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Still reeling after stretching my brain, I wafted my way through John Grisham’s last-but-one, The Appeal. I suppose I’ve read a half-dozen or more of Grisham’s 22 books, with general satisfaction.

The Appeal is a quick, reasonable read. The writing is clear and more than competent. But the ending bugged me. Grisham doesn’t write the Hollywood ending, which felt strange given the arc of the story. The Appeal is a morality play without a comeuppance for the villains. That may be real life all too often, but the pace and direction of his characters point in one direction. When the climax and denouement go in another, I felt like the author tried too hard to avoid the tidy conclusion. Since the rest of the story is told smoothly, the visible effort broke the spell.

I clicked on Seth Godin’s head long ago. Given all he’s shared online, I haven’t spent much time with his books. But The Dip was front and center at the library last weekend, and admirably small and brief, so it was an impulse read. With the goal of being the best in the world, with a careful definition of best, Godin commands you to quit at the right time: not when things get hard, but strategically.

If you’re going to quit, quit before you start. Reject the system. Don’t play the game if you realize you can’t be the best in the world. [page 43]

Of course, the flip side is the urgent reminder that being the best in the world at anything requires working hard, pushing through the eponymous Dip.

A woodpecker can peck twenty times on a thousand trees and get nowhere, but stay busy. Or he can tap twenty-thousand times on one tree and get dinner. [page 29]

Pushing through The Dip also requires sacrifice of other things…which returns to quitting smartly.

The brief words do make me think about two things.

1. What do I want to be best in the world at?
2. What would I quit?

What do I want to be the best in the world at?

I once aimed that high athletically, but that’s more than a decade in the past. No matter how much I enjoy competing now, age-group glory isn’t world class — and I’m not training hard enough or smart enough to pretend otherwise.

Being a parent makes me feel responsible, but it’s not a contest…at least, not one you can win, and certainly not one you quit. Husband, brother, son… ditto.

With work, there’s too many different skills required — and employed — for me to pick a specialty. Maybe that’s a problem. I enjoy translating the many requirements and needs of a business into an online presence. I’ve done it successfully for companies big, small, and in between. But because I can’t state right now exactly why I’m the “best ________” for the job, I recognize a bit of focus would be rewarded. Maybe after we launch an easy-to-use online store for industrial adhesives! (Joking aside, I do want the experience I create to be top-notch. But it’s never a solo effort.)

What would I quit?

Despite my more realistic viewpoint about my running and cycling, I’m not quitting those selfish pursuits. Few things keep me moving mentally like pushing myself physically.

I’ve addressed family above. Work isn’t something I’d want to quit, nor is it an option.

So, reading is probably the time sink I’d have to address if I were going to quit something. I’m not ready to choose between books, magazines, newspapers, websites, personal blogs (and Twitter), and the other gap-fillers just yet.

Oh, and there is one other thing I could drop: blogging here. Nope. Not yet.

p.s. The fact that persistent effort and practice are rewarded with success evokes the well-publicized new Gladwell book, Outliers. But I haven’t read it, and don’t feel compelled to after all the noise gave me a flavor.

Phoebe Damrosch somehow found time while serving as a backserver and waiter at Per Se to write a book about the experience. Service Included: Four-Star Secrets of an Eavesdropping Waiter is her journal of the years during the opening of the top-notch Thomas Keller restaurant. It’s highly personal, and includes her growing relationship with a co-worker André, who (from her website) is now her husband and father of their child. From the tone of the book, that’s mildly surprising. But personal insights aside, I enjoyed the light look at the intimate details behind the scenes at a restaurant that treats food, dining, and service as higher arts.

It’s also interesting after the book to read the 2004 NYTimes review which anchors the book’s restaurant threads. Reviewer Frank Bruni shares this:

I am handicapped slightly in evaluating the service, because the vigilant staff repeatedly recognized me, and kept a special watch over my table.

From Damrosch’s tale, you know that Bruni’s meals were anticipated and hashed over more times than one could imagine possible. Special watch, indeed.

Damrosch left the restaurant, and some of my interest in her anecdotes dwindled with that departure in the waning pages. Still, a gentle, amusing look at a world I rarely taste.

After an endorsement from Neal Stephenson in Anathem, I pulled Julian Barbour’s The End of Time out of the San Francisco Public Library. Subtitled “The Next Revolution in our Understanding of the Universe,” this book made me work hard. Barbour tells you what he’s going to tell you, and then he tells you. He encourages the less-scientific reader with “boxes” of asides and explanations, which I appreciated. Still, this intellectual workout left me thinking I need the equivalent of more mental hill repeats.

For Barbour, time doesn’t exist. What we perceive as time is simply a full “configuration” of the possible universe which includes in its defined space all the elements of what feel like “the past” to our conscious minds. Quantum ideas drive this thinking.

To help the reader accept his radical concept, Barbour patiently walks the reader through the history of physics and the dissemination of idea. For instance, as an introduction to why Einstein matters, The End of Time fascinated me. Connecting the dots on Schrodinger, Mach, Dirac and many others, Barbour details a history of ideas with love and appreciation, even when he no longer agrees with the interpretations. For that care and insight, I’m grateful. I might read The Discovery of Dynamics, his “historical study that covers the period from antiquity to the publication of Newtons’s Principia in 1687 together with conceptual clarification of Newtonian dynamics that occurred in the 19th century.” But not just yet.

