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An Indiana Daily Student Publication





Running through rehab An addict swaps pills for pavement


! S L E B E R ! S E I P S ! S N A ARTI ACK







| Inside magazine Issue Impossible |


These are our themes for the year.

Home Identity

The Free Issue

Editor’s Note

April 2011 | Volume 5, Issue 4

ISSUE IMPOSSIBLE Departments tmentss


EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Sarah Hutchins ART DIRECTOR Larry Buchanan PHOTO EDITOR Zach Hetrick COPY EDITOR Brad Zehr WEB EDITOR CJ Lotz WEB REPORTERS Melinda Elston and Hannah Waltz FEATURES EDITOR Caitlin Johnston FEATURES ASSISTANT Charlie Scudder DEPARTMENTS EDITORS Rachel Stark and Stephanie Doctrow DEPARTMENTS ASSISTANT Stephanie Kuzydym EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Kamilla Benko,

5 Spies. Aliens. Atomic bombs. We packed them all into this issue of Inside. In our fourth and final issue of the year, we took on the impossible. Our writers spent weeks in the IU Archives and Lilly Library digging up information on some of IU’s greatest (and most controversial) minds. We followed an athlete who overcame drug addiction only to become addicted to running. We also looked into some tasks that are impossible on our campus (missing Showalter fish, anyone?) And it wouldn’t be Issue Impossible without human flight. Our ambitious photo editor built a rig to make our cover model, Erin Walgamuth, soar Mission Impossiblestyle. I hope this issue inspires you to try the impossible. Just leave flying to the pros.

Confessions “The correlation is very high: mood from three or four days past is correlating with present Dow Jones Industrial Average evaluations.”


Know-it-all “I thank you for your love and support. I can’t wait to see the petition and I’m gonna see if I can do the little 5 for ya. Carter’s adorable, just like you.”

Caitlin Peterkin and Mickey Woods INDIANA DAILY STUDENT

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Jake Wright MANAGING EDITORS Lindsey Erdody and Lauren Sedam ART DIRECTOR Danielle Rindler WEB TECH SPECIALISTS Carl Brugger, Swathi Gurram and Aparna Rao ADVERTISING SALES MANAGERS Liza Giambra and Matt Vodicka


Better You “It’s all about safety and progressing until you know you’re ready to run up a wall or jump across a gap or do a flip.”


Inside Out  “The worst part of crashing isn’t humiliation or fear of being run over by other riders. It’s a tiny wire brush.”



Essay “This deep introspection only bubbles to the surface after several glasses of wine and, perhaps, a panic attack.”

BUSINESS OFFICE 812-855-0763 FAX 812-855-8009 Inside magazine, an enterprise of IU Student Media, is published twice per academic semester: October, December, February, and


April. Inside magazine operates as a selfsupporting enterprise within the broader scope of IU Student Media. Inside magazine operates as a designated public forum, and reader comments and contribution are welcome. Normally, the Inside magazine editor will be responsible for final content decisions, with the Indiana

Online only

Daily Student editor-in-chief involved in rare instances.

Watch a behind-the-scenes video of our cover photo shoot.

Ace your tests and still make it to $2 Tuesdays. We’ll tell you how.

Readers are entitled to a single copy of this magazine. The taking of multiple copies of this


“With the help of other inmates, Boxer built a radio receiver from the tin foil of discarded cigarette packages, parts of an old car, and tubes from a broken radio.”

“To maintain his lifestyle, he stole from his grandma’s church group and snuck change from his niece’s piggy bank.”


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and is subject to prosecution.




Cover photo by Zach Hetrick with help from Cory Elmer, Jenna Keinsley, and Maximillian Tortoriello. Cover model junior Erin Walgamuth.

publication may constitute as theft of property




Insomniac? We have tips for fitting in a solid eight (or six) hours of sleep.

All editorial and advertising content is subject to our policies, rates, and procedures.

What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: A winning football season, avoiding greeks, making the basketball team as a walk-on, maturity


Better You


Inside Out

What’s happening?

@iusoic: Informatics prof. Johan Bollen harnessed the power of Twitter to predict the stock market. Now he’s monitoring the digital mood in the Middle East. #badass 0 characters left





By Brad Zehr Photo by Zach Hetrick

nformatics professor Johan Bollen and colleague Huina Mao began with the premise that people feel happier when the market is up and that stock prices are predictive of the national mood. Ten million tweets and some calculus later, they found the opposite: The collective Twitter mood actually predicts up-and-down movements in the Dow Jones by four days. Their published results made national headlines last October — Bollen even had a go on CNBC’s “Squawk Box.” In March, a London hedge fund announced its $40 million investment in the model, and the fund opens for trade in April with Bollen and Mao as private consultants. Inside: Can I give you a scenario to see how this works? Say people are very anxious on Monday. What will the Dow Jones do in four days, most of the time? GO. Bollen: It depends on the dimension of mood. When people get nervous, we’ve observed that the market re- |


What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: Wear Boilermaker gear without getting harassed, get up for an 8 a.m. class, avoid drunk people

sponds three or four days later — which is quite a shock because you’d think this would happen immediately, but it’s like the Titanic. It’s difficult to turn the boat. It may take a couple days for the public and traders to process their moods and then start making decisions. So you have all these Twitter users who are predominantly under 30, and then you have all these investors who are above 30 predominantly. How do you justify or defend that young people’s moods are affecting how older people are buying stock? Well, we’re actually not defending that at all. We have no idea of why this works, we really don’t. But it works.

