I am a Marathoner

For those of you who have followed my posts on running over the last year, you’ll know that I ran my first Marathon in November. You’ll also recall that it was a disaster – the temperature was 79F when I crossed the finish line (nearly five hours after I started), causing the closet thing I’ve come to a near-death experience. It was a very disappointing race because I know I could have done better (I walked most of the last six miles), but I just couldn’t beat the heat. So yesterday was my chance to redeem myself: the day of the Austin Marathon.

The Austin Marathon was definitely risky for me. The first half is difficult because it is full of hills. The second half is difficult because, well, it’s the second half of a Marathon. More experienced runners advised me to pick a flatter course to make my “comeback” easier. But it was just too hard to pass up a Marathon in my backyard. Redemption or Downfall – it was going to be one or the other.

And it was redemptive. My goal was to come out at a set pace (around 10 minutes/mile) and keep that pace for the whole race, finishing strong (in other words, the exact opposite of my first Marathon experience). And I accomplished that goal: I ran the first half at a pace of 9:40/mile and the second half at a pace of 9:50/mile. I finished in 4:18:30, better than my stretch goal of 4:20. But more importantly, I felt good crossing the finish line – heck, I even sprinted the last tenth of a mile. It was a success.

I also hoped that I might be able to make it into the “fast half” of the men, with a time less than the median finish time. And since I’m teaching an intro to statistics course at UT this semester, I dove into the statistics of the results when they were posted last night. Alas, I beat the mean, but not the median. The average finish time for men was 4:23:23, and the median finish time was 4:17:25. I was in the slow half, but just barely. I thought that maybe I would be in the fast half of my age group, but amazingly the M45 – 49 group was the fastest age group in the race. Go figure. It’s median finish time was 4:08:48, with a mean of 4:17:37. The next fastest group was 40 – 44, followed by 30 – 34, then 35 – 39, then 25 – 29 and 20 – 24. So much for the race belonging to the young. Interestingly, though, age 50 seems to be the point of decline. The 50 – 54 age group median was slower than 45 – 49 by 23 minutes. Since I turn 50 in less than 3 months, maybe my best running days are soon to be over. Or maybe I’ll have a narrow window of being one of the fast guys my age before I start to crumble and fall apart.

3M Half Marathon – and a PR

Since I started running a year and a half ago, every race has resulted in a PR – a person record. It’s pretty easy to do, given that the first time you do anything is always your best try to-date. Yesterday I had my first chance to break my PR streak – I finally ran a race for the second time. Last year I ran the 3M half marathon with a result I was very happy with, 1:56 (1 hour, 56 minutes). Would I be able to beat that time this year?

Circumstances were not optimal. I’m training for the Austin Marathon, and so went on a 26 mile training run one week before the half marathon race. It takes more than one week to fully recover from a 26 mile run. On race day yesterday, the temperature was almost perfect, but it was very windy. So windy, in fact, that road barricades were blown over and the police delayed the start of the race by one hour to get them put back up. Standing at the start line for over an hour just waiting is not a great way to start. Still, I thought I was in better shape than a year ago and so I was hoping for a good run.

And it was good. I finished at 1:49:45 – seven minutes faster than last year (woohoo!) and an earned PR. Given the circumstances, I think there is still room for improvement. I’m not retiring yet.

By the way, I was not the only Austin lithographer to run the 3M. Paul Zimmerman, an Intel assignee to Sematech, ran the race as well. He is what we call an “elite” runner, given a spot at the front of the pack so that no weaving around us slow folks is required. And he earned his title. Paul runs in the Masters category (40 years and older) and finished second at 1:09:47, just one second behind the winner (who, by the way, was nine years younger than Paul). That’s a full 40 minutes faster than me! Whew! Way to go, Paul!

Do You Believe?

February of this year marked the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth. As part of the many ways this date was marked, celebrated, reviled and exploited, Gallup conducted a poll to ask Americans if they “believe in evolution”.

http://www.gallup.com/poll/114544/darwin-birthday-believe-evolution.aspx

The exact question was “Do you, personally, believe in the theory of evolution, do you not believe in evolution, or don’t you have an opinion either way?”

Unfortunately, like many such polls, interpretation of the results of the poll is fatally marred by the nature of the question.

The word “believe” has different meanings in different contexts (and for different people). For example, if I say that I believe in God, that means I have made a choice, based on faith, to believe in something that I have no way of proving or confirming. If I say that I believe it will rain tomorrow, it means that my best guess, given evidence available to me, is that it will rain. These are two very different meanings. Which sense is being used in this question?