On the larger idea, I suppose I understand enough to wonder if it’s possible… but I’m not sure it matters. How the theory will ever be proven (or disproven) remains unclear, at least to me. More importantly, I can’t imagine what would change in how we think or act or behave if Barbour’s proposal turns out to be accurate. Our biological wiring can’t interpret motion (Barbour’s “kingfisher in flight” example) any differently, so the essence of time remains even if it’s a shared fiction.

Google Book Search allows a glimpse at the book. Wikipedia displays 24 minute video which attempts to explain the ideas visually. Called Killing Time, it’s from Dutch TV, but (mercifully) is in English. I’ll leave it running while I tackle other things and see what I can learn.

In the film Revolutionary Road, Kate Winslet ignores Leonardo DiCaprio’s errors, and nothing cuts colder. This snapshot of a 1950s couple’s failure to adapt their dreams to their actual life feels like a good play, with an emphasis on dialogue. Winslet stands out visually, though, as she goes beyond resentment into apathy. Ignoring someone freezes the soul much faster than white-hot hatred.

Late in the movie, the breakfast after a stormy scene creeped me out. The absence of action and emotion from Winslet’s wife — and the puppy-dog earnestness of DiCaprio’s husband to take the change at face value — left me stunned. Read my immediate reaction from Tuesday night.

Metacritic offer a lower-than-expected 69, but maybe I’m cutting DiCaprio some slack and over-emphasizing Winslet’s ability to raise a good movie into the great category.

Official results weren’t posted until earlier this week, so I’m late posting this, too.

In 2007, I jogged the Miracle Mile with the boy. This year, I got the entire family out for the mile race, and then I ran the Christmas Classic 5K on my own. The rain held off until the second mile of the 5K, so the family was already driving home, fortunately.

My 5K time of 18:31.78 put me 13th overall, and 2nd in the M30-39 division of this low-key local race. Clearly, I wasn’t in top shape in 2006. Mile splits and heart rate measurements over at DailyMile, which I’ve been using for a few months.

On New Year’s Day, I entered the San Bruno Hill Climb for the second time. With more prep in recent weeks, and a year of bicycle racing under my belt, I knocked almost two minutes off my time. Official results are in a PDF file. My time was 18:02.91 for the climb, putting me 72nd overall out of 225 racers, and 9th among Cat 4 men.

The top two finishers in Cat 4? My friends Gregory Coleman and Kenneth Norton. I warmed up with Ken, who provides evidence. Both of them flew up the hill ahead of me. My computer measured the distance at 3.75 miles, despite the advertised 3.5 mile race. I was paying attention because fog swallowed the top of San Bruno, leaving only a few dozen meters of road visible in front of you. I don’t know the course well enough to know the finish section yet, but the fog helped overall: just focus and turn the pedals.

I joined ZteaM Cycling this weekend to provide a bit of extra motivation for this 2nd year of racing. That doesn’t give me more time to train, but fewer excuses, perhaps. Thanks to Gleeco for suggesting I join him in the San Francisco-based chapter.

One more cycling note… had my first crash today, during an Early Bird crit race this morning. Someone went down in front of me, and I went over that rider’s bike. Banged my left side hard enough to sting, but was able to re-join the pack the next lap, and overall I’m fine. One positive note about riding in cold weather: my jersey ripped instead of my skin.

San Bruno Hill Climb photo courtesy of renroublard; view the original or simply click thumbnail for larger.

Doctor Zhivago stretched over two nights’ viewing. At three hours and twenty minutes, even the DVD had to be flipped over to watch the part after the intermission. Loved the scenery and the sweep, though a bit too sappy overall. Also, I’ve never seen such fresh, unlined faces among those supposedly enduring the ravages of a Russian winter.

This was my third David Lean movie. I hardly remember A Passage to India, but I’ll never forget watching Lawrence of Arabia during a Boston snowstorm in my college dorm room. This was before reading Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and writing a not-so-enlightening paper on said book. I won’t be following up by reading Doctor Zhivago: the film can stand on its own merits, for me.

I enjoyed The Guardian’s coverage of the chronophage. “Beware the time-eater: Cambridge University’s monstrous new clock includes a marvelous video. The official University of Cambridge video from the inventor and maker, Dr. John C. Taylor, provides more of the history and details. Neal Stephenson must be pleased that a new mechanical clock was introduced the same month as ANATHEM, his new novel which incorporates time’s march very literally. (I’ve finished ANATHEM, but need more time to share my thoughts.)

Racing Tactics for Cyclists by Thomas Prehn entertains with its anecdotes about the author’s racing experience. The lessons build slightly on Bike Racing 101. The crosswind echelon described in Chapter 5 was the truly new tactic for me, though I’ve rarely ridden in groups large enough or experienced enough to practice this energy-saving technique. The diagrams are charmingly basic, albeit occasionally helpful. I need to do a lot more riding before I need the lessons shared here.

One physical note: with its hefty margins, this book felt either stretched out beyond its true length or (charitably) ready for note-taking.