fortyninegroup

Bitter Sweet Symphony for Martin Streek

2009-07-09T14:03:00.004-04:00

I lost an old friend on Monday. Martin Streek and I had worked together when I was at CFNY from 1992 to 1995. All of us lived for that station, and the music that embodied it. Martin, even more so. He epitomized the station's spirit, identity and imagery and was adored by fans who would drop by the Edge Of Bloor and Bathurst during our Thursday 30 shows together, or at live broadcasts, from the Kingdom, Velvet Underground or Phoenix, where he, Paul Dhingra and Doctor I held their weekly tribal rituals. Those were halcyon days for alternative music, and those us who passed through the door of CFNY, took with us an indelible and extraordinary trove of memories.

August, '92. Martin and I standing on the side of the stage at Molson Park in Barrie for Lollapalooza. It was THE year for that tour. Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Soundgarden, and Ministry. And there we were, in awe as Ministry's Barker and Jourgensen slammed sonic shock waves into the audience of 35,000 Martin and I reveled in the crowd's pulsated responses. July '93. New York, for the New Music Seminar. Nirvana at The Roseland Ballroom. A show plagued with stops and starts, but it was Nirvana. And we had no way of knowing Kurt would be gone 9 months later. A couple of years of Thursday 30s together, played out like the pic above, with Martin behind the console, and me, usually standing at the table. Too many other shows and moments to even begin listing them... Martin and I shared some incredible times, with music as the focal point of our friendship.

Above the shared experiences, what I most admired about Martin was his passion. Everything was 130% with him. Music above all else... especially NIN or Tool. When he got into snowboarding, he went deep, same with rollerblading, skydiving, cars and motorcycles. Martin was all in, all the time, locked and cranked, to his work, to his audience, to his love for music.

Rest well my friend.

Drop by, sit a spell!

2009-06-01T14:55:00.003-04:00

My house came with probably the worst toilets ever manufactured - Kohler Royales. I don't know how old they are, but in the 9 years I've had them, I can't even begin to count the number of times I'd replaced the flappers, inner workings, had to adjust them, endured whistling, slow fills, running on etc. This kind of stuff doesn't keep me awake at night, but it's a constant annoyance. And I didn't think I could hold such contempt for porcelain! I'd wanted to replace them for years, but with traveling back and forth between Miami and New York, training, etc. the time on home maintenance was spent on more pressing things the house would throw at me... also, I might add, I had never found the ideal replacement. But around February of this year, I'd had enough of the Kohlers and their thirst for 6 gallons/flush. You see, I'm on a septic system - another "benefit" of living in Coconut Grove. So when guests are here, both the water consumption, and it's inevitable destination are pushed to overload. And as part of my desire to continue to green-ify my home, I had been looking at a few improvements - On-demand or solar Hot Water Heater, Solar Pool Pump, and Dual Flush Toilets. Hence the marvelous piece of technology known as the Toto Aquia II pictured here. Sipping a mere 0.9 gallons (3.4 liters for my Canadian friends) and 1.6 gallons (6.0 liters) for either a liquid, or a liquid+ flush, the Aquia II is the undisputed WC Dual Flush champ. And as a further incentive beyond cutting my water consumption, Miami-Dade County was willing to kick in a $100/toilet rebate on the Aquia II. So this past Saturday, out went the 2 Kohlers and I moved the new kids in. And I can report that everything is working as advertised... even the soft-close seat is a nice touch. If you want to find out more about these, check out www.terrylove.com, a man with a pure passion for all things plumbing. Oh, and sorry about the mess on the floor - I started the job by snaking out both the drains all the way to the tank. I'll clean that up, and get the wall painted by the time you drop by to try it out!

Two Days Off

2009-05-20T09:16:00.014-04:00

I was back on the running trail this morning, my usual 6 mile run down Old Cutler through the south end of Coconut Grove and into Coral Gables. It's unusual for me to not run for a couple of days... after 10 years of running, both my body and brain are well acclimatized to my morning ritual. However, I did the Florida 70.3 Ironman this past Sunday, and needed to recharge.

It was my first long race of the year, having done Sprint, Olympic, and International distance races, plus a Time Trial on the bike. My plan for this year is fewer races, but more heavy training and more big races. Last year I did 13 races, 3 70.3 HIM (Half Ironman) and 1 140.6 IM (Ironman). I haven't mapped out the rest of the season yet, but I expect to do a couple more 70.3's and at least one IM.

