By Claire Walla

When it comes to triathlons, “the biggest mistake people make is jumping in without being prepared,” said triathlete Richard Izzo.

He should know.

The 21-year veteran who coordinates two well-attended races each year, speaks from experience.

“I made all the mistakes you could possibly make,” he said of his first triathlon in Monmouth, N.J. back in 1989. “I got lost on the way there, the guy I was with almost drowned, little old ladies with training wheels on their bikes could have passed me. It was a comedy of errors.”

Now, Izzo, who has a home in Noyac, is a stickler for preparation. And he contends that, with enough know-how, your first triathlon doesn’t have to be a farce.

To adequately prepare for such a feat, Izzo has three pieces of advice.

Fitness
It will take the average triathlete one-and-a-half to two hours to complete a sprint triathlon (half-mile swim, 13.2-mile bike, 3.1-mile run), Izzo said, which anyone can prepare for in just about eight weeks by completing three workouts (one in each sport) per week.

As for running, Izzo emphasized the importance of keeping a steady pace throughout training, because over-training can cause injury.

“It’s not about running fast, it’s about not slowing down,” he said, adding that a common mistake among novice runners is that they don’t pace themselves well. “Time is not important in any of these events, it’s crossing the finish line that counts.”

Another important aspect of training is doing so with a group. For the old three-sport veteran, this is mostly for safety reasons. (Izzo warned that swimmers should never hit the open water solo, and individuals on the road are much more vulnerable to speeding cars than groups are).

However, for the aspiring triathlete, Izzo said joining a training group with a coach is a good way to get accustomed to workouts and the nuances of the race.
Here on the East End, Izzo said a group like Team in Training—a national organization that launched its first East End chapter earlier this year—is a great resource.

Equipment
Unlike pure running, for which athletes need only worry about their trainers and the clothes on their backs, triathlons come with some bells and whistles, most important of which is a good bike.

“You should make sure your equipment is in good working order before the race,” Izzo said. Not only should athletes be comfortable clipping in and out of their bike pedals, but the size of the bike, more so than the quality of the machine itself, is of utmost importance. Especially for new riders. It isn’t necessary to spend an arm and a leg on a top-notch piece of equipment, Izzo added, “because you’re going to evolve.”

Besides, he continued, “it’s the engine that matters, not necessarily the bike that you ride.”

Nutrition
According to Izzo, this is one of the most frequently overlooked aspects of endurance training.

Of course, nutrition becomes increasingly important as athletes up their mileage. But even for smaller races, Izzo said fueling your body with the right amount of nutrients is key.

“To get to the right level of aerobic metabolizing and fat burning, you need carbs,” Izzo explained.

This doesn’t just mean delving into the ol’ carbo-load the night before the big day. Izzo, for example, said he gets his calorie fixes about every 20 minutes in the course of a race, beginning with a good dose of energy gel. He prefers gels to bars because the body can more or less instantly digest liquids, whereas an energy bar will “just sit in your stomach and you have to [expend energy] to chew it.”

Whatever your caloric preference, Izzo recommends testing different forms of nutrition during training sessions so that athletes can develop a system that works before the big day.

“You just have to keep the fat burning going so you don’t have to tap into your carbohydrate reserves,” he added. “Because that’s when people bonk.”

In the end, the race becomes as much of a mental exercise as it is physical, Izzo added.

“You’re mentality will evolve over time. And after you get to know your body,” he said, “You’ll know how much to push yourself.”

It isn’t often that someone tells you you might die.  And actually mean it.

I’m sitting inside a tiny trailer right next to the lone stretch of concrete that encompasses Spadaros Airport and I’m watching the image of a middle-aged man, totally unremarkable except for the two-foot-long auburn beard that’s invaded the bottom half of his face.

“You might die,” he tells me.  Just like that.  “There will never be a perfect plane, a perfect pilot, or a perfect parachute,” he reiterates as footage of a crumpled ‘chute and an ambulance driving across the tarmac come up on the screen.

