy. She wasn't a candidate for a stem cell transplant (the usual age limit is 60-65 years), but it could be a treatment option for others with this disease.

3. It just seemed like a good thing to do.

All right, enough talk. Let's start recruiting! Really, what better Xmas present can you give a loved one, than joining the NBMR? Put it to them this way: "Look, I know you really wanted that iPod Nano. But if you ever get really sick and need a bone marrow transplant ... I've already got you covered."