V-Ballin'

I remember playing volleyball in grade school. Gym teachers attempted to teach us the fundamentals of the sport but all we really wanted to do was hit the ball hard. Really hard. This translated into seeing who could serve the ball the farthest and whiffing big-time when the rare opportunity for a spike presented itself.

My freshman year in college, I worked with a guy that played on UC's club volleyball team and he would invite me to the Clifton Rec Center for some open gyms. I was reluctant to say the least and held off on any commitments for most of that year. Finally, after coming back to school in the fall and resuming my shifts at the UC Bookstore, I told Andy I'd give it a shot. Soon after, I was playing every Thursday night and having a good time of it. My sister came to school the following year and I'd take her along, too. I left for Dallas in the spring and ended up playing quite a bit outdoors in my second quarter down there with a few of the guys my brother worked with.

Shortly after I graduated, my sister asked me if I'd be interested in playing in a league via the Cincinnati Sports League. I said I would and we did that for several years, playing with several different teams out at the Sand Bar (pictured). Then I moved to Columbus, but it didn't stop there. I played at Flannagan's in Dublin with one group, then out in Gahanna at Gatsby's with yet another. And now we're back where it all started and I'm playing again with my sister out on Kellogg.

The point of all this is to demonstrate that you can do something for a long time and still not be good at it. Duration is never the only condition required for success. It's precision and frequency combined over an extended period of time that renders the greatest results... but that's not news to anyone and even then, it doesn't always work out. If you don't commit that dedication to an endeavor, then you must accept it for what it is... a hobby.

Not long ago, I got upset and made myself look like an ass because I thought I should've played better on a particular night than what I did. I get frustrated sometimes because every shot I take with my camera isn't what I thought it would or could be. When I don't nail a PR at a particular race, I feel like hanging it up. But then I put my runners back on the next day because I want to relax. I pull out my camera because I find something interesting. I take another swing at the volleyball because it's fun.

Pressures, internally and externally, along with expectations can get in the way of fun. They can get in the way of life. Sometimes we need to take time-outs to realize that. All I know is that I'm glad to be back in the sand.

The Blast

I made a mistake last weekend. I was going to bring the camera to the Hyde Park Blast bike race on Saturday night. I didn't want to deal with it and therein lies the mistake. I wish I had visual documentation of how cool this race was. So you have to deal with the photo the brightroom folks took of me at the 4-Mile foot race they held in the morning. Sorry.

First, the race report. This was the third or fourth time I've run this race, but the last attempt came in 2005, I believe... so it's been a minute. I ran that race with Erica and it's the closest I've ever come to losing to her. I almost started walking up the hill on Handasyde (an incline that comes a little after Mile 3 of the race... it's notoriously brutal). So 2010's version was a little different due to a course change a few years ago and it's been hotter than hell as late.

So 8 a.m. rolled around Saturday morning and temps were already reaching into the upper 70's with some pretty high humidity. The glaring sun didn't help matters, but the gun went off and so did we. I had an idea in mind of what I wanted to run, but I had forgotten my watch and there were no mile markers on the course, so this one was up in the air... I just went by effort... and it was hard. I thought I'd have to throw in the towel a couple of times but I managed to bring it home in 25:29. About 30 seconds off what I was looking for, but it'll have to do... mostly because I'm not running it again... at least not for another year. It was the first race where I was pretty positive that I was going to puke or fall down when I crossed the finish line. I did neither which was a bonus but all it means is that I apparently didn't push it hard enough. My sister and a couple of her friends ran and did well, so we met up after everyone had finished and ate some donuts and drank some beers (sorry Meg... the picture was too good not to include).

Erica had a baby shower that night for a friend so I headed back down to meet up with my sister and Dan for the elite 5K race and the final men's bike race that night. They ran the 5K on the 1mi criterium loop and they were fast. 14:44 fast... which is still almost two minutes off the WR. Scary. Shortly thereafter, the bike race started and it was amazing to say the least. We set up camp on the south side of Hyde Park Square and you could literally stand right up against the course and these bikes would come flying down Erie Avenue before slowing for the turn. They went about this for an hour and a half. The race itself, as a runner, is still not anything I understand. A race should be the first one to the finish... bottom line. Apparently it's not like that and I don't know how to explain just how it is. But I do know it was awesome and if there's a race near you, attend it and thank me later.

