Healthy habits

It’s not just jet lag.

Long-haul travel has a lot of detrimental effects, from sleep deprivation to junk diet, sitting too long in one place and accommodating cultural shifts.  I know that my feet swell and my dreams intensify with every air mile.  My blood pressure and heart rate had crept up when the dentist too a quick measure, perhaps from the half-stone that I’ve put on beyond my target weight.

Returning, there’s always the resolution to ‘get back on the wagon’.

Easier promised than done.  Returning to Rossmore, it’s genuinely hard to confront the exercise bike again.  I know that I’ve got ground to reclaim, intensity and duration; I know I need to just get on with it.  But after a long day’s work, the saddle just isn’t appealing.  I needed something different.

Aerobics!

I used to go four times a week with friends: we were renowned for choreographed spins and precision finesse. 

This would be easy.

Today in the UK, group floor exercise is Body-something.  BodyBalance, BodyAttack, BodyCombat…  I thumbed the undifferentiated list and reserved a spot in a neutral alternative: BodyPump.  Arriving, I introduced myself to the instructor: ‘coming off of PT but I used to do the routines.  I made some step-motions.

“A bit old-school,” she sniffed.'

Only 20 years ago: We’ll see.

It’s not a bad class: the step is only used for sit-ups, not for actual  aerobics.  But it’s otherwise a full hour of weights and extensions, not too taxing and a good complement to the bike’s cardio fitness.

But I needed more.

HIIT training (30 minutes).  I’ve been doing High Intensity Intervals on the bike (10 reps, 30 sec on, 60 sec off) during the past six months when I feel conditioned.  Doing it free-standing would be like cross training, right?

Wrong.

This was likely the most high intensity intervals I’ve ever tried.  Jumps, squats, sit-ups, rolls, presses.  ‘Out of breath ten minutes in, I started doing the push-ups on my knees and finessing the lunges.  The pace was double what I was used to, and I don’t have (yet) the lateral ankle strength to easily tumble up and down quickly.

‘good adaptations, the instructor yelled, flashing a thumb’s up.

I could only hope.

I liberally ached in places that I hadn’t in years for two full days afterwards.  Nonetheless, I told myself:  This is a step along the road to ‘better.

‘three days a week, minimum, for the next month, then report back to these pages.

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I also read a good NYT  article about the progressive effects of alcohol.  The two things that I took away were 1)  How easy it is for two to become three, and 2) the need to give the body a periodic rest. 

It’s the 5:2 regime again, and it made sense to couple diet and vice.

I was surprisingly (gratifyingly) easy to go cold turkey for a week, and to keep conscious moderation (one glass wine vs. two) thereafter.  My counselor suggests that it may have the added benefit of quieting the intensity of dreaming: I’m keeping a log for comparison.

Health, Longevity, and Finger Pointing

The photograph is from Lyme Bay at low tide, taken by Richard Marchant for the Dorset Landscapes group.  the jumble of boats is evocative of my week: Mind cluttered during  travel, driving up and down England to get business matters settled ahead of a week’s vacation. 

Three ideas in particular stayed with me, the topic of todays essays.

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Jeff Gordinier offered 12 Tips for Living a Longer Life in the NYTimes this week.  It centers on healthy eating habits, ranging from Drink more coffee (Yay!) to Hold the butter (Boo!).  My favorite, though, is the last suggestion:

Eat in good company. It’s not just about what you eat, but how you eat, and how much you and your friends enjoy a meal together.

It has taken me a long time to appreciate a meal taken at leisure, interspersed with conversation, wine, and trips outdoors for a breath between courses.  A break for lunch and a talk is normal now; a three hour dinner is no big stretch, it’s a leisurely and thoughtfully fun evening to savor.

And, if you haven’t explored your probability of living five more years, check out the UbbLE Risk Calculator.

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The Shrink and Sage tackled How do we live with our mistakes? last weekend. 

The Shrink counseled Recognize that we all make a mess of things sometimes. Make sure you do this with kindness and compassion towards yourself. Then carry on living.

The Sage suggested (paraphrasing)  Often we can’t know what the ‘right’ choice is, and, in hindsight, we will often get it wrong.  Still, we must suspend judgment and commit, simply putting aside doubt and acknowledging the possibility that we might have chosen badly.

Along the way, the Shrink commented An approach I find helpful and refreshing is acceptance and commitment therapy, which is part of the “third wave” cognitive-behaviour-therapy stable. 