Money for your mood swings

Investing for dummies (a.k.a. the rest of us)

In his study, Bollen used 9.8 million random public tweets provided to researchers by Twitter. His software only used tweets with an explicit statement of mood, for example tweets that contained “I feel ... .” Mood analysis software categorized tweets into six moods: calm, alert, sure, vital, kind, and happy. The results? The collective “calmness” of tweets predicts how the Dow Jones will act in three to four days, with 86.7 percent accuracy.

We’re explaining “going short on the market” using a cartoon chicken.

Study SparkNotes This graphic, recreated from Bollen’s study, overlays the movement of the Dow Jones with the mood “calmness” on Twitter. mood of tweets Down Jones Industrial Average

1 (calm)

Science teachers everywhere are screaming correlation doesn’t equal causation. Is that what you’re saying about this study? Yeah. There may very well be some mechanism through which these are related. The correlation is very high: mood from three or four days past is correlating with present Dow Jones evaluations. So what do you think is happening? What I think may be happening is that somehow these 30-year-olds — Twitter is heavily news-driven — are like a canary in a coal mine. It’s an early indicator of what happens and how we all feel. When the market finally adjusts, it’s very difficult for people to get an edge on the market because by then we all share the same information. So it is possible that we’ve tapped into an alternate early source of information. The other hypothesis is that traders’ moods are affected by the public’s mood. One of our recent papers investigates how mood can be contagious online. Have you met with any of the Twitter co-founders? Not with the co-founders, but we talk with representatives for Twitter. Right now they’re changing their data access policies, and at least for commercial applications you will no longer be allowed to access their data feeds. You have to purchase a license to the data. They have an exclusive partner, Gnip, and they license out the data – it’s not cheap. I didn’t know Twitter could do that. Does Facebook have an arrangement like that?


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible

0 (neutral) -1 (anxious) Area of detail

Time (Aug. - Nov. 2008)


+ Calmness of tweets

Dow Jones closing values

Of the six moods Bollen analyzed in his study, calmness was the only one found to have predictive power over the Dow Jones.

Researchers shifted this line to the left by three days because “calmness” was found to be most predictive three to four days in advance.

Overlay The calmness line and the Dow Jones line overlap at many points, indicating that when calmness is high, the Dow goes up (and vice versa).

The bottom line Investors use this predictive power to bet on which direction the market will go. This knowledge lets them make profits regardless of whether the Dow falls or rises, as long as they bet correctly. This is called “going short” (betting on the Dow falling) or “going long” (betting on the Dow rising).


No, not for the raw data, which is too bad because that would be highly valuable data. Although I think Facebook fulfills a different function: People post updates, but it’s not so news-oriented. It’s more a sort of communal sharing. Twitter is much more fastpaced – people sharing news and very ephemeral status reports.

What are you working on now? Right now we’re trying to model how emotions spread through these networks. With Libya, Egypt, and Tunisia, where Twitter and Facebook played an important role, it’s not inconceivable that emotions played a tremendous role in how people got organized and how they felt about the regime. If there’s contagion of emotion, it means

We have no idea of why this works, we really don’t. But it works.” people can get infected with anger and all kinds of other emotions and that may play a role in organizing these kinds of protests. Will you be able to get access to tweets from those specific geographic areas? Only the Egypt tweets or only the Libya tweets? Yeah, it’s possible, because some of the tweets are geolocated. You can also use indicators like, “I’m at so-and-so Square right now.” Several years ago, when the Internet was just beginning to develop, you compared communication networks to the role of a brain in an organism. Do you still think this? I still stand by that. I wouldn’t have called it “the brain,” but at least “the central nervous system.” If you look at the globalization of our economy that has taken place, you look at information technology like Facebook and Twitter, it allows us to be part of phenomena — social, cultural, economic — that occur in different parts of the world. And to be so aware of these, that sometimes it’s difficult to determine whether it’s happening to someone else or to us. If you look at the disaster in Japan, you can see the pain and the suffering. We’re so close to it that it affects how we feel about ourselves. I think it’s tying us all very closely together, and I think it’ll have a beneficial effect on the “world organism,” if you can look at it that way.

Biddle Hotel | Group & Event Services | Union Board | Catering | Services | Dining | Recreation | Indiana Memorial Union Board on Facebook


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Indiana Memorial Union on Facebook ofďŹ cialimu on Twitter

What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: Go surfing, find a place to park, go anywhere without climbing a hill, graduate with a 4.0, get a full ride,

You’re going too far if ... 1. You like to swim in the Jordan River between classes. 2. You practice dolphin or whale speech. 3. You wear your scuba mask out to $2 Tuesdays.


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible


20,000 Leagues Under the Sea


You enjoyed Tang as a child.


Are you between 64 and 76 inches tall?

By Stephanie Doctrow


Watch Jaws, Finding Nemo,



HPER-E 270 Introduction to Scientific Scuba


Do you mind the smell of dead fish?


SPEA-E 360 Intro to Water Resources


As we near college graduation, our biggest career goal is to actually graduate with a job. But remember the days when we weren’t afraid to dream big?

