SLOW

SLOW.  I frequently see, and often ride directly over, that word, painted in large white block letters, extending across my lane of the local roads.  On a typical two-hour bicycle ride I encounter SLOW at least 10 and perhaps 20 times or more, at the entrance to and exit from each village or town and at many intersections within or between the towns.  

For an automobile driver the SLOW messages provide a warning of bumps, barriers or chicanes ahead, physical impediments designed to reduce the vehicle's speed.  On my bike I regard the SLOW messages as taunts, invariant and impassive reminders of my pitiful efforts at riding fast.  Like the colourful messages that fans chalk or spray across the road to encourage their favorite bicycle racer up a steep climb, but with a discouraging, perhaps even disparaging, intent.  SLOW as I finish my pretend sprint between towns; don't I know it.  SLOW as I pick up my cadence and raise my heart rate at the leaving edge of town; please don't remind me.  SLOW as the hilly lane I have just climbed merges with a busier road; well I can't go much faster.  SLOW as I ease back into Cambridge after a long ride; pretty much sums it up.

Occasionally I smile as I pass a speed limit sign with two simple digits: 30.  Often I rip past well in excess of 30, but of course I ride kilometres per hour while the sign refers to miles per hour.  Then the next SLOW marker passing beneath my wheels reminds me of Protoslow, a viscous solution used to slow down protozoans in a drop of pond water so one can examine them under a microscope.  I wonder who watches me through a great lens, gradually adding cycloslow to determine at what concentration I lose enough momentum to fall over.  Funny what a long ride can do to an old mind.

Imagine my surprise, then, when not once but twice in the past several days I had to touch brakes as I approached a SLOW mark, a mark I have crossed 30 times already this year.  On the Black Sheep of course, and perhaps with a slight tail wind, but not on a descent, not at an intersection, and not because the traffic ahead slowed.  No, I actually carried enough speed into this particular broad and gradual junction that I had to slow down, just as the message implied.  Getting faster after two months of reasonable mileage and training?  Feeling stronger as the weather improves?  Gradually losing my bicycle handling skills?  Small victory, I don't care the reason.   Ahead, six more SLOW reminders before I finish at Eden St.  

Trimming the Hedge

Sitting with my feet up, right heel slightly sore, after a good run today.  I estimate, without checking either of my two GPS exercise logs or my composite exercise spreadsheet, that I ran 35 km this week, 3 days in Washington DC plus today.  In some months I only run 35 km total so I can understand a little soreness.  

I trimmed the hedge at the front of 20 Eden this morning.  Voluntarily, albeit stimulated by Mary Lou's comment that I spend too much time at the computer.  The hedge had grown to a ragged and rambunctious state, infringing seriously on the pavement, so I cut it back severely.  Same strategy I apply to haircuts.  

I thought of my dad, who, around this same time of year (often on the US Memorial Day, last Monday in May) would trim, also by hand, the shrubs in front of our house in Illinois.  I would help by raking and picking up the cuttings - those bushes had thorns!  In my earliest memories the cuttings would go into a wood-slat basket with wire handles.

Strictly speaking, I did not volunteer my help.  I merely understood, without an explicit request (although perhaps with a nudge from my mother to put down my book, get out, and help Dad) that he expected my participation in the day's tasks.  Just as I understood the expectation that I would mow the lawns of our house and those of the elderly neighbors (the latter, at least, for compensation) each Saturday.  In spring, during the school term, I would often also have a track meet (athletics competition, in the UK) on Saturday, in the afternoon, or I would anticipate, even then, a long or hard run for training or pleasure.  I remember very clearly thinking that 3 hours in the warm sun pushing a mower through thick grass did not represent a very restful preparation for a running race.  True, no doubt, but in those days I also knew less about hydration and pre-race nutrition.  Today, working for a couple hours in the sun, I thought both about Dad and about the day's run.  After the trimming I had sports drink, an energy bar, and a nap.  

I did enjoy my run, again down the Cam on this side, back on the other.  I pushed for 3 km on this side, and again for 3 km on the return.  Not very fast, but faster than last week and better than just a passive old-guy run.  I feel that I gradually regain a natural stride; earlier in the year I felt that I corrected for pain or stiffness.  I try to remember, as I get tired and my stride shortens, to increase speed by relaxing rather than tightening.  I recall terms I hear most often: rounded, balanced, collected, supple, forward.  Applied to Tetley, not to me.  Perhaps I should consider half halts.  

