RyanHarne.com

While Becky packs up some stuff and assures me that there is nothing I can currently assist with, I want to just point out a few things before I’m called upon.

A CVS blood pressure measurer told me that I had a heartrate of 45 bpm. That was after I had been sipping my iced coffee for a while. The benefits of cycling strike again. A previous benefit that continues to today is the occasional but welcomed breaks I get while working in the lab when other grad students ask me about biking. Whether they want mechanical answers or are new to cycling, extreme gas prices have more of my friends viewing biking as the efficient and free transportation that it is and less as a recreational tool. It’s refreshing to see that transformation.

At a cyclists’ gathering this past Wednesday, I miserably lost a round of arm wrestling to another skinny cyclist. Our combined arm circumferences would be tallied in just the first row of an abbacus. Basically, just an exercise in futility. I was challenged to a second bout with a particularly successful, local, female mountain biker but I declined with some feeble excuse. My t-Rex arms are beneficial for the lightweight requirements of competitive cycling climbing but less advantageous for feats of strength. Alas.

This entry painstakingly typed on an iPod touch.

I started my day off this morning with a proposition, a little bartering. A handful of extra bar tape for two members of the gourd family freshly grown from a friend’s garden. It’s been a while (see: never) since I last cooked some fresh zucchini or squash that is not only organic but also local, so, I was able to make the deal with little hesitance. I think I got the better deal—you can’t even eat bar tape.

There is someone on eBay who is selling his life. I’m aware that some ridiculous stuff has been on eBay in the past, but this is strangely legit, strangely legal, and an ironic way to find yourself. “Upon completion and settlement I will walk out of my home for the last time in just the clothes I am wearing, and carrying only my wallet and passport.” I assume he implies that his auction winnings will still belong to him and that the money you paid to Ian Usher will not legally be re-acquired into your personal assets. Otherwise, he may have a nasty loophole in his system.

Anyways, despite the overly-marketed auction as a whole and the likely hullabaloo this will spread across the interwebz, for Ian Usher himself, I wonder if he is seeking to discover just who he is. Living in Australia, he could go on a walkabout as the indigenous peoples still do, intended to nurture an extreme self-sufficiency and refined character, as it were. We’ll see. It’s just an interesting proposition.

Oh, and Google helped me out today. Did you know that you can search The Great Google Database of Power and Knowledge from any old cellphone? You can. This would have been rather convenient in the past when I need directions to an event or restaurant or when I am just too lazy to open a web browser. Depending on your connection and the complexity of your request, it may take a few minutes, but Google comes through each and every time. When haven’t they, right? Forget Obama. Don’t settle with McCain. Google in 2008.

As iPhone push technology becomes ubiquitous, you should consider switching your email addresses over to their IMAP equivalents. Most email addresses set up any time before about a year ago used the POP standard—email stays on a web server and syncing is one-way. However, most new email addresses, including all new Gmail addresses, can be created using IMAP—syncing is 2-way, so you can access exact replicas of your accounts from either your own computer or any computer connected to the internet.

Wanting to hop onboard that train while I still have a chance, I thought to let my main Gmail account transition itself from POP to IMAP today while I was working in the lab. With a few clicks, I had turned on IMAP and started a new account in Mail on my Mac.

Once the new account was created in Mail, the storm began. I assume that those with only a few emails in their account, say 3 or 4 dozen, would transition with ease, probably in the amount of time it takes to carefully roll your eyes. However, my 8,000-strong emails entirely froze in syncing. I was aware that Mail would re-sync all of my email from Gmail and was ready to delete duplicates once they arrived, but server troubles prevented even basic syncing.

It simply wouldn’t complete a sync. Even with restarting Mail, rebooting my Mac, trying to continually click “Get Mail”. The sync would just freeze and the complex arrangement of Rules that I have would turn an otherwise straightforward task into a nightmare. So, let this be a warning to the wise.

And, as the iPhone roars into the market and new technology is either bolstered by its iPhone-approval or destroyed by a lack of interoperability, another casualty must be revealed. One of Apple’s own creations is, in fact, the loser.

iCards are dead.

