My Blog

I am ready for April to whisp away.

Today was emotionally exhausting. And at 20-till-midnight on a Friday spending more time out of the house makes my head hurt.

After a long night out, and a busy morning, I met my friend Carolyn for lunch. I had made some DVDs for her to mail out to festivals, so we had to arrange a pick up rendezvous. Since the favor was on me, I suggested a nearby diner. The fact that “diner” is in the restaurant’s name is somewhat of a formality. The food there is incredible, even the healthier dishes. Of course the unhealthy stuff is amazing.

What I love there is the omelettes. They are plentiful and fluffy and they will put anything you want in them. And they use egg whites without a look of disgust. Great service, great staff. Anyway. We are about 3/4 of the way through our meal. I ordered the baby omelette which was - no shit - the equivalent of 5 eggs.

So I’m wrapping up eating and there is a scream from behind me. I hear “911, doctor, etc…” In the booth directly behind us a man and woman are sitting across from each other. He is leaned up against the partition, and breathing with great difficulty.

Let me give you an idea of the layout of the restaurant. Imagine it as a rectangle. With booths lining 3 of the outer flats, and the kitchen on the remaining. The walls of the booths are high enough that it provides some shelter from the main dining area (tables).

The manager comes over, along with the waitress. I crane my neck over to see what was up. Carolyn has an unobstructed view. There is a cacophony of voices from his lunch-mate, something along the lines of “he is a heart patient. I don’t know if he took his pills.”

This is not meant as a joke, or in any deliberate humor - but this is how I felt from that point on:

Things were not going well. And then it got worse.

For those of you just getting to know me, I have a background in the sciences and medicine. I’ve spent countless hours on rotations, and have over a hundred hours in operating rooms. At one point I was a CPR instructor.

But I’m not a doctor.

I stood up and went over to see if there was anything I could do. The man was sitting up, conscious, breathing on his own. I stood with them until a man came over and identified himself as a physician.

–more soon, I need a break–

Some people - well, the people who read this - have wondered why there’s little mention of improv on this site, just the bike. Then I mention SWEAT, but again, the bike pops up.

I did a little psychoanalysis, of the self- variety (the best kind), and here’s what I came up with.

Improv (for me) is this incredible way to relax and enjoy the company of some wonderful people onstage. It’s primarily about having a blast, making each other laugh, and finding story elements in new and insightful ways. But as soon as the topic shifts past that, it erodes into a political landscape. And a body-politic that is subjective (as most art movements are), commercial (which monkeys up the mix) and for the most pary, arbitrary.

There are victims, there are pursuers and sometimes the joy is buried so deep I wonder if dynamite will blow it to the surface.

But for me, it’s a joy.

So is the bike, but in a different way.

I imagine myself a soldier every time I clip into my pedals and position both (perpetually aching) shoulders over my knees. Defeating a high gear at a crushing cadence, or getting told what a fuck up I am by a headwind coming off Lake Michigan. It’s a battle when it’s going well - and the alternate.

This morning I took my favorite spin class then rode out with some lovely folks for a ~24 mi. trip down the lake. The weather was so beautiful I almost cried. But the temperature difference between my nose and the lake air was just big enough that my rhino ran like a track team.

Then home for a stretch - my hip flexors are sore - and shower, followed by an omelet and now a little nap. It’s almost 11:00 a.m. and I’ve been up for six hours, and output somewhere between 1000-2000 calories.

My heart rate monitor keeps caloric information, which it approximates from the heart rate and time. I think it’s cheating a bit - by its count I am in the 2000 calorie range.

Average heart rate for the lake ride was 168 bmp, with a max of 198.

Not too bad for a Tuesday morning.

It has been a while, I know. I know.

SWEAT, or the "bike show" as it is otherwise known is  incredible. Great staging, excellent performances. Even terrific media coverage. The caveat, it’s audience is finding it slowly. We have had family and friends come to the show, which is wonderful, although we are searching for an outside audience to give the show its commerical success. There are three shows left.

I am really proud of how the show has developed, and how it has legs and is an interesting theatrical piece with a strong concept. The visuals are strong, the technical components are strong. The press release has attracted media outlets … and they are responsive to give us the free publicity we need.

But it’s not enough. And I’m not sure what else to do - I’m completely over throwing my hands up in disbelief and ready to get cracking on a solution.

This is the biggest point of stress right now, because I want people to see this show and enjoy it as much as we do. The response we’ve gotten so far has been tremendous. Now we just have to get the word out.

Blah blah blah. Everything is fine.

Passover is getting closer. One of the most frustrating holidays for someone who loves to eat - but that’s the idea, I suppose. Reflection. Last year I subsisted primarily on salads and matzah and chili. Delicious stuff.

If you’re in Chicago and you are looking for a second night seder. Let me know.

The lease is up at the end of this month, and I’m not entirely sure what to do. Whether to renew or move or a combination of the two.

What else? Performance two of SWEAT is tonight. We’re expecting several people which is great, and there should be something in Time Out Chicago today.

The weather is finally remembering what it is like to be warm - and so am I. Looking forward to hitting the lake sometime next week.

Today is the day. This is the end of all false starts. This the day the transformation begins.

It’s time to get into summer-mode. The weather is beautiful right now. Inspirational. Sunny and bright.

The obligatory purchases of protein drinks have been made. Along with egg beaters, turkey, tomatos, and of course, hummus.

What’s on the outs now: too many cocktails, cheeses, late night eating.

Masterful writing puts ordinary people into extraordinary situations. Lately, I’ve found these characters not limited to fiction; both inspirational and depressing.

I believe we have to be open to find these experiences - to put ourselves into the extraordinary.

Right now, I am a little uninspired.