Does it even make sense to ask the question “do you believe in evolution”? What if I asked “do you believe in relativity?” Or quantum mechanics? It sounds a little silly. These aren’t things that we normally associate “belief” with. I don’t think that a poll question asking about my “belief” in a scientific theory is an accurate way of judging my science literacy. Or is the question designed to discover something else besides science literacy? If so, what?

Given the discussion above, what does it mean to say I “believe” in evolution? Let’s assume that I am not trained as a professional evolutionary biologist and am not capable of independently evaluating the evidence for this scientific theory (that is the target audience for the question, after all). Then I suggest that the statement “I believe in evolution” means three things: 1) I believe in science and the scientific method as a means for developing descriptions of nature that are increasingly more accurate and useful; 2) I’m familiar enough with the basics of the theory and evidence to support it to know that virtually all scientists working in this field accept evolution; and 3) I believe that the experts that have been working as a community on evolutionary science for the last 150 years are not part of a vast conspiracy to pull the wool over my eyes.

When people don’t “believe” in evolution, then they disagree with one or more of the statements above. Some of the most extreme creationists are certainly conspiracy nuts as well, believing that scientists are working towards their evil plan to promote atheism. And certainly science literacy in the U.S. is none too great, so it is possible that some people would disagree with #2. But I suspect that the majority of the evolution “non-believers” disagree only with statement #1 – they are unwilling to give up the idea that science is, and always should be, the handmaiden of religion. The culture war over evolution is in fact a power struggle: who has the power to describe how the world works, the scientist or the theologian? I’m a firm believer in the disjointed domains of science and theology (Stephen Jay Gould called them “Nonoverlapping Magisteria”), but many others long for the simpler days of a powerful and autocratic religious structure to make sense of the world for them.

So, if the poll below indicates a lack of science literacy, that is an indictment of our educational system (and a not very surprising one). But to the extent that the poll results show an unwillingness to accept science as the best approach for understanding nature, then ignorance is not the worst thing to fear.

And what were the results of the poll? 39% of respondents “believe” in evolution, 25% do not, and 36% have no opinion (95% confidence interval = +/- 3%).

And the Emmy goes to…

Mike Coffin is a friend and neighbor. Four years ago his daughter, Mary Hatley, was born 35 hours and 50 feet from my daughter Sarah, and they are best friends. Mike just won an Emmy for making a series of shorts called “I am CNBC”. Mike is overly modest, saying he doesn’t deserve it and that it doesn’t mean much anyway. Humbug! Winning an Emmy is a big deal! The whole neighborhood is proud of you, Mike. Besides, I want a picture of me next to the statue, so whatever you do Mike, you better not hide it in the closet!

Saved at Mile 21

In my last post I described my first marathon, in all its ignominy. It was hot and I started out too fast, and I hit the proverbial wall at mile 18. At that point, disappointment and pain led to dark thoughts – should I just give up? But I had something to keep me going, waiting to save me at mile 21.

My good friend William Howard has run several marathons, and when he heard I was running my first he made a remarkable offer: he would come to San Antonio, meet me at mile 21, and run the rest of the race with me. He knew all about hitting the wall and knew that a little encouragement for the last five miles of a marathon went a long way. He sure was right. Even though I hit my wall a little earlier than most, I could keep myself motivated with chants of “three more miles till William”, then “two more miles”, until I got to the 21 mile marker. He ran and walked (mostly walked) with me for the rest of the race, and I’m not sure I would have finished without his help. Thank you, William. An inspiring example of true friendship.

My First Marathon – a Bad Day at the Races

Yesterday, I ran my first Marathon. I survived. And that is the best thing I can say about the experience. It was exciting, fun, exhausting, absolutely miserable, worse than miserable, and finally over, in that order.

I had trained pretty well for the race, with a long run of 29 miles four weeks before race day. I felt good, despite a pulled muscle three weeks before the race (I recovered well from that injury, so I don’t think it had a major impact on my performance). Unfortunately, race conditions were not good – a temperature of 65F at race start and nearly 80F by the end. It was mostly cloudy, but there was enough sun out that I finished the day with a sunburned face. If you haven’t done any long running, let me tell you that this is at least 20 degrees too hot. But even more than the temperature, it was my race strategy that did me in.

Ask any marathoner for race advice and the first thing out of their mouth will be “Don’t start out too fast.” I knew this. But for your first marathon, how do you know how fast is too fast? I found out with great certainty what too fast was for me. I guessed that I could do a half-marathon that day in 1:55, so I slowed down my pace from there and crossed the half-way point at 2:05. That turned out to be way too fast. By the 15 mile point I was starting to feel spent. By the 18 mile point I was in trouble – I began walking more than I was running. At 24 miles, I thought death could not come too soon. I walked the rest of the way, running only the last 0.1 mile to cross the finish line. My time: 4 hours, 59 minutes. I started the race thinking I could do 4:20.

