The Fellowship Breaks

I finished The Fellowship of the Ring, and had to take a brief break from LOTR owing to the fact that I did not have The Two Towers.  Now I have it, but feel obligated to finish The Calculus Diaries, which is a pretty quick and fun read when I devote some time to reading it.  I enjoy when people make math more fun, because like spreadsheets math is always fun, so more fun is just a bonus (or a fiery rant about making simple concepts dumb enough for the average person, rather than making the average person educated enough for simple concepts).

I promise, I am working on a longer post for this week, but...  I (may have) just applied for a position at the USGS (when a contract geologist, applying for your next job is never done), which has taken up a lot of my desire to sit at a computer after work.

I Didn't Even See Them

I have not done any research into this, but I imagine a common statement made after a collision is, “I didn't even see them.” I was once backed into in a left turn lane at an intersection, the woman who backed into me said something like that. The statement also seems pretty obvious, presumably, if one sees something, they are unlikely to run into it. It seems cyclists have taken this idea, and endeavored to be hyper-visible.

Just under 10% of the employees at GNS bike to work. Of those who do, I am the only one who does not wear hi-viz safety gear. Road bikers here wear hi-viz vests and helmets here. Yet, the only commuting collision that has happened at GNS recently was when a trucker rear-ended a car turning into the access road. The trucker reported that he looked down to shift, and didn't even see them.

If, the root cause of motorists not seeing the things they run into is truly the visibility of the object, then black cars should be illegal, and we should all be driving around in vehicles that are bright orange with flashing lights (firetrucks?). But, we aren't. Cars have headlamps, taillights and reflectors, which is considered sufficient. Motorists do run into other cars, but if every car was hi-viz, it would loose its meaning. Wrapping vehicles in orange, chartreuse, reflectors and flashing lights is saved for vehicles that are not normally on the road.

Construction workers also wear hi-viz, but like the emergency vehicles, they are not part of normal driving. While construction and maintenance crews likely work on the roads most days, they are generally not part of most motorist's daily drive. In other words, they “do not belong” on the road from the viewpoint of the motorist. Cyclists, on the other hand, do.

The first issue with cyclists wearing hi-viz is that it implies to motorists that bikes do not belong. That bikes, like construction workers and emergency vehicles, are a special case. Motorists will never “see” cyclists as long as cyclists are not viewed as a legitimate part of traffic by motorists, lawmakers and police officers. As long as the consensus exists that cyclists are not part of normal traffic, and cyclists further the idea by wearing hi-viz, motorists will not respect cyclists.

The second, and probably larger issue of wearing hi-viz, is that it does not work. I have ridden with other cyclists who are wearing hi-viz, and two cyclists, one in hi-viz, one not, does not affect how close motorists come to you. I have watched cars pass me, then pass another cyclist wearing hi-viz, and they pass at the same distance. Motorists drive the way they drive, no matter what a cyclist wears. Close passers pass close, cell phone users text and talk, and drunk and drowsy drivers are drunk and drowsy. A piece of bright orange fabric does not change the person behind the wheel.  

Minutiae

More pictures have been posted to my Picasa site, and the new Faux Social page is nearly set (I'm still debating a few things, we'll call it a beta version).  Preview it if you are interested, and comment on the new format if you like or dislike it.  Check it out at fauxsocial.blogspot.com.

Some folks have apparently been wondering what has been happening in my life, and, well, I think a recent xkcd captures what I go through when I try to work with most people.  This, is a stick-figure drawn glimpse of my life:  http://www.xkcd.com/974/.  In my defense, I usually can access my "fuck it, and get it done" response when it counts, but I hate going back through shoddy work, so I take the time to try to make the work being done at present good enough that I will not want to hurl feces at myself in a year or two.

Upcoming posts will probably include random topics such as balancing on exercise balls, the merits of high-vis clothing, and identifying hazards, but I may grow tired of those topics before I finish writing anything of consequence.

Faux Social Update

Faux Social's URL is currently brian-aillaud.blogspot.com.  In the coming weeks the blog will migrate to fauxsocial.blogspot.com, and will get a new look.  The content of Faux Social will likely shift a bit with this change, but since Faux Social lacks focus, that may not be entirely noticeable to anyone but me.

For anyone out there with lots of time on their hands, and in need of focus, fo.sci is a new blog by Sean Mulcahy (fosci.blogspot.com).  His one post is nerdy and fun, and I recommend it.  Hopefully more will follow.

