HASHTAG DRUNKEN PROMISES

In January, it was just one of these times. One of these times were little Joli just couldn’t shut her mouth and declared that she wanted to join a few of her field hockey team mates in a half marathon. It was about 02:30 am. At 02:36:00 am I was registered thanks to the fact that I willingly and without further thought gave away my credit card. 

So here it is, the log book of my first full half marathon. 

Start - Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? No backing out now… and people look serious
1 km - At least the weather is nice. Kind of sunny but still cool enough. Getting in the rhythm. 

           All is good.
2 km - Just don’t over pace. It’s still a long way. Legs feel great but better pace myself.
3 km - Oh, we are turning, I wonder if we get down to the water now. I bet the view along the
           coast will be beautiful.
4 km - Turn again. No ocean yet. Just as well. Better stay focused now, there is a little hill coming
           up. Just keep breathing calmly.
5 km - I am thirsty!
6 km - Water station at 5.5 km was excellent. Quick drink. Some cool water over the head.
           I can keep going.
7 km - Three more of this. Sounds doable. Kind of.
8 km - Ok, seriously, where is the ocean?
9 km - Ha, nice running down hill. I wonder if my legs look like in a cartoon, similar to
           Speedy Gonzales is running really fast.
10 km - Is it getting warmer, or is it just me? Person behind me is breathing real heavy.
            Don’t collapse on me there, I have no intention of stopping now.
half way - Haha, look at the road sign “Keep calm, slow down”. You wish, I am unstoppable!
11 km - Oh good, water, I was just about to ask. One to drink, one over the head. On my way
             home now.
12 km - Ok, I might be stoppable after all. Damn you left leg. Ouch right thigh. This can’t be
             healthy.
13 km - This is ridiculous. Why would anyone ever want to run this far? There will better be
             beer at the finish line!
14 km - Step after step after step after step. Wait, this is only two thirds? How devastating.
15 km - Hill of death, here I come. See you on the other side. Maybe.

16 km - I think I drank the water and poured the sports drink over my head. Oh dear.
17 km - Definitely poured the sports drink over my head. Everything is sticky. Maybe that’s why
             I can’t lift my feet of the ground anymore.
18 km - I survived the hill! Yeah, it’s downhill from here. I can do this. I can do this. Oh god, can
             I do this?
19 km - Finally water to wash all this sticky stuff off. Maybe I could sit down for just a minute?
20 km - I am still not there? Oh no, I forgot about that last 1 km. Noooooo. And where is that
             damn finish line. The course seems to go on forever.
20.5 km - I still don’t see the finish line. What is this? Are they doing this on purpose? First no
             ocean, then no finish line! That’s why it’s called April Fool’s run, I see. But wait, I
             hear something…
21 km - “And just finishing now, Jolônd F**ken…” You are just right mate, finally the F**ken finish.

Luckily we did have beer at the finish line. A nice tricycle, beer with grapefruit (for the daily vitamin intake). And as it turns out, there is actually an ocean along the sunshine coast. Who would have thought? We just never saw it along the way from Gibsons to Sechelt (it is also possible that I was just highly delusional along the way). By the way, I ran a 1:55:41, so that is that. Anyway, we went to the water afterwards and it was beautiful. Still, I will remain I-hate-running-Joli until next time.

To beard or not to beard

Not really sure what the rest of the male world is doing with their facial hair at the moment. In Vancouver there are some interesting things going on. Just to clarify, all of the below is purely observational and completely subjective. 

Bill gently strokes his cheeks. His skin is smooth, his face is clean. His hair is casually styled. Just the slightest touch of hair gel. His thick dark hair is neatly arrange to frame is face. Bill is part of an (on the north American west coast) in population shrinking minority of clean shaven men. Bill is complementing his (facial) hair style with a sleek dress shirt, neatly tucked into dark jeans topped off with a brown pair of desert boots. Bill is feeling good about himself.

Jeff is standing just opposite of Bill on the bus. Upon seeing Bill, he immediately thinks ’Who is that dude? He is so 00s. Has he not arrived in the 10s yet?’ Jeff is scratching his Dreitagebart (I wasn’t happy with the English translation to designer stubble so I am using the German term which literary translates to “three-day-beard”). Shaving every day is a waste of his already limited time. His dark blond hair is just drying off from his daily seven and a half minutes wake-up-shower. He is wearing a one coloured dark green T-shirt, slightly washed out jeans and chucks. He trims his beard once or sometimes twice a week, he gets a hair cut about once every two months. He is looking good and he knows it. He gets his phone out and starts playing Angry Birds. Yeah, he certainly needs the time for more important things in life.

