Category Archives: Health


My Spartan Race is scheduled for tomorrow on the muddy ski slopes of Pennsylvania; this is how I planned to prepare for the brutal 5 mile obstacle course: over run Prospect Park for distance familiarity, while alternating between sprint intervals and weight training for strength conditioning. As adults, we generally get over the spectacle of walking after we learn to do so as toddlers, unless yesterday was leg day, and you wake up with quadriceps contractions.

I came a long way from the super skinny competitive guy who hated losing, and mocked losers. I have always been competitive and obsessive enough to be good at anything I set my mind to; however, I wasn’t always equipped to excel at physical activities. Being slender, among people who intermittently exercise to lose weight, has earned me quite a few “good genes” and “divine metabolism” remarks; nonetheless, being scoffed at for eating small portions never gets old; neither does a lack of fat translate into an abundance of muscle. I learned the difference one summer when I went to visit my sister on an Army base, and was demolished on a basketball court by muscular men, the likes of which never make it from the pull-up bars to the basketball courts in Brooklyn.

By my mid-twenties, without professional aspirations, I finally adopted an active lifestyle to challenge myself. By that, I mean: I stand in trains cars, even the empty ones. I look forward to flights of stairs, two steps at a time! If not for sweaty shirts and winter months, my bike would be my primary mode of transportation. After paying for multiple gym memberships, I bought my own weights and weight vest to spontaneously break out into workouts. Without fail, I feel bigger, faster, stronger every year. Always trying to one up myself, I joined the New York Road Runners Club with the intention of running the 2014 ING New York Marathon. Now I have to run 9 club sanctioned races before the end of 2013, just to run another 26 miles next year; and I can’t wait.

In the mean time, without an option for “IT professional” on the Spartan Race application, I was told to represent; which means I plan to finish in the top 10% and Instagram a deluge of post race photographs. This isn’t the last of my personal challenges this year either: see my five minute plank if you haven’t already, then look forward to my race against a train; yes, a train, you read that right. Madness?


New Glasses!

Well known secret: my glasses have been broken for some time now. It’s one of those things that illicit subtle stares to confirm they’re indeed broken, without asking any questions. Like with the occasional pimple, most people will not point at your face in passing; however, like the eczema on a sufferer’s neck, it’s hard not to glance every now and then to quietly wonder about treatment. So I get it, I just don’t care. To prioritize functionality over aesthetics means I would amputate my own foot if it meant more speed: four minute mile speed for starters. If you thought the functionality of wearing glasses was to impress you, then you’ve done your self evaluation a great disservice.

My plan was to walk into the glasses store with a coupon for a $20 eye exam and prescription, then search for a suitable frame online. Being a technologist, I already vowed to never go in-store shopping again once Amazon develops same day delivery. About this coupon idea, no one likes printers, and I was worried that the clerk wouldn’t use the recycle bin. Of course I printed the coupon nonetheless, because I wouldn’t dare expect them to honor the deal without wasting trees.

My exam experience was great though, the optometrist was a nice older gentleman surrounded by younger administrative folks. Afterwards the sales pitch started: Would you like to buy frames? Okay, how much are you paying there if you don’t mind me asking? Well I can also sell you something for under $100 and knock off the $20 cost of the exam. The real kicker was trying on the glasses with immediate feedback, having the frame and lenses ready within an hour, and peering into the sales clerk’s wide open blouse; which I don’t feel ashamed about, because that’s what the gaping cleavage was obviously there for.

About the glasses themselves, they’re awesome! I immediately tweeted:

That awesome moment a new pair of glasses can make all the difference: I see better, look better, and everyone else needs more makeup.

My last pair were very Malcolm X. I wanted something larger and not black; basically something that didn’t immediately tie me to politics and activism. The best my online searches turned up were a pair of plastic aviators I wasn’t sure would last a week in the real world. The breasts were kind enough to suggest two pairs I liked, the first were reminiscent of my last pair with a metal frame top and loose lens bottom. The second pair remains on my face. I love the look! They’re my first pair to equally encourage goofiness and professionalism with exclamation points! The online price difference was made up in terms of breasts and convenience.

