Jet Pilots and Left Tackles

When Lindsay and I walked into Lucile Packard Children's Hospital to introduce Will to the world, I knew that I was a rookie. Although I had completed the LPCH Preparing for Birth classes, I did not feel prepared. I felt more like that novice triathlete I was when I checked my 30 lb mountain bike into the transition area for the Olympic-distance race at the Wildflower Triathlon in 2000. But I was prepared to not matter to anyone in the building except Lindsay. The classes didn't teach me this, but Michael Lewis' book HOME GAME did.

Once Lindsay was admitted, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that I did matter (for now.) The labor-delivery nurse looked at me and said, "Make sure you get some sleep. And eat. It's going to be a long day, and we need you sharp." I was surprised by the comment, and even more surprised that our room had a daybed that resembled a new international business class seat (think Singapore Airlines). So I napped a few feet from Lindsay and snuck off to the cafeteria to eat breakfast and lunch. Although the food was not as good as Singapore Air's, it wasn't bad...though my body may have just known that I was carbo loading.

One of the first roles I played was assisting with the decision process to request an epidural. While this had not been a foregone conclusion in our (brief) birth plan, it was an option. Inviting the anesthesiologists into our room was one of the better decisions we have made together...ever. It also gave us an interesting insight into roles in a hospital. Up to this point, every doctor or nurse we had worked with was a woman. The anesthesiologists were all men. Confident men that walked with a swagger that I expect resembles jet pilots on an aircraft carrier approaching their planes or firemen approaching an emergency call. But this is not surprising given what they do - insert a needle next to the spinal cord of a woman who is in the greatest pain of her life...between contractions. When they finish their mission, the pain disappears.

Delivery was a process that I was pleased to have a meaningful role in, but for the sake of modesty I am not going to describe it in detail here. Following delivery, I would describe my role as that of a left tackle. Lindsay was the quarterback, the most valuable person on the field with the greatest responsibility. I was her left tackle - the offensive lineman responsible for protecting her blind side.

I haven't defined the role of the OB yet. Head coach? Offensive coordinator? I can't decide which to assign to our OB and which to our labor/delivery nurse. But I will simply say that both of them were tremendous people and players. Truly outstanding athletes that I was very glad were on our team.

-HammerHead

A Few More from Week 1

Here are a few more photos.

Laughing / yawning with Mom

Catching a quick nap

Wondering what the person behind the camera is thinking

We caught Will with his eyes open when he wasn't ordering lunch, so of course with took a picture.

-HammerHead

Introducing William Patrick Holland

Will joined our family this past Tuesday (February 9, 2010) at 1.55 pm. He weighed in at 8lb 14oz and 20.5 inches. He has provided many smiles and adventure for his parents in a mere six days. He (and the process of his arrival) will provide months of blog posts to follow. But for now, I am just going to share some photos. -Proud Rookie Dad

Swaddled and ready for a nap

First nap in our room at LPCH

Another nap...sporting the team colors

First nap at home. Sensing a trend here...

Everything I Need to Know About Newborn Care...

...I Learned from Triathlon Training.

Well almost everything (hedging for the unknown...and the fact that I am writing this after only one newborn care course.)

Still, as I settled into my first "Happy, Healthy Baby Class" at the Palo Alto Medical Foundation, I was oddly comforted to read the first bullet point on the handout - "Watch the color of the urine, which should be pale yellow or clear..." I turned to Lindsay, smiled and said, "He should be 'peeing clear!' " I was using a term that we both learned while training for Ironman triathlons that means "well-hydrated," and I was smiling from ear-to-ear.

The Baby Industrial Complex (channel partner and co-conspirator with the Wedding Industrial Complex) can be intimidating -- characterized by abundant, often conflicting and usually expensive advice. I was elated to have a medical professional tell me something that made simple sense and that tied into the passion/obsession that introduced me to my wife.

Some other interesting parallels:

-Full-term, full-size babies are born with 48 hours of fuel reserves. Actually, this is not like Mommy and Daddy when they were doing triathlons...but Daddy is jealous and would have loved to have entered a race with just 25% of that.