With MobileMe bringing a slew of super-syncing features on the coattails of the iPhone’s success, the former .Mac iCard (which was, as you might have known, free for all) will be discontinued and forgotten. While Hallmark is the big name for eCards, the iCard was always more beautiful and less filled with hideous flash animations. The first ever eCard I received was an iCard, a Christmas/New Year’s wish from Jeremiah, and I still have the file saved from that 2001 holiday. I will miss the iCard—it truly was the simplest way to send a quick greeting to friends and family while allowing them to save the card for eternal viewing.

While they still have breath, please send someone an iCard. Go to Mac.com and click on the iCard link in the lower menu bar. Random posts are the best and, while brightening someone’s day, also make the world a better place for you, too.

There’s nothing wrong with driving 55 mph on the interstate and no amount of hands thrown to the ceiling of your SUV will change my mind. Your 15 mpg really pales compared to my 50 mpg. How much are your fill-ups? Over a hundred? Enough to pay for an hour or two at your spa? I apologize if the gum I threw out of the window hit your windshield.

Becky and I had a good time filling up two hand carts’ worth at IKEA. I had a good time positioning the pieces appropriately in the rear of the station wagon so as to maximize space and make it possible to see out at the rear-view mirror at the same time (ruling: it was not possible). She awarded me with an old Mr. Coffee 1 to 4 cup coffeemaker, which now sits on my desk in the lab, and with an evening of opening up spider web-covered boxes to see what other treasures were hiding in her college years boxes (Sega Genesis, so many dishes, AppleCare for an ancient G4).

My research is going really well this summer. I discovered recently how IP-protective I am supposed to be, so I won’t say anything about my project nor will I mention how fun it is to cut acoustic foam into strange shapes. There’s no proof that I can think of offhand to show my achievements, but it just feels like I’m getting a lot done. My professor certainly seems sure enough of my work that he’s commented on his satisfaction with my deliverables. So, looks good.

With my new/old coffeemaker in the lab, I naturally needed some creamer. The dry stuff won’t suffice. I bought some tried & true half & half from the grocery store but then tried to figure out how to bring it into the lab without it getting stolen. I can’t leave it at my desk because half & half just doesn’t preserve itself at room temperature for a week or two at a time. The communal refrigerator is hit-or-miss, based on how frequently people remember to shut the door and not steal the things they spot. So, I wrapped my half & half bottle in some of the carpet/deck tape that I’ve been using with certain research prototypes lately. Let me say that it’s tough to remove your hand from carpet/deck tape—I have a great deal of recent experience on the subject. Even moisture or temperature do not inhibit its effects because it is usable for outdoor environments. Nice. I made our really nice cleaning lady laugh when I showed her the bottle.

I think she’s going to try to steal it.

The summer is a time to bike. Warmer temperatures mean your fingers won’t freeze to the handlebars and the easy breeze brought on by a casual pace perfectly offsets the increased body temperature from the riding. Last summer, I was going nuts with my riding and began exploring many of the roads that Blacksburg and the surrounding towns had to offer. Unfortunately, that casual pace cooling wasn’t the case because I was riding hard enough to return home with a film of slime and salt on my skin and a steady tan line building up three-quarters up my arms and legs. This summer, my pace is harder, the sweat thicker, and I don’t feel like exploring roads. I want to race.

I spent the weekend with fellow Rogues in Tennessee while we raced in the Settler’s Life Omnium. After a relaxing 80mph drive on the interstate, we took shelter in a friend’s house, where we resided outside of our racing hours.

Saturday morning was a road race reassuringly called the “Roan Groan”. The course ended on an 8-mile climb up Roan Mountain which is strangely similar to Mountain Lake here in Blacksburg—same gradient, almost the same climbing distance, very similar types of vegetation and shading along the route. My category, Cat 4, only had a 30 mile race in total, the initial 22 miles being nothing more than a ride over to the mountain. Exactly as we expected, the pace over to the climb was easy with all of the sprinters knowing they had no chance of winning, so why bother expend a lot of energy? Our pace to Roan Mt. was so casual that some spectators believed us to be a fancily-clad funeral dirge.