“Third Wave” is an agreeably modern dialectic, perhaps first popularized by Futurist Alvin Toffler as the Third Wave of Economic Development (Agrarian, Industrial, Information), separately adopted by Third Wave Feminists (Legal rights, Institutional rights, Identity rights). 

In Cognitive Therapies, it is the third step in progression from operant behavioral conditioning (desensitization) through rational ’talking’ therapies, to building healthier behavioral skills.  Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), for example, preaches Accept your reactions and be present, Choose a valued direction, and Take action. 

I like the mindfulness aspect of suspending context and focusing on the present, but dislike the accompanying suspension of judgment.  I’m somewhat more attracted to the related approach of Morita Therapy:

One of the primary goals in Morita therapy is to reach the state of arugamama (acceptance of reality as it is). This state includes accepting one’s feelings and thoughts without trying to change them. Morita therapy encourages people to focus their efforts toward living life well rather than to direct attention and energy to changing emotions, accomplishing what is important in life even as unpleasant feelings coexist.

The similarities with many of the ACT techniques, including mindfulness, acceptance of emotions, committed action, value-based behaviors, and the use of metaphors, are striking.  Hoffman, 2008

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While driving up to Oxford, I chanced to see a woman arrive at the bus stop,  running her finger over the schedule as she looked for the next bus.

Why do we do that?  The finger itself doesn’t read the words, and there was no companion present that she might be pointing something out.   My guess is that the finger must help in directing visual focus and acquisition of sequential text?

Reflecting, I usually point at text when finding something in an ordered list (as opposed to a searching for a word in free text).  I also do it when tracing information in a picture, as a route across a map.  Speed readers use a finger to pull the eye along text, and maybe this is the point in all cases. 

Researchers note that finger pointing is a human universal; it transcends culture and invariably is associated with the index finger.   While apes also do it, it is thought to be a gesture of language, variously and innate component of language acquisition, a basic component of non-verbal communication, and the ‘royal road to language for babies’ (Wilkins 2003).

It would be interesting to see whether people locate information more quickly when allowed to use their finger, vs. not.  I’m sure someone must have done the experiment, but I’m still looking for a reference (some day when I have time, it would be easy to try….)

Expat mental health

No worries, this is not going to be a self-reflective breakdown piece.

While thinking about expat health, I came across reference to a 1998 study of the incidence of depression and personality disorders in long-term expats.  Drawing on interviews with 397 expats in 37 countries over 20 years, they documented high rates of affective and adjustment disorders as compared to normal incidences.  Risk factors included a prior history of psychological consultation, family history, and prior depression.

This was echoed by CDC’s GeoSentinal Surveillance network.  Founded in 1997, GeoSentinal is a worldwide network of specialized clinics, each contributing data on travel-related illnesses and trip information back to the central database.  They report that, of 4000 expat records, 18% of all clinic visits were for psychological disorders, mainly stress, depression, and anxiety.

More generally, the Chestnut Group Study in 2011 reported nearly triple the incidence of mental health disorders among expatriates as compared with the general population.  These included internalizing (depression, anxiety, sleep disorders), externalizing (conduct disorders, impulse control), and substance abuse problems.

Triple the risk!  While i've seen instances,  i had no idea it was so common. 

This could result from factors apart from simply being an expat.  For example, are the people who throw themselves happily into foreign assignments also the types prone to personality disorders (selection bias).  But the Big 5 Determinants of Expatriate Success suggest the opposite: long term expats are emotionally stable, extraverted, open, agreeable, and conscientious. 

Self-assured chameleons, not fragile flowers.

The other possibility is that the experience of being an expat leads to expression of bad personality traits.  Here, the authors suggest many contributing factors:

• Cultural dislocation
• Stress
• High demand for adjustment and adaptation
• Emotional disruption
• Loss of ‘containing ‘ features of the home environment
• Normalization of bad behaviours
• Less social pressure setting limits
• Loneliness, isolation

This feels much closer to the mark.  At one time or another, I have experienced almost all of these feelings.  Most pass, but I can see where they could take over one’s life.

A good summary of the literature can be found in Borwein’s presentation. 

And, if you suffer these problems, there are clinics available that specialize in treating expat health problems.