You count “being able to speak whale” as a foreign language.


GEOL-G 341 Natural History of Coral Reefs

Did you go to cotillion?

You would have freed Willy.



Adam Cantor, recent graduate



Grab your swim trunks and flippie-floppies, and don’t forget your nautical-themed pashmina afghan. While IU doesn’t have a marine biology program, there are ways to get involved in underwater activities in Bloomington. Southern Indiana Scuba, off IN37, offers a Discover Scuba class for $20 per session that gives you the chance to try out scuba equipment with a professional staff member’s help. Or, journey to the depths of the HPER building to the Office of Underwater Science and check out one of their projects — restoring a cannon from the legendary pirate Captain Kidd’s ship. Every summer, the Office of Overseas Study runs a tropical ecology trip for biology majors to the Grand Cayman Islands. Trip participants spend a week and a half in paradise, exploring and researching coral reef habitats with Professor Bill Ruf. “As we were diving or taking hikes through the jungle, we were learning,” says recent graduate Adam Cantor, who went on the trip last summer. “It’s one thing to learn about coral bleaching in a book. It’s another thing to see it firsthand.”

Inside Out




Do you have a secret ID?







Jen Kulow, senior



Going to infinity and beyond isn’t just for Buzz Lightyear. IU offers plenty of opportunities to channel your inner space cadet. When the weather warms up, spend your nights under the stars. In the spring, the Kirkwood Observatory is open to the public on Wednesday nights. Go online and order some of your favorite space-age foods from childhood — freeze-dried ice cream and Tang are available on Amazon. Or get involved with the IU Astronomy Club. Every Tuesday night

at 7:30, club members meet in Swain West to share their passion for space. Senior Jen Kulow, club president, says each semester, the club hosts a Star Party at a local campground, complete with telescopes, tents, and campfires. This year the club also started an event called Sidewalk Astronomy — they set up telescopes on Kirkwood, near the Monroe County Public Library, and encouraged people walking by to stop and take a look. “This year we also have intramural teams,” Kulow says. “We had a flag football team called the Galactic Cannibals. And our soccer and softball teams, the InfraRed Cars and the InfraRed Sox, are in training.”

Take AST-A 100 The Solar System AERO-A 202 The Development of Air Power II CMLT-C 216 Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Western Tradition

Watch Apollo 13, Planet of the Apes, 2001: A Space Odyssey You’re going too far if ... 1. You pull a Lance Bass and actually try to pay to go into space. 2. You say “Houston, we have a problem,” whenever there’s an issue. 3. You’re saving up to spend SB ‘12 in Huntsville, Ala., at NASA Space Camp.

be worse than Purdue, not see a new person every day, not sweat in Wright Quad, get to sleep before midnight, have a quiet IUSA election season

Maggie Delaney, junior

You wore a tiara to prom.




You think capes are classy.



and Caitlin Peterkin






You would kiss a frog, for the right price.

As children, our fantasies of growing up to be ballerinas, firemen, and international spies didn’t seem impossible. Who’s to say they’re out of our reach now? Inside is here to help you get in touch with your inner child.



If you were that kid who tried to jump off the roof using a bed sheet like a cape, Bloomington offers many ways for you to channel your inner Superman or Spider-Man. Practice your wall-climbing skills at IU Outdoor Adventures’ bouldering wall, located in Eigenmann Residential Center. For $5, you can scale three 11-foot walls without any ropes or harnesses — it’s just you and your spidey-sense. Bloomington Skydiving offers tandem skydiving with an instructor —

perfect for beginners. Freefalling at speeds of up to 120 mph, you’ll feel as if you’re flying over the streets of Metropolis. One day of skydiving will set you back around $200, but when you’re training to fight villains, the result is priceless. Try out parkour like senior Dylan Cashbaugh and be a real-life SpiderMan. Cashbaugh describes parkour as traveling efficiently through your environment while moving under and through anything that’s in your way. It’s like turning your world into an obstacle course. Parkour participants scale walls, jump across gaps, and do flips to push themselves physically and mentally. It isn’t an official sport, but par-


It might be too late to get a pony or live in a castle, but if you’ve always had royal ambitions, it’s not too late to work on that inner sparkle. Prepare yourself to waltz at state dinners by stopping by an IU Ballroom Dance Club meeting every Thursday night at 8:30 p.m. in HPER 171. The Student Alumni Association holds free etiquette dinners each semester to teach SAA members how to dine with the best. Students may register online to attend the interactive dinner where they are served a five-course meal and learn how to present themselves during formal affairs. Or, be real-life royalty like Maggie Delaney, a previous Miss IU. Delaney held the title for the last two years, since she won as a freshman in 2008. Delaney’s platform is supporting IUDM. She danced in IUDM her sophomore year for her sorority, Delta Gamma, and now serves on the event’s Morale Committee. “It helps to get involved in something you’re passionate about,” Delaney says. “Miss IU needs to be a girl who is well-rounded and connected in campus life.”

Take CMCL-C 121 Public Speaking POLS-Y 109 Intro to International Relations HPER-E 109 Ballroom and Social Dance

Watch The Princess Diaries, Elizabeth, The King’s Speech

You’re going too far if ... 1. You check William and Kate’s wedding website every day. 2. You think crowns are acceptable to wear to class. 3. You expect your professor to address you as “Your Highness.”