At the base of the mountain, the group split up. I stuck to the front few at that point, making sure that I was the last person in the pack, capable of getting any draft that may exist from the leading riders. One-by-one the riders in the group began to drop. Twenty. Fifteen. Twelve. Ten. Seven. Our lead cluster was filtered through-and-through to eliminate the weak. With 2 miles to go, there were only 4 of us. With 1.5 miles to go, there were 3. With 1 mile to go, just 2 riders remained. And, of course, I was one of those riders (I mean, I’m telling this story , right?).

The other rider was named Noah, a cyclist who races for App State, who I was warned about earlier from some Rogues. In the final mile I started an out-of-the-saddle attack at a high cadence, apparently not a style that everyone finds comfortable. I wanted a 20 second attack. Then I went back to a slow cadence. Then he attacked and I held his wheel. Then I attacked, he keeping up just behind. We kept this finger-pricking up for the rest of the mile and in the final 100 meters, Noah took off. I had his wheel comfortably and was ready to make a greater surge. Then, he increased his rate again; honestly, I was not prepared for that type of two-faced attack (he and I were both fairly well exhausted from the rest of the climb at our pace). He broke away with about 20m left on the steep gradient. He deserved that win and I think I honorably took the 2nd spot. It was still a sweet and satisfying finish, though.

Five hours later there was a time trial. From a satellite image of the course, it appeared to be as flat as a mall parking lot, because the course was, in fact, the perimeter of a large, corporate parking lot. However, once we arrived, we saw the hill which was obscured from the satellite perspective. Since the whole course was 1.7 miles long and the total amount of time spent on that hill was potentially 0.5 miles, the advantage of a TT bike could be debated. I hadn’t planned on using my TT bike for that short length of course, anyways, so I focused on warming up and rolling out feeling good.

And I did. I felt great in the TT. My racing bike position is already ridiculously low compared to most people—my back becomes horizontal when I am in the drops. I kept low, even still, and finished with a time deserving 5th place in my category. Unfortunately, my number was on the wrong side—a casualty of the switch never having been announced by the officials. That day 40 penalties were awarded for that and similar logistical issues—almost 20% of all TT riders. My 5th place turned into 20something-th place. Points I could have earned for the overall classification were lost. And I was in a poor mood for quite some time afterwards, particularly once I received a sour remark from the snotty official when I casually asked about what time I had earned.

I slept off the bitterness, drowning it in made-from-scratch pizza, and prepared myself for the criterium the next morning. The crit course looked enjoyable, with plenty of turns and straights to satisfy the likes of all riders. However, some of the road surface into the turns was less than favorable and downright crumbling at some road-curb connections. Still, it’s the riders that make a race safe or scary, not the road surface. My race was rather nice and once I worked back up to the front after a terrible start—poor starting line positioning and a missed shoe clip-in—I was able to get a 4th lap-to-go preem ($30 bike tune-up at some bike shop in Tennessee that I may never visit).

I never had a chance for the final sprint because I spent all my time avoiding stupid cornering in the last turn. It was all I could do to stay on 2 wheels and avoid a curb that I was pushed into by some careless rider. So a lack of points in the crit jeopardized my standing in the overall omnium. I’m racing for the fun, but, seriously, I’m also racing for the small petty cash.

When the results were posted I let out a sigh of relief—my 2nd place in the road race was a big enough success that I held onto 3rd place in the overall omnium standings. And that’s worth some monies.

So, it was an enjoyable weekend. Once you count in the registration fee that I paid and the amount I helped amass for fuel to get to Tennessee, I actually lost $5. But $5 isn’t much to spend for a weekend of racing and spending time with fellow riders. I could do this a few more times this summer. It sure beats sweating on my own along some back road leading from Blacksburg.

If you’re like me, you spent the middle of your morning watching two really great videos.

One with a fantastic surprise. YouTube won’t embed it, so here’s the link.

And one to re-celebrate Obama’s nomination and final green light to start a real campaign. There are only 5 months left to the election and McCain has just been sitting back and enjoying the bickering.

And this one fits, too.

Important Update!
And some times I will take a moment to browse the current best-of Craigslist. Anyone looking for a car? A mere fifty-thousand highway miles on this sweet ride.