Entrepreneurs are another group who might fit the same set of environmental triggers: do they have the same set of disorders, the same heightened risks?  I’m still giving the literature a read, but was intrigued by this passage from a 1985 Harvard Business Review article, The Dark Side of Entrepreneurship:

Many entrepreneurs have personality traits and behaviors that allow them to succeed in their businesses; however, these same traits can often prove detrimental.  Many entrepreneurs distrust the world around them and fear being a victim; they scan the environment anticipating the worst; they can lose sight of the reality of situations. Ill consequences can be augmented when joined with a need for control. ... Many entrepreneurial behaviors are a result of the psychological defenses people use: they idealize, then vilify to extremes, project problems onto others, deny responsibility, or flee into actions...Instead of fighting the entrepreneur's idiosyncrasies, managers should adapt to them and regard developing them as a challenge…

‘Bottom line, as I said at the outset: I’m doing fine, but the documented risks really are sobering.

Difficulty breathing

This has not felt like a very healthy summer. It started with a cold back in June, probably unnoticed amidst the cold wet weather and the airline travel that inevitably exacerbates it.  I took a Coricedin and waited for the symptom to subside.

They didn’t.

I started wheezing at night, short of breath and coughing.  My throat was raw, I had  difficulty completing sentences in meetings  and phone calls. “It’s a bad year for hay fever,” noted colleagues and agencies.  I did have hay fever as a child, so I went to Boots for antihistamine and throat spray.  It barely dented it.

“Whooping cough has become a real problem this summer,” advised my mother.  A quick scan of  media confirmed that this has been a bad summer, so maybe I should take this more seriously (although I seriously doubted I had pertussis).  My Dutch doctor listened and tapped, affirmed that I was suffering from hay fever, and gave me three doses of antibiotic.  No effect

“Benadryl” suggested the pharmacist at Boots.  Coupled with throat lozenges, I was able to sleep through most of the night and hold conversations.  Still, it lingers.

Back in the US for meetings, I called a local provider to see if we could get to the bottom of things.  I ran straight into healthcare cost containment.  “Can a nurse call you to discuss it?" No.  “Can you see a nurse practitioner instead?” No.  They reluctantly made an appointment.  Again, the doctor tapped and listened.

“99% chance this is asthma, we’ll throw a few things at it and see what works.  If nothing in a few weeks, we’ll check that its not your heart.”

Excuse me?

That suggestion seemed predicated on my being short of breath when I exercise, which I ascribe to a constricted trachea.  But, fresh with indignation, I went down to the exercise bike to run my heart rate up to 130 for an hour.  No pain, no dizziness, no problem.

This points up the problems of dealing with diffuse, low-grade symptoms when life is constantly in motion.  The only strategy is to move through presumptive diagnoses, try associated therapies, move on if they don’t work.  At this point, I feel like time is the only solution – this may be the only summer where I’ll cheer the arrival of autumn.

Feeling the pinch

I woke up a couple of weeks ago with a stabbing pain behind my left shoulder blade, shooting pain up my left arm and tingling in the fingers.  Easily identified with the Ulnar nerve distribution (grad school training comes back easily), I expected that I slept on it wrong, but, to be sure I wasn’t having a heart attack I went to the doctor.  He confirmed that it was a pinched C8 nerve in my neck: take some ibuprofen and see the PT about it if things don’t improve.

Those pains only accumulate as you get older, my mother offered.  Since she gave me a sticky cinnamon bun to to chew along with the advice; I accepted the distraction sweetly.

The problem is that these distractions carry consequences.  The occasional tingling and weakness is worrisome (although it’s slowly getting better), it interferes with sleep and work, its causing me to grasp things in ways that favor the remaining fingers.  So I have to deal with something I always took for granted, consciously setting pain aside and taking time to secure my grip before moving.

Similar events disrupt business.

Stone Bridge Biomedical has it’s web and mail services hosted with Microsoft’s Office Live Small Business.  This month, Microsoft simply turned the servers off and rolled up the service.  I first found out about it as my mail client stopped working, then my web site went down.  Customer support simply said “You were warned: check your junk mail folder,” and their handy migration guide led to more expensive and less reliable third-party tools that were overwhelmed by the legions of people caught by surprise.

It’s enough to make my shoulder throb.

Actually, there are lots of similarities.  I was caught by surprise by the sudden loss of function at my sites, and spent hours ruling out possibilities before spending a day consulting a professional.  The diagnosis requires time, money, and effort to cure, and resolution will be slow in coming.  Meanwhile, more important things have to hang while I deal with the issue handed to me, through no fault of my own.