The man is Bill Booth, founder of the uninsured—that’s right, uninsured—United Parachute Technologies, LLC and I’ve been forced to watch this footage of him essentially telling me that, moments from now, it’s very conceivable that my body might be lying in bits and pieces on the runway just behind this trailer.

I had committed to hoisting myself out of an airplane two miles above the earth’s surface with very little thought for the whole ‘potential fatality’ side of things.

I admit, jumping out of a plane is a crazy idea.  And yet two other couples also made it to the tarmac that day to be among the 3,500 people each summer who willingly pay $209 (or more accurately, $338 with the DVD/Photo package) to get the chance to fall from the sky.

For both couples, skydiving was something the male counterparts had “always wanted to do.”  One of the women was up for the challenge, but the other—in a tight-fitting skirt and gladiator sandals—was clearly just there for moral support.  (As to whether or not she would partake, she squealed: “No way!!”)

I understand her reluctance.  The arguments against such a life-threatening activity are more obvious than the pros.

This brings us back to the video.

Finally, the ridiculously bearded Booth finished harping on my potential demise and disappeared.  His stoic image was replaced by heart-thumping rave music.  Dozens of images of first-time and some seasoned divers flooded the screen; all jumping with reckless abandon; all emitting sounds too far off-key for most land-bound humans; and—most importantly—in spite of all noted perils, they were all uncontrollably smiling.

After signing my life away about two dozen times, I meet my instructor, Alex Allen, who is at least a foot shorter than me.

For no logical reason, this makes me mildly concerned.  (Will I be too heavy for the parachute?  Will he be able to see over my imposing head?  Will my gigantic limbs get caught in some cord that’s absolutely paramount to a safe and secure landing?)

I’m instantly relieved to hear that in the 16 years Allen has been on the sky-diving circuit he has completed over 11,700 jumps and has only had to use his safety chute four times.  He tells this to me immediately, which I think is a strategic move on his part, as is his response to my question regarding what, exactly, I have to do for this jump.

“I’ll tell you when we get on the plane,” he says.  And with no time to fret, we’re off.

I’m sitting in the back of an airplane so small I’m backed up against the pilot’s chair with my knees digging into my chest—and, still, there seems little space for me, my instructor, and the big-boned individual in the back of the plan.  (He’s just out for a “joy-jump.”)

Our bodies lurch as the ill-humored pilot drops altitude without warning, a maneuver that is exciting for Allen who says he’s always wanted to reach zero gravity but just makes me, well, want off this plane.

Finally at 10,000 feet—almost four times the height of the tallest building in the world—the side door swings open and I’m face-to-face with 10,000 feet of sheer air.  Reality sinks in.

“Put your feet on the step,” Allen finally explains, urging me to slide my body into this gravity-laden abyss.  “I’ll take it from there.”

I had little choice.  So I did.

Immediately, the air swept up against the sides of my face and held back my skin.  Details vanished.  The wind muted my senses.  Everything from my neck to my toes was too far away to enter my realm of consciousness.  I was nothing more than a set of eyes over windblown cheeks, peering out through plastic goggles at a hazy landscape smeared with blurry hues of green and brown.  At this speed, everything was totally incomprehensible.  There was nothing to focus my attention.  And it was great.

In a few seconds, Alex would pull a cord to release the 340-foot parachute that would bring us both to a seated position and guide us swiftly and easily the rest of the way down—over rooftops, treetops, geometric city blocks, narrow strips of shoreline and open plots of land—back to the world below where life would come back into focus.

But for now, in the midst of this 45-second free-fall, none of that mattered.

The Lenz Winery tasting room—snuggly nestled into a flat backdrop of 70 acres of endless rows of perfectly symmetrical vines—is a wide-open space with a long wooden table, silver spitting vessels and a patient sommelier, ready to serve.  Like many tasting rooms, the space itself is non-descript; but the adjectives it invokes more than make up for it.

Apples, apricots, bananas, grapefruit, lemon, tannins, PH, tobacco, butter, toast. The colorful words that bounce around these walls are as random and disparate as a Shakespearean potion.  Perhaps you too have found yourself wondering where these seemingly ridiculous terms actually come from.