-When they are running low on food, babies first burn glycogen reserves in their livers, then fat stores, and finally protein in their muscles. You don't want to get to the protein phase. Nobody is happy. Perfect parallel to the adult distance athlete.

-If the bottle isn't positioned correctly, the baby doesn't get enough fuel. I always wished that the Gatorade I spilled on myself would translate to energy, but it never did. So I learned to latch.

-Babies give visible, civil and manageable signals when they are hungry. If you respond to these initial signals, life is good. if you don't, they bonk, and a meltdown follows. Ditto.

Gear offers some other comfortable parallels, and I certainly need to work on my Pack-N-Play transition times. I fear that my current 3:07 break-down time will be insufficient in the face of an accelerated-boarding-to-beat-incoming-inclement-weather situation at SFO. More on that to follow.

-HammerHead

I Love this Game

"One-thirty interval. Change leads every 500. Fuel stop every 2,500." This kicked off 2 hours and 4.6 miles of swimming this morning. While 75 repetitions of a 100-yard swim sounds intimidating (and boring) when simply described as "75 by 100 yards," the actual event is far from either.

Below are a few of the things I most enjoy about this swim:

-You only have to count to five. 5 x 100. And you only have to count when you are leading. The rest of the workout is measured by progression through leader changes. We had ten people in the lane this morning, so we were done when the fifth person completed his second lead.

-Freedom from the tyranny tallying distances means I can let my mind wander while my body works. What do I want for breakfast? What wines will go best with Christmas dinner? How many doughnuts did Mike bring to practice this morning, and what can I trade him for one? What other name could we give Bunivan? What if the doctor was wrong and he is a she...we'd need some new names. What do people really mean when they say, "Your world is going to change forever." These thoughts play out to my mental jukebox that has the last song playing when I pulled into the parking lot on repeat -- "From Yesterday" by 30 Seconds to Mars this morning.

-Drafting converts an individual sport to a team one. While most workouts expect each swimmer to leave five seconds behind the one in front of him/her, this event resembles the Team Time Trial in a cycling Grand Tour. Each swimmer is responsible for holding the draft of the swimmer in front and passing that benefit on to the swimmer behind. One of my teammates expressed concern over recently sporadic workout attendance prior to the start of this morning's workout. And when he integrated into the 10-person pace-line, he had a great swim. No one gets left behind.

-Endorphins feel good. And two hours of constant swimming produces an abundance of them.

-Breakfast tastes great. The banana I ate immediately after was the best fruit I have ever consumed. The bear claw that Tex procured was dangerously good. Bacon, egg and cheese on an asiago bagel provided substance, and Peet's coffee completed the morning and the swim's daydream.

-HammerHead

Thanksgiving Thought #1

I am thankful that I am not looking at one of these this week:


Nothing against 747's (in fact my favorite plane), but I am enjoying being home after two weeks abroad. Lindsay is even more fun than I remembered. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she is "laughing (and kicking) for two." Maybe absence does have some positive externalities, but I don't even care that our heaters aren't working.

I am thankful to be back in the pool and to swim with a lane that coordinated pacing and lead changes this morning so that I could completely space out for at least 3k of the 5k yards. And I am glad that my wing-person was also counting the laps I led...since I spaced out then too. (I had a really good Linkin Park song going.)

I am thankful that economists predict an increase in consumer spending this Holiday Season...and that I will not be participating in Black Friday. Though on the work front I am thankful that my team's role has grown in 2009. Now we just need to catch a draft off of that Holiday spending wave and ride it into 2010.

-Wallace

Growing Up

I thought that I had been away from the pool for a long time, until I saw how long it had been since I posted to this blog. But August 11 provided an afternoon that warranted a post.

At 3.00 pm Lindsay and I saw the 12-week ultrasound pictures of Bunivan (temporary name of our pending new family member. Forecast arrival - February 17.)

At 5.00 pm we signed a ream of paperwork at Chicago Title, concurrently taking ownership of our first house...and our first mortgage.

