Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Great Runners of the Past: Tom Longboat

By Craig: Sometimes I feel that I am at a disadvantage when I show up at a race. I am not that scientific about my running. In fact, since my watch broke I haven't even been clocking my times. I can sort of gauge my time by how I am feeling along the way, but oh well...just get out there and run... right? Perhaps this is how Tom Longboat felt when he showed up at his first race wearing a pair of ratty looking running shoes. Is this guy for real? This is what some of the other runners must have thought when they first observed the lanky warrior at the starting line.

                                                     Tom Longboat (1887-1949)
      Tom Longboat was born on the Six Nations Reservation in Ontario, Canada in 1887. He was in his mid-twenties before he started entering foot races. It wasn't long before people began to take notice. Standing at roughly 5 feet 9 inches and weighing a buck fifty Longboat had a natural runners physique. In 1907 he won the Boston Marathon with a time of 2:24:24. He had set a new course record, shattering Jack Caffery's six year old record by 5 minutes! He was naturally one of the favorites to win the Olympic Marathon in London. However, after running with the leaders for much of the race, Longboat was forced to drop out due to exhaustion. The American runner, johnny Hayes was declared the winner after the Italian runner dorando Pietri was disqualified for receiving assistance before crossing the finish line. After the Olympic race, Longboat returned to the United States where he met Pietri for a one-on-one race around an oval track at Madison Square Garden. Pietri led for most of the race, but was passed by Longboat during the last mile. Longboat also held races against the great British long distance runner Alfie Shrubb. In a series of races between the two men, Longboat lost most of the races shorter than 20 miles, but won most of the events that were over that distance.

During the Great War, Longboat served as a messenger on the front lines in France, and ended up being wounded twice. He died on January 09, 1949 at the age of 61.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The United States of America: The Police State, Suicide by Fear

By Craig: The other night my wife and I went to a movie at the local Regal Cinema. I don't go to the movies too often these days. First of all, the tickets and concessions are ridiculously overpriced. Secondly, there are not too many movies that I deem worth seeing. After my experience the other night, I seriously doubt I will be going to too many more, at least at the theatre that we typically go too. Before the movie even started, the manager, or someone acting in that capacity stood up in front of everyone in the theatre with a policeman at her side. She then began a short lecture about cell phones. She threatened everyone in the theatre that if a cell phone was taken out and used they would be removed from the premises. Okay, look...I am just like the next guy. I find it irritating when someone is talking loud on a phone in a place like a theatre or a restaurant, but unless this person is being real obnoxious, or loud I don't really have a problem with it. This is the 21st century. It has become a part of our society. What I do find more disturbing is the fact that I need to be threatened with police force. Later on in the evening near the end of the show. People were reacting to a scene in the movie that caused them  jump and say a few choice words about the experience. The young cop, who I don't believe ever left the theatre, and stood at parade rest like a Marine Corps sentry shouted at the top of his lungs:
"You people need to be quiet!!"

     Okay buddy, you have a gun, you have a badge, and you have an ego the size of Mt. Everest, but do you really have to threaten me? What is wrong with the culture we live in today? Cops in movie theatre's, Cops in schools, Cops asking me why I am walking down the road instead of driving? (I was walking on the shoulder of the road during one of my runs.) We live in a society dominated by fear. To be sure, there are bad guys out there that need to be dealt with. But do I have to prove that I am not a bad guy? Or am I just being paranoid? It seems that everywhere you go these days someone is checking your identification, doing a background check, or wanting to get you to sign up for some bonus card, or rewards card so that our government can secretly check your purchase history. I no longer fly on airplanes. Not that I am afraid of flying. I just don't want to be patted down, and violated by some Nazi looking security force. I read somewhere that nearly 25% of the American workforce has something to do with security. What happened to our manufacturing industry? Isn't that what made this country prosper in a bygone age?
Abraham Lincoln once said: "If destruction be our lot we must ourselves be it's author and finisher. As a nation of freemen we must live through all time, or die by suicide."
Is the United States of America committing suicide by fear?"



     I readily agree that the 9-11 attacks were a game changer. This, along with the Columbine massacre a few years earlier set the tone for the next decade of U.S. policy, both foreign and domestic. now we have maniacs going into movie theatre's and schools and blowing people away just for the hell of it. However, as terrible as these events were, are they any worse than Pearl Harbor or the Triangle Shirwaist Factory fire of 1911 where scores of child laborer's died? Did we willingly give up our liberties for security back then? Sure, one of them led to the second world war, and the other led to much needed labor reforms, but did they lead to despotism? I don't think so. So why are the people in this country today reacting to the passion of the moment? Wouldn't it be more prudent to try and figure out the source of the problem? This insidious disease that pervades the fabric of 21st century America...and Europe for that matter (I wouldn't want to leave out my friends from Europe who read this blog!).

