RyanHarne.com

Not since middle or even elementary school have I poured myself a glass of milk to drink. My introduction to, and later obsession with, coffee and coffee-like drinks encouraged me to think of milk as a condiment. Perhaps two or three years ago, I even lost taste for milk itself; the smell was a revolting.

In the past few days, as my coffee-maker is winding down its brewing practices and as my toasted bagel waits for its walk to the office, I have been pouring milk into my thermos. At first it was about three ounces of milk, which I would sip away at until one or two remained as a creamer, the usual. Now, it is about eight ounces. I get plenty of calcium from my current diet, so a morningtime cup of milk is nutritionally unnecessary. But, for the first time in a decade or more, the taste of milk appeals to me.

If I were to look at this analytically, because I may or may not do that frequently, I would say that the only changing variable in my life at the moment, at least variable enough to cause dietary shifts, would be my cycling. My life doesn’t revolve around this current infatuation, mind you, but I do know that my body has acquiesced to the caloric and fitness standards this cycling would otherwise demand. A newfound milk addiction may just be latest of many. Frankly, I’ve also recently fall in love with peanut butter sandwiches. If I remember correctly peanut butter sandwiches team well with milk. As would cookies. Potentially brownies.

race car.

Waking up with chest pain can be good or bad. In my case, my lungs are the culprit. A deep breath causes pain to erupt from the depths and, as the breath gets larger, moves along into the canal towards my throat. Considering this organ pair is host for my gargantuan breaths when cycling, I will consider this a positive chest pain. For now.

This is a capacity I haven’t challenged since my days in high school marching band. Were it not for the morale boosts and challenging atmosphere induced by the direction of Mr. Webb, my asthma-handicapped lungs would otherwise have deteriorated into my old age. It’s unfortunate, though, that there was such a gap between the days I was blasting from my cheapo Bach trombone - then - and when I began approaching cycling with a competitive, lung-crushing spirit - now.

When I arrived at work today, knowing full well of the holiday, I discovered that my building was locked - having only my office/lab keys on me and no other door-hacking paraphernalia. Remembering the year-round availability of my studio space in Burchard, I walked over there. I have missed this place, in just the three-week span of relocation. Alas.

I shall turn a year older in peace & HVAC-quiet. Partially in celebration, I am spending Friday and Saturday in Tampa. Thank you, Apple.

Ever since my sophomore year in high school when I first laid hands on a pair of dumbbells, a workout has been a regular routine. It has been a significant stress reliever for me in the past few years of academia - a chance to let out every shred of tension and anxiety that otherwise fester. Since I was already paying the gym fees inside of my tuition, I became addicted to these facilities, strictly for the practical purposes of relieving stress and just staying in decent shape. I would always go to the gym by myself and say little more than hello to those I recognize; when at the gym, I am all business.

Despite my exaggerated seriousness regarding working out, I rarely push myself to limits, except in my cardio exercises. I was nuts about elliptical trainers and exercise bikes. Briefly put, the adrenaline rush from a rapidly beating heart… well, it’s wonderful.

Since I began cycling outdoors, easily remembered as New Year’s 2007 but definitely more relevant in the past 6 weeks, my workouts have radically transformed into a grueling training. I can’t explain it precisely, but open road, wind resistance, 8-9-10-12% grades - they all turn me into a biking monster. Returning from a trip and biking up Main Street at the same pace as the motor traffic is a gratifying experience.

While at East Coasters today, I was asked a few questions about my cycling; my answers having been effectively summarized above. The last question was, “Training for what?” To which I generally replied with, “A Race.” While Tour de France candidates are all Olympians, or near enough to, I think a goal for the next 5 years of my life would be to enter a significant race this side of the Atlantic. Even achieving a fitness status of race-worthy would mean a lot. We’ll see.

Late in the spring semester, I was in the gym one evening when a television showed a 30 second spot promoting Diet Dr. Pepper. While YouTube fails to currently have it posted, you can see the variations of it through Dr. Pepper’s website, by selecting Entertainment and then National Advertising. The idea was that people were drinking candy and baked goods - someone with a straw in a cup cake as if it were a can of soda; someone drinking a chilled glass of M&Ms; several other occasions where delicious junk food was inhaled with the same adamacy of guzzling a Diet Dr. Pepper. Apparently.

So, having my own fond memories of drinking pint-sized glasses of M&Ms - hey, it’s a valuable, life-lesson-instilling experience - I walked out of my way towards home one evening, before the semester was completed, and purchased a Diet Dr. Pepper at a nearby 7-11. It was delicious. I rarely have urges to drink soda, but I must admit to having been utterly absorbed in this taste and smoothness.

Hearsay says the berry version is terrible. But, then again, many people seem to like Vanilla Coke when I consider that combination worthy of swine. Blegh. And then there are the millions who adore regular Coca Cola while it causes my stomach to turn and my blood sugar to spike enough to promote visions and hallucinations.

Diet Dr. Pepper is ok with me. I’m sure that in a month, I’ll be back to coffee 24/7. Just thought we could all use some easy-going product promotion. I’m slowly warming up to the Apple Campus Rep job.

Lobby groups/mafias like the RIAA are one of the foremost reasons I would take up the arms of civil service and go into politics. I can’t say that I get furious thinking of the current imbalance of power that these groups have over congressional action, but it is fuel for the fire and, nevertheless, provides continual encourage to respond.

Even if I was not a Mac user often inclined to poke fun at Microsoft, wouldn’t you say that a phrase like “Make sure your computer is ready for Windows Vista” sounds more like a Y2K siren than a hopeful herald.

On a serious note, though, yesterday the “secretary Ministerial Contract Evaluation” of the United Kingdom contacted me, personally, requesting assistance in some high-return, retirement investments here in the United States! How about that!? He made it clear that he is “very willing to go into partnership” with me.

This foreign minister, Dr. Dave Brown, closes in urgently asking, “Please you are to response to this email addreses if you are instresting: drbrown_dave@yahoo.co.uk”. I suppose he and I will have to bargain for the breakdown of shares in the returns. But, this guy must want to go out in flames since he is ready to risk his life-savings on a few, dying-breath, real estate gambits. I’ve never met this Ministerial before, but he sounds like a Harley Davidson road warrior to me.

I look forward to the day when I can get a PhD and have a similar email address: drharne_ryan@hotmail.com. It would show how serious I was about my salutation. As we all know, hotmail is for serious people.

Is your computer ready for Windows Hotmail?