Recently, Jess was yelling at me to clean the kitchen.
“You know you don’t have to yell,” I said.
“Yes I do,” she replied. “You’re voice activated.”
Treat, Trick
Gemelli will happily eat pretty much any kind of protein. But as you stray from Paleo choices, he starts to get pickier. Most baked dog treats, for example, don’t pass muster.
That isn’t an issue in our own house, where we now only buy the kinds of meaty treats we know he’ll like. But it’s often a source of some embarrassment in the outside world.
In New York City, you can take a small dog with you into nearly any store. Doing field research for [Dobbin](http://www.dobbinclothing.com), for example, we drag Gem into a good number of clothing boutiques, where he’s invariably a hit with the women behind the counter.
Your dog is adorable!, they say. Those little white boots!
Can I give him a treat?, they ask.
Sure, I tell them. You can try.
The shop girl will come out, biscuit in hand. Gem will sit politely, smile, take the treat in his mouth. Then, after a couple of seconds, all the while making eye contact with her, he’ll disgustedly spit the treat onto the floor, turn around and walk off.
Total asshole move.
*[Ed. note. Forgot to mention this coup de grace: because it’s apparently too easy to clean up a rejected whole treat, he’ll also occasionally crack the treat in his mouth first, before dumping it as a little mound of crushed biscuit on the ground. Nice.]*
Hearing Voices
A few nights ago, as I was taking Gemelli for a late walk, he stopped to say hello to a small black-and-white cockapoo.
“She’s very cute,” I said. “What’s her name?”
“Josie,” said her owner.
And I thought, oh, you’re [Jon Ronson](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jon_Ronson).
Later, [Google backed me up](http://www.babusinesslife.com/People/Pets/Pet-theories-Jon-Ronson.html). But I was sure from that first word. I don’t know why, but I’m exceedingly good at recognizing people by voice.
I drive Jess nuts with this when we watch television, as I can’t help but reflexively call out the name of the person doing the voice over for each commercial.
You can’t pick your talents.
By Any Other Name, Redux
If you have vodka with breakfast, you’re an alcoholic.
But if you mix in some horseradish and tomato juice, it’s brunch.
By Any Other Name
I was at a breakfast meeting recently with a handful of American colleagues and some visiting Italian investors.
In lieu of bread, the restaurant we ate at served a basket of little blueberry muffins.
“What’s the word for muffin in Italian?” an American colleague asked.
“We don’t have a word for it,” one of the Italians replied.
“Then what would you call this?” she persisted.
“Well,” the Italian said, “I think we would call it ‘cake’.”
Rhabdo
Over the past week, several dozen friends and colleagues have asked about my thoughts on “CrossFit’s Dirty Little Secret”, a Medium article by Eric Roberston (later republished on HuffPo) about the dangers of rhabdomyolysis in CrossFit.
In short, rhabdo is actually the exact opposite of a ‘dirty little secret’ in CrossFit. Even though it’s a remote possibility, it is a possibility, so CrossFit at a national level, and we at CrossFit NYC, emphasize prevention in all aspects of training and coach certification. More broadly, we (like any responsible gym) cater our beginner classes in every way possible to reduce the chance of injury of any kind, whether it’s a pulled muscle, rhabdo, or even a heart attack.
I also believe the HuffPo article is a bit lacking on broader medical perspective. Rhabdo exists on a spectrum, from minor to serious. And while there have been incidents of rhabdo in the CrossFit world, it is actually much more prevalent and severe in many other workout settings. For example, one study of early stage military recruits (Olerud, et al., “Incidence of acute exertional rhabdomyolysis”) showed that more than 40% have evidence of rhabdo. Another (‘Myoglobinaemia and Endurance Exercise”, American Journal of Sports Medicine) showed that more than half of the finishers of a medium length triathlon had rhabdo, too.
Ironically, it looks like CrossFit’s attempt to educate about and prevent the problem is exactly what got us in trouble. As Robertson points out, “the coach was unusually familiar with what is normally a very rarely seen disorder.” I don’t find it unusual at all that his coach was prepared for even an unlikely problem; I just think that’s what it means to be a professional.