Dylan Cashbaugh, senior

ticipants like Cashbaugh have formed a student activities group that meets on Saturday afternoons to practice their craft. “I can do things now that, before I knew about parkour, I didn’t know any human was capable of,” Cashbaugh says. Cashbaugh’s worst injury so far has been a sprained ankle, but scrapes and cuts are the most common injury associated with the sport. “We don’t try things we don’t think we can do. It’s all about safety and progressing until you know you’re ready to run up a wall or jump across a gap or do a flip.”

Take CLLC-L 100 Comics as Memoir HPER-E 145 Intro to the Martial Arts THTR-T 230 Costume Design & Technology I

Watch The Incredibles, Sky High, X-Men You’re going too far if ... 1. You’ve begged all of your friends to say “Man/ Woman of Wonder” after your name. 2. You’ve named your car the Batmobile. 3. You make “whooshing” noises with every movement. |


What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: Remain a virgin, pet a fiery orange IU squirrel, have good weather year round, drive across 10th Street at 6 p.m.,


Better you


Inside Out

Lil Wayne’s coming?

No way. Thanks to Union Board and one Weezyobsessed senior, the rap legend will tear up Assembly Hall for Little 500.


By Hannah Waltz Illustration by Michael Buchanan

jailed rapper might not sound like the best pen pal, but senior Meredith Barron learned that not only would her favorite artist, Lil Wayne, write back, he’d even try to grant her wish: a Little 500 concert. Barron, a Weezy enthusiast, wrote her first letter to Lil Wayne last June after his imprisonment for weapons possession. In it she mentioned a petition she started at Kilroy’s to have him perform here, as well as how much his music meant to her. “I didn’t want to sound creepy or like, ‘I’m obsessed with you,’” Barron says. “But his music really got me through some tough times.” A couple months later, Lil Wayne, on his site, responded specifically to Barron. “I thank you for your love and support,” he posted. “I can’t wait to see the petition and I’m gonna see if I can do the little 5 for ya.” He even added a shoutout to Barron’s pooch, affectionately named after Lil Wayne’s last name.

“Carter’s adorable, just like you.” Barron also created a Facebook event promoting Lil Wayne’s attendance at this year’s Little 500, a page that at one point had more than 50,000 members. “Within 24 hours, there were like thousands of people saying they would come if he came.” While Barron pulled at Weezy’s incarcerated heartstrings, Union Board worked to make a deal with Live Nation, which handles tour dates for Lil Wayne and Nicki Minaj. Union Board Concerts Director Lisa Wagner says she attended a conference in Los Angeles, determined to make a deal. “We always try to bring to IU the artists the students want the most, mostly according to surveys,” Wagner says. “So we had to send [Live Nation] a mean offer. Bloomington, although it’s a small city, shouldn’t be underappreciated.” After a two-week turn around, Live Nation told Union Board that Lil Wayne would attend Little 500 this spring. Mission accomplished.


By Melinda Elston





Aaron Waltke, ’06 graduate, broke the record for most T-shirts worn at once when he donned 160 shirts. His record was broken in 2010.

Jon Coombs, ‘08 graduate, broke the world record for most rubber bands put on one’s face in a minute with 57 rubber bands. His record was broken in 2009.

Wesley Barnes, ‘09 graduate, hosted a Halloween party with 508 guests, breaking the world record for largest Halloween party. The previous record had 362 guests in attendance.

With help from the Schick razor brand, IU broke the world record for the longest distance travelled on a Slip ‘n Slide in one hour with 22,290 feet. In 2010, Penn State and the University of Oregon set new records.


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get a mascot, get an A+, lose weight

Stop by and take a tour for a chance to

Win a FREE


Is it really impossible to ... By CJ Lotz

... check out all the books in the library? You could spend a lifetime reading IU’s collection of books and not even begin to make a dent in the list. Bloomington campus libraries contain 7,809,797 bound volumes. It is the largest collection in the state of Indiana. Do the math 158 days of classes each year x 4 years = 632 days. That’s 12,357 books per day of your academic life to check out every book in the library.

So many


we needed two properties.

... steal a fish from the Showalter Fountain? Yeah, right. Not only is it possible, stealing the 400 to 600-pound fish has been done as a symbol of every emotional hiccup on this campus. IU wins the 1987 NCAA basketball championship and a fish shows up in front of an apartment wearing an IU shirt and red painted lipstick. Bobby Knight gets fired and the fish swims away again. Those fish found their way back. This past August, one of the fish disappeared and is still out of water. Sherry Rouse, curator of campus art, says the poachers planned the netting down to every detail. “All we know is they had tools and took it deliberately,” she says. “We found stuff at the bottom of the fountain that they left — the screws and the mounts.” When the physical plant drained the fountain for winter, workers took out all the fish. Before graduation, the fish will be reinstalled with more secure attachments.

Check it out for yourself.

