"You Are" = You're

For a few years this has been grating on me. Why do so many people get this wrong. Is it laziness? Ignorance? I've talked to enough people across the continent online to notice it's semi regional too. I know almost zero Canadians who use you're, opting to always use your instead. Does this mean their school system doesn't teach this? Or maybe it's a result of an accent or pronunciation. Maybe they verbalize both as "Yor", while down south we say "You're" and "Yor" (spelled that way to help illustration pronunciation).

• You're is a contraction for "You are." Just like Can't, Don't, Shouldn't are all contractions of can not, do not, and should not. Example sentence: You're much more likely to be respected when using proper grammar.
  
• Your is the possessive form of "you." Just liks his/him, hers/her. Example sentence: Your misuse of this word drives me insane!

Ironically, 99% of the time I see "your" used improperly, it's in the sentence "Your an idiot", when the writer is belittling someone else on their false logic, or poor spelling, grammar, ideals, or something else.

Some introspection on recent hikes

So, that nasty Gray's Peak hike I wrote about a while ago? I've hiked quite a bit since then, some with Tim and Heather, some with just Heather. Some longer distances, some higher and lower altitudes.

3 or 4 weeks ago, Heather and I hiked Gray's peak again. We made it to the top, it was fantastic. I took tons of pictures. It was truly an epic victory. I fully intended to write about it, because it is a damn good story.

But I just can't. I've already gotten out of the experience everything that I needed, and internally, writing about it adds nothing for me at this point. So instead of writing about it, I thought I'd write about writing about it.

I guess when I started the hiking, I didn't realize it, but I was using the mountains to push my own boundaries and conquer my own limitations. There were some easy hikes, but they were just for fun. Most of the hikes had an unusual challenge of some sort: descending in pitch black after sunset; almost getting hit by lightning (this happened often it seems); being hailed on. And each time, I refused to accept defeat. I pushed myself beyond what I thought I could do, and I left another part of me behind that says "I can't do that" when facing a challenge.

But I feel like I've reached the limitations of these adventures. With Gray's Peak, I did what it took, and I won. And then the week after I camped for 3 days and 3 nights with Tim & Heather at the sand dunes, and again almost got hit by lightning, and got hailed on.

My point is, the last 2 trips were far more epic than our first attempt at Gray's, but I don't feel any different after them. They're just things I did. They were challenging, but not internally.

They were closure.

Friggin thing bit me!

I did another hike today. Round Mountain, a 4.9 mile 3,000ft hike summitting at only 8,450 ft. Tim is away so it was just Heather and I, and our first time hiking without Tim as our guide, but it was nice. It was a very hot day, and fairly steep, and we were going through our water faster than expected; so it was a welcome relief when it started raining about half way up. It was still a warm day so we didn't bother with any protection and just enjoyed being soaked with cool fresh rain water.

At the top there was a pile of rocks with a thick, sturdy iron pipe on it. Unscrewing the end revealed a log book and pen, so we read some of the previous entries ("Nice run, 1 hour 1 second, gotta up the pace!" for example. Wow.) And we left a note there for Tim because he will inevitably re do this mountain at some point.

On the way back down, still in the rain, we came to a wonderful opening on the side of the mountain that looked out over the valley, Thompson river, and Loveland. FYI, Thompson river runs along HWY-34, which goes from Estes Park to Loveland. Anyway, we found different rocks and stood silently in the rain looking out over the valley. I would say how long we stood there, but I can only say it was long enough that I no longer knew if I'd been there 5 minutes or my entire life. I can't really remember the last time I felt so at peace.

Farther down the trail, I felt an incredibly sharp pain on the side of my hand and thought I'd waved my hand into a prickly plant or something, but in the midst of my cursing and waving my hand around in pain I managed to brush off the culprit: Some bastardly little flying bug. He was yellow, so I was afraid I'd been stung by a wasp, but as time passed and there was no swelling I decided it must have just been a horse fly. I had no idea they bit that hard.

So that was our day, excellent for the most part.

Epic Hike: First Fourteeners - Grays and Torreys

Our goal was to do Grays Peak and Torreys peak, two 14,000ft peaks which are connected by about a mile long "saddle".
Forecasts and looking at the sky first thing in the morning indicated weather would not be on our side, but we decided we had the gear needed to stay warm and we would give it our best anyway.

It's quite a drive getting there, the exit is a bit west of Georgetown off I-70. From the trailhead, it is a hike of about 3.5 miles and a climb of 3,040 feet. Additionally, there is a 3 mile, 1500 ft very rough road that many people have to hike if they have wimpy cars. Luckily, the Frontier handled it well, saving us a lot of effort. It was the first time I've gotten to take the truck in any sort of harsh conditions, and while I was a little nervous, it was very fun and the truck got to flex its muscles and show it's much more than a cushy luxury vehicle.