"I do not believe that the kind of society I describe in 1984 necessarily will arrive, but I believe...that something resembling it COULD arrive."
George Orwell

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Dunkleosteus

Dunkleosteus by Jay

                The man kneels at the altar and begins mumbling words only coherent to him and what he believes to be something else.  For billions of people throughout time this something else has been as varied as the individual species of life that have come, lived and departed since the first cyanobacteria evolved nearly four billion years ago.  This kneeling individual has a certain way of thinking  --  a particular belief that is comforting and settling and makes his brief existence on this rotating and revolving geoid something worthwhile.  And so he kneels and either thinks, speaks or mumbles thoughts or words relative for his comfort.  To him, the world is a pat place and has a formula perfectly suited to put his willing mind at ease.  There is a separation between what he deems good and what he deems bad, and he is confident that in the long run, the good will eventually prevail even if it does not claim victory until after his passing.  He is secure in the knowledge that everything will turn out all right in the end, and his existence, though filled with numerous trials and tribulations, will eventually settle within an eternity of peace.  He is also confident that he will see his love ones who have preceded him to Eden and will in turn most certainly be present to welcome those who will come after.  

There are many who enviously wish that they could kneel beside this man and share his simple optimism.  How wonderful would it be for those to experience his unbounded faith and restful peace of mind!  Perhaps not too far away there is another man.  Perhaps he is sitting on a park bench feeding the pigeons and watching the clouds drifting lazily through the towering trees around him.  He too has dreams, but they are different.  He is thinking of a remote time in Earth’s geologic past  --  375 million years ago.  He is in a dark period where the first amphibians have just crawled out of the sea and on to land  --  a world where virgin forests welcomed those that wished to break from the watery nightmare that was the Devonian ocean.  He descends through the water column where at first he sees nothing but a light green and then, as he drops further and further down, a darker green.  There is nothing good about this scene.  It is too mysterious.  There seems to be nothing here except what could surprise you, and that what is not good.  It’s unnerving, and the man, who is simply in a dream, cannot shake the fact that something is about to happen.  There is no Eden in this world.  Even the thought of Eden does not exist.  There is only a hunger.  The man can feel it.  It is all around him though it might be miles away.  It is near, and it is coming, and there is nothing he can do to escape the vulnerability and the harrowing fear which he is now experiencing. 

Suddenly, he sees it!

It is a school of fish, large in itself, as if he were staring at an underwater tornado.  Thousands of them all together  --  a top spinning and swaying and elegantly swinging this way and that…

But there!

A dark mass has just scattered the dancing column, and as it moves forward, the man can do nothing except gape in a petrified state.  Fear is a word that is too mild when witnessing the monster that has now sighted him.  Thirty feet long and covered in what looks like an armored coat  --  lacking teeth, but a steel cage for a jaw  --  mouth open  --  a living guillotine  --  wide, dementedly determined eyes  --  nothing there  --  nothing at all except  a soulless sparkle… 

And the man wonders… 

How on earth could Jesus possibly explain this? 

Why???...

 

The End
 

 

           

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Lost Expedition of Sir John Franklin

By Craig: Sometime in December of 1984, when I was 16 years old, I vividly recall seeing a photograph of a man named John Torrington in a magazine. The photograph has stuck in my head to the present day some three decades after seeing it. For you see, the reason that it stuck in my head was because it was the photograph of a frozen, well preserved corpse that had been recently found at one of the most remote places on Earth. John Torrington had served as a Petty Officer on board the HMS Terror, one of Sir John Franklin's ships that had sailed from England on May 19, 1845 in the quest to find the elusive Northwest Passage. I had never heard of the Franklin Expedition. However, this morbid, intriguing photograph taken of a man that had died nearly 140 years before set me wondering about it. Who were these people that had set off in two sailing vessels for the unknown at a time when most of the Earth had been mapped? In 1845, most of the world, except for the polar regions, and some remote areas of Africa, South America, and Asia had been explored and mapped. Europeans, especially the English who could boast the largest Navy in the world at the time, were obsessed with finding a water route that could easily take them from the Atlantic to Pacific ocean without having to travel around the southern tip of South America.