1200 Rolling Ridge Way g Bloomington 81 812 2.55 558.08 55 0800 00 812.558.0800

1051 S. Adams St. g Bloomington 812 81 2.55 558 8.08 0800 00 812.558.0800

What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: Spend four years at IU and not make a trip to Mother Bear’s, make the college basketball playoffs,


Better you



The World’s Most Impossible To Little 500 riders, ‘impossible’ is just ust a word tossed around by those who don’t have the courage to throw on a pair of spandex and a helmet and pedal a bike.


he words “Little 500” don’t just signify a race, but an entire semester. The four spring events and plenty of parties create a culture that’s difficult to ignore. Brad Herring, a member of the steering committee, says the race really is the “Greatest College Weekend.” “For members of IUSF it’s a life changing experience,” Herring says. “It’s a chance for us to put on an event that’s been going on for 61 years to help raise money to give back to working students as scholarships.”

By Stephanie Kuzydym and Charlie Scudder lthouse is in his fourth year Brian Holthouse ay Goat Cycling. As a cyclist, he riding for Gray rd not to be a part of Little 500, knows it’s hard yond those who pedal a bike. but it goes beyond hink you can find another uni“I don’t think ent that focuses so much deversity or event termination into it where the prize is in the hts,” Holthouse says. “Whethbragging rights,” er you’re on the track racing or in the pit helping your team out or just putting on a heering or in one of the turns T-shirt and cheering w flag, the weekend touches with a yellow you.” For one weekend, riders tackle the im-

BOYCOTT THE BOOZE For many students, the idea of giving up drinking for an entire semester for one day of racing sounds preposterous. For Little 500 riders, however, refusing to drink during the spring semester is just part of the tradition. “It’s not really hard,” senior and Phi Gamma Delta team captain Ted Boeglin says. “It’s just about focus and commitment to Little 500.” Boeglin says that the Fiji team made an early agreement to skip drinking during the second semester in order to stay in shape for race day. “I just think that if you are sober it is easier to get a good workout in, wake up at the right time, overall be a healthier person,” he says. “That helps with Little 500.” The Fiji riders are still allowed to go to parties and bars, but other teams are much more strict. Junior and Mezcla team captain Jocelyn Solorzano says her team has a no-party, no-bar rule. “We try to stay away from anything with drinking,” she says. “I had my farewell party to the bars earlier in the semester.” Solorzano says her team basically replaces alcohol and partying with water and training. “Especially for spring break, it’s tough,” she says. “We don’t drink second semester through race day, then we celebrate that night.”


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible

possible – defying injuries and making sacrifices for the chance to be the best. Here’s how they make it happen.

hike up to the third floor in Ballantine and not be winded


College guys typically don’t rock silky-smooth

legs,, but many male Little 5 riders embrace the hairless-leg look. That way, when they crash — and let’s face it, all riders hit the cinders at some point — they won’t have to rip out leg hair while scrubbing their wounds. Pi Kappa Alpha rider Caleb Douglas refused to shave his legs as a freshman last year, but this year he gave in to the razor.

“Two out of four guys on my team did it already “T Douglas says. “I thought, ‘Eh, why not?’” this year,” y Now Douglas shaves his legs every three days with his BIC B 3 comfort razor and Gillette shaving cream. Sigma Pi rider Eric Stearley isn’t scared to S shave his legs for the race, partly because he shav realizes it will cause less pain if he crashes and realiz partly because he shaved his legs before coming partl to IU. IU A competitive swimmer in high school high, Stearley began shaving his legs and junior j before swim meets. Six years later, Stearley befo prefers the Gillette Mach 3 razor for his race prefe shave. And the shaving cream? “Edge,” he says. shav “For sure.”

TAKE A FEW TUMBLES … AND SCRAPE OUT THE CINDERS Kelsey Kent can feel the cinders in her elbow and hips. She remembers the first time she took a spill on the track. Every rider does. The four-year Delta Gamma rider says getting up hurts more than falling. The worst part of crashing isn’t humiliation or fear of being run over by other riders flying around the track. It’s a tiny wire brush. “You have to rub your raw skin to get the cinders out,” Kent says. “It’s like a toothbrush. You have to scrub so you don’t get an infection and so it heals faster. It hurts so bad you don’t want to scrub but it’s better if you do it right then and there.” Every spill on the Little 500 track doesn’t always result in cinders. Kent says it just depends on which part of your body hits the ground. But it wouldn’t be a race without crashes. “That’s what they say,” Kent says with a smile. “Every good rider always takes a piece of the track away with them.”


register for Summer Classes Today!

Summer Sessions at Indiana Summer University at Bloomington IU Bloomington

14 Inside Magazine Issue Impossible

Behind the doors of the Lilly Library, the chambers of the Cyclotron, and the booths of Nick’s English Hut are stories of unthinkable lives — dusty and untouched. IU has harbored its own breed of superhero – those who teach the masses while simultaneously waging wars, decoding secret messages, and deciphering decade-old riddles.