My time on Sunday was 5:13:36. 12 minutes faster than at the same race last year, but off my PR of 5:01 for that distance. But I've learned that it's really hard to compare times from different races, that the lengths (and of course conditions) are erratic, even year-to-year in the same race. So it's all about what you do on race day, and some measure of continuous improvement over previous times.

Race morning was beautiful - the air was still and the lake was like glass.

I was in wave 7, so it was light at the start, making it easy to sight the swim markers.

Last year I did the swim in 43:17 and with the training

I've put in, I expected to be a couple of minutes faster.

But when I stood up, I checked my time and it was showing

over 46 minutes, which made me think the course had been

long - I had stayed right on course, and was pulling stronger

than I ever had in a long course swim.

T1 was about 2 seconds faster than 2008, ok, considering the organizers did a poor job of setting up the rack in the Transition. But I need to work on those flying mounts and dismounts!

The Disney race is one of my favorite bike courses. When I

visualize some of my best races, the '08 ride segment always comes up. It's fast, flat and flowing. I rode a 2:36 last year and expected to knock a couple of minutes off, as I'm really dialed in on the Transition S-Works, and am now running a 55 chainring. Last year, the bike was only three months old and I'd yet to find my full speed on it. The ride was even better this year, as there was no rain, but it wasn't without issues. Around mile 10, I went over an expansion joint in a bridge, and it shocked the bike hard. About 2 miles later, I looked down to check my speed and elapsed time on my Garmin, and all that was on the bar was the strap. So I assumed it had flown off on the hit the bike took. Two immediate things came to mind... hmmm, expensive race, but I'd planned on getting a new waterproof Garmin when they come out next month. And, how will I time my nutrition... I use the Garmin to monitor my 45 minute nutrition cycles on the bike. So I calculated my next nutrition interval and kept going. I was pulling a strong speed number, in the 24s and 25s without straining myself and rolling through the miles. I missed not having the GPS to refer to, but use a Cateye computer as a backup, so I wasn't totally lost. Around mile 40, I guess around 9:30 in the morning, a draft pack went past me. They weren't flying, I was able to keep up and overtake them, but they were SO breaking the rules. 3 abreast, several of them about 2 feet off a rider's wheel, a couple on the back , not even down on the aerobars, like a Sunday cruise ride, but getting sucked along. It amazes me that this isn't policed better. Most of the SoFla races are over-policed, but any of of the WTC and long course races seem wide open and it infuriates me that riders so blatantly cheat. Despite my rather vulgar objections, they continued on, and I did see a couple of the offenders in a penalty box at the end of the ride, but the organizers should manage this better, especially in a qualifying race. I finished the bike in 2:31, at a speed of 22.12 mph, 5 minutes and 0.7 mph faster than that 2008. The improvements, when they come, are always incremental.

T2 was just up on 2008, and I started the run feeling a little dizzy, as my hat was too tight. Plus not having the Garmin meant I wasn't able to continuously monitor my run speed. However, I've learned a lot about running that distance in an HIM or IM, after last year, and my hot weather training meant I was able to manage the heat better. One section of Disney's notorious grass trail was stifling, 90+ degrees, no wind, but overall the run didn't gas me like it did in '08.

My run was 1:49, averaging 8:19 minute miles. Not my usual pace, as I put in a 1:40 last November at MiamiMan, and a 1:48 in Austin last October. But that's 10 minutes faster than my 2008 Disney time, and I was probably a faster runner then than I am now, but less competent overall. I need to spend some time on the treadmill now that the rainy season is here and work on my turnover and stride length and get my pace back up!

I'll take the 12 minutes faster on my cume time over 2008. 5:13:36 is a good start to the year on a long course. My legs felt ok after the race, I didn't blow up on the run, my bike sector was fast and despite the time, I noticed a huge improvement in my swim. A cause for a little celebration!

Extinction

2008-10-31T00:52:00.005-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, while the market was going through another of its daily gyrations, down yet again some 400 points to a fresh low, I was driving along US1 in Miami. And as I drove past a GM dealer, I could have sworn I heard the last dying gasp of the US auto industry. A final breath for a faded body on life support for so long that we’ve forgotten about them for years. And you know what, I’m not certain the patient was worth saving.