Marriage didn't scare me. Parenthood and home ownership did. I used to refer to a child as "a half-million dollar liability amortized over 20 years" as a way to position for a smaller family when Lindsay and I designed the future. Fortunately, mortgages are amortized over 30 years.

Did I really think of children so coldly? Of course not. I was just scared that I didn't have my life in enough order to responsibly support them. Fortunately a colleague of mine put this into perspective earlier this year:

"Do you have children?"

"Not yet. They're in the plan, but not in the forecast."

"Just don't wait for the budget."

The answer to "What happened? What changed?" is really not that interesting. Lindsay knew that I didn't really believe the FUD (fear, uncertainty & doubt) I was spreading, and we moved forward.

The scary thing is that I think that I have our life (or at least the next two years) well-planned. Though I am sure that I am missing something...and that it will make good material for future posts.

-HammerHead

Valentines Day and Inelastic Supply Curves

As I drove to work this morning the radio was filled with horror stories of Valentine's Day upsets. Most sounded like a product of the sudden spike in demand for goods and services (flowers, nice dinners, hotel reservations) coupled with the fact that most vendors cannot adequately increase supply to meet this demand for a single day. So what happens?

Restaurants fit 20% more tables into the same space and operate with 20% less staff while offering a reduced number of menu options and call it "prix fix."

Florists increase prices by 50% and never seem to have enough of those honkin'-big Ecuadorian roses that you saw last spring.

Why? Because on February 14 the demand curve for flowers and restaurant reservations shifts dramatically, and temporarily, to the right...much farther and much faster than the supply curve can shift. Prices rise. Quality drops like the fickle souffles that restaurant general managers try to sell once a year (and this is not an area where one can decouple selling and delivery.)

And to complicate things further, expectations rise.

A friend of mine taught me a useful formula:

Happiness = (Reality) / (Expectations)

So in many ways, celebrating Valentine's Day on February 14 is a setup for an upset.

This is not always the case. For those readers who celebrated a Valentine's Day on February 14 that met or exceeded expectations...your significant other should be doubly acknowledged.

If your celebration did not meet expectations, I invite you to reevaluate where the miss happened and consider how many factors were within your significant other's control (on that day.)

And to those who are looking for an alternative to the above slippery-sloped supply-side cycle - consider picking a different date to celebrate Valentine's Day. Travel schedules revealed this trick to my wife and I as we have been in different states/countries on February 14 for the past two years. So we have celebrated Valentine's Day on alternate dates. It has been a lot of fun and substantially less stressful on us and our floral / cuisine partners. We really did discover this by chance, but I am kind of fond of it. This year we are celebrating on February 21. Next year...oh, that's a secret.

-HammerHead

Christmas in Ranthambore

We had Christmas dinner with Ateeq's family in Ranthambore, or actually, a village just outside of Ranthambore. What a meal! His wife and mother fed us "Grandma Holland Style." They stuffed us. Mutton kebabs, chicken curries, mutton curries and biryanis and...palak paneer! (Think of creamed spinach with fried chunks of fried ricotta cheese - my favorite Indian dish.) All dishes were wonderful, home-cooked, from scratch and bottomless. I stopped short of taking the last of the palak paneer on its first passing. Ateeq's wife, Nilu, laughed. It reappeared refilled twice that night and would have a third time had I not protested that I had no ability to eat any more. Bread operated the same way - fresh baked and replaced before it could get cold.



As amazing as the food was, the most significant feature of the evening was the warmth of our welcome. Ateeq's entire family (less his brother, who was also leading a tour group) greeted us as if we were old friends. Nilu gave Lindsay and my mother fabric for traditional North Indian salwar kurtas. I scratched my head briefly and wondered, "How do we convert this beautiful fabric into garments?" The family's tailor arrived ten minutes later to take their measurements and answer my question. Their garments were ready the next evening.



I will delve into observations and opinions on the role of religion in India in a later entry, but for now I will just say that I will never forget having Christmas dinner with a Muslim family in a Hindu country.