FOR THEM, EVERY DAY IS A CHANCE TO TAKE ON MISSION IMPOSSIBLE. By Kamilla Benko and Caitlin Johnston Illustrations by Larry Buchanan


16 Inside Magazine Issue Impossible

He decoded Japanese messages during World War II, married a tiger-hunting feminist, and drank beers at Nick’s English Hut. This spy-turnedHoosier is our own James Bond. By Kamilla Benko


Charles Boxer.


he spy set his alarm for 7:15 each morning, ate breakfast, and read the paper until 9:00 a.m. when the doors of the Lilly Library opened. Then he would settle in the Mendel Room to work on lectures or archive papers. ¶ Despite his good looks (“All the young women in the library found him attractive,” says Bill Cagle, former director of the Lilly Library), Major Charles Ralph Boxer was an unassuming figure. You’d never guess Boxer, a Bloomington professor, was once a senior spy in Asia during World War II or the hero in a love story publicized around the world, says Patrick O’Meara, the vice president for international affairs and Boxer’s friend and colleague. “Charles Boxer lived what one could call an impossible life,” O’Meara says. “He never had a Ph.D. and yet he was one of the great intellectuals and scholars of the world. He was a major who escaped death and survived a Japanese concentration camp. And then there is the remarkable romance between him and his wife. It was impossible on many levels.”

The spy At 4:45 a.m., a coded message interrupted the routine broadcast of Radio Tokyo. It was the message Boxer had been listening for, one that warned Japanese nationals abroad that Great Britain and Japan were at war. Pearl Harbor had been attacked. The head of British Intelligence in Hong Kong, Boxer often translated Japanese information for the military — his knowledge of Japanese (and six other languages) and their culture (he trained in kendo, the ancient martial art of sword fighting) made him an invalu-

able asset to the British military on the eve of war in the Pacific Ocean. In the days that followed the attack, Hong Kong fell to the Japanese troops and Boxer, shot by a sniper, was paralyzed in his left arm and sent to a concentration camp. With the help of other inmates, Boxer built a radio receiver from the tin foil of discarded cigarette packages, parts of an old car, and tubes from a broken radio. The captives hid the unit in a four-gallon can with a false bottom and buried it in the camp garden. For a time, Boxer secretly listened to the radio and disseminated news of the outside world among inmates. Then the radio was found. For any other officer this would have meant death, but the Japanese admired the British major who spoke their language. Instead of execution, they sentenced him to solitary confinement. For nearly two years, he shared a room with rats and endured torture in silence. But his waiting came to an end Aug. 15, 1945, when, reeling from atomic bombs, Japan surrendered (see page 21) and released the POWs. Boxer rarely spoke of his time in captivity and declined military decorations from the British government. In his mind, he was no hero. He was just lucky to have survived. With the war over, Boxer had only one goal: He had to meet up with Emily Hahn.


The playboy With movie star looks (think Leonardo DiCaprio), Boxer had a reputation as an international playboy — even though he was married. But in 1938 he met a woman with a reputation even more colorful than his. “Emily was called the ‘Scandalous Miss Hahn,’ you know,” O’Meara says. “Cigarsmoking, tequila-drinking feminist in the fullest sense of the term. And an incredible writer.” Hahn traveled around the world as a single woman, supporting herself by writing books and columns for The New Yorker. She lived with a tribe of Pygmies in Africa, smoked opium in Shanghai, and tiger-hunted in India. Her openness about her promiscuous encounters on her travels shocked both readers and acquaintances. At some point in their relationship, Hahn recalled in her memoirs, she mentioned she’d like to have a child some day. “Let’s have one,” Boxer replied instantly. “Just to make things all right, if I can get a divorce and if it all works out, we might even get married.” Unsure if she was even capable of becoming pregnant, Hahn remained hesitant and told Boxer so. “Yes you can,” was the empathetic response. “I’ll have you know that I always get girls in trouble.” Carola Boxer was born in Hong Kong on Oct. 17, 1941. When the war ended, Boxer followed his lover and their daughter to New York and — after attaining a divorce from his first wife — married her. “It was an interesting combination, perhaps an impossible combination,” O’Meara says. “This very elegant, British military person with a great mind, and Emily, the feminist who did an engineering degree because it was there.” Their marriage lasted until Hahn’s death in 1997.

The Hoosier “Charles leaves England tomorrow for Indiana via Boston; he changes over and goes to Indianapolis where some trusty friend awaits him with a car for Bloomington. Bloomington, of all places. NOT what I would chose,” Hahn complained to a friend in a 1976 letter. After WWII, Boxer retired from mili-

18 Inside Magazine Issue Impossible

Charles Ralph Boxer around 1950. Photo courtesy of Charles R. Boxer: An uncommon life.

tary life and developed his passion for academic study. The colonial expansion of Portugal was his specialty. Though he never attended college, universities offered him many honorary degrees and traveling professorships, including one at IU. Though Hahn deplored the lack of French restaurants in 1970s Bloomington, Boxer found the town wonderful. “I much enjoyed my stay,” he said after his first semester. “I am already looking forward to returning there.” Every spring for 10 years, he taught a history course and advised the Lilly Library on its collections. But he would only visit Bloomington in the spring because he abhorred football season. “It was too disorderly for Charles,” O’Meara explains. Ironic, considering Boxer lived a relatively wild lifestyle in Asia (parties, alcohol, and lovers galore) but O’Meara explains, “It’s the unexpected that is so important with Charles. There are many sides to him. The soldier, the scholar, the person who was disciplined in so many ways, but was really quite the adventurer in others.” Instead, Boxer preferred to throw elaborate dinner parties with strawberries floating in the champagne. While he sought elegance, he was never one for pretention and enjoyed spending Friday afternoons at Nick’s English Hut with graduate students. (Though O’Meara says Boxer probably never played Sink the Biz, the popular drinking game. “That just doesn’t sound like Charles.”) Boxer left IU in 1979, but not before he sold his collection of rare manuscripts to the library, which also houses his wife’s extensive letter collection. He died in 2000 at the age of 96, leaving behind two daughters and a long list of titles: major, spy, prisoner, playboy, and scholar. Was it an impossible life? Maybe. But impossible was not in Boxer’s vocabulary.

