Ok, now I am sick of this fat Marco thing. I decided I am going to lose weight, and you invisible readers are going to help me.
This is how it works: every day that I (a) ride in to work or ride for MORE than an hour, and (b) I work out either at the gym or otherwise for more than 30 minutes, I can put $50 towards a vacation fund. As soon as I reach 20% body fat (no matter how much water I drink to get there 🙂 I can redeem the money.
Continue readingI wanted to do the Grand Alpine loop, but the coastal stretch was banked in by the fog, and I decided to cut it short. Too bad, because I really wanted to try the famous Tunitas Creek ascent.
The Grand Alpine loop has some of the best biking in the Bay Area: you start on Foothill and El Monte, go up Moody Road until it hits Page Mill, go up Page Mill (it’s a nasty 2400ft). From there, down on Alpine until you hit Pescadero, left on Pescadero until you hit the town proper. Right on Stage road, past La Honda road in San Gregorio. Then you hit Highway 1, which you follow briefly until you hit Tunitas Creek. You ride another 2000ft up, until you hit King’s Mountain Road. Downhill again, until you arrive to Woodside (rest here and watch bikers). Then it’s back to the start on Foothill.
Continue readingFirst ride in a while – some weird form of laziness has kept me captive. So I decided to do a short run – just the Alpine look.
It was curiously slow moving for a holiday. Looks like 4th of July is a big thing around here, something that doesn’t invite biking. Or maybe the good ones were gone on a road trip.
I finally finished the History of Byzantium and feel compelled to add a few comments to the previous ones.
Nothing changed in my assessment of the author’s capabilities: the final chapters are as intriguing as the initial ones, and at no time was the infinite list of names confusing. Norwich succeeds in making all the parties involved come to their own life, personalizing each appearance of any of them and thus making it possible to discern the infinite list of Constantines, Michaels, Johns, etc.
While the first part of the book described an empire, the last part of it described a desperate culture trying to survive. The once powerful emperors of Byzanz find themselves required to send embassies to the rulers of the West, who will ignore them repeatedly, for centuries. The sadness of the situation is incredible, and the sympathy of the author for this lost cause is touching.Of course, from a neutral perspective the demise of the Byzantine empire just meant the ascension of the Ottoman one, which ultimately proved to be the real successor to Rome, reaching power and size that the Byzantines were able to held only for short periods of time. Neither can be forgotten that every peaceful moment of the empire’s history was spent on fairly stupid intrigues, succession rules and theological disputes. Where the West had a Pope that commanded unity, the East was very happy with being disunited.
The history of Byzantium is somehow the typical history of an empire in the middle: at times it can grow extremely rich and powerful because you have to pass through it, but in the end the pressure from all sides eventually will destroy it. Happened to Poland, happened to the Habsburg empire, will happen in the future.
And yet, as much as I rationally knew there was no chance for the empire to survive, the final fate of the little despotate that once was so great moves me profoundly. Reading how the last emperor, Constantine XI, worked on the defence of the city, how the last mass was read in St. Sophia, to be interrupted by the invader pillaging and murdering – that all fills me with an infinite sadness, not mitigated by knowing that the Byzantines would have behaved the same, to enemies and to themselves, too.
The final days of anything are sad. The final days of an empire that lasted over one thousand yeats to die a slow, hemorrhagic death… Well, there are no words to express historic sorrow.
Well, the home page says it: I got myself two new skinsuits! One is from the Republic of Anaerobia, a small outfit up in the North Bay; the other one is an eBay find. Both of them will reach me in the next few days – thank goodness eCommerce works!
Why skinsuits? Well, for one, they make you look even more ridiculous than the conservative duo of black shorts and jersey (which is really a lot to say!). Then their colors are usually much brighter than anyone else’s, so that you can be sure that everybody is going to look at you in bewilderment (decreasing chances of being overlooked or run over).
Continue readingI seized the opportunity and did a quick (50min) ride at sunset. Actually, it was six to seven, so that it is still very warm and bright outside.
It is amazing how peaceful a Sunday evening can be. People are gone, the masses of summer bikers are home already, and it is with some amazement that I actually found a rider from Phoenix getting home. He must have been exhausted, because I saw him on the downslope in front of Stanford, three minutes before heading back, and still I caught up with him.
Continue readingFk, fk, f**k!
I was so ready for it! I had slowly crept down Foothill, chosen Arastradero over Page Mill, done Portola to avoid the stupid hill before OLH, stopped for ten minutes (sharp!), drank my soda and ate an energy bar.
I shot up, I even spun a round just to get into it with a little speed advantage. I had computed that an average ascent of 60ft per minute would get me there, with the initial part being slightly easier and hence slower (ascent-wise).
Continue readingMidway through the abbreviated version of the history of Byzanz. The author started out with a three volume history that he had to abridge for the general public – and since I am general public, that’s what I chose to read.
First things first: the history of Byzanz itself is immensely fascinating. We are talking about an empire that understands itself as the SOLE successor of Rome (with a certain appropriateness), but is actually not a real power player. Instead of expanding and conquering, this empire never reached the size and power of its predecessor. Instead, it started shrinking early on, besieged as it was by enemies on all frontiers. Still it managed to thrive and survive for over thousand years, almost beating its forebear.
This said, the book is clearly an abridged version of a much more thorough oeuvre. The casual museum stroll that is so typical of history books feels like on fast-forward, and what would otherwise be an endless recount of things and events, with footnotes sprinkled left and right to make the reader feel appropriately bored, turns into a fast-paced, exhilarating experience.
Style: maybe it’s the morbid nature of (at least this) man, but the hints to the disgusting tortures, unspeakable depravities and incredible religious finickiness in the face of overpowering forces are amazing. I am sure if there were a mini-series on the Eastern Empire, not one episode would be boring.
It stands to be asked what part of this amazement is an accomplishment of the author. Regardless, he is able to bring a dead world alive, and to make it feel real. An incredible achievement, considering how little we care any more about Byzanz, Constantinople and all that happened there until it became Istanbul.
Must read for anyone that thinks history needs to be boring.
So that’s how it went…
I rode the usual Alpine uphill, having given a little too much on Foothill to swerve around the morning traffic. Stopped at the bottom of the hill, after having passed four guys from Phoenix Tech. After they started (and another one, and another one), I jumped on and tried to go as fast as I could.
Man, I made it up 880ft (ascent), and then somehow the steam went out of me. Weird. It wasn’t even pain, or fatigue, or anything else – just no desire to continue. The nagging: “Why am I doing this again?” that stands behind all failed athletes. I turned around, hopefully far enough for the Phoenix people (that I had passed a while down) not to know that I had, indeed, been defeated. On the way down, just to make my life more interesting, this moron passes a group of bikers on the far left of the road, on a perfect collision course with me.
Continue reading