Homing in on the answer to this question is, in part, the impetus behind Wine Camp, a four-day journey through some of the vineyards of the North Fork.  With carefully mapped-out itineraries in hand, “campers” are exposed to all aspects of viticulture, from grapevine history, to climatology, grape juice chemistry, vineyard management, the difference between wood and steel barrels, the art of blending, and even vine clipping.

“I had this vision of hands-on learning,” said Darolyn Augusta, who founded the camp seven years ago with her husband, Christopher, with whom she also runs a bed and breakfast in Peconic called The Harvest Inn.  The idea sprang forth after Darolyn took a course on winemaking through the Long Island Wine Council.  While the class was informative, she said, the information didn’t readily sink in.  “What I wanted was a learning experience.”  So, after talking to several of the North Fork winemakers themselves, she arranged for a camp that would give people an intimate look at the whole process.

In fact, Darolyn has taken me to the winery today to give me a sense of what a wine camper might do.  After sipping a fine 2004 Cuvée in the tasting room—Darolyn’s choice; as someone whose palette developed over bottles of “Two Buck Chuck,” my ability to select and assess wine is remedial at best—we were greeted by Eric Fry.  And then the real tasting began.

Fry, a large man with long, white hair and Nordic bone-structure (he would have made a great Viking), led us through a wooden door in the far corner of the tasting room.  We deftly descending a couple rickety steps and circumvented various objects until we were standing on a concrete floor in a room that smelled mildly of cold dirt.  We were surrounded by about a dozen stainless steel vats each about the size of a bedroom in Tribeca.  This was The Cellar.

Fry went over to one of the containers and opened a spigot, which released a small stream of clear liquid that flowed into the plastic beaker he held below it.  He divvied-up its contents amongst our glasses.  After encouraging us to take a sip and—just as brash as it sounds—spit the liquid straight onto the concrete floor, he asked: “What do you taste?”

This question is always paralyzing for one so clearly out of her league.  I scanned my brain for all the colorful adjectives seasoned tasters typically toss out at this point in the wine-tasting process.  But, which obscure flavor was this? Cherry? Oak? Toast? Tobacco?  I went with what I thought to be a conservative choice.

“Um… Raspberry?”

Fry didn’t readily respond.  “Ok.  There is no wrong answer, but that was wrong,” he said, politely releasing a short fit of laughter, easing any tension that might have formed in the wake of my obvious naiveté.  “But it’s really close,” he reassured me, saying that what I was really tasting was sour: more like green apples and lemons.  (Fry would later explain that it takes practice to put what you taste into words.  Apparently, there’s some sort of neurological connection lacking between the part of the brain that recognizes taste and the part that processes speech, so verbalizing wine for a novice like myself is exactly the way it feels: near impossible.) “What else?  Anything.”

I was spent after raspberry, but tried my hand at another flavor, attempting this time not to labor over my response.  “Vinegar?”

Fry made a comical sound of disgust, like he had just squashed a bug.  “How about sour cherry?” he offered instead.  “It’s screaming sour cherry.”

He was right.  And it began to make sense when he explained why.  This was the flat beginnings of the bubbly we had sampled just moments before in the tasting room, he said.

“I want it to be delicate, clean, really fresh and really simple, because with bubbly, the flavor comes from the time on the yeast, [which is what gives it] all those sort of toasty, caramel, honey characters,” he explained.  Fry uses a yeast called Prise de Mousse, which he adds to the bottled liquid, caps it off with a beer-bottle top and places it in the basement for at least five years before its finally disgorged.

“If you’ve got a really strong apple character, or a really strong fruit character, it becomes spumanti,” he added.  “I don’t want that.  I want a really delicate flavor now with lots of acidity.  It’s too sour to drink now, but you’re going to put it on the yeast and leave it in a bottle for five years, so you need to have that low PH for stability, for integrity, so that it doesn’t spoil. “

As we continued tasting, Fry further explained that the flavor from white wine grapes, like Chardonnay, will differ depending on when the grapes are picked.  (Premature and they’re sour apple; late in the season and they’re juicy, ripe pear.)  Wine campers learn how to distinguish these flavors with Fry, ultimately blending samples themselves to create their own liquid “fruit salad,” made to taste.