Their were 422 men aged 45 – 49 who finished the marathon. The median time for that group was 4:46, so I didn’t meet my goal of being in the ‘fast’ half. The winner, by the way, finished in 2:14:39. None of these stats make me feel good. But I finished (alive), so at least the primary goal was accomplished. They say you never forget your first (marathon), but I’m hopeful for some selective forgetting about yesterday.

And things could have been worse. I was saved at mile 21 by a true act of friendship. But I’ll tell that story later. For now, I think I’ll take a nap.

Finding Litho in the Library

In just one of many examples of my near-complete self absorption, I recently went to the University of Texas library to take a look at my lithography book on the shelf. I noticed the call number, TK7874.M196 2007, and for the first time wondered where each of those numbers comes from and who decides what they are.

I grew up in the dark ages of library science, with the Dewey Decimal system. Like a forced metric system, this 19th century invention of Melvil Dewey divides books into ten main classes, each with ten divisions, and each division with ten sections. A neat and tidy organization of human knowledge. But fitting today’s books into those same ten classes is awkward at best, and often quite limiting. That’s why most academic (and especially science and engineering) libraries use the rival Library of Congress Classification system. Trained library scientists at the Library of Congress (yes, there are many colleges that offer degrees in library science) create new classes as needed, making the system more flexible and expandable.

So are you learning more about libraries than you really want to know? Well let me at least explain the call number of my book:

T = Technology
TK = Electrical Engineering, Electronics, and Nuclear Engineering
TK7800 – TK8360 = Electronics
TK7874 = Microelectronics, Integrated Circuits
TK7874.M = Masks or Microlithography

The remaining numbers give a unique identifier to a specific book. So if you need to find a lithography book (at least, the kind of lithography that I practice), you now know where to look. But not quite. I think TK7874 is getting crowded. In the summer of last year the Library of Congress moved all new mask or microlithography books to a new number: TK7872.M. So there may be two places to look from now on.

Of course, one could always just use the on-line book catalogue and search, and leave these arcane details to the people who love arcane details: the library science majors (and me, apparently).

Credit Report Scam, Revisted

A month ago I wrote about the credit report scam website, freecreditreport.com. Obviously I am not alone in being agitated by the blatantly inaccurate web address – it was the subject of a front-page article today in the New York Times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/03/your-money/credit-scores/03scores.html?_r=2&hp

“In the last five years, Experian has paid $1.25 million to settle F.T.C. charges that it misled consumers who may have been seeking their free credit report at AnnualCreditReport.com, but ended up paying for a subscription on the similarly named freecreditreport.com.”

And yet, the scam continues…

Lithography in Prague – Immersion

When SEMATECH first started its immersion workshops, these meeting proved immensely useful and important. Bringing together nearly everyone who was starting to take immersion lithography seriously, the interaction and discussion jump-started tool, material and process development and consolidated the growing momentum behind this technology. By the time the 6th (and last) immersion symposium was held here on Thursday and Friday, the urgency and excitement was long gone. It was just another lithography meeting (which is why the organizers announced that this was the last of the series). It was a good meeting, though, with reasonable attendance (about 150 people, half the attendance of the 3-day EUV symposium that preceded it) and some good papers. But there are lots of lithography conferences (too many to go to them all) and this one didn’t offer anything special (except Prague).

Most of the talks were double patterning related, as one might expect, with an emphasis on “litho-process-litho-etch” approaches (a generalization of “litho-freeze-litho-etch”) and “negative develop” (using a traditional positive 193 resist in such a way to get a negative image). There has definitely been progress in making these approaches more practical from a manufacturing perspective, and though some work remains they look very promising. There was very little on sidewall spacer approaches, but maybe that reflects the fact that this technology is already in production at Flash manufacturers.

Aside: The Miss Czech Republic beauty contest was held in the room next to the immersion symposium on Thursday through Saturday. And though burly badge-checkers kept us lithographers out of the festivities, there were plenty of beauty and the geek moments. A leggy and impossibly thin blonde walks by, stopping five lithographers in their tracks, jaws on the ground; lots of wide-eyed “did you see that?” comments.

I spent an extra day in the Czech Republic and went Saturday to Plzen, a town 100 km southwest of Prague that is the birthplace of Pilsner beer. The Pilsner style of lager gets its name from Pilsner Urquell, a beer first brewed in Plzen in 1842. I took a tour of the brewery (highly recommended), where their recently decommissioned 100-year-old brew house was converted into a sort-of beer theme park. Modernization of the plant over the last 10 years has made it state-of-the-art (reflecting, no doubt, investment by their owner SAB Miller). That freed up the old buildings to be dedicated to beer tourism. Much fun, especially the beer tasting at the end.

Musings of a Gentleman Scientist