My heart pounding. Lungs burning. The sub-freezing air cuts into my chest with every stride. I gingerly plant one foot in front of the other through snowy terrain to avoid dangerous patches of ice lining the asphalt. My head is now pounding as I push myself to keep pace amidst snow slicing away at my ankle line. Finally the cranial pressure is too much, the white-out glare is magnified—I heave myself across one last stretch of my legs and drop. Hands on my knees. Panting. Gasping for air.

I’d been jogging for 3 minutes.

Loveland, Colorado is about 5,000 ft above sea level, which is about 5,000 feet above my Berkeley apartment. Accordingly, the altitude has its own special way of greeting the out-of-shape. It’s unfortunate that I subject myself to the pain of these Day Ones more often than not over the course of the year. So, it wasn’t any surprise that as I returned from a fruitful fall semester to the great state of the Rockies I’d find myself back in the panting and heaving state of Day One of getting back in shape.

About a week ago, I met a young gentleman from University of Florida at the airport just before my flight back. We’ll call him Marcus, since that’s the closest resemblance to his name that I can recall. Marcus, a relatively big guy, strutted up to me in baggy sweats carrying a long board as I waited in the Southwest Airlines on-deck line and immediately proceeded to compliment my shoes. Feeling good about my shoes, I struck up a conversation, and I would later learn that Marcus plans to attend dental school and used to play football before a shoulder injury. As the conversation progressed, I commented to Marcus that I see college as life in the extremes. We’re not sleeping one night for one reason and still not sleeping the next night for another. Whether or not it’s a choice or just the lack of maturity to commit to a consistent healthy lifestyle, college is a grand ol’ time to subject our bodies to the extremes.

I call it “rubber-banding.” And for me, exercising definitely falls into the rubber-band category. Regular workouts seem to only be either full on or full off, binary in nature. Hence, I find myself at Day One. The cycle generally involves me in some type of macho getting-buff competition during the Summer and betraying all efforts in the Fall as the schedule fills up. It’s just easier to rubber-band. I’m sure I’ll grow out of it when I’m older. Kinda like water wings.

Regardless, I figured it would be more auspicious to avoid making my Day One the first of the year since New Year’s Resolutions get a bad rap. And, I’m trying the keep the plan simple and stay realistic. There are two main steps. 1) Get Outside. 2) Move. And eventually we’ll build up to more extreme things like frozen lake parachute skating (I swear I just saw that the other day) and lifting big rocks.

So, here’s to the Day Ones, here’s to breaking the rubber-banding cycle of my exercise regime along with many other habitual extremes. Don’t worry, I won’t blog religiously about Day Two or Day Three, but you can do me a favor and send good vibes in hopes that this’ll be the last Day One at least for a little while.

It’s been a little over two weeks since the end of my sophomore year at Cal, and with the lengthy sabbaticals between my blog entries it always seems like there’s too much to ramble on about.

I’d like to provide a short-attention-span summary of my sophomore chapter. Here are the highlights in semi-particular order. Here are the top 10 days of my year. (Note: for the most part this only covers this past semester, because I realized I forgot everything that happened before 2008.)

Honorable Mentions:

- The Night Freshmen Indian Girls Sang Happy Birthday To Me in the Academic Services Center

- John Bister’s Graduation

- Meghana’s Ever-interesting Monday Luncheons

- Bar Night with Bluehouse Girls (aka A Couch On Our Front Porch Where I Ate Leftovers)

10. Boating on the Delta with the Mcguirks
    On a fateful Friday when Dan and I should have been in Thermodynamics, Dan and I found ourselves with a small conglomeration of AOpi’s zooming on a boat to the sounds of Techno and Bob Marley. That day, I found my calling as I have decided to soon devote my life to professional knee boarding.
    

9. John Bister’s 21^st Birthday
   John Bister, for the most part, turns 21 only once in a lifetime. And this once in a lifetime we ventured to Safeway at 12:15am for JB to grab a six pack which we would soon cheer over a birthday chocolate chip banana bread loaf (courtesy of Laura).
   

8. SUPERB Presents Counting Crows on Lower Sproul, 5pm
   I was a certified giddy school girl as I sat backstage of the Counting Crows “secret” concert on Lower Sproul. A buzz in the air, pretty much shat my pants when I first caught a glimpse of Adam Duritz’s whiteboy dreads.
   

7. Bluehouse Night of Debauchery Slash My 20^th
   After a 120 day hiatus, and by hiatus I mean noise warning, bluehouse returned by inviting way too many people to a synergetic night of close friends, Indian friends, Berkeley Group friends, not-close friends, sketch Berkeley high kids, sweet jams, and Dan trying to climb off the roof.
   

6. Team “Buy or Die Local” Berkeley Group Presentation
   A stellar, edgy, hard-working, contempo, sexy team. A sick marketing plan. An incredible lack of sleep. A money presentation. An ongoing exstitential crisis… One more successful BG project.
   