With more knowledge of how these flavors come about, I was ready for another blend.  Fry poured a bit of Pinot Gris.

“Tell me any impression you get,” Fry began.  “But, also tell me how this wine differs from the last wine.”

“Ok…  It has more of a bite.  It’s not as sour.”

“Not as sour!  Correct.  That means, less acid,” he said.  (I was proud.)  “Now name a fruit,” he continued.

I ventured a guess: “Kind of, maybe like apple, but not granny smith apple… ?”

“Perfect,” Fry responded.  “It’s smoother, it’s richer, it is not sweet, but it is not as acidic.”  (His explanation was a bit more articulate.)  “It’s creamier and richer because there’s more glycerol, there’s more diacetyl.  The first wine saw almost no barrels; this one saw barrels and malolactic in the second fermentation.”

Sure, I still wasn’t really sure what all that meant, but knew I knew a lot more than when I walked through the door.  In all, we tasted about 10 different varieties of wine, both whites and reds; and still, it was only a miniscule version of what actual wine campers can expect.

Darolyn said she and her husband usually entertain about 20 to 24 guests during a wine camp weekend, and they’ve seen couples from all walks of life: those who sign-up for the experience because they’re thinking of opening a vineyard themselves, and those who, Darolyn said, come in saying “I know what I like, but I don’t know why.”  When it comes down to it, she continued, “Wine Camp helps them understand why.”

Wine Camp dates for 2012 are already available for reservations.  For a full list of events and participating vineyards, visit the Wine Camp website www.harvestinnbandb.com/winecamp or call Harvest Inn at 765-9412.

By Georgia Suter

“It’s like you’ve been to another planet. You’re on your own, you’re on the water, it’s a peaceful environment…a total mind-body experience,” says Rick Drew.

Paddle boarding, a surface water sport, has been consistently gaining momentum since its origin in Hawaii in the 1940’s. The sport, which involves standing atop a long board and propelling oneself through the water with a paddle, integrates surfing with paddling and provides, as Drew describes “an empowering and refreshing” workout.

The paddling experience depends largely on the chosen body of water—“there’s distance paddling and then there’s ocean paddling,” notes Drew, who is manager of Main Beach Surf & Sport in East Hampton.

For distance paddling on the bay, “the board is going to be longer. Each stroke is more efficient, and the board goes further, faster and straighter.” For those that haven’t seen the sport in action, imagine an upright silhouette, gliding swiftly across the flat horizon. “The shape of the board is unique and specialized for flat water and mild ocean water conditions.”
For those that are more advanced and daring, downwind paddling, commonly called “stand-up paddle surfing,” requires a different board. “Downwind boards for the ocean have some rocker, so that you’re actually riding waves along the beach with the wind and the wave swell behind you, almost like a boat with the bow shaped upwards a bit.”

Outdoor enthusiast Lars Svanberg, owner of the shop, captures a thrilling moment in his blog entry about a downwind paddling expedition from Beach Lane in Wainscott to Atlantic Beach in Amagansett:

“This is when you start to synch with the wind, waves, tide and current. Your board rises up, the nose starts to pitch and you know instinctively that you are about to paddle down a six-foot rolling swell. You paddle quickly, feeling the momentum build, you pull hard over the edge…..ahhhhh, release. Now you’re flying down the face with all in your favor—wind, tide and swell. You keep paddling hard and you reach the next crest, a little lull as the board again pitches and the rise and fall repeats itself. Paddle hard, drop, glide, cruise, feel the flow, the momentum, you are one with the elements….”

For the novice, entry level paddling is best on the calmer surface of the bay and “with a lesson or a few days of practice, you can go out on your own.” For those eager to move right into an ocean paddle, Drew recommends taking a paddle surfing or surfing lesson, just to get an idea of how to get in and how to get through a break. “You don’t want to find yourself between the board and the beach — there are certain fundamentals of ocean safety that everyone should understand, and typically a lesson should be required if you want to paddle along out there.”

