You are currently browsing the archives for December, 2009.
The PaceMaster Platinum Pro VR is sold as a runner’s treadmill. Although it is a consumer model, it does not fold and it is heavy enough to soak up running footfalls without bouncing all over the place. After one week on the machine, it has become the central tool in my new mile-or-more-a-day fitness plan. This will be a first look because I have not put the treadmill through all of its paces, yet.
The total package is rather heavy at 239 pounds. The guys from the store took it out of the box and hauled it up the stairs in parts. Even then, the bed and belt assembly was heavy enough to require a rest stop halfway up. I took the opportunity to ask if was heavy enough for them. They felt it was plenty heavy enough, indeed. Eventually, they pushed and pulled the thing up to its second floor home.
Assembly and adjustment of the belt took the pros less than 30 minutes, so I was logging my first mile in no time, flat. I supervised the assembly, and it was not complicated. Except for the heavy lifting, I could have set this thing up myself without much difficulty. The setup instructions in the manual are clear.
Despite the fact that the installers adjusted and centered the belt, I found it necessary to adjust it again prior to my second run. It had tracked over to one side during my first run, so I just needed to re-center it. This was easier than I expected. I just tightened one bolt a quarter turn with the supplied Allen wrench and it moved right back to where it was supposed to be.
Electronics are a big part of a treadmill’s cost. As consoles become fancier and program options proliferate, prices move up quickly. I like the programs on this treadmill. It has integrated heart rate monitoring, which works well with the included–but cheap and uncomfortable–Polar chest strap. I replaced the cheap strap with another Polar chest strap which is much more comfortable. There was no setup or synching required. The machine recognizes either strap. It does not recognize the Garmin straps from my Foot Pod and GPS watches.
I’ve tried manual, cardio, personal trainer, and virtual courses. I have not tried the fat burn. I like the virtual course best of the options I’ve sampled. It somewhat naturally changes the incline and allows manual adjustments to the speeds. I like to be able to tweak the speed up or down as the mood strikes me. The personal trainer option I chose was too easy and insisted on a fairly slow speed.
Overall, my impression of the treadmill is positive. I like the controls, the program options, the integrated heart rate monitoring and the stable feel. I do have one minor quibble. With the incline at level 1 or 2, the front of the machine can feel a bit wish-washy. I’m not yet sure if it is something to worry about. I will keep an eye on it, and let you know if it becomes more of a concern. Happy running!
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Americans tend to be less and less religious, but despite our growing secularity, we love Christmas as much as ever. For those of us who believe, this day commemorates a miracle.
We’re told God created us in his image, but in most Old Testament theophanies, God rarely appears similar to us. After our ejection from the Garden of Eden (for severe rules violations), we see God more often as a cloud or a burning bush, but then Jesus comes along. Before Jesus, “God fearing” was the way of things. After Jesus, things are different.
Jesus spoke of a personal “father in heaven,” who cared deeply about each of us. Jesus taught us to have a personal relationship with God. Jesus taught us to bring our concerns to him in prayer. For Christians, Easter is often proffered as the bigger miracle. We recognize that Jesus’ resurrection marks him as the true Son of God, but without the miracle of his birth, the resurrection would never have happened. It is impossible to have one without the other. So Christmas is a big deal. It marks the beginning of a new covenant between God and Man. It marks the beginning of a truer understanding of our loving God.
I hope you got everything you wanted this holiday season, and I pray that what you wanted was a better relationship with your Father in Heaven, who loves you very much. Merry Christmas!
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Mrs. Hippo and I are at odds again over the drain in our bathroom. She says my whiskers are clogging the drain. The powdery remnants of my beard, she insists, are making a paste that clogs up the works. I suggested that if we were to disassemble that pipe, we’d find a big clog of her hair. This debate has been raging for years. In fact, we’ve been bickering about pasta plugs and hair balls for a full 29 years.
Today is our anniversary. On this momentous date, my mind wanders back over so many years together. So many years….So many memories…So many clogged drains.
We spent our newlywed days in California. We had a big window overlooking Pacific Grove. The view was great – when the fog and condensation weren’t too oppressive. We kept a squeegee on the window ledge, so we could see the fog rolling up the hill. One day I tore myself away from the view long enough to pour a bucket of ice water over the curtain while Mrs. Hippo was showering. That simple act launched a months’ long campaign of retaliatory ice water deluges. It got so bad we were each afraid to shower solo, so I guess there was an upside to the terror I created. Eventually, we agreed to a cease fire, but every once in a while, I still contemplate a renewal of hostilities. Those were good times.