                                                     Sir John Franklin (1786-1847)

     As early as the 16th century England had pondered over the question of the Northwest or Northeast Passage. In May 1553 Sir Hugh Willoughby set out to find a Northeast Passage. Unfortunately, for him, his three ships were blown off course. One of them, commanded by Sir Richard Chancellor managed to make it to port, but Willoughby and his other ship were forced to winter on a stretch of frozen land on the Kola Peninsular in northern Russia. He, along with the rest of his crew either starved to death or died of the elements. His journal was later found and it was revealed that before Willoughby had been blown off course his ships had entered the northern waters and he spotted a previously unknown landmass which was later called Willoughby's land. Mariners searched for Willoughby's land for many years after the alleged discovery, and it was even marked on contemporary maps, but to this day no trace of it has ever been found. What he saw, and where he saw it remains a tantalizing mystery to this day. In 1576, Martin Frobisher set sail with three small vessels and reached what is now Baffin Island north of the 60th parallel. Frobisher encountered hostile natives and some of his men on an exploratory party were killed. A generation after Frobisher, Henry Hudson, who was working for the Dutch East India Company set sail on the same mission. On his second voyage, he managed to navigate his way into what is now Hudson Bay, mapping a large chunk of the coastline before part of his crew mutinied. Along with his son and several loyal members of his crew he was set adrift in an open boat. He was never heard from again. To this day, one can speculate on Hudson's fate, but it is likely that he and his loyal men became victims of the harsh winter elements. During the next two centuries after Henry Hudson's tragic expedition, English explorers attempted to break through the ice packs and islands in the region north of Hudson Bay. All attempts to find a passage came to nought.

 

                                                         Sir Hugh Willoughby

     It was in April of 1818 that John Franklin got his first taste of Arctic exploration. Two ships were to head into the frozen northern sea.  He was to command the Trent while his commander David Buchan commanded the Dorothea. They were to attempt to reach the North Pole. Of course, this was an absurd undertaking. In the early 19th century it was believed that the Pole was located in an open sea, not locked in by hundreds of miles of ice. Buchan and Franklin were to take two ships and attempt to locate this sea, which if found, might ultimately lead them to the Pacific. By June both ships became ice-locked in the Greenland sea. It was only after some heroic engineering work that the two vessels were able to free themselves and find their way back to the open sea. Franklin returned for two more voyages into the arctic region during the 1820s. On one of these adventures he charted hundreds of miles of the Arctic coastline, but nearly froze to death in the process. At one point, he and the men of his party had run out of food and were forced by necessity to boil and eat the leather portion of their boots. By the time that Franklin was in his late thirties he had become one of the most experienced Arctic explorers in the world. However, it would be nearly two decades before he would set foot in the region again.

     John Franklin was born in Lincolnshire County, England in 1786. He entered the Royal Navy at the age of 14 and never looked back. He was a veteran of the battle of Copenhagen in which Lord Nelson and his fleet destroyed a combined Danish and Norwegian fleet which lay at anchor off Copenhagen. After his Arctic exploration in the 1820s, Franklin spent a number of years acting as the governor of the British colony of Tasmania in the South Pacific.

     In 1845 Sir John Barrow who was the Second Secretary of the Admiralty was searching for a capable officer to lead another voyage into the Arctic to search for the Northwest Passage. However, his first choice was not John Franklin. Franklin was now 59 years old, out of shape and had not been to the Arctic in nearly two decades. He was, however, a very capable navigator and one of the most experienced senior officers in the Royal Navy. After his first few choices of men to lead the expedition came to nothing, Barrow gave the job to Franklin. He was given two ships, the Terror, and the Erebus. These were two of the sturdiest ships in the Royal Navy. They were built with solid oak and specially equipped with thick iron plates to prevent the wood from being breached by the ice. Captain Francis Crozier, an experienced officer would command the Terror, while Franklin would be assisted aboard the Erebus by Captain James Fitzjames.