The paddle board experience is multi-dimensional, involving a careful dynamic between the body, the board and the big sea. Gliding upon the water brings a great awareness to the body and its movement. While a lesson can provide some key pointers, Drew explains that a big part of paddling successfully comes from learning to adapt to the changing rhythm of the water and the balance of the board.

“You want to learn about the tides, the winds, how your body responds to the board with your own weight distribution. There are certain skills that come in handy, such as correct stroke and then developing an efficient stroke. If you’re in the wrong stance, for instance, your knees might hurt—correct form is definitely important for an enjoyable experience.”

A precaution when cruising along is trying to avoid “pearling.” For those that have been more land-bound, pearling refers to the nose of the board digging or sinking into the water, causing the tail of the board to lift and the person to be ejected. This can also happen when one stands too far back on the tail, and the nose goes up and the tail starts sinking. “There’s a lot of footwork involved to prevent this from happening,” explains Rick. “You’re moving to the back and then to the front.”

Once acquainted with the dynamics of the board and the water, the physical benefits of the activity are enormous, providing a kind of heightened workout in one of the most serene environments.

“It’s low impact, good cardio and it’s great strength for the core. It’s becoming the off-day kind of workout choice for a lot of competitive trainers.”

Because the surface area of the board is so spacious, there’s room for doing more than just standing.

“Many personal trainers are even starting to use the sport, taking their clients out and incorporating yoga moves, push-ups, and squats, all on the board. All the benefits are accentuated because of the balance that’s required.”

Along with the health benefits, Drew elaborates on the empowering properties of the sport.

“There have been women that have wanted to go out on their own and kayak but they haven’t been able to get the kayak on their car. Now there are these paddle boards that weigh 15 pounds and you can easily be on your own with an amazing workout ahead of you.”

Opportunities for the curious abound and outfitters organize group paddles ranging from level-one distance paddles along the Montauk lighthouse, through Georgica, or circumnavigating Shelter Island. The group paddle sessions can be the perfect solution for those that are curious but hesitant about miles of paddling all on their own.

Completing an outing and returning to the land on the 14 foot board can be, as Svanberg describes, another journey in itself:

“Here comes the real challenge — getting to shore unscathed with your board and yourself all in one piece. I line up a huge outside set wave and paddle hard to catch it, knowing the last one has to be a good one. Got it, now the drop, stomp on the tail, bend the knees to absorb the impact and ride the white water home…timing is everything. Quickly I see a window of opportunity as I turn and paddle hard on the backside of a small roller as I approach the beach. The surge of water hits the sand and I glide on top of the foam ball to the safety of the sand.”

These days you can’t walk down the street without seeing a yoga mat slung over someone’s shoulder. You can’t sit on the Jitney without someone opening up Eckhardt Tolle or another author applying Eastern philosophies to our western lives. This growing trend in western culture has given a lot of people solace and strength, but Dr. Nicholas Kardaras, Psychotherapist and Professor, says “looking to the East for all [the answers] stems from a feeling of cultural inferiority. We look to the houses of strangers for the teachings. But we have our own wisdom traditions here in the West.”

Kardaras explores these rich teachings in his new book, “How Plato and Pythagoras Can Save Your Life”, in which he explores Ancient Greek philosophy as a tool for wellness in today’s world. It is striking the similarities between the philosophies of Plato and Pythagoras as compared with those of Buddha and Lao Tsu. But that tranquility that is inextricably linked to Buddha doesn’t seem to be attached to our notion of the Greek philosophers.

“I am trying to illuminate this path because it’s gotten lost,” says Kardaras. “The philosophy professors have lost it. They’ve made it into semantic debates.”
The philosophers themselves, Kardaras argues, were the opposite of stale or distant. They lived in the moment. They were, essentially, yogis.

