Creatures of Habit

We are all creatures of habit. One of the guys I ride bikes with was getting on his bike last summer during a training ride, he walked up to his bike on the right side, then asked me to hold his bike while he walked all the way around it to the left side. It was pretty obvious that his mount repertoire didn't extend to the right.  He was a left side only mounter.  He just couldn't calculate the mechanics of getting on his bike from the right. I thought at the time that maybe he's a overly zealous democrat but now I am not so sure. Hey Slugger, why not just get on the thing from the right side? He has ridden bikes for at least thirty years but he hasn't yet worked out the ambi-directional mount. He is a creature of habit.

One of my habits is that before I buy, or before I rent, or before I borrow, I research. I research everything. I research cars before I flash the cash, I research neighborhoods before I move, I research the emergency medical facilities before I vacation. I do my homework in all purchasing decisions and while I contend I am not suffering from any formally documented nervous dysfunction, I do admit to a severely underdeveloped set of social skills that some idiot doctors referred to as a phobia in 1983. And again in 1991.

Some people refer to my little research idiosyncrasy as a mild form of psychopathy, while I prefer the term “quirky.” Being “quirky” and having “phsycopathic tendencies” are pretty close to the same thing, but my employer frowns on those of us who navigate this life with an as-yet undiagnosed case of tourrett syndrome, and I am pretty sure I can't be fired for being quirky. I need to keep my job until the mortgage is paid.

My mind was wandering during a recent two hour research session on a pending pocket comb purchase and I got bored and ended up looking up seven words in the dictionary. I try to look up a new word every day, but I was a week behind so I had to knock down seven all at once. I have a thing about words.  I like words, but it's like playing a flute or a violin; If you do it well, it is a thing of beauty, if you don't, it can be a torturous endeavor.  If my roommate left me for greener pastures and a highly defined set of abdominal muscles, and that resulted in me filling out one of those on-line dating checklists, I would list correct diction and a good thesaurus as turn-ons.

I love to read books penned by those who have mastered the art of manuscription. On the other hand, I get an upset stomach when the English language is butchered by a certain coworker who is three crayons short of a full box and can't describe the difference between the great literary trifecta; too, to and two. My aforementioned coworker once misused two out of three of the trio in the same sentence. He is such a dickweed.  I hate him.  I hate him so very, very much.

Sadly, I found that I too have been using a few favorite words incorrectly and I am abashed for my grievous sin. I cannot continue to live a life built upon dishonestly, so I must confess here, seeking atonement for my poor word selection. Here it is; I have been claiming to have been experiencing a “Catharsis” when I participate in a triathlon. Its how I process when I am stressed. I search for the silver lining when I am under duress.  I tried to find the blessing on that day when the roommate answered the door and was confronted by a girl with a bun in the oven asking if I was home.  I tried to find the good when my stomach rejected the performance fuel I fed it in Whistler.

My specific crime is that in a previous post, I meant to say I experienced a “Catharsis” but my ego overcame my ability when I tried to jazz up my phrasing and I said my event was “Cathartic”. Ooops. I thought they were the same thing. Both words sound really similar but they diverge in the specifics, as such...

  Catharsis - From the Greek Katharsis, meaning “Cleansing”

  Cathartic – From the Greek Kathartikos, meaning “Fit for cleansing”, or, “The act of evacuating your bowels”.

Now I feel like my dickweed coworker.

Some of my Ironman compatriots were asking who was doing what event this year. Some said they are doing this event or that event. I get that. You plan and set a goal and work to that goal. I think that is the way to go. Others said they are doing three fulls and five halfs or whatever. I don't get that. What kind of drugs do they ingest? More than one event a year is crazy.  Irrational.  Nuts.

I swim with a group of forty to fifty determined folks in the pool three times a week. We have a coach, we use swim aids like paddles, fins, swim buoys, goggles, swim caps etc. We spend a small fortune working on our swim in the pool, then when the weather warms up and we get in the lake, we all complain about the temperature, the clarity of the water and how our new five hundred dollar wet suit is too tight through the shoulders.

My dog swims pretty well. He spots perfectly, so he swims a straight line, his cadence is steady and he does negative splits. He didn't spend one penny on swim aids, he has never had one lesson, he doesn't complain. He just gets in the water and starts swimming, he doesn't bitch and now I feel inadequate.

I cant fix my swim technique. It's broken and I am thinking of starting over. My right arm is like 50% effective, which is good. I reach pretty well, I don't cross over, I catch OK, but my elbow drops a bit. If I concentrate on it I can get it to stay up for a while, but when I get tired, it drops.

My left arm is another story. I reach pretty well, but after that, it all falls apart. My catch is a joke, I cross over, my elbow drops and I swing that arm like a pendulum. My dog tried to show me proper technique but what does he know? He thinks he knows everything, but he doesn't.  Golden retrievers are so arrogant.   He doesn't worry about technique, he just swims.  He is the ultimate creature of habit.