Comments

In listening to All Songs Consideredpodcasts (I have very nearly listened to every episode), I havenoticed that they ask for listener comments, frequently. I getoccasional comments on photos, but not many. I essentially never getcomments on my blog posts. I have come to realize that I also rarelyask for reader comments. So, here it is, a shameless request forcomments.

If you enjoy Faux Social, comment on myposts. Agree or disagree? Have your own thoughts about a subject? I want to hear them! Want more of a certain kind of post, or less ofa kind of post, let me know. I will try to oblige. Obviously, Ihave to travel to have more travel posts. Once I get home internet,a plethora of pictures will be posted, which seems to generate themost interest. Regardless, let me know you are out there, otherwiseit becomes simply anti-social for me to sit at home writing.

You can read minds?

I seem to never be full. Should I eata big restaurant dinner and feel stuffed, by the time I walk home, Iam almost always cruising for a snack. My biggest weakness seems tobe sweets. As a joke a group of grad students at UNLV did put theremainder of a chocolate cake in front of me, just to see if it wastrue that I never stop eating chocolate. After plowing through it, Iwent home for a snack, of chocolate.

Obviously, if I am ever to have abslike Gerard Butler's (which starred in the movie 300, withGerard playing a supporting role), I must curb my insatiable sweettooth. The simple solution is to eat less, but finding moderation isnot easy for me (or anyone?). I was eating a lot of fruit, tohealthfully satiate the sweet tooth, but 1.5 kilos of oranges/dayleft me lusting after chocolate. Since gluttony in one food does notseem to address the issue, I tried to quit overeating cold turkey. This, as any diet expert will tell you, leads to binge eating, oressentially, no change.

I go through cycles of these attempts. In general, the most successful diet for me is carrots (yes, back tothe gluttony scheme). I have, in the name of controlling appetite,eaten up to 5 lbs of carrots a day. The average is about two poundswhen I am powering through carrots. Even with eating more carrotsthan a horse can dream of, the abs do not come, but I do eat lessother foods. As I write this I am looking at a demolished box ofcookies, wishing it was a bag of carrots that I had just eaten as a“snack.”

My inability to curb my eating hasgiven me a strange respect for anorexia. Yes, it is bad. Yes, it isan illness. Yes, yes, yes, but think of it in terms of will power! Imagine if you could apply that will power in a healthy, constructiveway. We would all have Gerard Butler's abs! Not necessarily be abad thing. The eating disorder I do not understand is bulimia.

I just ate a box of cookies. They weredelicious, actually they weren't. They were pretty crappy cookies,and if logic played a role in this I would have just saved them forwhen my pantry is bare. The cookies will probably be a big part of mydinner, and if not, then they will be a big part of my waistline. Either way, I get my money's worth. If, I were bulimic, and purgedthem, I could guiltlessly eat a more delicious food item. But! Idid not enjoy eating them, and I would probably not enjoy vomitingthem. I would thus double my dissatisfaction with the cookies, andnot be able to count them as usable calories. I would also have topay money for the new item, which probably would not make up for thevomiting and bad cookies, and I might overeat that food too, and haveto purge again. Bulimia just seems like flushing money down thetoilet, which I would classify as not a “disorder,” but crazy.

To deal with my physical fitness,having ruled out bulimia (I am not thatcrazy), anorexia (not enough will power), overeating “healthy”foods, and moderation, my only option now seems gluttony in exercise,which I suppose I am all for. My holdup is now inertia. I havesomething of a routine. I get up, get ready for work, ride my biketo work, work, ride my bike home, eat dinner, read, write, then go tobed. I would like to add a swim in the morning, a run in theevening, and yoga before bed. It is totally doable. The swimmingrequires a wet suit, so it will probably be a run in the morning, anda ride in the evening, a long yoga practice, or astrength/calisthenics session. Regardless, spending more timeexercising is reasonable, if I can change my routine to accommodateit.

Like building shinynew abs, getting into the new routine will take time, but it is agoal. It has been recommended that I should train for an event,maybe the Taupo Ironman, but I do not know if I need to enter a racejust to motivate. However, if I ever do an event, it might as wellbe a tri-, and if I enter a tri- it might as well be an Ironman. After all, if I swim a couple of miles, then ride 100 miles, it seemsthe best way to address an insatiable hunger, would be to run amarathon.