So it was a good weekend. Now onto the 4th. More good times ahead. I also included a little oil spill calculator. I hate how quickly we Americans forget about shit solely because it's not in our backyard. I'm guilty as charged so this is me not forgetting. Not forgetting to try and do something different. I've said it before and I'll say it again... we're smarter than this. We're not this selfish. This is not the only way.

I Spy

Maybe you've heard something about Russian spies on the news recently? Personally, I thought the Cold War was over. Apparently not.

It brings me back to an autumn night in 2001 while I was in Boston. I was heading home from work and made my way onto the green line's C train. It was late and there weren't many people riding so I sat in a favorite niche of mine... the single seat right next to the connection joint. While I went to sit down, I noticed a small piece of paper under the seat that looked like it had been ripped out of a spiral-bound notepad. I picked it up and found it quite interesting. You might, too.

I had decided to scan it a while ago so that if it ever became too deteriorated, I'd at least have proof of it. I can't say I ever took it seriously, but in light of recent developments, I very much do. Although, I've never done much investigating, I did look up Naum Kitzis. He's an actual dentist in Boston and that's his actual address. There are a few Olga Miroshnichenko on LinkedIn. It at least makes you think.

So if no one ever hears from me after this, you'll know why.

Father's Day 2010

Sunday was Father's Day and the in-laws had the day booked, so I planned on heading to Piqua Saturday to get a round of golf in during the early evening hours with my dad to beat the heat as best we could. Plus, he doesn't like a whole lot of witnesses around to watch me whip him all over the course.

We went out with my sister Friday night to see Those Darlins. A rough & tumble group of ladies, to say the least, but they put on a great show. I'm just glad I wasn't up at the front. Woke up Saturday and my dad had called to see if I got his text message from last night. I hadn't so he went on to say that his friend, my godfather, Jim Hemm had called to see if we'd want to go fishing. We certainly would.

It's been years since I've dropped a line into Hemm Lake and I've been anxious to get back. Hemm Lake is a 6-7 acre spring-fed pond situated on the south end of town inside Mike Hemm's property on Hemm Road. That's a lot of Hemm's... that's why they named a road after them. Mike is Jim's cousin and was once the judge for Miami County until he retired. The lake was an old quarry long ago and now serves as the centerpiece to an outdoor association that uses the grounds for shooting guns and catching fish. This is where I first learned to fish, even shoot. I worked in the trap house on Sundays. I swan in the lake during parties.

I was a little rusty, but it felt pretty good to step into that same old boat, push off and toss in a line or two. Jim brought his two grandsons along and Hayden pulled in blue gill left and right. TNT caught the first bass as well as the biggest (not pictured). I caught three and Jim caught four or five. It wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't caught a thing, it was just good to be back out on the boat. We fished well into the night and Jim, Brandon and Hayden took three of the bass home with them for breakfast.

Already looking forward to the next time.

Beautiful Ohio? Where?

This post definitely contains cursing... just a forewarning.

This is a nod to the pr*tty sh*tty design blog I navigate to each morning. I was initially going to throw out a simple rant concerning the new license plate that we Ohioans must endure for who knows how long until I thought of a legitimate comparison... New Mexico's plate.

I'm not sure where or when it was that I stole a glimpse of Ohio's license plate future, but as the spottings increased so did the welling of anger inside me. Okay, I can't say I'm furious... more disappointed. I read that this was simply a trial plate and you could still purchase the old ones. But not long ago, they announced that they officially made the switch. Holy hell on earth will there be a shit storm at the BMV if I can't buy something other than that piece of shit. That's right, I'm willing to drop some dollars in order to protect the ass-end of my car from something that should've been wiped off of it.

