But I am an avid runner, and had not yet tried them out on the road. Well, I did try them once and got blisters. So. I thought I would do some research and a little training and see if I could run in them for real. Here is my assessment:
As you can see, they are working out very well for me. The key is to train yourself to have the proper gait — looking up “barefoot running” can help get some pointers. I describe the key ones in the video.
My goal now is to wear my Vibram Five Fingers in my next marathon! Wish me luck!
I don’t always go in for New Year’s Resolutions. Too often they have felt like empty promises to turn over some new leaf. This year, instead of resolutions I have decided to think about the kind of person I want to be.
When I look back on 2010, where would I like to be able to say I made progress?
Part of that is informed by who I want to be and how I see myself, and part is informed by where I am and whatever struggles or successes I may be facing right now.
Above all, it has to do with how I want to relate myself to those around me and my community.
For me, it’s about breaking out of wherever I am, and moving into the next place I’m going. How will I get there? By what means will I break free?
Here are my three top areas for growth for the year:
Have good, consistent habits. I tend to work in bursts and respond to things when necessary. But I have learned that consistency pays off in almost every respect. I can accomplish more over time than I can in an all-nighter. So I will plan out my days and weeks. I’ll be realistic about what I can accomplish and I will place a premium on day-in, day-out actions instead of hoping to get things done in quick bursts. I know what I should be doing day to day. I will develop the habits of doing those things.
Reach out to others honestly. I tend to isolate when left to my own devices. I get wrapped up in my computer screen, wrapped up in my own pursuits. I spend too much time thinking about myself. When I interact with people it is too often all surface and not enough substance. I will work against this bias and try to make sure I connect fully with someone every day.
Cheerfully accept and meet obligations. It’s easy for me to try to avoid and shirk. It’s even possible to do this and not be seen as shirking! But I know inside when I am actively seeking and fulfilling obligations and when I am holding back and reluctantly responding when called on. Yet, I am happiest when serving others. I will actively look for ways to help those around me.
Those are not the only resolutions for me this year, but they are the big ones. How about you?
Last night, walking through a restaurant, as I passed by about ten tables I noticed six where the diners had their smartphones sitting on the table as they ate. Some were deep in texting someone, others just had them out there, at the ready. Outside, there was a pair of people standing next to one another, clearly together, yet each busy texting someone else.
Skating over the holidays at New York’s Rockefeller Center, America’s skating rink, one can’t help noticing in the crowd of tourists and locals that everywhere someone is peering into a little screen in a gloved hand. A boy waiting in line one switchback ahead plays a Game Boy, pumping his fist after each tiny victory. Fellow tourists, armed with digital cameras, ask my group to take pictures of them with the gigantic New York City Christmas tree and the statue of Prometheus in the background.
Down on the ice, there is a dangerous clot of people obstructing traffic. Skating abandoned, they, too, are after shots of the tree. They stand shakily, arms outstretched, tiny viewscreens glowing. Skaters notice the hazard at the last moment. Some duck. Many slip, fall, or collide with other skaters. Everybody has a tiny helper, a gadget to enhance or capture the experience.
Does it help? Are people having more fun?
"Texting" by Flickr user kiwanja
Since that time, the ubiquity of our tiny helpers, these screens, has increased. Everywhere we go, we have them by our side, at the ready. They used to be poised to capture the moment. Now they are ready for us to communicate with people we are not now with. It’s like every dinner party is really two conversations – the one I have with you, in front of me, and the one I am having, or ready to have, with my “peeps,” who are scattered far and wide.
I am as much a culprit of this as anyone else. And, it is important to note the upsides of this ubiquitous connection-to-elsewhere. At any given time, there can be a wide-ranging conversation going on, no matter where I am.
But, as with ubiquitous photo-taking, it’s easy to use our online connections to take us away from our present situation — to get out. There’s no bright line when it comes to that. At what point does a quick text at the table become ignoring your dinner date?
I try to have rules for myself. Not at the table. Not if I am in a one-on-one conversation. Not unless I ask first. These help, but still, sometimes they don’t seem like enough.
However, like most, I am not prepared to completely give up these constant connections. Modern social norms will simply have to catch up, which they have not yet done.
Over the next five years or so, I am certain we will see social norms and etiquette catch up. We’ll know when it is OK and when it is not. For now, though, it’s like the Wild West.
The other day I was talking to a friend of mine about some things that were troubling me. I was unhappy with the behavior of others. As we discussed the situation, it became clear that the behavior may well have been driven by others’ reactions to my own behavior.
“You can’t control what they do,” said my friend, “but you can control what you do.” In retrospect, this is very straightforward advice — yet, in the moment, it’s often hard to see.
What’s even more difficult, is to know what it is I can control. My friend gave me a list that has proven to be very, very helpful. I thought you might find it useful.