We rode our bicycles everywhere in the early days. After a few months, we realized that Mrs. Hippo was peddling for two. We bought a car and moved to Texas before adding Hippo Junior and a mentally challenged dachshund to the family. When Junior finally arrived, he was too yellow to bring home right away, but my friends and I celebrated anyway. While the boy languished under bilirubin lights, my friends, my dog, and I all smoked cigars and drank beer. The wiener-dog’s smoking was all second hand but he lapped up quite a bit of first-hand beer.
Our little hippo junior was wearing pullover pants the day his momma pulled him off the ground by his belt loops. He swiveled perfectly at the waist, maintaining a stiffness that would’ve made a gymnast proud, and bashed his head on the tile-covered cement floors of our Okinawa house. I asked why she did that, and she yelled, “I didn’t mean to do it!”
Milton was off the pullover pants and Velcro shoe laces by the time the great Mandibula invented the pasta plug. For some mysterious reason, she opted to tamp leftover macaroni and cheese down the drain rather than toss it in the garbage. I asked why she did that, and she yelled, “I didn’t mean to!”
We’ve now been together for much longer than we ever were apart. Our romance has spanned the country and much of the globe. We’ve lived and laughed and loved for 29 years. I guess if she wants to interject a pasta plug or a hair ball every now and then, I’ll just add it to my list of memories.
From ice-water wars to bashed skulls, through scars and tears and fears, we’re still together. She says she can’t believe it has been 29 years. I thought for sure it was at least 30, but time seems to pass more slowly when you’re de-hairballing drains. The de-hairballification of a drain is a real clock stopper.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Once a week, I lug our giant blue trash can to the curb. Once it has been professionally emptied, Mrs. Hippo lugs the empty can back to our house. That is our arrangement. Previously, I lugged it both ways, but my help mate wanted to participate, so she started handling the “come from” part of the process. This week, Mrs. Hippo broke with tradition. She didn’t wait for the crucial emptying part before pulling the still full can back to its regular spot. As you might expect, it fell to me to rectify this situation. With a mild grimace and no thought whatsoever for my own sanity, I pulled that can up the hill for a second time.
As you might have observed, my helper wasn’t really much help with this week’s garbage. In fact, I could go one step further to make the case that this particular “help” actually created more work for me. As I’ve long suspected, help is a mixed bag.
When someone helps, they have a tendency to do things their way. “Particular” people might be tempted to refuse offers of help, but I think that would be a mistake. As I look around my house, I see all the things I would change if I had no help mate. I would do the dishes a different way. I’d put the laundry hamper in a different spot. I’d throw those hair curlers in the trash before pulling them to the curb.
But when I imagine that perfectly arranged house, it seems sad and quiet and lonely. I don’t want a perfect bachelor pad at those prices. There is an upside to having a helper anyway. Companionship and conversation, love and affection, give and take—they are all at our beck and call when we choose to have a friend.
I don’t mind if my helper pulls the trash the wrong way once in a while. I can live with the hairballs in the sink and brushes on the counter. It may not be for everyone, but when I think about it carefully, I realize I don’t mind those things at all. I think I’ll keep Mrs. Hippo.
I hope she gets me something nice for Christmas.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
To follow Jesus is to love. I’ve read story after story about Jesus’ life and teaching, and no message comes through more clearly than the message of love. Jesus taught love above all else. Sinners like me tend to forget that simple lesson, and as a result, we quibble over rules and such. For us, it seems as though the message of love is sometimes too simple. We want to dig down into the fine print. We want to exploit a loophole or two to ensure our salvation. We want to complicate things.
Jesus didn’t establish a lot of rules, really, but people liked to ask him about them anyway. If Jesus were here today, I am sure there’d be a long line of people with questions about rules. Times haven’t changed all that much over the centuries. Simple rules are still simple, and simple people are still complicating matters.
A couple thousand years ago, the Pharisees were the big rule keepers. They loved rules! Back in the day, a Pharisee asked Jesus about the “greatest commandment in the Law.” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.” All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40).