The problem is that I find it hard to believe that whoever was hired to do this (I haven't put a lot of effort into finding out either), if they were hired at all, considers this a portfolio piece. I can probably see how this process might've played out. Follow me here...

Step 1: X design firm bids and is awarded the job of creating an updated plate for Ohio.

Awesome! Everyone will see our work!

Step 2: A bureaucratic committee is formed to oversee its creation.

Awesome! We all have so many great ideas! BTW... did you know that I once taught my neice's kindergarten art class? I'm very artistic.

Step 3: Initial concepts are presented which were probably decent enough... maybe even implementing Ohio's newly developed logo which isn't all that bad.

They're going to love these.

Step 4: The eleven committee members gasp silently and immediately begin the assassination of what could've been a good idea.

Well, I think it's important to show that Ohio has cities... AND farms... OH! and a bridge could symbolize the connection between our urban and rural heritage!... some rays of sun... and how could we forget about the Wright Brothers!?! And is there a different font for "Beautiful?" Maybe something more elegant? Can we put a glow on it to make it more legible?

Steps 5-1000: After a year of revisions, lost souls and wasted money, they come to the solution you see before you. An utter piece of shit.

We'll never do design work again.

The biggest problem of all is that the committee is probably very proud of this. Don't be fooled here. This is not art. This is not up for someone's subjective interpretation. Some joe-shmo's opinion doesn't count here... no more than my opinion counts in how to disassemble a nuclear warhead. It's shit. Bottom line and I hope to God I'm able to put something else on my car when the time comes.

Now, please enjoy the simplicity and legibility of New Mexico's plate. Take it in because you won't see but once a year at best. And even then, they've upgraded as well. A step (a very small one) down, in my opinion, but leaps and bounds beyond our state's embarrassment.

So this post did end up being a rant. Sorry.

St. Rose

I had an early meeting this morning downtown. Early enough that I went to said meeting and when I was finished, I drove out to Lunken Airport for a five-mile tempo run. On the return drive, I passed by Saint Rose Church on Eastern Avenue and swung in to take a picture of the high water marks on the back of the sacristy wall (the white strip running from the ground up between the two windows).

My Grandpa Alberts was baptized in that church and always talked about the painted markings depicting all of the river's biggest floods since the year 1800.

1937 gets top honors with 80' (basically equivalent to the top of the windows). It's hard to put it into perspective but the shot in the lower left shows the river in the background beyond the parking lot and the top of that second story window represents the 80' high water mark of 1937. At its crest, the river was 80' deep and probably upwards of a mile across. That is an unreal amount of water and hard to fathom.

Either way, it's a nice piece of history worth checking out. Here is a list of Cincinnati's biggest floods since 1800...

1. 80'0" (1937)

2. 71'2" (1884)

3. 70'0" (1913)

4. 69'3" (1945)

5. 66'6" (1964) Coincidence?

6. 65'0" (1997)

7. 64'10" (1948)

8. 63'7" (1933)

9. 61'9" (1918)

10. 61'6" (1966)

11. 61'5" (1982)

12. 60'6" (1930)

13. 60'1" (1979)

14. 59'4" (1978/1963)

Spring Grove

My mom will appreciate this post. This one goes out to D.T. Here's your shout-out.

I missed the bus Friday... kind of on purpose and took off down Hamilton to Groesbeck, which then turns into Gray and drops 400' down to Winton Rd. Before you get to Winton, there is an entrance to Spring Grove Cemetary... and while I've heard all about it, I've never actually been inside the grounds, so I took a sharp turn to the right and found myself riding through a dream land. It's hard to describe and could really only be appreciated in person. I had to get to work so I didn't have time but only for a quick couple of shots while riding along. The bottom image doesn't do that oak tree justice. It. Was. A. Monster. Its trunk was bigger than our bathroom.

I'm looking forward to leaving a little earlier next time and exploring just a little bit more. But even so, I now have a shortcut through a crazy magnificent piece of history.

And just to note, following a line of heavy storms that came through Sunday morning, I went downstairs to find about 3" of standing water in my bucket and nary a drop on the basement floor. BOOM!