Andrew has different problems. He is participating in Movember. Ever since a bunch of humorous Australians decided to grow a moustache throughout November men around the world grow themselves a moustache (or something that is supposed to resemble it) during November. Some do it to support different kinds of charity, others, just because they can. Andrew is heading into week 3. He is having trouble preventing his facial decoration from going wild. Little spikes of hair are starting to stick in random directions. Everything apart from the upper lip is more or less clean shaven. Will he be able to curl the ends of his moustache in week 4? Andrew, like many others, really can’t pull off a moustache. But what does he care? Moustaches are cool and hip and at the same time he is doing the world some good. He is practically wearing a superman cape.

For Paul it’s all about the neck line. It took weeks of research and practice to find the right neck/chin-covered-by-hair to neck-clean-shaven ratio. By now Paul has mastered trimming his beard close to perfection. The beard line looks neat and even, almost like drawn with a compass. Paul can only shake his head about the moustache guy. He is all about the face frame. An upper lip beard goes is in the same category as a goatee: so yesterday. Paul’s beard is a statement. He ain’t wearing no popular brands, no washed out jeans or fancy shirts. He ain’t following any commercialism. Paul will always go his own way, always remain true to himself. Pleased by this observation, he takes a refreshing zip of his Starbucks coffee and gets off the bus.

Charles is not aware of any of this. He couldn’t care less about beard lines, Movember or designer stubbles. He is just trying to grow something. On good days the fine layer of black hair on his upper lip might pass as the beginning of a moustache or beard. On bad days it just looks like a young man’s face before his first shave. He has tried eating protein rich meals, he even supplemented his food with special vitamins. There are a few patches of black stubbles now. No uniformity though. Charles sighs and dreamily stares at all the different kind of facial hair styles around him. Maybe one day…

If there is one thing that Seamus is proud of, it is his full beard. It took him 218 days to get to this point. He has watched several different youtube how-to-grow/maintain/clean/awesomize-your-beard videos, has spent over $300 on beard accessories (a beard comb, scissors, three different kind of trimmers, beard balm, oil, wax, pomade, itchy beard wash, hair loss prevention shampoo as well as beard conditioner) and has invested at least eight hours a week into extensive beard care. He also had to get new glasses to match the new uber beardy look. He wears shirts with catchy punchlines, witty jokes or designs by local artists printed across the chest. The colour of his pants range from dark red to bright blue. He has a pair of sneakers matching all of them. His appearance is an art, Seamus the artist. Can’t a man just live his creativity?

Science at its best

A while ago I felt like I should have a grown up night out. Don't be alarmed, even the recreational fresh air in Vancouver cannot make a Joli grow up just yet. However, the thought was more that I am surrounded by <25 year old students in everyday on Campus school life. Consequently, I felt the urge to have a night of "mature" conversations and interactions only. So that night, no kids were allowed (except for one little British, but we all know exceptions prove the rule...). Naturally, such a special occasion calls for a special invitation. Plus: I was working on a research proposal at the time. Might have caused an urge to distract myself but at the same time keep the focus on scientific methodology and practice.

(Random email from August 24, 2014 at 5:33 pm)

Project Concept: The effects of intoxication have well been studied in the past. It also has been shown that an irregular high intake of bêor can cause odd conversations, loud insults, a certain degree of touchiness as well as side effects such as hick-ups or occasional memory loss. However, in recent years there has been a lot of innovation and development with respect to the art of beer crafting, which power has only been tested to a certain degree. Thus, it should be every computer scientists' duty to optimize taste-amount-endurance coefficient. 

Hypotheses: It will work.

Methods: Leave campus at 6 pm on Friday, August 29th, and head to the Beer Craft Market. Then, order beer. Lift the glass and drink with as little spillage as possible. Repeat this until no longer possible. 

Measures: Numbers of beer drunk. Numbers of pointless conversations. Time of consumption. Annoyance of the waiters. Spontaneous flashes of genius.

Expected Results: Headaches, sleeplessness, nausea, in summary: one hell of a night.

Follow-up: Results can be solidified by going to Portland Craft or to the Vancouver Alpen Club or both.

Participants: As addressed here. However additional participants are welcome and should be suggested to the group to go up for voting.


In retro-perspective, I can report that maturity level did definitely suffer. We especially accomplished to max out the measure of "annoyance of the waiters". Or at least we had some kind of very memorable Joli-waitress interaction. But that is a story for another time.