Isn’t that simply perfect?! Jesus says the most important thing we can do is to love. Why is that so hard for me? Why must I be so hard hearted that such a simple commandment causes me so much trouble?
Show of hands, now, how many people want to be like the Pharisees? “Bonnie?! Moses?! Do you want to be like Pharisees?!” I guess not. No one ever wants to be a Pharisee, but we all like to pretend our rule following skills might somehow earn us a spot in heaven. Since the most important rules are to love God and love one another, perhaps we should focus on those for a change.
When a man sought to do good deeds to earn eternal life, Jesus asked, “Why do you ask me about what is good? … There is only one who is good. If you want to enter life, obey the commandments.” When asked for further clarification, Jesus listed these commandments: “Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (See Matthew chapter 19).
The man wanted more details, so Jesus spelled it out for him, but ultimately, the simple answer was all the man needed. It is all any of us needs. Jesus simplified things for us. He told us to love God and one another. If we can do those two things, won’t the rest of the rules be easy to follow?
The commandments prohibit loveless acts. Murder, adultery, theft, and lies are the bitter fruit we produce when we do not love our neighbor. They are selfish acts; they damage others. It is impossible to care about people and victimize them at the same time.
Today, maybe we could try the simple way. We don’t have to live like a Pharisee. Maybe we could try to love as Jesus loved. Maybe we could turn away from details and rules for just a minute or two and let love be our guide.
Love,
Mister Hippo
Since it may not be entirely obvious based on the title, let me clarify for the record: This post is about the movie “Funny People” starring Adam Sandler. If you don’t want to learn more about this movie, STOP READING NOW!
Those looking for laughs should probably skip this movie. It isn’t all that funny. The movie does include a joke here or there, but it focuses more on the lives of comedians than on their stand up routines. They fret over various challenges, but to my mind, they struggle most when they pursue acceptance and approval from those closest to them.
As in life, there is a superficial quality to many of the relationships in the movie. The comics effectively spin themselves up for performances, but the rest of their lives struggle to match that emotional high. Adam Sandler’s character is famous, and as a result, he can afford to purchase a thin veneer of happiness for his life. Only when Adam is told he is unlikely to live through a recently diagnosed illness does he begin to recognize how shallow the water of his life has become. The store-bought veneer is no longer able to obscure an ugliness that hides just below the surface.
A search for meaning leads to efforts to rekindle old relationships. The prospect of death diminishes the happiness previously found in consumer pleasures, and Adam is driven to find something deeper. With the end looming ever nearer, he turns to love, and appears to be making a heavy handed go of it until he unexpectedly gets a clean bill of health. In short order, Adam relinquishes the gains he made during his health scare. Like a pearl diver who runs out of air, he leaves his pursuit of depth and swims for the shallows. Sadly, Adam’s return to the sea level of his life comes before he finds a pearl.
And isn’t that just the way of things. When we are young and healthy, we think of nothing but ways to fritter away our days. We care little about deeper meanings or more meaningful relationships when times are good. But just let the bottom fall out of things and watch us correct our course. All of a sudden, we are seekers of the pearl, but we’ve wasted so much time. Our air is running out. We should have sought a true treasure while the seeking was good.
Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we have time to correct things. Adam’s character in this movie assumes he will have more time, so he doesn’t look in earnest until it is too late. There is a glimmer of hope at the end when he makes overtures toward a friendship that matters. Perhaps there is a chance that this health scare has really changed our star after all.
Sometimes a health scare or a near miss can help us to catch a glimpse of our mortality. Such a gift, yet we look at it as we do so many real world gifts. That was not what we wanted at all! Sometimes we get what we need and not what we want, however, and those can be the greatest gifts of all.
In this holiday season, let’s focus on improving relationships. Let’s wipe away the veneer and see what is beneath. I’m pretty sure true happiness requires a deeper look.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
The postman brought some new plastic to our house this week. We are plastic-loving hippos. We prefer plastic to paper the vast majority of the time. Gas, groceries, and video games are all good reasons to pull out a slab of plastic and swipe it through a card reader. We’re shameless over-swipers. Don’t tell anybody, but Mrs. Hippo is also a shameless over-“wiper.”