I’ve owned a lot of cars – a Datsun, a BMW, 2 Volkswagens, 4 TVRs, a Honda, an Acura, a Subaru, a Porsche and 1 Ford. I currently own a Toyota (Prius) which I’ve had for about a year. Since I bought my first car at 19, that’s 14 cars in 29 years, or 2 years per car. That’s a very high churn rate. Admittedly I’ve owned as many as 4 at one time. I haven’t stepped in a US manufacturer’s showroom since 1991, when I purchased a Taurus wagon because I needed to haul a lot of gear. At car shows, I’ll walk around or briskly through the Ford, Chrysler and GM floor space to get to the manufacturers whose cars I actually want to see and might buy. Ford, GM and Chrysler are just obstacles, impediments to my methodically researched viewing and buying decisions. Apparently I’m not alone in that sentiment.

The years of feasting on high profits from the consumer appetite for rolling tanks, and neglecting other segments of the market in their product development are well documented elsewhere. I first read Micheline Maynard’s excellent book “The End OF Detroit” about 6 years ago. Then I followed it up with Jeffrey Liker's “The Toyota Way” and it confirmed for me that it was only a matter of time, and the right combination of products consumers weren’t interested in, labor control and outrageous healthcare and pension obligations, and savvy competition that Detroit’s place in the automotive business might be consigned to the scrap yard. Detroit hadn’t been disrupted – that happened in the late 60s and early 70s – Detroit was being displaced.

In Miami, where I live, it’s called the Magic City. It might as well be called the Mercedes City, as Benz’s, Bimmers and Lexus’s so grossly outnumber the American cars on the road it’s almost comical. But then so is the number of Porsches, Ferraris and Lamborghinis. The point is, if all the US car dealerships folded up the tents and went back up north, nobody would even notice. Miami is not like the rest of the country, but it can’t be a good sign for Ford, GM or Chrysler. Clearly the best, or most iconic products the US manufacturers have put out are behind them – the 65 Mustang, the 57 Bel Air, the 70 Road Runner... All products of a world a mere 15,000 spins ago where inbound global competitors were limited. Now, playing on their emotive past, Ford, GM and Chrysler are only enticing older consumers to experience flashback moments of their youth. The kids who will be collecting cars in the future will look for the early Celicas, 240Z’s and 2002’s. There’s no nostalgia market for a Ford Expedition.

It was only a matter of time before the US car manufacturers started hunting for their piece of the government’s financial sector bailout. Like the lumbering dinosaurs that they are, there won’t be much left for them to chew on after the financials and AIG have gorged themselves on the free feast. Another lurch toward extinction for the US auto industry. Chrysler announced that it was killing production and the plant where their new hybrid SUVs are being built – while the entire notion of a fuel efficient SUV is counterintuitive at best, is this really the path for a company looking to turn itself around. GMAC, the finance arm of GM, which is partially held by Cerberus Capital, also the owners of Chrysler, is lobbying to realign itself as a bank, the way Goldman Sachs did in the investment sector, so that GMAC can tap the bailout funding. Cerberus, whom I respect, hasn’t even owned Chrysler long enough to feel the pain, having been paid to take it off of Daimler’s hands. Like subprime mortgages, hulking SUVs are a symbol of an industry drunk on its own Kool-Aid and not managing their portfolio responsibly. Writedowns are being taken by companies like Autonation, which owns networks of dealerships, both foreign and domestic, to unprecedented levels, calling the US dealerships “worthless”. And Ford, whose stock has fallen from around $75 a few years ago to barely $2 today still can’t figure out how to get the great cars it builds for the EU market into the US. Throwing more money at these companies will never solve the problems – their entire businesses are broken. At today’s valuations, the combined market cap of GM and Ford is roughly equal to 10% of Toyota’s. There is no way they can compete at the same level now. Only the arms merchants – the companies who supply the manufacturers should survive this as they’ve demonstrated their ability to be nimble and serve multiple companies and sectors – but they too are feeling this pain and undeservedly. It would takes years and government intervention in the form of a complete import embargo, forcing consumers to only be able to purchase American cars, to give them a chance at survival. But with most of the foreign manufacturers building great cars here in America, an embargo will never happen. And why should it.

Just like in the financial sector with Lehman Brothers, Washington Mutual and Bear Stearns, an inflection point in the automotive industry is here. Let these companies go, so that we can remember the names proudly for what they were. How at their respective pinnacles they embodied icons of American ingenuity, boldness, efficiency in manufacturing, and innovation. How they shaped consumerism, captivated our imagination, and how they opened up this land. We can’t help them anymore... their usefulness to us is passed, and we’ve moved on.