Mission to Mars Martians could exist. Just don’t expect them to look like the tiny green creatures from Toy Story. By Kamilla Benko


tar Trek. Signs. Men in Black. The list of alien films goes on and on. But despite all the movies, the approximately 5.5 million known species in the solar system are found in only one spot: Earth. Nevertheless, human imagination still clings to cinematic aliens and leaves us wondering: Could Martians really exist? Lisa Pratt, a professor of geological sciences and astrobiology expert, says it’s likely, but we shouldn’t be looking for little green men with three eyes. “Any life on Mars would be small and simple, like archaea or bacteria on Earth,” she says. “If life on Mars exists, or existed, it would have to be very tiny to survive the cold, dry climate.” Pratt studies microbes that live in extreme envi-

ronments — places that most creatures would find impossible to survive. So far, her research has taken her from two miles beneath the surface of South Africa to the Arctic Circle. Now, she’s looking at Mars. “Mars is very cold, but it still has internal heat and sources of H2O. Its composition is very Earth-like,” Pratt explains. “The conditions in the Arctic, with the frigid temperatures, are a very good comparison to Mars.” Worried about an alien invasion? The Martians won’t attack in UFOs, but Pratt says there’s a possibility they could wreak havoc on Earth’s ecosystem. “If there is life on Mars, we need to be very careful that we do not introduce an Earthlife that competes with indigenous life and vice-versa,” Pratt says. “Astrobiologists worry about planetary protection in both directions.” Working with Pratt, NASA recently announced plans for the Mars Astrobiology Explorer-Cacher, a rover that will collect samples from rocks that have a high-likelihood of containing evidence of past life. Pratt says scientists will look for fossilized cells or organic molecules that have been linked to living cells and enzymes. “If we find life, I won’t be so much excited as relieved,” Pratt admits. “It would be a sense of relief to know that our understanding of the processes of life are on the right track.” But just don’t expect to chill with blueskinned aliens any time soon. Learn from Yoda, you will not.

Specialized Specia Speci SSp peciia ial ali liz llized ized iiz zed ed iinn B Burmese Burm Bur urrm mese m es C Cui Cuisine Cu uisi uuisine iissiinnnee “The The best best es Pho Noodle Noodl Nood dle lee Sou SSoup So up aro around!” ound!” ndd!”

The mine in the moon Private ventures and governments might mine on the moon and Mars. “We’re running out of many of the basic elements that we need for industrialization,” Pratt says. She predicts that mining will begin on the moon in the next 40 to 50 years. “Lots of people are interested in Mars as a place where you could potentially have human outposts,” Pratt says. One way to do that is by terraforming — changing a planet so that it would resemble Earth and sustain plants and animals. Chris Mckay, planetary scientist at NASA Ames Research Center, says there are five steps to make Mars habitable for humans: 1. Explore Mars to determine the total amount of CO2 and H2O. 2. Produce “super” greenhouse gases. 3. Introduce hardy life forms such as alpine plants and mosses. 4. Grow trees at the equator. 5. Wait for plants convert CO2 to O2. While this is possible, McKay says there is no serious terraform plan as of yet. However, “We are already doing the first step,” he points out. “And we could get as far as trees if we tried.”

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The bomb is big enough and it’s wide enough so that I didn’t roll off very easily.

I just stretched out and, by gosh, I fell asleep.

Atomic dreams A former IU physics professor helped develop the atomic bomb. Then, the night before it dropped on Hiroshima, he fell asleep on top of it. By Caitlin Johnston


awrence Langer was called out of his Bloomington professorship in 1941 to aid the war effort. In fall 1943, Robert Oppenheimer brought Langer to Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico to develop the atomic bomb as part of the Manhattan Project. Though the use of the atomic bomb against Japan during World War II is a well-documented event, the thought of such a device a century ago was an impossible feat. With war on the horizon in the early 1930s, German chancellor Adolf Hitler started gathering the best scientists from across the globe in attempts to develop an atomic bomb. “We knew Germany was working on the bomb, which deservedly scared the daylights out of people,” says Hal Kibbey, a former IU News Bureau reporter who interviewed Langer during his time on campus. “People understood very well what Hitler would do with a bomb like that if he got his hands on it.” And so the United States began to form its own team of scientists to combat the research being done in Europe, with Langer joining as a group leader. “At that time, it wasn’t something you stopped to think about,” Kibbey says. “This was a race and the stakes were unimaginable. There was absolutely no question at all whether it was the right thing to do.” After two years of research and testing, the bomb was ready for use. By this point, Germany was out of the war. The United States had made the decision to drop the first live atomic bomb on Hiroshima on Aug. 6, 1945. Langer was in charge of teaching the military how to arm the bomb once the plane was in the air. While Langer’s involvement up to this point is integral and a point of historical pride for many Hoosiers, the last few hours are when things get interesting. On a hot summer night in the Pacific, hours before the bomb was to be dropped over Japan, Langer did the unthinkable. He crawled into the bomb bay of the Enola Gay, stretched out on top of the atomic bomb, and fell asleep.

