il Blogorino

il Colosseo

I just go back from Italy, after a couple weeks vacation with my family. We flew into Rome (above), where it is oppressively hot all the time.

After taking this picture, the gladiator asked for some money.
This is the cornerstone of the Roman economy in summer. Literally.

Topless at steps of St.Peter's Basilica.

This was not an egregious case of "sun's out, guns out," but rather
altruistic self-sacrifice that enabled Liz to enter the magnificent building.

Her scandalously short shorts were considered an affront to God and I'm inclined to
agree. The Swiss guard denied her entrance (thank God!) until she pulled my shirt over her
legs, stretching the neck beyond repair.

Next stop was Venice, an impressive town.
It's really nice at night when the people empty out,
but during the day it's too crowded.A pizza in Venice

Perhaps the most touristy/American thing you can do
is order a pizza (apparently an American invention) and then take its picture
in the restaurant. In Italian restaurants, they pretend that their tap water
is poisonous, so you have to spend at least 10 euro on bottled mineral water.
I would say this is the second cornerstone of the Italian economy.


Then we went north to the Dolomites. The mountains were incredibly beautiful.


Dante Brown, or as scholars know him, "the Michelangelo of manuscript."

Brushing up on some of the finest literature Italy has produced.

Submerging yourself in unpleasantly cold rivers is just part of being a man.

Shooting Star Over Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy.

That's what I like to call it.

Liz and I strike a pose.

Liz spent the summer leading overland trips (the hat), and will be
working full time at overland starting in September.




An ephereal pasture: l I had been hiking up a treacherous cirque, conquering pitches that would have slain lesser men. As I crested the headwall of the ravine- prepared to see a sight known by only the most courageous and good looking mountaineers- I lifted my gaze and saw.. about 500 cows grazing.It was at this moment that I truly realized what it was to be an Eph.

I was going to "borrow" this guy's cowbell, one eph to another.

But these seemingly docile creatures possess strength
(and flexibility) unparalleled in the animal kingdom. I thought
it best to respect their awesome power and limberness
and keep a safe distance.

Released into her new home.

The real purpose of the trip was to put Liz out to pasture.
This is eph heaven, where graduated ephs really end up.

A shameless plug for Evan's and my upcoming photography exhibit:
A retiring suns casts its last rays over a bed of stones as mist clings to jagged spires.
The setting sun is the mortality we must all face.The bed of stones is the rocky
road that lies ahead. The mist is the deception that only the enlightened may see through.
The spires are phallic.

That's a pretty big glacier in the distance.

Prospect-East

Construction of the ski venue in Dobbiaco. This will be the sight of a stage of the Tour De Ski this winter. I want to say that the racers will ski over the arched roof of this building, but I'm not sure.

We also went to Tuscany, which was lovely and deserves many pictures,
but I'm running out of blogging energy. Suffice it to say that every view looked
like above, and I spent four days sitting beside below.

And finally, please continue on to Evan's illuminating post about Maine (which I rudely buried after a few short hours), which includes an exclusive photo of Bud.

Unfortunately...

I'm very sorry to disappoint you (Evan), but you still have not solved the riddle. George was not a fish. Keep puzzling!

Summer's "Mainely" Finished

Worried about those intervals? Just jump right in!

The only thing more enjoyable than doing an interval block is blogging about it, so I couldn’t resist updating everybody on how mine is going and to assure all of those about to embark on their first 6-interval week that it really isn’t all that bad.

Drown me in a thunderstorm, Matt Nathanson.

Tonight I was doing my fifth of my week’s six interval sessions, and as lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled through the valley across which I was bounding, I tried to think of things to distract myself from pondering my imminent death. I had spent a mind-numbing day in the car (radio tally: love story-5, you belong with me-6, second chance-3, use somebody-12), matt nathanson was inexplicably repeating in my head (“come on get higher, loosen my lips, faith and desire and the swing of your hips”), and I couldn’t even think about the latest Williams blog post without running into Robby’s infuriating riddle. Keith seems to have solved it, but there was no confirmation from Robinio and it remains a perplexing mystery in my mind.