I especially dislike the tag-apology it reminds me of what National Rail UK says, insincerely, every day as trains are delayed.

This is not the first issue with Microsoft recently.  In their ongoing effort to become cool again, they have released, then discarded, media players, utilities, phones, games, operating systems, web services, and, now, the blogging tool that I rely on.  Each entanglement and abandonment creates new problems, adds expense, and eats at my time and loyalty.  I’m looking with dread at the Metro-style Windows 8 touch interface: I touch-type commands and documents all day and whizzy tiles and always-on social connections won’t make me productive.

Microsoft is fast becoming the main source of pain in my day and, hauntingly, one who’s aches are indeed accumulating as I get older.

Work-Life Balance

Wrapping things up in London prior to heading to the US – the Board has set a price for our next offering (£25/share, up from £15/share last spring, pegging our valuation at just shy of £2 million), our experimental plan is in place with the Universities, my syllabus for the new term is almost ready, my outline for the Poland Business Education grant is complete.  Most importantly, my bags are stuffed with goodies and gifts from the far flung corners of my travels.  I’ll scatter them along the way as I fly back, first to see my parents in Boulder, than on to family in Seattle.  A bit of St. Nick, almost (I don’t think a flying sled fits Dutch tradition).

It’s been a busy few weeks, and looks worse going forward.  A course to teach, clinical trials coming up in the US in February and March, fundraising across the UK in January and February, development and experiments to finish by first of March.  And Dutch classes to catch up with.

So, I read with interest an article in Business Traveller about re-establishing work-life balance.  They catalog not listening, becoming aggressive, losing your humor, and decoupling from social activity as key warning signs.  I would add sleep disruption, irregular eating, lack of exercise, and nagging guilt over missing personal and business commitments as a few more.  It doesn’t necessarily rise to the level of stress: I find that it’s just a pervasive feeling that I can’t catch up, flailing through tasks but always extending the list faster than I can cross them off.

So, the five solutions:

Designate time to your personal life.  This varies from just scheduling guilt-free evenings off to planning events you can’t back out of.  Or take Matt Cutts’ “Try something new for 30 days” challenge.  The temptation for me would be to assign it to Dutch practice, but in the spirit of “New”, I’d probably learn a new cooking technique each day.

Take care of your body:  Get regular sleep, regular meals, regular exercise.  I am pretty good on the first, a bit lax on the second, progressively worse on the third.  That’s especially worrisome because my genes have handed me a “Use them or lose them” deal with my muscles, and regular exercise is important to strength, flexibility, and endurance.  For many years, I took a mid-day break to go exercise, and need to get back into the habit.

Consider workshifting: “Work remotely to achieve a more productive day”.  In a virtual business, flung across three countries, that’s pretty much my life anyway.  Where I do fall down, though, is in travelling too much, losing a few days every month to air and train travel between three base locations.  Even cutting that by one would make a huge difference.

Turn off technology:  When we were young, our family took vacations in the Northwoods, by canoe, so that my father could escape the phone and the office.  Today, communications are even more pervasive, breaking down barriers to segmenting any part of life away from the others.  Think about how you take doctor’s calls in the grocery, work calls on vacation, and (apparently if you’re female, none of my male-friends do it) taking friend’s calls in the bathroom (tub or toilet).  I’d seriously like to take one week-long hike or sail in the new year, with the mobile and computer unavailable except for family emergencies.

Find time to do nothing:  When I’m in the Netherlands, I take one night a week for recreation at the local bars, jazz music, quiz night, poetry. I’m searching out the same sort of venues in Britain (harder because there’s no WeekIn/WeekUit in Cambridge!).  It’s relaxation; so it taking a pleasure book to a pub or café or hottub for a read, or the bike into the countryside.  It’s a bit of “sit still and breath” turn-your-mind-to-idle relaxation time that I probably need to do daily, but don’t.

I’d add taking time to celebrate your successes (give yourself small rewards), keeping in touch with friends (I periodically pick out an old friend that I haven’t heard from in a while and write them a note), finding something to laugh about (and share with someone else each day), and taking a reflective moment each day to keep it all in perspective.

Fiddling with consumer technology

I returned to a regular exercise program this week – it’s been too long since I did the regular daily regimen of aerobics and weights that my PT recommends, and I’m feeling both slothful and sloshy.