In yoga, the physical practice, or asana, is a means to arrive at an elevated state of consciousness. That’s why at the end of a yoga class, students practice Savasana, or final relaxation, during which time the mind and body can benefit from stillness after a strong physical exertion. In classical yoga this state of mind is illustrated with an image: Think of the mind as a lake and the spirit, a mountain standing beside it. Each ripple on the surface of the lake is a thought passing through the mind. The goal of yoga and meditation is to quiet the mind so there are no ripples, so that you can see the mountain reflected on the surface of the lake.

The ancient Greeks, too, explored the mind/body/spirit connection.
“Pythagoras compared the body to a lyre,” says Kardaras, “and spoke of keeping your instrument well tuned. [He spoke of] aligning the body to a larger consciousness.” To this end, the Ancient Greeks engaged in legendary physical practice, namely the Olympics.
“Pythagoreans,” explains Kardaras, “did rigorous physical exercise. Wrestling, running, shadow boxing. After physical exercise, they did meditations. This physical exertion of exercise quiets down the over-thinking brain.” Sounds familiar.

John Friend, the founder of Anusara Yoga, says that one of the reasons we come to the yoga mat is to remember our true, divine nature. Plato’s theory of Anamnesis was the same thing: a remembering of cosmological knowledge. He wrote about his teacher, Socrates, taking a slave who had never been educated and teaching him a few mathematical theorems, and then, the slave remembers these underlying truths that were there all along.

“Plato and Pythagoras thought all knowledge was accessible if we could get past the mindstuff,” says Kardaras.

In many ways Ancient Greek philosophy resonates with those of us who have been influenced by Eastern thought. But Kardaras’s point is that the very fact these teachings come from our own ancestry will help deepen our connection to them.
“It’s about privileging western thought,” he says. “There’s a unity to looking at our own traditions.”

Kardaras himself benefited from this unity after a toxic life spun out of control. He was a nightclub owner in Manhattan in the 80s, living the fast life as a young 20-something with too much money. He became an addict and lost people very close to him; but it wasn’t until he overdosed and ended up in a coma that he realized his whole life needed to change. He decided to go back to school for social work, and he found that “when I started helping others I got a sense of purpose.”

Soon after, when he and his brand new wife were on their honeymoon in Greece, Kardaras started looking into the great philosophers of his ancestry.

“After my coma I was on a search for meaning, and I aligned myself with [Plato, Socrates, and Pythagoras] and realized what they have to offer. We are not a self-reflective society. We are consumed by the shiny baubles… We’ve lost our soul. If we remember this part of our heritage, we might reconnect with the soul.”

Emily Weitz is a writer and Anusara-inspired yoga teacher on the East End. Learn more about her at www.yogamatized.com.

Take several minutes each evening to look up at the night sky and just wonder. Plato believed that “all philosophy begins in wonder.” By looking out at the awe-inspiring universe, you can’t help but feel small, and wonder what’s out there.

A few minutes every day, try to experience the world around you without the use of your rational mind. Just experience it. The Greeks believed that our senses trapped us into the illusion that the sensory world was all there was. They believed when you got past the trap of the senses, you could tap into something deeper and more lasting.
Be a good person! In most situations, we know what we “should” do. Plato and Pythagoras believed that to reach the highest form of ourselves, we had to act on that knowledge and do the right thing.

For five minutes every day, listen to stringed, non-vocal music. Pythagoras believed that the entire universe was vibrational and that humans could sync up to that larger rhythm. His disciples would listen to the music and vibration of the lyre to re-tune themselves.

Do 30 to 45 minutes of physical activity every day. Keeping the body well-tuned requires physical exertion on a daily basis.

By Stephen Hamilton

I was taught the art of short-order cooking when I first came to New York as a young actor in the late 1970s. I worked a number of small kitchens up and down Columbus Avenue, learning to handle a chef’s knife and a soup kettle and how to make delicious foods that were filling and fast. Later, when I was touring the US as a performer, the first thing I did when I arrived in a strange town was find the local grocery and fill the fridge of my temporary home – usually one of several small, bare apartments in which the producer had ensconced the company. Long before marriage and children, filling my kitchen with delicious food helped me create a ”home away from home.”