                                         HMS Terror & HMS Erebus leaving England 1845

     On May 19, 1845 the two ships set sail from England with much fanfare. The spectators watching the two ships from the docks could hardly realize that they would never see them again. They simply vanished from the face of the Earth. After three years when no word had been heard from Franklin it became obvious that something had gone amiss. In 1848, Barrow held a meeting with some of the great names of Arctic exploration in order to determine an action plan which would launch a rescue effort. Over the next decade several attempts were made to find Franklin and his ships. Clues were found, and  evidence which when added up told a disturbing tale. In 1850 three graves were found on Beechey Island. These were the graves of John Torrington, and two other shipmates who had died of sickness early on in the expedition. A few years later the English explorer John Rae returned from the Arctic with some devastating news. He had spoken with some native Inuits who told him of a group of white people that had been seen pulling sledges. These men had told the Inuit that their ships had become ice- locked, and that they were attempting to head south for the Canadian settlements. Also, Rae reported that the men had traded with the Inuit, and he was shown some of the items which the whites had traded for seal meat. These included a plate from the mess of John Franklin, and one of Captain Crozier's spoons. Rae bought these items back from the natives and brought them back to England with him. However, there was more disturbing news to report. The Inuits also reported as having come across an encampment later on in the season where they had found dozens of bodies. Some of the bodies had been mutilated in a way that showed signs that they had possibly been cannibalized. This was a shocking development, and a lot of people, including Franklin's widow, Lady Jane Franklin refused to believe it. In 1859, a sledging party led by a Royal Navy Lieutenant, William Hobson found a crucial piece of evidence, and proof of Sir John Franklin's death. His party stumbled across a cairn made of stones. Inside the cairn was a tin that contained two notes left by Captain's Crozier, and Fitzjames. It was from 11 years earlier. The notes revealed that the Erebus and Terror had become ice-locked, and the party of men were setting out for the Back's Fish River where they hoped to find succor. The notes also told of Franklin's death on June 11, 1847. This news, although not conclusive as to what happened to the rest of Franklin's men at least shed some light on the mystery.

                       Note found by William Hobson showing evidence of Franklin's death
                                                         
     In the years following the discovery of Franklin's demise other evidence has surfaced which has answered many questions surrounding the expeditions fate. It was known that tin cans were used to store perishables for the expedition. The contract for provisioning the ship fell to a man named Stephen Goldner. In a rush to fulfill the terms of the contact the tin cans had been sealed by lead which had dripped into the food contaminating it. The bodies discovered on Beechey Island were found to have high levels of led in them. this suggests that a large number of Franklin's crew probably succumbed to lead poisoning. It probably contributed to John Torrington's death. He was a young man, aged 20 who set off on an adventure seeking something that he never would have found had he remained in England. He had set foot where very few people ever had. It was a one stop journey that inevitably cost the young man his life, along with every one of his shipmates. There is a mystique that surrounds the Franklin expedition even today. What it is is hard to say. Perhaps it was one of the last journey's into the terrestrial unknown, or maybe it is the image we get of mankind attempting to battle the non-discriminating element of nature. For in the end, nature finds a way to prevail.



     
    

  

    

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Great Runners of the Past: Walter George

By Craig: Okay, my addiction to running has moved beyond the realm of my personal fitness. I now find myself researching the historical aspect of this sport that I have enjoyed off and on for many years. A few months ago I was down in Tampa, Florida doing some work on my brother-in-laws house which will finally be placed on the market in the next few weeks. I had a little down time, so naturally I found myself going to the bookstores and libraries. My wife has a Hillsborough County library card, so I was able to check out a few books that I found to my liking. One of these books was called The Five Kings of Distance by Peter Lovesey. It was written back in the early 1970s and recounts the running careers of 5 middle to long distance runners from the 19th and early 20th centuries. One of these runners was a chemists apprentice by the name of Walter Goodall George.

     George was born in England in 1858. At a young age he took up pedestrianism. Pedestrianism is nothing more than an antiquated Victorian term for running. Most people in those days thought of runners as being eccentric, however, people in those days, as they do today also enjoyed a good contest. this was especially true when betting was involved. Walter George was an amateur, but soon began making himself a name in Pedestrian circles as someone that was hard to beat. In fact, George boasted to some friends that he could run a mile in 4:12. This was unheard of in the early 1880s. His best time had been a 4:18 accomplished in 1884. The world record holder, however, belonged to the professional runner William Cummings who had been clocked at 4:16 in 1881.

                                                   Walter G. George (1858-1943)

    In 1885 George challenged Cummings to a one mile race which was held at the Lillie Bridge grounds in London on August 31. George won the race running the mile in 4:20. Cummings, however went on to beat George in a couple of longer races held later on that year. By 1886, George had turned professional. Once again a challenge resulted in the two runners facing each other yet again at the Lillie Bridge Grounds, almost a year after the last 1 mile race. According to people that were present that day, it was a race not soon forgotten. George took the early lead, but Cummings was never far from his heels. Finally, Cummings surged ahead, but he ended up collapsing, and George pulled away with the victory. The time on the clock read an amazing 4:12:3/4. He had been true to his word. He had beaten Cummings record and no one would surpass it until Norman Taber of the United States broke the mark 27 years later.