The regular array of machines was rearranged…no, replaced, with all new equipment, filling the exercise room.   The new machines had pointlessly added a reclining back and taken away a dish behind the seat for keys and pens, but the interesting change was the display screen (above).  TV, iPod link, standard, but now, also, …Web Surfing?

Game on!

Okay, I usually go to the fitness center with a book and music specifically as a break from work.  But the draw of having a keyboard and web browser is pretty strong.  I pedaled hard and dialed up my Live Mail: nothing new, but I dashed of a couple of messages because I could.  Fishing around the politics of Washington Post and the BBC produced some dead ends that reset the browser.  I finally found happiness pulling up essays from the Atlantic Monthly and Economist that I hadn’t had time to read.

40 minutes flew by – but the surfing took 20% off my productivity: 335 calories rather than my usual 400.  I’d also lost the feeling of being disconnected from the office, so I’m not sure that I like the overall experience.  Still, if I can connect to the inburgering lessons, this could be a wonderful way to keep up with the Dutch, otherwise being squeezed out of my day.

Across town, I presented a dead home-handset to the electronics guru at Tesco. Just over a year old, it had stopped recharging.  The batteries were clearly replaceable, despite the bold warnings in the user manual against attempting anything of the sort.  Still, there was a special connector, so Tesco was the only recourse for a repair.

The specialist looked doubtful, mumbled regret that it was out of one-year warranty, thumbed doubtfully through displays and catalogs, and reluctantly picked up the phone.  The main office gave him, one, two, then three non-working numbers to call.  He wrote down the last one and pushed it across to me.  “Call this number in the morning, they might be open? If not, then there’s nothing more we can do for you.”

Increasingly, simple things don’t seem to work.  I felt this at JFK where I joined a throng wandering the terminal at 11 pm trying to find the alternative to a disabled SkyTram to the rental car lot.  (It turned out to be an unmarked bus stop).  My web services provider revealed that my hosting plan had been orphaned a year ago with no migration path forward.  With regrets, I’d have to lose the email accounts and take-down my company site in order to purchase a new package.

“We regret any inconvenience caused by our actions”, as National Rail hollowly intones as daily indignity is heaped onto rising costs.

In this case, Tesco successfully sold me a new phone, ideal for them inevitable for me.  I still fly into JFK, upgrade to the new hosting package, rumble on dismal trains to London.  What choice do I have?  But, in each case, the “Yes, it’s our product, but it’s your problem.” outcome is increasingly unacceptable.

I just don’t know what I can do about it.  Yet.

Whacking a cold with the Dutch

The weather has become decidedly cold and rainy, leaden skies and sheeting wind.  Although I’m told that I can’t catch cold from abrupt temperature shifts, that’s always how I seem to get them.  “Count back 3 days to  find the source,” my mother always advised,  and it always coincides with a change in the weather.

And this time I really got it.

I have small stash of reliable US cold meds for the rare occasions that I do catch something: Sucrets for the throat, Coricdin for cough and headache, Sudafed for the nose.  Unfortunately, my front-line troops aren’t making a dent in the symptoms this time around.

I broached it with my doctor during my scheduled post-surgical appointment on Monday: he took a quick peep in the throat, a tap and a listen on the back, and pronounced it ‘nothing serious’.

“Are you serious?” I croaked, batting bleary eyes, and hoping for a magic elixir.

“Nose spray; throat spray, “ he commented, typing notes into the computer (Note to Obama: electronic health records seem to have arrived in the Netherlands)

Since I didn’t get a prescription, it must be something that can be obtained over-the-counter.  So, off to Kruidvat.

I’m actually not sure what Kruidvat is supposed to be.  It has health and beauty items, a few toys, some vitamins, a smattering of foods.  I think of it as equivalent to a US RiteAid or Walgreens, but it seldom has even the basic health-care items that I’m looking for.  I’m starting to think it might be a reincarnation of Woolworth’s, an ancient five-and-dime store.

In any case. I was advised to try a (something)-oth-eek.

Luck on my side, I spotted a Hypotheek across the street.  Sadly, this turns out to be Dutch for a mortgage-broker.  Nice people, helpful to a fault: they sent me to the Apotheek (pharmacy) around the corner.