These are the things that I can control:
Attitude: What do I bring to the situation? What are my expectations?
Effort: Am I just coasting along at half steam, or am I all in?
Tone: Do I say the correct things, yet clothe them in sarcasm or smugness?
Motives: Do I have hidden motives, such as vanity or pride?
Thoughts: Am I harboring negative thoughts about others?
Actions: Regardless of my intentions, are my actions helpful?
Reactions: How do I react to what others do? Is it helpful?
If I can keep these elements in check, I can know that if others behave in ways I don’t like, or that cause me problems, it’s not my own fault but something else. I can know that my own side of the street is clean.
Now, I just need to keep this front and center for when I really need it!
Last night, on vacation with extended family, a few of us stayed up late playing Risk. As players of this game know, these episodes can go on for hours and hours. We laughed harder than I had laughed in a long time.
"Board Game Meetup #1 @ Firenze" by Flickr user katsuma
As I went to bed (of course the game is not finished, it is likely to last for another day at least), I remarked to myself on what a good time we had talking. It’s not often people spend such extended time together in conversation. It seemed to me that one of the functions of board games and card games is to create a diversion for people, so that when conversation ebbs we can focus on something else. Then, renewed, we can focus again on the conversation. Without this alternative focus, the conversation might burn out.
The game also provides a constant stream of fodder for conversation, adding in new minor events on which to comment.
It felt good and this morning I am thankful for the role board games play in our lives. It makes me wonder how we can translate that second focus into other things too — it’s helpful to be able to take a break within the intensity of conversation, to be able to keep it rolling. For instance, in a very intense project, how could we use an alternate focus to create the opportunity for a little rest, to help maintain intensity?
One of my children used to love to be tickled, surprised, pounced upon, – still does. Back in the toddler days, it would be a repeated request. “Tickle me! Get me!” Eventually, the tickling and surprising doesn’t work and Daddy gets tired. “I’ll surprise you when you least expect it,” I would promise.
The reply would come back: “I least expect it! I least expect it!”
I know that behavior so well. I do it all the time. Often, there’s some hoped-for outcome I have pinned my whole emotional state upon. Maybe it’s a work thing, maybe it’s my personal life. Maybe it’s money. I know deep down, from bitter experience, that the only way many such things come to fruition is for me to let go entirely of the outcome. Don’t try so hard, loosen up. But it’s impossible to will yourself into that state.
So I push myself to let go. I fool myself: Yes, now I really have given up on the outcome, so surely this thing must happen.
Bupkis.
It’s only after time has passed that the hoped for state of equanimity comes around. Eventually, I notice with a start that I actually don’t care about the outcome. And just thinking about my big plan doesn’t set into motion a new round of pining. It just stays neutral.
When that state comes around, the state of perfect readiness, I have found that things really start to take off. The things I used to want so badly but couldn’t have begin to come true. New things I had not dreamed about come into my life.
It only happens when I truly, really, least expect it.
For the past few days I have been helping in a small way on a large crowd control effort. My son’s Boy Scout troop parks cars at the local county fair every summer. The boys plan and execute it each year. This is a huge undertaking, as tens of thousands attend the fair. It’s one of the largest in the area. The temperatures out on the fairgrounds can easily reach 95 and above.
The task involves getting cars into the fairgrounds, up to the people who take payment for parking, and then onto the parking lot and directed to the right space. It is a constantly fluid situation and the leader in charge (one of the older boys) has to make decisions about where to direct manpower, how best to fill in parking rows, and how to handle unforeseen situations.
Everyone in the whole troop, boys and adults, pitches in. I was just one of many.
The adults’ roles are few. We drive a golf cart around to the boys at various stations, making sure they have water. We jump in where necessary to help if there are backups (this is amusingly called being a part of a “Fast Action Response Team”). And we flag the cars at the main gate as they enter the fairgrounds, and then at a key turn from the parking payment area into the actual parking lots. These are seen as “unsafe” for the boys because we are actually in (or almost in) traffic.
The Challenges Of Crowds
I mostly worked the main gate, flagging cars in from the road into the fairgrounds. People came in from two directions, and I had to get them to line up into the leftmost two lanes in a three lane road (we kept the right lane free for emergency vehicles).
There were some fundamental issues that made this difficult:
Not only are there a lot of people, but each one has his or her own goal: They want to get into the fair and don’t want to wait.
While we did our best to make it easy, people were disoriented: They were being asked to follow signs, flags, and hand-waves in ways they are not used to.
Each carload of people is being asked to relinquish control: We tell them where to park; they don’t get to pick their spot.
There are many possibilities for special circumstances that can disrupt flow: There were more kinds of unique situations that came up than anyone could have prepared for, as everyone is different.