Lastly, I almost purchased a pair of sunglasses, before remembering the lessons I learned and didn’t want to repeat from over wearing them a few years back. Prolonged sunglass wear makes your eyes very sensitive to sunlight. Once my I lost my first pair of Tom Fords, which I loved by the way, I could barely go anywhere without a visor. And second, I could no longer justify the confidence hidden behind my tinted wandering eyes; even a busty clerk should know her bust is appreciated. So I can look you in the eye; if anything, without spending the extra money to remove glare from my lenses, it’s possible you can blind yourself attempting to look at me.

Contacts are next, I think I’ll go with white pupils!

When Mosquitoes Attack

It really started earlier in the day, because even when I break the rules, I observe the rules. I had two Aleve in the morning, then another two Aleve sometime in the afternoon, knowing damn well that the instructions restrict consumption to three Aleve in 24 hours, and only if the pain subsists. Later that evening, in bed and alone, my face starts to itch; what comes to mind? The side effects of Aleve abuse, or signs of an allergic reaction. There I am itching my temples, cheeks, and chin, as my concern starts to spread, the affected area begins to condense. Just as I’m about to reach for and re-read the bottle, to properly inform the forthcoming EMT operator of my self diagnosis, the pulsating mound protruding from my inner right eyebrow gives away the culprit. A slight shade develops as I confirm the marble sized mosquito bite blocking my eyelid from properly opening; it looked quite robotic actually, like I was shape shifting in the moment.

My parents are both Saint Lucian, nothing like this happens to them. My sister and I are Canadian and wildly allergic, not fatally, just cosmetically. My sister in particular has a history of mosquitoes twice biting her eyelid, which completely shut her eye closed and gravely scared our family the first time. I have been hospitalized three times in my life, the first was from a mosquito bite engulfing my forehead as a child, I don’t actually remember this, the story just gets retold by my parents every summer; the other two occasions require separate blog posts. Between now and then, my mosquito victimization has been limited to large quantities of bites lacing my arms or legs, most uncomfortably on my thumb where every movement constituted an itch.

Being an outdoorsy person, my summers are hard. I have left rooms due to mosquito shadows in my peripheral vision, because even in a room full of warm blooded Americans, I’m always the target. I refused to go to sleep that evening until I killed the mosquito terrorist and wasn’t an all night buffet. The hunt was short, within ten minutes the mosquito was mangled with a 700 page collection of Sherlock Holmes stories; then I fell asleep without applying any magical solutions from my internet searches. The site flattened overnight from its original beveled square shape. Without suffering through any real urges to itch, all remnants of the original shock were gone within two days. Great way to start the season, this is war, I’m going on the offensive this summer; in the mean time, hopefully I just survived the West Nile virus, and earned lifelong immunity.

Two Roads Diverge

During this wait for my scheduled Firefighter’s Physical Fitness Exam, numerous training programs have reached out to offer strength and aerobic preparation. I met one such program at Prospect Park during one of my routine laps: I’m an athlete; then I passed them: I’m a competitor. And during the weekend that just passed, gratefully filled with humid 60 degree days, I biked from Brooklyn College to 138th Street, and took multiple back and forth journeys in between, which amounted to some 40 pedaled miles. I was accompanied on one such ride by a friend, who submitted my quote of the week:

You don’t just bounce off of cars and continue living.

False. I have. Crossing Flatbush Avenue on Bergen Avenue (pictured above), a car attempted to park through my bike lane, while I tried to round a routine corner. I instructed that driver on proper driving etiquette, hopefully enough to save another biker from a similar experience. My point though, is that my idea of living is not “not dying.” I have seen fear turn “try or quit” choices into “life or death” scenarios. Things happen; stay aware, don’t over react, and respond appropriately. Maybe my assessment isn’t fair, considering my next chosen professional endeavor is designed to face death.

Don’t be misled, I’m a responsible adult who doesn’t play real life Road Rage. I brake at red lights and stop signs then go through them if there isn’t traffic. I pay attention to my surroundings, which way upcoming streets are directed, car indicators, and last minute wheel turns. I should probably wear a helmet more often. At the same time, I will ride twenty miles exhausted, fueled by no more than a Starbucks bagel and Chipotle burrito. It’s in my nature to jump off of my bike and play intense basketball games wearing a pair of khaki shorts and polo shirt; because that sedentary life isn’t for me. A while back, a friend asked why I quit smoking and drinking alcohol, I told him that I wanted to experience my prime in its prime; this same dude got ripped on P90X months later and I couldn’t be prouder. In lieu of wishing for an easier life, I work for greater resolve; so go ahead and chase the path most traveled, I will not be joining you. For everyone else, let’s do this.