Destiny

2008-10-27T21:10:00.006-04:00

I completed my first full distance triathlon this past Saturday, otherwise known as an Ironman. 2.4 miles of swimming, a 112 mile bike ride, then a marathon run, 26.2 miles. 140.6 miles of moving forward toward a simple finish line, and at the same time, toward a life goal and plateau of personal achievement. It took 11 hours, 20 minutes and 55 seconds and I finished 4th in my age group, and 26th out of some 300 overall participants. Everyone said the conditions made it a tough race. I had a great day.

In that long a race you have a lot of time to think. I have visualization cues that I use to remember some great performances and that pushes you through the walls that get built up when things turn really challenging. The swim was rough, swimming twice around a triangle, with a headwind on two of the sides, and a slight push on the third. I thought about how comfortable I was in the water, even though I couldn't hit my usual stroke pattern or cadence from getting tossed around. I visualized a beautiful race swim I'd had earlier in the season along South Beach, when the ocean was like glass. I thought about swimming an annual event called the "Mile Swim" in Stony Lake in 2007, and how it was really one of the first long distance swims I'd done in about 35 years. And I thought about my first triathlon, May 6th, 2007. How the swim killed me that day - I couldn't even complete the 400 yards by swimming freestyle, and had to switch to breaststroke a couple of times as my spindly arms were just not up to the challenge. And yet, this Saturday, the same arms just kept pulling me tirelessly forward for 2.4 miles, doing their part for the day.

The bike is so much more complex. Your day can end pretty quickly if you have a problem. You're riding, potentially, on a course you haven't seen before, as I was this week. I rode the first 5 miles of the course on Friday, since I knew that I'd be seeing it twice on the ride in the race, and covering part of it on the run three times as well. That was about as familiar with the course as I could get. Because of the dependency on the mechanics of a bike, you're listening to everything. You're wondering if you maybe should have switched to a new rear tire. You're watching the road intensely for surprises in the surface. You're reading the cambers on the turns, the grades on the hills, both up and down, the windshifts and prevailing directions and trying to anticipate just the right amount of braking for a corner so you don't decelerate too much, or go in too hot. You're asking yourself how you feel... are you pushing so hard you won't have anything left for the run. Are you hydrating enough, or too much, and the same about nutrition - is it 45 minutes since your last gel and time for another one? And you're hearing the inevitable voices - oh, you're doing Clermont... those hills are a killer... you'd better make sure your small chairing is accessible... you'll need it (it wasn't and I didn't)... you can't do that ride with a 54 (I did). And I thought a lot about Austin, where I'd done a 70.3 race three weeks earlier, and there was a headwind for 46 miles on the bike. Austin, and a 60 mile ride last Sunday made my race this week - I was acclimated.

And then, it's just a matter of running a marathon. Back in 1999, when I started running in Canada, running a 10k (6.2 miles) was a stretch goal. I think my first 5k race was run at 22:00 and I just completed the Komen run last weekend in 19:06, 8 years later. I still remember how my first 10k run gutted me. Thousands of running miles later I've done a number of marathons, none of them after 7.5 hours of already exhausting exercise. But I felt surprisingly strong after the ride Saturday, and on the last half hour on the bike I believed I could pull off a sub-4 hour marathon to finish under 11:30, and prepared myself for that pace. I slowed a little between miles 13 and 18, but found my speed again in the final 8 miles. And when I passed a runner at mile 24 and he tried to stay with me and draft, I turned and said "there's no way you're drafting off of me", and just lit it up and sprinted the final 2.2 miles to the finish. The looks on people's faces was all shock and awe as I came through the crowd in the final mile... i think they were so used to watching every racer do the triathlon trudge at that point. In the end, I was only two minutes out of 2nd in my division, and I thought of all the places I could have made that up - in an 11 hour race there's no way of really knowing where your competitors are - you just have to keep trying to pass people. Nobody passed me on the bike, nobody passed me on the run, that's how I like my visualizations to play out in reality!

I was surprised I wasn't more emotional at the finish or during my first Ironman. I remember vividly when I ran my first marathon, how at mile 22 there was nobody else around me, it had been raining in biblical proportions for the last 10 miles, I was trudging and sloshing along, my feet literally floating in my shoes, and there was a trailer at the side of the course in Kennedy Park on South Bayshore in the Grove, with a PA system playing out Bob Seger's woefully overexposed GM soundtrack chorus "Like A Rock". Music is such an emotional cue for me, and that song, at that moment, did me in that day - just the realization that I was about to do something I hadn't really had as a life goal, but threw it out there, challenged myself and was on the threshold of completing it. And so Saturday, when I fully realized I was on my way to completing an even greater challenge, somewhere around mile 25 on the bike, I allowed myself just a moment of that same emotional reflection, and then got on with the race. But that was it... I knew going into this event that I could do it. Barring an injury or breakdown, I believed that it was only a matter of time before I completed an Ironman, and that time was right then and there. Existentialism and the God motif truly is alive in triathletes - but that's a subject for another post.