5. The Day Simon and I Remembered Cookie Crisp
   Simon and I rediscovered how amazing it is to scream “COOOOOkie Crisp.” Easily one of the best days of 2008.
   

4. Successful Flight of the Mark V
   Semester-long E28 project: produce a contraption out of silly materials (foam board, dowels, rubber bands, etc.) that would travel a maximum distance forward, turn around, and return back. Going big and even with oodles of hard work, my stubborn team did not see a successful trial until ten minutes before our final test. Needless to say, after 31ft forward, a sick flip, 34ft backward, and nearly fainting during our final trial of 3, we emerged victorious with a new class record.
   

3. Sleep Deprived Finals Conclusion with Graceface
   Forty-eight hours without sleep, the weekend finals whirlwind out of the way, and some long awaited quality time…

2. Superbowl Sunday Feasts
   After an 8:30am supply run to Safeway, the crew proceeded to cook up a breakfast feast of eggs, potatoes, sausage, bacon, pancakes, biscuits, fresh tortilla chips, and OJ. That was followed by a lunch BBQ feast of cheese burgers and fresh guacamole. And that was followed by betting money on the winning Giants during easily the best Superbowl I’ve witnessed.
   
   

And with great pleasure, I present the #1 day of my entire school year…

1. Quesadilla Flipping Lesson with Kristeezy, Jiggz, Yaxo, and Manders
   Mid-semester: I was feeling kind of emo and overwhelmed. With the excuse that I would be working on my Berkeley Group deliverable, I sauntered over to the apartment of my four favorite surrogate roomies. Though it sounds like just another night at the College Ave. pad, it was a much needed and highly appreciated night of professional quesadilla flipping demonstrations, giggling, making fun of yaxo’s 9,182,124 stuffed animals, and all-around fun with the now Berkeley graduates. Congrats, I’ll miss playing.

So there you have it. My top 10 days of the entire school year in a relatively ballooned nutshell (paired with a few honorable mentions). There’s plenty to philosophically reflect upon, but I think I can sum it up pretty quickly.

A lot went down: I laughed, I cried, I fist-pumped. Thanks for making all that loving, living, and learning happen.

This is definitely one of those undeniably embarrassing moments that I guarantee you’ll never see coming. My unfortunate ordeal actually took place a number of weeks ago, but it was not until now that I have mustered enough courage to speak freely. I kid you not, that fateful day I actually thought to myself, “Wow, I wonder why more people don’t fall on the treadmill… It seems like such an accident-ready machine.” Well, let me tell you first hand, the treadmill is a nasty, nasty, devilish tool of bodily destruction.

I was at the RSF (Recreational Sports Facility, Cal’s student gym) gunning it at 8.5 on the speed scale. Now, if you’ve ever ran on a treadmill, 8.5 is pretty fast and incredibly unnecessary, but I wasn’t joking around.

I saw the reflection of a friend of mine in the glass window in front of me, and as I turned around to greet Simon, I unwittingly shifted left and stepped directly on the non-moving portion of the spinning track beneath me. For lack of better diction, when you’re sprinting full speed ahead that stationary plate on the side of the treadmill apparently messes you the hell up.

My body was somehow flung backwards as I instinctively shot both of my hands out to grasp the handrails (my flailing 135lb frame miraculously never touched the ground). Against all common sense and to the shock of my two innocently exercising female neighbors, I idiotically attempted to clamor back onto the pride-devouring-monster as the tread slashed at my exposed shins (think rug burn meets slamming your shin into a stair-step). But don’t worry; it was only a flesh wound.

Most likely laughing his face off, God took pity on my oh-so-pitiful efforts. I somehow managed to monkey-crawl back onto the torture device and immediately continued running at my blistering pace as if nothing had happened in those previous life threatening seconds. After tunnel visioning my next 15 minutes on the treadmill—to make sure that any soul who had witnessed my brush with certifiable death had exited the premises—I lightly hopped off and headed to the locker room as if nothing had happened.

But really, I had just emerged from another one of life’s valuable lesson laden, work-out machine, death-dealing encounters.

New Year’s Eve for me has always been an entirely random occurrence, and this year was definitely no exception. I remember ringing in 2006 with Dance Dance Revolution and Midnight Ice Blocking with three close friends… Then there was 2007: a beautifully crafted get-together of Catch-Phrase, some unspecified movie (most likely “You’ve Got Mail”), and some Italian exchange student boy in an argyle sweater whose name I have surprisingly forgotten.

Delightfully surpassing my expectations this year was the first annual New Year’s Classic (NYC): a no-holds-bar octathlon of unrivaled intellectual and physical proportions.