In the Netherlands, pharmacists dispense prescription medicines as the do in the US.  But they also are involved in selection of over-the counter meds.  Rather than pick from an aisle of offerings, I go to their desk and explain the problem, they divine what could help.

“Nose drops?” She recommended a 10 ml bottle of xylometazoline spray.  Not a clue what that is, but I took it home and gave each nostril a shot.

Wow… I was bone dry for the next 8 hours.

There’s an urban legend in the US that the FDA review process keeps us from getting the good stuff that is freely available to Europeans.  This spray, Otrivin in the UK and Canada, might be one of them. Very impressive.

Still, I woke in the middle of the night with raw throat and cough.  Back to the Apotheek. “Throat spray?”  Kamillosan was the answer.  Interesting: this is a chamomile extract, anti-inflammatory, all natural, not available in the US.  ‘Worth a try.

This is the strongest throat spray I’ve ever experienced; impossible to inhale.  Overwhelming menthol, a touch of anesthetic, very aromatic. It makes my eyes water. (Note to Obama: the nose remains Otrivin-shielded and doesn’t spring a drop).

The box reminds me to “Niet in de neus sprayen en niet in de omgeving van de ogen opbrengen,”  Don’t spray it in the nose or get it around the eyes.  I can only imagine the pain.

So, fortified with a new front-line arsenal, I‘m ready for a good night’s sleep, free at last from cold symptoms. 

The last thought, falling asleep to the cooing pigeons outside, is a lingering concern that it might be bird allergy and not a cold at all….

Tearing down the pile, high and deep

It’s been a busy month: my job officially switched location from Arnhem to Maastricht on the 1st of November, and I’ve been playing catch-up with finding a place to live, getting ready to move, taking on the new job, closing out the old one, and plying the two-hour commute a day or so each week.

Add to it the need to find another job, to visit physicians to assess my ankles, to finish planning and grant submission for the startup in England, to help structure the course I’m co-chairing in Cambridge, to attend the occasional conference, and to save time for the people who matter most in life.

Toss in the unexpected: my father’s bypass surgery, which had to be a priority…

..and my life has gone from crowded to difficult to stressful in rapid jumps.

Yes, it’s my own fault: a period in life where I over-committed, under-planned, and mis-prioritized.  At the end of the day, I’m predictably harried, irritated, frustrated and stressed to the limit.  Quite-not-fun, all things said.  Exhausted, I took an hour to sit down with an advisor last week to see if I could sort things out.

Clearly, lightening the load has to be at the top of the list.  Even though my main job feels a bit lightweight at the moment compared to what I was doing, augmenting it with a half-dozen other jobs to prove my worth has not been smart.

To scale down the pile, I’ve taken a few hours to organize a list of *everything*.  Then I’ve prioritized the things that can’t wait and the things that can.  I’ve tried to communicate a more realistic schedule of who can expect to get what, when, and am sticking to it.  Finally, I’m being firm about not taking anything else on until this is excavated.

Second, I’m accepting that it can’t all get done.  I’ve resolved not to stress out if I have an 80% successful day.

If several big things get completed and a lot of little things get closed, then the day has been good.  If the list is smaller at the end of the day then at the beginning, that’s a win.  If the things I’ve started get completed and I’ve made a good job of it, that’s success.

At the advisor’s suggestion, I’m strengthening ties with a couple of close friends who I can talk with about what’s going on.  She suggested that I just pick a couple and ask if they would mind if I called occasionally to talk about what’s going on.

It’s been nice to know that the support is there if I needed it.  And I have sometimes called to talk about the evolution of work, prospects for my father’s recovery, to share travel stories or plans, and to laugh about some event or bit of news.  It helps to put things into perspective, lighten the mood, and head off temptation.   And a weekly chat with both of the kids is always palliative.

Finally, I’m making guilt-free time for non-work activity on non-work time.  It can become a viscous cycle, letting work spill into off-hours to catch up, which creates the illusion that I’m on top of it, further encouraging me to take on work.  Keeping work in a limited box and holding fast to limits reinforces the commitment to holding the line at a reasonable number of tasks.

I’ve wanted to get more time for learning Dutch, to exercise, for taking drives, to read a book, for joining a social club, to fiddle with art and writings.  No worries, it’s not becoming a ‘leisure list’ of things to do.  But it is a palette of relaxing and stimulating things that I can pick up as, and if, I choose.