It's worth noting that the parking lot and trailhead are at the tree line, roughly 11,300ft.

Smart people start the hike early, hit the summit and are back down by noon. We got on trail about at about 11am, and were the only goes going up while everyone else was coming down. We were reading a guide book earlier and found a Golden Rule for hiking that we found quite amusing: always ask yourself "Is what I'm doing right now stupid?" We didn't think so, but several people coming down gave us looks that said otherwise. The puffy white clouds billowing high over the mountain agreed.

Not far into the hike, maybe a mile, those puffy clouds had turned dark and ominous, and the rain began. So we pulled out our water proof stuff from the packs and Ponchoed Up. Well, I had a $5 poncho anyway, which turned out the be the best thing I've bought recenty. So were my water resistant pants, which I only chose because they were on sale. Within about 15 minutes, Tim's entire upper body was soaked, as were heather's legs. I was bone dry except for my feet, which were toasty warm in my fantastic wool socks. Oh the irony, the newbie was best prepared, and somewhat by accident.

We spotted a cave/mine entrance not too far off trail across the tundra and thought that might be a good place to wait, but the rain stopped before we got too far off trail, so we continued on. Somewhere around 12,600 feet, I decided to stop and check my blood sugar (it was 119 I believe, just right). There was plenty of tunder and lightning around, but we weren't worried about it just yet. I took off my hat and jokingly asked if my hair was standing up (because I knew it was, due to the way I was wearing the hat). Tim laughed and then looked at Heather, who looked like she'd been rubbing a balloon on her head all day, her hair standing straight out on end. Is what we're doing right now stupid? Back down the hill we go, as fast as possible. We see a couple lightning strikes, none very close, but a few struck much lower than we were. And then the hail. Pea sized, and coming down heavy. The mountain seemed to have spoken, and said it did not want our company that day.

Further down, just a mile away from the trail head, the clouds parted and the sun burst through. Now, this is a beautiful area anyway, but after rain and hail to clear the air and the sun coming out, it was about the most amazing thing I've ever seen. The mountain was taunting us. We debated for a long time, 15 minutes or so, if we wanted to go up back up or call it a day. As you might have guessed from the title, we weren't about to quit now. Sure we'd back tracked almost the entire trail, and our muscles were already fatigued, and another storm was probably brewing on the other side, but we would not let this mountain win today. WE would be victorious. Is what we're doing right now stupid? We decided there is a fine line between stupid and couragous.

The rest of the way up was much the same as the first time. The closer we got, the more clouds appeared and the darker they got. We cheered as we passed our previous high mark, and made it about 1/4 mile farther, around 12,800. At this point, we could no longer see the peaks. There was no lightning luckily, but a chilly wind and lots of rain was coming in fast.

Feeling quite a bit like Frodo on the side of mount doom, we decided to hunker down behind some rocks, eat, and see if this storm would pass too. Cold and wet (well, I was pretty dry, that poncho is awesome), we declared defeat and turned our backs to the grey void where the summit used to be, and headed back to civilization.

Back at the truck, a gentleman asked us if we'd seen his wife and mother in law up there, who he saw (with binoculars) at the peak at noon, and should have been back by now, 5 hours later. He was their ride and had their 2 year old daughter with him, so he couldn't stay too much longer. Given the weather we'd seen, we were pretty worried for them and promised to call the rangers once we got a cell signal. Thankfully, half way down the road we crossed paths with a vehicle going up, containing the lost hikers. They had gone down the wrong side of the mountain and had to hitch hike their way back.

Lessons learned:
Water proof clothing is the difference between life and freezing to death, even in July.
Go early. The storms move in by noon.
Know your trail in advance. In and out.

Attached is a Google Earth file that shows our hike. Blue = the drive up, Green = try #1, Red = try #2. Thumb tac markers show where we stopped & turned around each time.

Some people just wouldn't understand

I've got my water proof, shorts-convertable pants on, smartwool socks, a dampened bandana on my head to keep me cool, and quick drying Underarmour on. My pack is properly adjusted so the weight rests on my hips instead of my shoulders, and my sippy straw is right where I can reach it with a slight turn of my head. We're about 2 miles into our 12-mile round trip hike.

But we're not hiking.

We're spinning in circles.

I have my hiking-pole-converted-to-monopod stuck in the ground with my camera on top, offset 60mm backwards so I can rotate around the focal point in the lens. I am carefully spinning around that point, taking a picture approximately every 45 degrees. Rotating around the focal point eliminates parallax, and is important when creating a 360 degree panorama.