Is George a fish?! It's a real Maine trap.

So that no one else would encounter the same predicament, I decided to update the blog. I have it on good faith from Keith that he will soon enlighten us with culture from Italy, so that’s something to look forward to.

Having already made three trips to Maine this summer, I decided to go with what was working and head back Down East. I went a little farther north this time to visit my grandparents in East Blue Hill, which is a heaven-on-earth town of 250 people on the coast, roughly 45 minutes from Acadia National Park.

When on Acadia, look this direction, and you'll see a bunch of mountains blocking your view. Behind those mountains and across a bay lies East Blue Hill Village. Remember to look with purpose, or you might not see it.

While there my brother and I fill the days with laid back golf, tennis, sailing, blueberry picking, and ice cream eating.

For the first time this year my family headed over to visit Bud in Buck’s Harbor and he took us out with Barb and Andrea on his sailboat. We made a relaxed tour of the picturesque Penobscot Bay, then returned to his cabin for refreshments. The secret is out. Bud lives the life when he disappears to Maine for the summer.

As Bud said, this is why we don't hear from him from July to September.

The famous Eggemoggin reach. Immortalized in this iconic cell phone photograph.

I made a return trip to Bud’s house so I could go rollerskiing on a nice stretch of pavement that traversed Cape Rosier, a peninsula that featured great views of where we’d sailed two days before as well as an encounter with a former poet laureate. The rolling terrain was a nice variation from my Williamstown rollerskiing (though both sides of Mt. Greylock are prime for the return of the Williams team).

The pavement on Greylock is even better than it looks. And it's wicked steep.

My interval block began the next day and even starting early in the morning did not save me from 90 degree heat and humidity. On each of the first three days (classic and skate 4x4s, running 3030s) I questioned many of my life choices (bedtime, hydration, nourishment, recovery) but came to the conclusion that it was just really hot and that my main lack of preparation came from the 50-degree summer weather that we’d been trapped in for 2 months. Even frigid Maine water felt awesome after these workouts.

Black and white subdues the sun's intensity. But it was hot, and that water feels good.

In order to prepare for the next day, I would play several hours of golf, go sailing, go blueberry picking, row my little skiff over to a beach to read, and go swimming.

Leaving Maine for the summer, taking my Blueberry Pail with me.

Even though yesterday was a miserable foggy day, I’m sorry to leave Maine behind. Pouring rain greeted me for intervals at home today, and it is supposed to be the same tomorrow. I’m excited for everyone to return to campus so we can hammer out the workouts together.

If you're lacking passion, or even if you aren't, this is appropriate.

10,000 Lakes? Ya, sure, you betcha.

Exercising our minds.

Saturday marked the end of the inaugeral Cuthbert-Wendt Midwest regional training camp. One week of hard work has left us stronger, sorer, and smarter than we were, and almost entirely out of original ideas for the "guess what Disney character I'm thinking of" game.

The week began with an overenthusiastic and somewhat vicious greeting from Maddy's dog, José, who just may have a short-term memory problem, but it improved from there. Tuesday included a trip with guest skiers Andrew Poffenberger (Gustavus Adolphus College) and Katie Walsh (UNH), to Valleyfair amusement park, where Robby successfully added seven new rollercoasters to his lifetime tally. Wednesday and Friday each held a set of intervals, while Friday also included a better-late-than-never Medals test. Mental obstacles were overcome as we faced difficult puzzles, confusing riddles, and countless games of anagrams in addition to cooking for ourselves. The highlight of the week for Robby occurred when he bit a piece of broccoli directly off of the stalk in the garden, ensuring that nobody will ever again claim that they have had fresher broccoli than he has.

Robby re-hydrates after 5 hours of strenuous mental work. Maddy proudly shows off the completed puzzle: Santa's Candy Kitchen.

We leave you with an original composition:
George was found dead in a puddle surrounded by bits of glass. What happened?
Contact Robby for clues to this riddle.

Robby, ecstatic after winning a game of bananagrams