Careful, thoughtful, and adoring readers will recall my travails with running and the aches, pains, and injuries my taut, supple, but aging body experienced on the road. Le agon! Les sprains! La morbide! Then I changed my running technique from the striker of heels to the tippy-toe forefoot dancer. Jeté, Etienne, jeté!

The results amaze. I’m still an old guy, but I can run without pain or injury, now for nearly two years. I do need to stretch my calves more before running to avoid muscle cramps or sprains, but that’s a small price to pay. No more bad back. No more burning knees. No more 30 minute ice pack sessions with sweaty clothes and a shot of vodka.

Turns out there may be science behind this. Coincident with my switch from heel to toe landing style, a team of researchers published results (pdf) of a prospective study of long distance runners. I was unaware of it at the time, but I could be a case study in the sample. Here’s the key finding from a graph.

That graph requires Harvard training and resourcing while you could determine it for yourself if you run 50 feet landing first on your heels then 50 feet landing on your toes. Of course, the graph is science while we’re just doing ethnography. The paper relates other interesting facts comparing the running techniques, but always circles back to my pain-inspired insight.

Jeté, Etienne! Jeté!

Today we celebrate our 33rd wedding anniversary.  How well I remember that day.  The snowstorm of the decade smothered the roads and no one out of town made it in.  At the house my greatgrandfather Wil Hains built in 1903, gathered a very small group:  my parents, brother, and grandmother along with the minister, Shaky Burns, who started the ceremony by reading from the wrong page – he came to Bury not to Marry!  Melanie walked down the stairs and the rest is the greatest history of my life.

From a warmer anniversary in Acapulco a few years ago.

The girl of my dreams and a Martini. Life never gets any better, even on a beach with that sunset in Acapulco.

Let’s Go! Mountaineers!

Melanie will be in her cheerleader outfit, glued to the TV, and since she’s in that cheerleader outfit, I’ll be glued too!

P.S. Sorry again. No pictures. Watch the Game!

I start this year with the public award for the second year of a new honor for distinguished work in the field of persuasion: The Peitho Award. It is given to those who’ve already achieved high distinction in the past year, mention in the Persuasion Blog. Among those noble few, each year I will chose the One that rises above the others in skill, cunning, and creative expression of the most important Rule: All Bad Persuasion Is Sincere. Judging thus only upon the inSincerity and the effectiveness of the persuasion expression will the One be known.

Last year I awarded the 2010 Peitho to Senator Joe Manchin’s election ad.

The Award itself is a highest quality graphic image of an ancient Greek pitcher of incalculable worth that displays an artist’s rendition of the Goddess herself, Peitho. The Award winner may simply right click on the image and save to the disk of his, her, or their choice.

The nominees for the 2011 Peitho Award are:

Green Thumbs Up!

Posted on Thursday, January 20th, 2011

Here is a great and inSincere Persuasion play that hides in plain sight.  My compliments to Mr. George Ball. He wants to win the War on Obesity.  First, here’s his take on the Problem. Childhood obesity is now the nation’s disease—an ailment crippling the body politic . . . The lineup of culprits includes school [...]

And the 2011 Peitho Award goes to . . .

It’s about bin Laden, Stupid

P.S. Read this PB Post for Spec Ops background on this persuasion play.

From the Booth Christmas, 2011.

Phil the Knifemaker (back row third from right with the over-under shotgun and baby Vivian) bought Nerf guns for the family. We opened them as the last gift, then the fight broke out.

Appearances are deceiving. School Marm Emily (back row second from left aiming her gun at my head) is a sweet killer who favors ambushes. She trapped Melanie under the table with her dog Levi, the pure bred boxer (not pictured here) – Melanie was out of Nerf bullets, but threatened to shoot the dog if they came after her. I stood in the middle of the living room to have a clear line of fire at everyone. Sure, this gave a clear line of fire at me by everyone else. However, I could always find a lot of Nerf shells lying on the floor around me. Gangster Clif (the chef in the middle of the back row) hid up on the staircase, shooting down on everyone like Tony Montana, then ducked behind the banister as he reloaded. Saxophonist Patrick (back row, extreme left) liked to hide in hallways and bedrooms, then shoot around the corner when I blundered into range. Clair, Cheri, and Vivian played in the kitchen staying out of the fray, but I think Vivian wanted a Baby Nerf Gun.

We then posed for the family picture. Open flame. Baby bottle. Cookie tray. Empty wine bottle, but filled wine glasses. Shotguns ‘n Baby. That’s how the Booths roll. You are warned.

P.S. It appears that only myself and Nephew Patrick remembered our gun training. Note the trigger fingers! Okay, I get serious point deductions for aiming it at Melanie, but she kept tricking me during the gunfight, smiling that beguiling smile of hers as she walked up to me to either beg ammo or shoot me in the face. Kind of a metaphor for a good marriage, huh?