Tim stands 10 feet away also spinning circles, but he is calibrating his GPS's compass with a magnetic compass.

It was at this point I realized maybe this is why I haven't invited too many people to join us on these hikes. Some people might just think we're a little odd.

Raising my voice for diabetes

April 14th was "Raise Your Voice For Type 1 Diabetes Awareness Day". More information, and links to other people speaking up, can be found here: Six Until Me

I'm a day late, and better with pictures than words, and I think these speak for themselves:

This, do 4-6 times a day.

This, do every time you eat carbs.

They are meant to be uncomfortable to look at.

This is my life, and the life of any type 1 diabetic, every day. So if these make you wince or look away, just remember, we deal with it day in and day out. There's no looking away. It's a burden we carry silently in a struggle to maintain a "normal" lifestyle.

Presidential Election 2008 prediction

I've had this prediction for a while now, but I want it in writing to look back on.

Today, April 1st, 2008, I am committing to my presidential election predictions. This isn't an April Fool's joke.

Round 1: Nominations
Democrats: Obama
Republicans: McCain obviously, but Paul and his followers are for some reason still in the race. I guess McCain could drop dead and leave Paul the winner by default?

Round 2: November Election
McCain.

Explanation:
This all comes from my gut, no fancy polls or statistics or anything like that. I predicted both of Bush's wins in the same way. Basically, my hunch is that the bad guy always wins. Life isn't some fairy tale; it's filled with corruption, hate, ignorance. And usually covered with an excellent PR/marketing campaign.

There's a chance if Hilary got the nomination she could beat McCain, but only because she is as big a bad guy as he is. Lies and deceit, that's what wins the American heart. It'd be hard for her to lie enough to beat out McCain's ignorance, but I think she's got it in her.

As you can see, I don't think Obama will make it. Why? Because he's honest, and he gives people hope. He wants change. He's the good guy.

An explanation of the previous post

In the previous post (go read it first), I described a vision I often have. I also wanted to talk about what inspires this vision, but didn't feel like it would fit in with that piece of writing.

An image was recently released of the oldest galaxy in the visible universe. It is 12.8 billion light years away. Our own sun is only 4.5 billion light years old. When the light from this galaxy was emitted in a billion fiery nuclear furnaces, our Sun was still 8.3 billion years away from being a twinkle in the Milky Way's eye.

That galaxy no longer exists. At least, not in the form we can observe. Time has shaped it. Its gas clouds have condensed into stars and planets. Civilizations probably rose and fell. Stars spent their fuel and collapsed, colliding with each other and forming into black holes, and eventually there was darkness. But we won't see that for another 12.8 billion years, at which point our own sun will be dust in the galatic winds.

It takes our sun, Sol, 220 million years to make its way around the Milky Way. If you imagine each rotation around the milky way as a "sun year" (as we refer to dog years), that puts our sun in its prime at the age of 20. At just 45 "sun years", or 10-billion Earth years, our sun will run out of fuel and become a red giant, engulfing the inner planets.

The oldest known living tree was 5,000 years old when it was cut down unknowingly.

We already know the average human life span.

A female mosquito can live up to 100 days. Males, up to 20.

If a 20 day life of a mosquito seems irrelevant to us, just think how we must feel to the universe.

The speed of time

Sometimes I get caught up thinking about how the speed of time changes with scale. When I do this, I usually put together a short video in my head, in the style of a music video. I've had this vision in my head for a long time, and it kills me that I can't adequately portray it. Since I'm not a video editor, I will try to describe it. Read along and try to picture it in your mind. Throw some mellow, rhythmic trance music in, such as ATB.

We start out observing bacteria reproducing asexually, dividing with each steady beat of the music. Each beat, a new generation. Then a transition, the reproducing speeds until it's almost a blur, at which point we visually zoom out to see that the bacterial colony was on the back of a mosquito. As our time continues to speed up, the beating of the mosquito's wings progresses from a slow rhythm to indistinguishably fast. The camera follows the mosquito's flight, part of its short existence, until it lands on the arm of a child. We can hear the mosquito's heart beating at a normal pace, with the music, as well as the child's, which seems painfully slow.

Again, time continues to speed into what we consider normal. The sound transitions to the child's heart, speeding to match the old perceived pace, and the mosquito zips away. The camera zooms out to show this person sleeping under a tall tree in the mountains.

At this point, we speed up to match the pace of a tree's life. The transitions take on a more drastic effect as the child darts in and out of the frame in the blink of an eye, hanging a swing, playing, running, napping. All the while aging rapidly, for to the tree, this person's life is but the blink of an eye.