Sightseeing in Udaipur

My mom still turns heads. The silver jewelry, peacock scarf and colorful purse certainly attracted attention at the City Palace today. One man decided to follow her (a bit too closely) as we walked to the ferry dock. Mom held his attention well enough that he did not notice Lindsay and me next to him. "I haven't seen anyone yet that I would have any trouble tackling," Lindsay commented.

Mom's admirer moved on and we explored the palaces in the middle of the lake. One was built by a prince when his father refused to let him "borrow" his mid-lake pleasure palace. So the son built his own - much larger. It is now the Taj Hotel Lake Palace.



We had lunch at a much smaller mid-lake hotel. While it only has eight rooms, the staff was starting preparations for the New Year's Eve celebration on December 28.

Sunday Redlines

10 x 100 free for best average is usually one of my favorite workouts. I usually sprint the first three pieces with reckless abandon thinking "pride will overcome lactic acid" for the next seven pieces.

Sunday morning I had a momentary crisis-in-confidence. I brought the first piece in at 1:15 and said to my lane-mate, "Maybe I should back it off a bit."

I don't remember her exact words, but the message was, "Bull Sh_t! Hold the 1:15."

We did. It hurt, and it was worth it.

Teammates.

-HammerHead

Sunrise in Agra

Sun just rose over the Taj Mahal. The Fsmog (fog + smog) certainly obscured part of it, but the 7.30 am afterglow is impressive. The calls to prayer at 6.00 am set the tone for the sun's rise. Lindsay took some excellent photos. After a battery failure on the way to Agra, the camera is fully charged this morning.

We saw several people lose their camera's inside the Taj Mahal yesterday. But that's what happens when you try to "sneak" a flash photo in the pitch black area beneath the dome. They were swift confiscations.

Our guides warned us that persistent, young salesmen would meet us as we walked to the Taj Mahal yesterday. Mom was friendly. I explained that the young hawker had no interest in her friendship. I told him that he should go talk to a prospect that actually had intent to buy, since we did not. (As a salesman, I consider it a matter of professional courtesy not to waste the time of someone that is on quota.) He persisted. I started making up stories. He pointed to Lindsay and asked who she was. "Girlfriend. Don't tell my wife."

All commerce and commentary aside, it is a breathtaking building...built by a heartbroken emperor in memory of his wife.

-Jawbones

Back on the Grid

Wow. It felt good to go "off the grid." I must admit that I did peek at personal email a few times (who knew my iPhone would work in Rajasthan), but unplugging from the internet made the time I spent in India with Lindsay and Mom more memorable.

I relied on a journal (and Lindsay's photographic skill) to catalog the trip. I hope you enjoy the entries that follow (in no particular order.)

-Jawbones

Extended Family

Meet Duchess and Duke. (Duchess is the black lab. Duke the chocolate lab.) My sister and I moved out of the house, well, a while ago. Our canine siblings have taken our places...quite well. I could describe multiple parallels between their roles in the family and our own, but I am going to pass on that opportunity (for now) and just share some photos. -HammerHead

I love the smell of sprinting in the morning...

...smells like...Friday!

I am a fan of consistency. And while I recognize that a foolish consistency can be the hobgoblin of little minds, I really do look forward to sprinting and relays on Fridays.

End-of-week sprinting is like desert after a week of threshold, distance and stroke vegetable-eating. It does not have the same long-lasting impact on aerobic fitness as a distance set. It does not develop lactic acid processing like a threshold set. But I sure do enjoy it. I get to lead sprint days. I don't have to worry about getting lapped (like on fin and pull days). I get to talk smack with Rebeca during relays, and every now and then I get to pretend that I can keep up with Lindsay.

I should highlight that the above fantasy re. keeping up with my wife only lasts about 24 yards.

I also like sprinting because it gives me the chance to test how much lactic acid I can digest in 1 - 2 minutes. And I get to test myself against the fast kids in Lane 1...without getting lapped if I go out too fast. You know, more chase than pace...

Tomorrow is mid-distance pulling, so I will get a dose of humility. But I may also get to hear Lane 1's leader declare, "Dude. Your wife is a stud." Saturdays.