It was, however, completely appropriate that I finished my first Ironman in Florida, where I've sought and now fulfilled part of my destiny. I entered an Ironman earlier this year, which was to be my first - Vineman, in Sonoma, California. It wasn't meant to be however... as in the three weeks leading up to the race, when I'd won a Sprint Tri race, and a week later, set a new PR in a half marathon run, I got increasingly sick with what was later diagnosed as a bronchial infection. I don't know whether I subconsciously didn't want to do Vineman or not - but all along I had wanted to do my first Ironman in Florida. This is where I discovered my passion for the sport, where I train, and where I race. California and I had no connection to each other related to sport - we were business and pleasure pals.

So it's done. I don't know what I'll throw at myself next. I will do more Ironman events, as I'm relentless about improving. I already know what upgrades I'll be doing to my bike in the off-season. My legs felt ready to run today... amazing. I contacted a swim coach this afternoon, I'll be back in the water in the morning, back at a spinning class and on the weight machines tomorrow evening. It's 13 days to my final race of the year, the 70.3 Miami Man and I want to break my PR set in Austin. I have a few rashes, a little sunburn, and I'll lose two toenails this winter, but I'll be an Ironman for the rest of my life.

Passion for Obama and Trudeau

2008-10-22T14:00:00.007-04:00

I've been spending many of my evenings and any spare weekend time over the last few weeks as an Obama volunteer. Phone banking primarily. It has been, to put it mildly a revelation. I haven't experienced or heard the kind of passionate support or enthusiasm for a political candidate that I hear from Obama supporters in years. Parts of this country have embraced Obama and his vision like nothing the US has seen in a generation. Admittedly, my direct experience in the electoral process in the US is slim. But this is a Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, JFK, once in a generation paradigm shift. Growing up in Canada, and being too young in 1968 to have appreciated the national momentum that emerged behind Kennedy and King, I can only reference Pierre Elliott Trudeau. He was, in my time in Canada the only Prime Minister who could ever be considered a leader. Canadians had an ambiguous relationship with their PET, their Trudeaumania. He was adored and embraced much the same way that Barack is by younger voters when he was first elected. There was a lot less media then, but the young nation of Canada, and the young in the nation were mad for this bold, brazen, politically inexperienced intellectual. And while he had his domestic issues, his "fuddy duddy" attitude toward the press, Trudeau brought Canada reluctantly from behind the Queen's gown, onto the world stage. And yet, I think the predominantly cautious attitude of Canadians, that they don't always want to step into the spotlight, is what ended the love affair with him. Canada, happy to be provincial second citizens to the UK, or as always, overshadowed by the power to the south of the fortynineth, shrunk back behind the curtains, and accepted the caricature of Joe Clark as its political face after PET 1.0 and a lesser man in the form of John Turner, after PET 2.0 got bored, grabbed his rose lapeled jacket at the coat check and left the show early... leaving Canadians to wonder just what that play had really been about.

When Trudeau died in September of 2000, I felt like part of my Canadian identity died with him. I had only recently moved to the US at that point, I was already falling in love with my new homeland, and could feel the ties to Canada slowly coming unbound. Clinton was in the White House, Gore looked like a possibility, the NASDAQ was stumbling, and I was here... having made the single biggest decision of my life in relocating to the US. With his passing, those soaring recollections of Canada under Trudeau became simply distant memories, now locked away as my new life unfolded. I became, and am every day since, less Canadian.

So this morning, while talking to a colleague about the passion I hear from Obama supporters, expressing my own belief in this incredible man, and trying to put my own frame of reference around it, I realized that I'd dreamed about Trudeau the other night, after not having thought about him in years. I suppose the notion that he still haunts Canada, and its people, is true for those of us who came of age in his time. From my perspective, Trudeau represents, or represented everything that a great nation could hope for in a great leader. And I realized that by subconsciously tying Obama and Trudeau together in my mind, I'm really hoping that America, as the greatest nation, will finally be allowed to realize its own destiny and dreams of change, and not be haunted by memories of hope and the promise of change that have been locked away for forty years.