We also observe the tree's life progress at this fast pace. Growing, seasons coming and passing like night and day. As we speed time again, we watch an acorn fall from the tree and grow from the ground to grow into another towering giant, as well as many others in the scene. Time speeds up yet more, and we can see hundreds of trees growing tall and getting taken down, much like the bacteria we started with.

We can also see the ground shifting. Erosion levels the steep hill where a child once napped, and tectonic plate movement begins to cause compression ripples in the hillside. As the camera zooms farther out, time continues to speed, and we observe now an entire landscape change. Lakes form and drain, mountains rise and erode. Continents drift.

Zooming farther away, the Earth circles the sun ever faster, and becomes smaller with distance. Soon we're watching one of the long elegant arms of the milky way drifting around it's core.
Farther still, it's but one of 35 galaxies in our Local Group, our cluster of galaxies drifting through space together. At this time scale, each has its own active life. Spiriling, colliding with others. Little specs of light flashing in and out of existence as entire stars are born and die.

At this point, we zoom out to what looks like the Hubble Ultra Deep Field, a view filled with distant galaxies, and our own galactic neighborhood becomes indistinguishable from the rest.

UPDATE, 4/22/08: I just came across an animation out of Germany with a very similar concept called "Temporal Perspective". Check it out:

Bloodsugar, why you gotta be like this?

I hate making a big deal about my diabetes. Hell, I hate even acknowledging it. But now at 2am, I feel the need.

Tonight I had a bowl of instant mac & cheese. 55g carbs. My bloodsugar was a little high at the time, 160, so I dosed 5 units instead of the 3 that should have worked.

At 10:30, I checked my bloodsugar and found a surprising 215. Shit.

Dose 5 units. 2 should have worked, but it seems like my old ratio of 1 per every 50 over has been failing lately.

1 hour later, I check again, expecting something nice and pleasant around 100. No, it's 271. It's gone up. A lot. So I raged bolused. A "bolus" is any injection of fast acting insulin in order to bring down blood sugar quickly, as opposed to a basal dose which is slow acting and provides a base level of insulin in the system. And the rage part, well that's obvious. I had given more than I should have earlier and saw reverse effects.

So I shot up with another 8 units. 4 should have done. Take that fucker.

But you see, the night isn't done yet.

While I was home for Christmas I had a surprising extreme low in which I didn't feel any of the usual symptoms, so I have to be more careful now. My body might not always clue me in. So I set an alarm for 1:30 to check my bloodsugar.

And what do you know, at 1:30, it was down to 45. Typically I should get the sweats and shakes at around 50, and I feel right as rain.

That didn't last long though.

I hate when normal healthy people complain because their bloodsugar is low. They might feel weak, or light headed possibly, but I would put $100 on it that their sugar is above 60, in the perfectly healthy range.

You do not know low bloodsugar.
You do not know the graving for carbs. Any carbs. Chips. Candy. Pop. Avoid fat, it slows the absorption. You feel like you haven't eaten in 2 weeks. Even if you just had a 2,000 calorie meal an hour ago.
You don't know the trembling hands and full body sweat.

So it's 2:15am and I'm sitting here, up since 1:30, drenched in sweat, trembling, chugging 16 oz of pepsi and eating tortilla chips like crazy. About 10x the carbs I need to fix the problem, which means I actually need another shot now so I don't end up near or above 300 again.

Put test strip in meter.
Prick finger.
apply blood.
125mg/dL. Good, coming back up.
Get out syring.
draw 4 units of air.
inject air into insulin bottle to balance pressure.
draw 4 units of insulin.
insert needle into tummy.
inject.
Wrap up blog entry.
Go to sleep.
Check bloodsugar in the morning.

---
Update. 7:30am.
Do you believe in coincidences? I'm not sure I do. Either it's a coincidence that my bloodsugar was 303 this morning, or the diabetes gods are somehow mocking me. Clearly I need to learn to control the carb cravings during a low.

For 5 hours, my bloodsugar must have been in the 300-400 range. Anything above roughly 140 is basically corrosive to your system. My eyes, nerves, heart, kidney, were all soaking in a nice sugar acid bath overnight.

By the way, when I was diagnosed with diabetes, my fasting bloodsugar was 300, just to put things in perspective.

Anyway, I'm done with this story. I only wrote it for me, to acknowledge the problems I do face, and quit living in denial.

Oh well. 9 units and 2 hours later, and it's back around a healthy 90. Of course, 4 units should have done it. I'm afraid to eat now. It might mess it all up again.