Nice temperature for the run.  I don't look forward to a summer of 30C as predicted.  Now we plan to get on our bikes and pedal to a pub over in Coton, a nice ride to the other side (western edge) of Cambridge.  

Skeptical of the skeptic

IPY phone calls and emails, all with today's urgency, started from the (late) moment that I awoke.  I prepared breakfast but didn't get to enjoy it until after the third activity.  Many EOC activities; I gradually begin to understand the amount of time Rhian needed to devote to phone calls.  I wore my Skype earphones much of the day.  I did talk to Nicola; it took us only a moment to find a reason to share laughter.  

I spent the morning writing a rebuttal to a climate 'skeptic'.  I feel uncomfortable in that role.  I know a lot about climate, but I hold no detailed expertise (nor credentials) in any aspect.  Now, of course, I know a lot about polar issues, arguably more than anyone, but again without formal expertise.  On the other hand, I have willingness (such as by making time) and communication skills to relate climate information in accessible language, both of those perhaps rare attributes.  In this case, the radio station - our friends at CKLB in Yellowknife, Canada - asked me to prepare a rebuttal to an interview they had broadcast last week on their IPY show 'Ends of the Earth'.  We had the idea that I would submit my comments to their blog, so that they could ask me questions during an interview this afternoon.  

I didn't want to rebut point by point or error by error, matching one person's 'facts' with another set of 'facts'.  Instead, I wanted to provide a more general common sense view of how climate works, to help the listener understand why I (we, in this case, most of the scientific community) disagree with the skeptic.  I think I achieved my goal, although I know the few paragraphs I wrote could use a bit more 'aging'.  But the show must go on.  

(Later, I learned that CKLB wants to put my comments in their newsletter, online and print.  I re-read and then fixed a few typos in my little document.  Now they want a picture.  I thought we used the radio format to get away from pictures.) 

I enjoyed the interview.  I told Kirsten Murphy that she reminded me of my favorite radio personality, Susan Stamberg - funny, fresh, friendly.  We talked about the Senate hearing.  I allowed an impression to develop of a well-attended and active event.  Next we talked about climate skepticism in general terms, without specific reference to the interview from the previous week.  Kirsten surprised me (good!) with a question about political influence in climate science - how I would answer the frequent charge from skeptics that the climate 'enthusiasts' control the funding and publication processes, and exclude the skeptics, for their own political and financial benefit.  I rejected that viewpoint, without labeling it another lunatic conspiracy theory, but probably not very effectively.  Perhaps I should have voiced the conspiracy idea.

Then Kirsten offered some fun challenges.  Do I consider myself an important person?  Do I travel around the world (with the implication of a large carbon impact)?  Can I confirm what a little bird told her, that I often fall off of my bicycle?  (Now how would she know to ask me that?)  Did I come from the US or Canada - she thought I had a Canadian accent.  My answer: when people hear me speak, they often guess my identity as Canadian, but when they see me they group me with the Norwegians.  

Not all of this, in fact very little of the closing chatter, will go into the final interview.  But I look forward to hearing what she and William do with the material and the show.  Not in the live broadcast (0300 UK time) but in the audio library tapes.  

I have had positive feedback from people who attended the Senate hearing; several asked for the transcript.  I will prepare a summary of the hearing for the consideration of my fellow 'experts', as my second task of the weekend.  

Easy bike ride at the end of the day; hoping for a longer ride tomorrow (today, when I finally finished this entry).  

Old Runners Tales

I ran again in Rock Creek Park this morning.  I felt that an easy run would help shorten the duration of this cold.  I have read this idea in running literature and discussed it with other runners, that running, by raising the body temperature in imitation of a fever, assists in the body's defenses.  Just an easy run, to raise the temperature but not push one into exhaustion.  One of several old runners tales, I suppose. 

I think even a walk in the cool moist air helps clear and sooth the irritated sinus surfaces.  I hope I can avoid ear pressure problems on tonight's flight.