At home these days — one now populated by my wife of 20 years and two terrific kids — preparing and eating a hearty, healthy soup is still one of the best ways I know to beat the mid-winter blahs. And it’s not just in the eating. I find breathing in the great sauté smells and feeling the warmth radiating from the stove up to my hands, arms and face as nourishing as the soup itself. You can reduce or eliminate the oil, butter and cheese, and still end up with a great meal. Add a green salad and a crunchy whole grain bread, and this is comfort food beyond compare.

VEGETABLE SOUP
½ cup olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup onion, sliced very thin
1 cup diced carrots
1 cup diced celery
2 cups peeled, diced potatoes
¼ pound fresh green beans, diced
3 cups shredded cabbage
1 pound fresh zucchini, diced
1½ cups canned cannellini beans, drained
2 cups canned chicken or vegetable broth, plus 4 cups water
2/3 cups canned plum tomatoes, with juice
Salt
Rind from a piece of Parmesan-Reggiano cheese
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan-Reggiano cheese

In a large stockpot, place oil, butter and onion on medium low heat. Cook uncovered until onion is transparent. Add carrots and cook 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add celery, cook 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add potatoes, repeating the same procedure, then green beans, zucchini, and cabbage. Continue cooking for another 5-6 minutes. Add broth, water, cheese rind, tomatoes and sprinkling of salt. Cover. Lower heat and let simmer for 2 ½ hours. Add cannellini beans, stir and cook for another half hour. When done, remove the cheese crust, and swirl in grated cheese. Correct for salt.

They’re re also the same guys who have us up nights; their innovations freeing us from nature’s norms.

But, we humans have to sleep.

According to Southampton Hospital’s Dr. Howard Sklarek, a cardiologist with a specialty in pulmonary diseases and sleep apnea, “Lack of sleep causes poor physical and cognitive functions, compromising the immune system and creating a higher incident of heart disease.”

That might be enough to send you back to bed, but Dr. Sklarek also sees poor sleep quality as a growing issue: “A lot of us aren’t getting to Stage 4 rapid eye movement any more.”

The solution? Making time to rest so we can sleep; setting up time to unwind before bed; keeping SportsCenter and the late night TV guys out of our bedrooms.

And, also, plugging in Jobs’ devices somewhere else.

“Your mind and body depend on sleep to recuperate; without it, we break down,” says Dr. Sklarek.

Dr. Sklarek sounds like a nice guy.

Let’s take his remedy now rather than his prescriptions later.

A new product, sporting-sails, brings that experience out of the sky, off the water and onto land, its parachute-like material developed to allow wind-riding on skateboards, skis and snowboards.

The rules for using sporting-sails? Pretty simple:

Fasten lower straps snuggly around both legs on ankles, calves or thighs.

Securely loop top straps over both hands between thumb and forefinger.

To increase air resistance and stability, stand tall and extend arms outward.

To decrease air resistance and increase speed, draw arms in and tuck.

[Be safe, responsible and experiment; have fun. Because there’s always a lawyer around: wear a helmet and be ready to bail.]

Given all the wind we have here, it looks like it might be worth a go on a longboard. Try sporting-sails.com for inspiration.

While walking across a bridge in “The House at Pooh Corner”, Winnie the Pooh inadvertently drops a fir-cone he’s carrying off one side, seeing it fall into the stream below and then drift out on the other side.

Rather than wrestling with disappointment, Pooh drops in two more fir-cones at the same time, creating a competition. Soon Piglet, Rabbit and Roo join in, using sticks instead of fir-cones, and thus “Poohsticks” was born.
Sounds simple enough, right? But exercise?

Try it sometime: find a young friend (or a grandchild or two) and head to the Duck Pond in East Hampton; walk up the path to the bridges in back and collect a stick or two along the way. Toss those in on one side and see which comes out the other first.

Now bend down, grab your stick and do it, again. Repeat. Do it a few times more.

It’s the perfect exercise: there’s bending, twisting and quick movements, but no pounding.

Best of all, there’s sure to be a lot of laughter.