Glynn: I’m with Alec. I think having an abstracted version of a long post is a solution, not a problem. This was part of my solution, in fact to the Malkovich effect. There’s no sense burdening Planet Gnome with one of my thousand-word blathers about non-Gnome topics. If there was a Planet Climate Change or Planet Slow Bike Racer some of my writing might be more appropriate in an RSS feed. Maybe a multiplicity of feeds is the answer, targeted to a variety of audiences? I know. Custom feeds! Let the person pulling the feed pick what bits they want. (Implementation is left as an exercise for the reader.)
The Human Garnome Project
Well, I do think Jeff’s work is critical to the future of humanity, but no, I didn’t mean “genome.”
The 5,000-year-old man
David Appell has an amazing and provocative interview with biologist Aubrey de Grey, a “biogerentologist” who thinks a 5,000-year human life span is within reach:
TR: 5,000 years? That seems pretty outlandish.
De Grey: I get that reaction a lot – my estimate gives people the conceptual bends. But if you go through the logic step by step, you’ll see that it’s virtually inevitable that we will attain that sort of life expectancy in that sort of timeframe, just so long as two things work out. First, we will have to develop first-generation rejuvenation therapies by 2050 or sooner. Secondly, the value we put on life will have to rise as our anticipated lifespan increase, which has happened in the past. I’m not a sociologist, but I think this second development is very likely, given the first.
So, what remains for me to explain is why the development of first-generation rejuvenation therapies – which I’ll define as ones that can be applied to people in their 60s and increase their lifespan by at least 30 years – is enough to give people who are 25 or younger at the time those therapies arrive a lifespan not limited by aging in any way. The answer can be given in one word: bootstrapping. Thirty years is an absolute eternity in science, so it is nigh on inconceivable that the second-generation therapies (which, let’s say, give another 30 years on top of what the first-generation ones give) will be so long in coming that the beneficiaries of first-generation therapies will miss out on them. And of course the same applies to subsequent-generation therapies ad infinitum.
Raises all kinds of pretty interesting questions.
KY Crit
Second race of the season. This time no major mistakes, except for maybe not being quite fast enough. But that’s a deeper issue.
Damn fast fun, though.
The Baseball Gods
The baseball gods are benificent – fickle, but ultimately benificent.
Malcolm sent me Tim Bray’s ode to opening day, and we did our best here in Albuquerque this afternoon to launch a season. It was just an exhibition game, but we got to watch the local nine, our AAA Isotopes, trounce the World Champion Florida Marlins.
It was not exactly ideal baseball weather, but The Big Storm that’s been pounding us all weekend saw fit to let up long enough to get in some baseball. It was cold and windy, and I was very glad Lissa was smart enough to bring a blanket.
It was sold out, but a pair of tickets materialized before my baseball-starved eyes Friday afternoon, then additional magic about 45 minutes before game time delivered an upgrade to box seats up in the club section behind home plate.
Our sharp young shortstop, Wilson Valdez, stole two bases in the first inning, then another two in the second. When he came to bat in the third, the first pitch from the Marlins’ Darrin Oliver seemed to sorta slip, tailing in the direction of right directly at Valdez, who danced out of the way. The young home plate umpire wandered mound-ward to have a chat with Oliver about the issues associated with having pitches slip in situations like that, while Valdez just stood there with a huge grin on his face, like he was thinking, “Shit, I just got thrown at by a big-leaguer!”
Bray captures nicely what this is all about, with green lawn and clean new uniforms and the great promise of T-ball in spring:
Tomorrow?s the first game; in entry-level tee-ball, there are no umpires and score is not kept. But, The Game Is The Thing.
Play ball.
The Storm
So the ride was great.
Aside from the fact that my feet were soaked through 10 minutes into a three-hour ride.
And the fierce howling wind in our faces climbing the Tramway hill.
And the driving rain at the top (and the gust there that literally nearly blew both of us off of our bikes).
And the bit where Jaime went down going across the railroad tracks, that wasn’t so keen.
And the part where I got a flat tire, rolling down Paseo del Norte at speed, that was a little disconcerting (and sitting on the sidewalk in the wind fixing it, and having it start raining, that was a little uncomfortable).
And the way Jaime’s mobile kept ringing all morning, on account of he’s the photo editor and there was a lot of storm-inspired photojournalism to be managed, that was a bit of a distraction.
OK, but that’s all just whining (or maybe bragging). Because despite the problems, it was an amazing day.
The Rio Grande was running high and looking like a river (which it doesn’t often these days), there was mud and water everywhere, clouds slamming down and breaking open, pouring over the mountains from the east, boiling up the valley from the south, swirling and ripping and tearing. Somethin’ about being out there in the middle of all that on a bike. Pretty much complete fun.
1.65
So here’s the dilemma.
I just did the 7 a.m. check on my rain gauge, and we got 1.65 inches in the last 24 hours. (This is a desert. That’s a lot.) The forecast calls for lots more rain all day, and the radar shows big bands of wet all up and down the Rio Grande Valley, as far as its electronic eye can see.
The plan was a long and serious bike ride today. It looks as though at least the start of the ride will fit between bands of rain, but we’re almost certain to get soaked. On the other hand, with that much rain it’s bound to be interesting out there – the river swollen, the arroyos flooded, etc.
It’s a discomfort/adventure tradeoff.
update: It’s a go. Said Jaime, “Just think. The competition probably isn’t out there.” I just want you to remember that he said that, not me.
Petrichor
Years ago, my friend Frank Zoretich wrote a wonderful piece about that lovely smell you get in the desert when a summer thunderstorm hits. If I recall it right, the story documented Frank’s unsuccessful search for an explanation.
Now comes The Wordsmith, with not only a word for it (“petrichor” – the April 2 listing if it’s already off of his front page) but a possible explanation in the usage he quotes:
“Petrichor, the name for the smell of rain on dry ground, is from oils given off by vegetation, absorbed onto neighboring surfaces, and released into the air after a first rain.”
Matthew Bettelheim; Nature’s Laboratory; Shasta Parent (Mt Shasta, California); Jan 2002.
update: Michael Quinion has a delightful discussion of petrichor among his weird words:
The word comes from Greek petros, a stone, plus ichor, from the Greek word for the fluid that flows like blood in the veins of the gods. So the word means something like “essence of rock”. Alas, it is rarely encountered.
Bumper Stickers
A word of advice this campaign season. If you believe enough in a candidate to put their bumper sticker on your car, be on your best behavior out there on the highways. You’re now an ambassador!
Whoah … that guy that cut me off, in the Cadillac with the Bush/Cheney bumper sticker … what an asshole!
Tim Noakes and the Central Governor Theory
Just yesterday I was praising Tim Noakes’ The Lore of Running to a friend who recently started training to run his first marathon. Then this morning over breakfast I stumbled across a fascinating article in the March 20 New Scientist (paper only, not the web) about new research Noakes and colleague Alan St. Clair Gibson have been doing on the nature of physical exhaustion in endurance athletes. They think it’s all in our brain, acting as a sort of “central governor” to get our body to slow down well before we actually reach the point of physical exhaustion, essentially leaving us with enough in reserve to flee if there happens to be a lion around the next corner. One can see how that would have been an evolutionary advantage back in the day.
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