October 23, 2012
A day in the life
What a strange day was today.
I woke still a bit stiff from Sunday's epic half-marathon (epic in that I ran the last 9+ miles feeling sick to my stomach: nausea and queasiness peaked at the end of mile 4 [elapsed time 41:00] and so I walked pretty much the entirety of mile 5, ready to vomit and/or poop volumes at any second, my belly tense and guarded — but nothing came out either end.
That mile took 14:30.
As I began mile 6 I realized this was not going to be a record setting race, so I turned off my Garmin and decided to just finish it out as best I could.
I ran the final 8 miles in 97 minutes (a little over 12 minutes/mile), and felt less sick as the miles passed.
At the finish I was pretty much exhausted: running nauseated takes a lot out of you, even if it wasn't literally true.
I wasn't able to eat anything until about 11 p.m. Sunday, so uneasy was my gut.
But today I felt much better.
Then around 10 a.m. a guy from my hood came by and said his dog Smokey (above and below — a picture taken this morning enjoying his dog's breakfast)
had bolted after a deer and disappeared into the the deep woods a half hour earlier near his house.
I dropped everything and spent the next four hours or so gathering information about his pet and creating posters featuring Smokey's picture and vital statistics to distribute all over the neighborhood.
We accidentally realized that giving the pic and info to the FedEx guy was a really great idea since all he did was drive around our hood all day.
We made up more posters and gave them to lots of people.
At around 5 p.m. Smokey's owner called: Success!
His dog was down the street at a condo development about a mile away, safe and sound.
Made my day.
Now, about that microchip you've always thought would be a good idea... how about tomorrow?
Is tomorrow good for you?
'Cause it'll be perfect for Smokey.
The evolution of iMac
Past is not prologue in a literal sense: the iMac of 2016 will likely take up no pixels at all on your screen — because it will be inside your cranial vault.
The problem with averaging Amazon star ratings
What is it?
Answer here this time tomorrow.
Another: Not man-made.
I am a Neanderthal — by James Fallows
He has every right to say so.
Read the following.
I have been involved for the past 2+ days with travel for and events at the (again very interesting) "Atlantic Meets the Pacific" session, held with UC San Diego in La Jolla.
This evening, after a discussion between the Atlantic's editor James Bennet and the geneticist Craig Venter, Spencer Wells of the National Geographic's Genographic project described his ongoing effort to map humanity's origins and migrations through comparing genetic markers in different population groups. I thought it was genuinely interesting — even before he revealed the results of analyses of the DNA of three Atlantic staffers in attendance: Alexis Madrigal, Steve Clemons, and me.
Each of us
had peculiarities in his origin — in my case, that the mitochondrial
DNA on my (mainly Scottish) mother's side didn't really match anything
they had seen before. But the real payoff was the Neanderthal test. I am
proud to announce that the Atlantic staffer with the most direct
descent from Neanderthal man is... me, with 5 percent of my genes being
So, watch out. I think I will change my profile picture.
Porcelain White, Yves Klein Blue, Ferrari Red, Matte Black, Dutch Orange.
Part of the WC Line designed by Josh Owen for Kontextür.
When 6 + 9 > 15
The new math as taught wherever Carl Bialik decided to drive through for dinner.
[via Jason Gay]