HammerHead

Bibliography - thanks to Ralph Waldo Emerson and Robert Duvall's Col. Killgore for my opening allusions.

Swimming's Social Contract

The Tenth Amendment to the US Constitution reads:

"The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."

One of the beauties of the US Federalist system is that it recognizes that individual communities (states), while part of the same nation, have the prerogative to express different preferences and priorities. For example, compare California, Nevada, Texas and Connecticut.

This morning's workout demonstrated a similar system in swimming. Our coach defined one simple goal for the workout - complete 50 x 100 yards of swimming. Each lane was then encouraged to determine how they would accomplish this and collaborate to complete the workout.

Lindsay's lane defined an intricate, even intriguing workout that combined varying strokes and intervals yet maintained a constant lane order. It was the product of grass-roots leadership. In Killer Quad terminology, they were "Mavericks"...or at least Californian. Our lane defined a consistent interval with rotating leadership. It was a moderate approach, not quite Blue State, but perhaps Ohio. Both Lindsay and I left the pool saying, "That was great!" And neither of us would have enjoyed the other's workout as much as our own.

And while I enjoyed my lane's traditional approach, I can see merit in the California approach to the Killer Quad. And I recognize that many new ideas start in California and filter east, so perhaps I should save a copy of the Lane 1 workout.

-Hammerhead

Leveraging Your Team

"When someone tells you that they want to 'leverage' you, it usually means that you are being used to produce a result." -Opinion shared with a sales colleague.

"Leverage" is an overused corporate euphemism. I have used it in business plans, quarterly business reviews, executive approvals, emails, presentation and conversations. Sometimes my plans worked. Sometime they didn't.

I have been "leveraged." Sometimes the results met expectations. Sometimes they did not.

So what distinguishes successful from unsuccessful leverage? Intent and gratitude.

I have attended meetings where I accepted action items, and when I left, I felt like I agreed to do a classmate's homework.

I have also taken "hero-pulls" at the front of cycling packs and swim lanes where I have expended 20% more energy than those in the draft. On good days, I can maintain this until the end of the ride or set. On the other days I fall off the pace and limp home or hang on the wall. But I rarely regret these because each effort is followed by a lactic-acid infused "thank you."

We are hosting a 10-person Thanksgiving dinner in our 860 square-foot home with a kitchen that dates to the Eisenhower administration. All that my wing-woman (wife) and I have to worry about is the turkey, stuffing and wine (twist my arm.) Why? We are leveraging the culinary strengths of our guests. I think that they will leave smiling, and not just from the tryptophan. Hopefully their experience will mirror that of a successful project planning meeting, where each person gets to contribute his/her strengths, and everyone leaves with leftovers.

Thursday morning I will leverage my swimming lane. 50 x 100 is too many yards to swim without a rotating draft (and Gatorade...RockStar for longer sets). One of my favorite parts of this tradition is that each person leads 5 x 100 and then drops to the back of the lane. As each swimmer passes the former leader at the wall, he/she shares a short-breathed "thanks!"

This reminds me that I leveraged the draft of three of my teammates during this morning's set. Honestly, I was just trying to stay in the same time zone, but I think I forgot to say "thank you." Thanks. -HammerHead

Radio Check

"What is Web 2.0?"

This is a valid question that colleagues, customers and I have recently asked. As we approach Black Friday, the most anticipated shopping day of the year, retailers relying on the internet to meet their 2008 revenue forecasts may reply, "A more realistic look and feel for eCommerce. A makeover for a salesman that works 24 hours a day, 52 weeks a year, never gets sick, never takes vacations...and doesn't complain about the comp plan."

Industry cynics may reply, "Another square for BuzzWord Bingo."

Students of Justice Stewart may reply, "It's difficult to define, but we know it when we see it."

My take: an open avenue for constant commentary...and a few good laughs.

Year-to-date I have been semi-regularly ghost-posting on my teammate's blog - http://menlomasters.blogspot.com/ - so I decided it was time for me to stop drafting off of Waterblogged and start my own.

So here goes...