In short, the ’08 festivities involved Sean and I constructing an elaborate plan to coordinate an epic competition that spiraled into two teams of three engaging in extreme Cranium (where all team members’ hands were lashed together with abrasive twine), Wise & Otherwise, and naturally, a laser-sight NERF gun death-match. After the traditional opening ceremonies of the Tiki-torch lighting (in sub-freezing outside temperatures) and the usual burning of the sacred scroll, it became apparent that “Clan O’Reilly Factor National Olympics Squad” would emerge victorious over team “*click*click-naAH-naAH-caw-caw-THE-AVALANCHE-IS-COMIN!” with a convincing 120,000 point margin. (Unfortunately, due to poor planning, we only completed three of the six specified events; however, there are talks about finishing out the remaining NYC contests: “Iron-Chef-style” baking, Canasta, and Karaoke).

Otherwise, I had originally planned to recap a few prime moments from 2007, but I think they’d be better served as singular ramblings down the road. I have a few resolutions in mind that involve making quicker decisions as well as no longer saying “Uh” on the phone, but as always we’ll see. It’s just past midnight now meaning New Year’s Day has come to a close, and I think I’ll turn in. Happy New Year and I hope your following 365 are filled with good fortune, love, money, power, knowledge, messenger bags, large three-dimensional national monument replica puzzles, treasured American Indian relics, and whatever else your little heart desires.

Oh, and his name was Nicolo. The argyle-sweater-wearing Italian stallion was definitely named Nicolo.

I’d venture to say that Final Exams represent one of the most perplexing of university phenomena. Undoubtedly, the experience varies from student to student. Some laugh. Some cry. Some laugh while crying, and others simply remain entirely emotionless for a full week’s time. I like to think I fall into category three, but that’s beside the point.

For me, Finals are a flurry of music and words. Countless hours are expended in the Unit 1 Academic Services Center (the ASC, a freshmen hot spot for studying that I exploit to no end since I live quite close) under the pulsating sounds of my ridiculously large Sony headphones. (For some reason my $15 investment towards cheap, fatty headphones was one of my best decisions in life. I have small ears. Earbuds hurt.) I believe last year’s examinations were coated with the cool beats of The Killers, Jack Johnson, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and John Legend, but as Taylor would say, this semester was all about the “jams.” I was aggressive, taking no prisoners this year, homie. DJ Girl Talk, Citizen Cope, The Hush Sound, Miles Davis, and T-pain (hell yes) basically pervaded every instant of my book-ridden, sleep-lessened, academic existence. I’d study with music, walk with music, relax before tests with music, shower with music, eat with music, go on dates with music, fight off animals with music… I’m sick of my music collection.

In some inspirationally juvenile mode, I like to envision myself during Finals as the center of some epic movie montage. A layered protagonist gearing up to dominate a rising challenge, a brilliant Russell Crowe surrounded by a world of equations, a humble bachelor pouring his heart into his work only to surmount the defining moment of his career, a scarred warrior soaking in the aroma of a cold landscape on the eve of war… At moments I can trick myself into believing it’s the battle-ready preparation kind of montage, but on the whole, my journey is more of a studying for my life—preparing for the world’s most grueling intellectual clash the world has witnessed—kind of montage. Although still an outlandishly exaggerated perspective on a measly semester conclusion, in some childish way, this time-lapse dimension paired with the perfect movie montage soundtrack (via the helmet I pass off as headphones) not only passes the time but helps me relish (dare I say enjoy) the workload.

Days in the ASC (even after hours with the workers) and 4am’s at Crossroads (always with three cups: hot chocolate, ice water, and too much honey with a little hot tea)…not to mention the optional nature of hygiene (no details necessary)…

At the very least, finally wrapping your head around a concept or exhausting every single practice problem is something to bite into. I feel like it’s part of the classic college experience (well, what you see in movies or in those pretty college pamphlets)… Of course Final Exams have their downsides. One of my favorites is the exponential decay of social skills. My own psychological analyses led to one conclusion, the allotment of the majority of my brain’s resources to silent reading and ungodly stacks of practice problems inevitably left my communicative efforts at a loss. Mumbling, incredibly lame and horrendously delivered jokes, and aversion of eye contact resound among my symptoms as tell tale signs of a hard working, Mechanical Engineering Golden Bear.

And on the real, our time honored college tradition is really not that bad. Sure there was a Saturday morning where I woke up and just thought, “Wow. Hmm… I’m kinda tired of waking up with quantum physics problems rattling through my skull.” Say what you will, take it as is, for me, it’s just more chaos to relish in.

I began writing this post during my flight home yesterday, a start to a promising break that holds a little more time for a few neglected past times and a couple new interests. I’m reading a bit more now. I’ve always avoided simple recreational page turning but I’m giving the revolutionary practice a shot and let me tell you, it’s wild. Who knows, there might be a few more blogs on deck as well as a chance to hop back on the buff-getting train.

The core plans include home cooked meals, idiotic adventures with good friends, and the mountain slopes, three elements of a quality recharge. Cheers to another semester whisked away in a blink and another successful Final-Exams-battle-montage. With some luck, I’ll replenish not only my music collection but also my social skills.

Happy Holidays