The job worries have, in particular, been a source of concern.  Time seems to pass quickly, and resolution is moving very slowly.  I’m really trying to pull back from having to actively manage the search as intensively as I have.

I’ve talked to the people that I need to, I’m aware of the opportunities being offered, and I know the process and timeline for being likely to hear something.  I am moving towards setting a few personal deadlines, and I’m actively pruning the leads that are likely to be non-productive.  It’s time to play more of a waiting and watching game, and to stop reminding everyone that I’m still looking (even the best house becomes suspect if it stays on the market too long).

This too will pass…quickly, I hope.

‘More good suggestions at the Mayo Clinic’s ‘Stress Solution’

When is a sport not a sport?

I was watching the Olympic trials on BBC yesterday; the track and field events are always remarkable. The way the hurdlers flow over the jumps without breaking stride, or the pole vaulters know just how to bend and when to push to arc over the bar, demonstrates the years of practice and dedication behind the competition.

There are over 400 events in the Olympics, listed on the IOC website. Most are of exactly this type: sports where the athletes must be in superb physical and mental condition, have practiced to the limits of their endurance, and meet the competition at a very basic level of muscular strength, flexibility, technique, and endurance.

Some of the sports seem out of place, though. Shooting, for example, would seem to be based on having the better equipment; Equestrian on having the better horse. In each case, the competitor isn't the one primarily determining the outcome in a physical sense. The sailing competitions divide among eight classes of boats: it's physically difficult to control them, but how much depends on the equipment rather than athletic prowess?

Wikipedia defines Sport as any competitive activity governed by rules. By this measure, all of the Olympic events are clearly sports. But, for that matter, so are auto racing and poker. I'd be less inclined to take this broad definition: sports should embody athleticism: head-to-head, person-to-person, physical and mental engagement.

However, I concede that I think of archery and skiing as sports (which might lie outside my definition), and am less inclined to think of ballroom dancing or synchronized swimming as sports (which clearly lie inside my line). It's genuinely hard to be consistent.

And, in an increasingly technical world, winning at even traditional sports can seem driven by equipment. The issue of swimsuit design in this year's Olympic competitions shows how fine the line can actually be.

Fighting obesity

  I received a study data set from a colleague yesterday that measures the weight and body fat percentage of a dozen normal people, three times a day, over the course of a month.  He asked if I could help with calculating the statistics, and I spent the morning organizing and importing the data, then doing some simple exploratory analysis to get a sense of what was in there.  After preprocessing to adjust the shapes of the distributions of raw data and to do a quality check on outliers, I like to pose questions and see if the answers match my intuition.

 Do women have a higher body fat percentage than men?  They should, and, from the data (above), they do.

Does weight change from morning (A) to noon (B) to night (C)?  I expect it to increase, and it does (but not significantly).  Interestingly, most of this seems to be water weight gain: the percentage of fat drops, the percentage of liquid goes up.

To try to get a better understanding, I calculate Body Mass index (BMI) for each case: weight (in kg) divided by height, squared (in meters).  For fun, I calculate my own BMI: 5'10", 172 lbs: BMI 24.7. Comparing with the WHO charts gives a range for normal as 18.50 to 25, pre-obese from 25 to 30, obese above 30. 

"Borderline pre-obese?

Granted, I'm not Dutch-thin, but I am not overweight by any means.  I exercise, watch what I eat, stay close to the weight I had in grad school.  (I rationalize that muscle is dense, so at least a little weight should be what I build up at the health club?  'hope so...)

The whole notion of 'pre-obese' is, in itself, troublesome to me.  Medical researchers have data to show that that people who develop disorders like hypertension, diabetes, and obesity actually start to trend that way years before the pathology develops.  As a result, they have started to label an early, mild increase in blood pressure, glucose, and weight as 'pre-xxx syndrome'.  The pharmaceutical companies have been delighted to expand their patient base for therapeutic medications to include this group, and to support studies that result in more stringent recommendations in the Guidelines.

For me, a single data point is not a trend, and a BMI of 24.7 is not 'borderline pre-obese'.  Two points suggest a trend, and three are needed to define the acceleration.  Then it would be clear whether someone is trending into obesity (or hypertension, or diabetes).  Without data, you don't know.

And I know that I've been stable or declining at this weight for at least two years.

I have to confess that the various pre-xxx syndromes, based on single, categorical measurements, irritate me.  It feels like a marketing ploy, not a real risk-reduction step.