Some pertinent tweets from this weekend:

Why I Walk in the AM

My warm weather mornings used to begin with a jog, or sprint intervals between pot holes; ever progressing towards a healthier lifestyle, I recently decided to walk in the mornings instead. While it’s a given that my ethnicity is particularly at risk for high blood pressure and heart disease, it’s less well known that mornings are a terrible time for anyone to strenuously exercise.

We’re 40 % more prone to suffer coronary emergencies between the hours of 6 am and noon. My mother rehashes every story about young adults who keel over and die moments after shoveling their driveway. You’re aware of reports of fit athletes losing consciousness and being pronounced dead in the middle of morning practices. Like the quiet carcinogenic effects of working the graveyard shift, without the declaration of a Public Service Announcement, it’s easy to believe these fatal occurrences are merely coincidental, rather than the result of a series of unfortunate circumstances.

After hours spent sleeping in a horizontal position, our blood circulation slows, allows blood to sit, and results in a body filled with the thickest blood supply of the day. Imagine drinking juice from a fresh straw, then a milkshake from a used straw, the difference is that stark.

Taking it easy on your body doesn’t mean you need to sit around either. Although I barely regard walking as exercise, a brisk walk is a great morning activity substitute. The pace prevents you from feeling rushed, the atmosphere allows you to think, and weather factors are less likely to keep you indoors. Have a good morning, every morning, for a long time!

First 5k of 2013


Yesterday I ran my first 5k of 2013, and recorded a personally respectable 3.5 miles in 28:01; so a little over a 5k. The day before, a friend presented their 29:38 to me. I was very proud and congratulatory of their accomplishment, having crossed the 30 minute barrier for the first time. Their progress then put my aerobic condition in perspective, and led to my taking advantage of a sunny day with a high of fifty degrees.

I started near the Fort Hamilton circle where the road was flat. My pace felt run of the mill, until halfway through the first mile, when I caught sight of some high school students. They seemed to maintain a lead around every bend, so I used our distance to pace me; which generally means I make an effort to pass, or not fall behind at least. There were six of them, I passed half of the group three quarters through the first mile; then the fourth runner wouldn’t relent.

Our back and forth routine coincided with the hill, where the burning sensation was immediate. I can usually chug passed soccer moms and recreational runners, especially on the incline. Sometimes a NYRR club member will zoom by, and I’ll give chase for however long I can before tapering off; those guys are unbelievable! On this day, the young man overtook me for good once we ascended the hill, and maintained a distance of five strides at most; I couldn’t muster the energy to challenge him. It bothered me for a while, I watched myself linger behind him for another mile and a half. Remember there were six, two of them just took off and left us to battle for third; a young man and woman, kudos to them!

My chest burned afterwards, prompting internal bleeding and premature death jokes. Took a seat to watch swans, drink a protein shake, and let my kneecaps throb. Harking back to running in the rain, it’s all about resolve. Feel free to link me on RunKeeper, life is better fit, and best with a challenge.

Restroom Etiquette

You’re asking yourself, why? Because I’m frequently in the restroom with urinal conversationalists and soap allergy sufferers, that’s why. Let’s review some methods to combat the bad habits of rest mates. Check the door lock before knocking or turning the handle, sometimes there’s a vacancy indicator, prove you’re literate. When entering, try to clip the door knob with your forearm or wrist, and catch the door with your elbow. Always smile at the exiting user, you’re about to discover what they’ve been through.

For solid deliveries, like dressing rooms, I will occupy the handicap stall if it’s available. For liquid deliveries, any stall takes precedence, then any urinal with space on either side; I don’t mind waiting for a comfortable opportunity as a last resort. Man to man, to properly clear your urethra, press your perineum, the space between your scrotum and anus. Yes, seriously, trust me; you’ll preserve underwear comfort and restore zipper confidence.

We’re almost done. Kick the lever to flush, and nudge the seat closed. Wash your hands with soap or hand sanitizer instead of dry handed whistling; you’ve been warned. Choose a paper towel over the hand dryer, then use it to open the door. Remember to smile as you exit and comfort the next user.