Most members of the USA Senate Foreign Relations Committee did not take a personal interest yesterday in The Global Implications of a Warming Arctic.  But the Chair, Sen. Kerry did, as did the two Senators from Alaska.  And so did many people, perhaps support staff for other committees or personal staff for Senators or Representatives, who filled the room.  I counted more than 60 and could not see those seated behind me.

Rather than having the Senators arrayed in their high formal seats surrounding and overlooking the 'witnesses', we utilized a central table, three or four seats on a side, everyone at the same level, for a discussion.  Senator Kerry used the format particularly well, to ask questions and stimulate discussion.

I thought we, the 'experts', made a weak and dissolute impression.  Two of us, Lawson (the Arctic Marine Shipping Assessment 2009 Report, just endorsed) and I (IPY), had fresh product.  We presented and distributed short written summaries of highlights and urgencies.  To my ear, our material sounded un-surprising, more of the same, although my points about sea level rise from the melting of the Greenland ice sheet and about methane release from permafrost provoked questions and discussion.  The other three experts worked from hasty notes, referring to previous reports or to documents they had already written.  They basically worked through a familiar (to them and the Senators, I suppose) list of requests - compliance with such and such treaty or previous Senate resolution, funding for this or that program, icebreakers - things they had suggested or advocated before.  

As a group, I thought we failed to bring forward a clear or cohesive message.  We raised a list of issues, some of them with fresh and troubling information, but failed to match those urgencies with a consensus on steps forward.  I think the Chair sensed the lack of direction.  He proposed to hold the 'record' of the meeting open for a week, to allow us to present some concise recommendations.  I will propose that we prepare one set, together.  I doubt that I will find much cooperation. 

Bright yellow fields

I enjoy looking at grass-covered landscapes.  Not manicured golf courses, but the wilder, rougher fields of the prairies and grasslands, expanses broad enough with plants tall enough to show the sweep and ripples of the wind.  In our travels across the US we often sought out relict or restored plots of tall-grass prairies or the wide-open windy spaces of the dry grasslands. I also like orderly fields of corn or soybeans in Illinois and I smile to remember the fields of many colors and textures in the seed-growing areas of the Willamette Valley.  

But for pure garish shock one has to see the bright yellow fields of rape in England and Europe.  From the air they look artificial, as if someone has imposed a yellow polygon layer on top of the green and brown background.  To my eye they seem to glow as the airplane descends into the English gloom.  From the ground on a bright day, as from the train from Cambridge to London on Saturday, they still look un-real - a uniform and spotless carpet of brightest yellow flowers.   A prime example, I suspect, of mechano-chemical-monocultural agriculture (and European farm policy?) at its worst, but a remarkable view.  Just now we also have bright bursts of buttercups in the pastures of the Cambridge common areas.  Imagine that bold yellow of buttercups, raised to prominence and dominance to the exclusion of all other color, even leaf green, over multi-hectare patches, and you get a sense of the rape fields in blossom.  

The train station in Cambridge seemed quite busy for a Saturday.  Some special event, I surmised, sport no doubt.  But not in London - the train in that direction ran only half full.  "Passengers for the races in Newmarket will please make their way quickly to platform 6."  Ah, the races.  That explains the fancy dresses, the fancier hats, the ties and coats.  And, perhaps, also, the abundant containers, in many shapes and form, subtle and otherwise, of alcohol.

I rested on the un-crowded train to London.  Mary Lou had tucked an apple and a chocolate bar into my bag - nice.  I felt the weary satisfaction of a hard bicycle ride, better than I had expected for a tired start, still on my relentless search for long (I would settle for 5 km!) challenging hills.  I tried a new route this morning, from Six Mile Bottom up to Carlton, not bad, small rough roads but not much traffic and a decent, by East Anglia standard, ascent.  

Mad in Kings X, people crowded everywhere, traveling to who-knows-what events on a holiday weekend.  Weekend closure of two Tube lines for 'planned engineering works' probably contributed to the crowds on the Picadilly Line.  Some danger, as the masses poured down the escalators to over-crowded platforms below, but TfL employees worked throughout the station to keep people safe and moving.  West toward the airport, where the Picadilly Line comes above ground, one could see high activity in the allotments (community gardens) - taking advantage of fair weather at the weekend.  I thought of the rainy forecast for the Oregon coast.  

In Terminal 5 I saw NHS medics on bicycles. Don't they have a smooth ride and clean bikes!