I’ve become something of an expert at swiping cards and answering the inane questions the machines like to ask me. I often give Mrs. Hippo advice on which buttons to push, but she doesn’t appreciate the help. Some gas stations like to ask extra questions about car washes and such. I don’t like those stations, so I usually go elsewhere. Not only am I too busy to walk in and pay for my gas, I also don’t have time to answer stupid questions when I’m trying to pump my gas. I am a very busy hippo.
Even though, I am plastic all the way, I still like to make the machine print a paper receipt. I don’t need it, really, but if anyone ever accuses me of not paying, I want proof that I paid for the gas. That paper is my exit slip. Plus, I like killing a tree or two. An industry depends on it, and when you’re pro plastic, you don’t want to feign too much “green.” It upsets the natural order of things and the pollsters don’t know what to think.
Until now, the convenience of plastic has come with some risks. We’ve been using debit cards, you see, and those sort of place our bank account at risk. If our card strips were to get ripped off, for example, we could be penniless in a hurry. As a result, we’ve gone the AMEX route. We loves us some AMEX! AMEX is interest free since they don’t play that revolving credit game and they are there to protect us if there is an issue with our card.
You might wonder how that differs from a debit card. I’m glad you asked. Basically, there are four choices when it comes to spending:
Cash. Good luck hauling around enough actual wampum to avoid running out at a crucial juncture while eluding the various mashers who call your neighborhood home.
Debit Cards: As I see it, debit cards are too risky because your actual money could be stolen if someone hacks into the account. They are good because you only spend money you already have, but that flat broke thing is a concern. Sure, your bank may pay you back if charges are found to be fraudulent, but while they’re working on it, that empty account is your problem. Also, debit transactions lock up funds and make it challenging to figure out what you have available to spend. Don’t get me started on that.
Credit Cards: These protect you from fraudulent purchases, but there is always the temptation to carry a balance. It is easy to incur interest when you spend on credit cards. They encourage it. That is how they get their money. (Interest + swipe fees = bank revenues.)
AMEX: You don’t carry a balance because you can’t, and you get all the protection of a credit card. If you refute charges, you don’t pay until the matter is settled. Your real money stays safely stashed in your mattress! AMEX makes money because they still earn swipe fees and you pay an annual administrate fee for the card. That fee can be much lower than the interest paid on a real “credit” card.
So paper or plastic is a choice we all make every day. If you’re considering plastic, you might want to consider the pros and cons of each type before making your decision.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Recently, we’ve considered the idea that all authority comes from God. We’ve talked about respect and reverence, and we’ve heard it suggested that sometimes irreverence may be a good thing. I’m not sure how to reconcile the ideas, but I have to concede the point: Sometimes you just have to balk.
Let’s consider Rosa Parks. On this day (December 1st) in 1955, Ms. Parks defied the “authority” of a white bus driver and kept her seat. Today, as we look back on that incident, we see history smiling on her while simultaneously scowling at the driver, James Fred Blake.
Commenting on the event years later, Blake stated, “I wasn’t trying to do anything to that Parks woman except do my job. She was in violation of the city codes, so what was I supposed to do? That damn bus was full and she wouldn’t move back. I had my orders.” Hmmm…He had his orders.
That reminds me of the experiment where they proved that people will follow orders or instructions even if it means killing another person. You remember the one. They set up a shock system and tell one guy to shock another guy whenever he gives a wrong answer. Consecutive wrongs get progressively higher voltage until the proctor is doling out lethal ranges of electricity. The proctors keep cranking that dial and zapping the buttons even though he knows it will kill the other guy. It is amazing what people will do when they believe they are right.
But Mr. Blake wasn’t right in the big sense of things. What he was doing was wrong – even though the law was on his side. As you may already know, he was never fired for his behavior. In fact, he worked another 19 years at that job before he eventually retired. By all accounts, he was a fairly normal guy for the times in which he lived. He fought in the war, he drove a bus, he was a member of the greatest generation…and he was very, very wrong about how to treat his fellow human beings.
On this anniversary of Ms. Parks’ defiant ride, let’s remember that there are times when resistance is necessary. Let’s pray for God’s help as we strive to analyze our behaviors and thoughts. Let’s compare God’s word to the prevailing opinions of our times. And let’s remember to stand up (or sit down) for what is right. If we can do that, our ride may not be easy, but at least we’ll be on the right bus.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