I came away from this experience with a deep appreciation for the role of tradition and institutional knowledge. This troop has been doing this for decades, and there is a vast amount of lore that is passed on from generation to generation. Many of the things that did not make initial sense to me but that were done “because we have always done them this way” turned out to be exactly right.
The Difficulty Of Simplicity
I also came away from this experience with a deep appreciation for the difficulty of simplicity. We tried our hardest to make it dead simple for people. In fact, I think it was about as simple as it could possibly be. Enter, follow the flags, park your car.
For many drivers, this was a challenge. Some weren’t paying attention, others wanted to maximize their personal convenience and find the “best” spot, some did not realize it would cost money to pay to park, some had kids yelling in the car about visiting the midway, some were not used to seeing young boys waving flags and telling them where to go, some just were confused.
Many drivers did things that disrupted flow. Some stopped, or tried to park on their own, or just went into the wrong lane. Some wanted special consideration, and not unreasonably so. As workers, it was frustrating because it seemed simple — because we knew the system. Follow it, and all will be well.
But, to the drivers, it was all new. And we were asking them to give up control. “Trust us, follow our lead, we’ll get you parked.” This turned out to be terribly difficult for many people. (As it would be for anyone, I imagine.)
Management Lesson From The Scouts
If you look at the four bullets above that made this overall task difficult, you can see that they can apply to lots of different situations, even ones where there are not crushing volumes of people. Web sites, meetings, publications, strategic plans, organizational change efforts — lots of things.
And the main wrinkle here is this: Even things that look simple, from the inside, may still be quite complex when viewed from the outside. And in the doing, there are always unforeseen special circumstances.
I am going to try to keep this in mind the next time I design a training session, write a report, or develop some new system. No matter how simple I think it is, it can probably be simpler. But then, when I have made it as simple as possible, it may not be that easy. And I will always try to have a way to handle special circumstances.
I am very thankful for this small lesson, taught me by an incredibly dedicated and helpful Boy Scout troop.
I am not the kind of person who posts motivational quotes and aphorisms to my Facebook status or to my Twitter account. And when my friends do, I usually just skip over it, as those sorts of things are not why I hang out in online social spaces.
But earlier this week, in very short order, three separate Twitter friends posted such things, and for some reason it hit me in a very positive way.
This is a wonderful trio of self-reliance reminders. Read them from the bottom up, and it’s almost like they are three people talking to one another about the issue.
Many of my friends (both in-person and on Facebook) know that a couple of months ago I bought the strangest looking shoes you can imagine: shoes with toes. They’re called Vibram Five Fingers.
Before I told you what I thought of them, I wanted to wear them for a goodly period of time, to be fair. I wanted to get past the novelty factor as well as the strangeness of wearing shoes with toes.
Yesterday Michael Jackson was buried. I have a terrible confession to make: the hoopla around dead celebrities has always left me cold. Perhaps it is my cranky and contrarian nature, I don’t know. But I find myself muttering inwardly, “What did he ever do, really?”
Even the great icons – I’ve always thought that, when you look at their achievements they pale in comparison to political and historical figures.
Robert MacNamara, from webspace of Cal Poly's Dr. Lewis Call
This all came into relief when yesterday’s Michael Jackson funeral eclipsed news of the death of Robert MacNamara. The crank in me went on overdrive. Not that I see MacNamara as a hero or anything – just that his passing seems more geopolitically notable than the death of a pop star.
And yet there was my CNN Breaking News alert: “Michael Jackson’s golden coffin is placed in front of the stage as his memorial service gets under way in Los Angeles.” This is breaking news?
“What did he ever do?” I curmudgeonly asked myself of Jackson, and then I was hit with the answer that made me do a one-eighty.
Michael Jackson, through his music, brought joy into people’s lives around the world.
Robert MacNamara, whose stamp on the international scene is indisputable, nevertheless did not make it into the day-to-day consciousness of most people. (Please note that I am not passing judgment on his actions as a political figure.)
I was filled with remorse as I thought of my snobbery.
Indeed, I realized that the cranky question must instead be asked of the world leaders: “What did they ever do?”
My point is not that Michael Jackson’s accomplishments are greater, or lesser, than other’s. My point is that it is perfectly understandable that we care about and mourn his passing in ways that go far beyond the notice we pay to historical figures. How dare I sneer at that. How dare any of us dismiss that.
Entertainers enter our daily lives. By doing so, they change our daily lives. Historical figures, by contrast, direct events that seem distant. So whose passing do you notice more?
Again, I do not mean to disparage or speak ill of anyone – living or dead. It is this phenomenon that is interesting. I wanted to share this personal epiphany.
I think I finally get it, and it’s pretty simple really: People care about what touches them. And what touches them is what they care about.
I don’t always go in for New Year’s Resolutions. Too often they have felt like empty promises to turn over some new leaf. This year, instead of resolutions I have decided to think about the kind of person I want to be.
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