Langer’s account of sleeping with the bomb “Chow time came. I decided I better not leave the plane to the care of the MPs who were guarding it outside because I never did trust the MPs. They were too damn curious. And so I decided to stay with the plane. And by that time I was pretty tired. It was very hot in the South Pacific … The bomb was loaded. It was now just a matter of waiting for the proper time, which would be several hours later. Up to that time, Captain Parsons had shown evidence of being quite worried about his responsibility for activating the bomb … He was worried, apparently, that he might be up in the aircraft and find that he didn’t have that special wrench that he needed in order to put that detonator into the gun. And he had been into the plane about, oh, I don’t know, a half a dozen times to check that the wrench was still there. His behavior sort of wiped off on me, I guess. I began to worry that it was my responsibility to be sure that he didn’t encounter that situation. And so, when it came time to go and get some dinner, I sent my boys in to get their mess. I had decided I’d stay with the bomb and see that nothing happened to it and that Parsons wouldn’t have any problems. So, I decided to stay with the bomb and everyone disappeared. It became very lonely. Here I was inside the bomb bay, in the dark, and there was an MP outside, but that’s all. There was no noise or no sound. It was dark, there was no light, and I had nothing to do. So, I stretched out on top of the bomb. The bomb is big enough and it’s wide enough so that I didn’t roll off very easily. I just stretched out and, by gosh, I fell asleep. I mean, this isn’t proper conduct for a MP to fall asleep on the job … I would’ve been awake very rapidly, very quickly if anyone tried to get inside the bomb bay. But, the story is, the fact is, that I did fall asleep on the bomb. I guess I’m the only person in whole world who ever fell asleep on top of an atomic bomb. And, I think it was perfectly safe. Well, only a slight amount of radiation from the uranium coming through all of that material around it. I never gave it a thought. I just fell asleep.”


IU News Bureau reporter Hal Kibbey was pursuing his master’s degree in history in 1968 when his draft notice arrived. Forty years later, Kibbey continues to grasp for a definitive answer to how he legally and unintentionally evaded the draft. By Caitlin Johnston

Dodging the bullet


n a hot August day in 1968, Hal Kibbey filed into a long room with hundreds of other men, all of whom had received the same letter. The mandatory physical would determine who could be drafted. The men were clumped in groups of 10, driven like cattle in only their underwear, clutching their forms as they moved from station to station. Kibbey didn’t know it yet, but the men who were drafted would be headed into Vietnam for the deadliest year of the war.

22 Inside Magazine

During the vision test, the other men snickered as Kibbey stepped closer and closer to try to read the eye chart on the wall. His only chance at deferment was that he was extremely nearsighted. He could finally make out the big E at the top when we was three feet from the chart. “I was hoping my eyesight would save me,” he says. “It didn’t. They just verified that I couldn’t see.” Hopefully it would be enough to keep him out of the infantry. Maybe they would send him to an office somewhere to do paperwork. He could do that. He had no qualms with serving his country. But he would prefer to do it with a typewriter instead of a rifle. The hot, heavy air carried the voices of the soldiers throughout the room as they instructed the men and stamped their papers at each station. The tension was palpable. Each man watched the man before him, waiting to see what would happen to him next. There was no small talk. Just a long line of anxious men called to serve their country– whether they wanted to or not. Kibbey reached the end of the narrow room and approached the last station. “Did you bring any letters from a physician?” asked the soldier seated at the table. “Yes,” Kibbey said. “I have this one.” Kibbey had seen various doctors regarding “dizzy spells” he had been experiencing for the past six years. The minute-long episodes weren’t noticeable to others and didn’t affect his ability to walk, drive or function in general. He never paid much attention to them. His personal doctor wrote an official letter printed on hospital letterhead. Any hopes Kibbey had for a medical deferment had vanished when he read the single page. The letter included no recommendations, no plea for deferral, just a list of the symptoms and a mention of Kibbey’s “dizzy spells.” “I remember being disappointed and thinking, ‘So what? That’s not going to do anything.’ But I brought it with me.” That’s the letter he passed to the soldier waiting at the last table. And for the first time, he was directed not further down that long, narrow room, but to the side. A deviation. He entered a cubicle, where a physician’s eyes scanned the page in one flowing glance from top to bottom. “He didn’t even read it,” Kibbey thought. “That was the last chance I had and he didn’t even read it.” “I’m doomed.” Without saying a word, the physician stamped the letter and passed it back. After being turned

away from the checkpoint, he was sent out a side door with a new form. The bustle and bright lights were gone. Two new officials sat in relative darkness. Kibbey handed the form to one of the officials, who read it once. Without a word, he set it down and picked up another page. Kibbey only heard one part: “You will be drafted only in the event of a national emergency. Do not try to enlist.” The wave of emotion overwhelmed Kibbey, but he couldn’t determine the cause of the saving news. “Psychologically, I was a basket case,” Kibbey says. “I got down to what appeared to be the bottom and was shotgunned back up to the top.” He took the form, turned, and walked into the sunlight, trying to digest what had happened. “I had my student deferment for life,” he says. “The letter that I thought was worthless was what saved me from all of it.”

IU at war Campus in wartime was a thrill of anti-war rallies and what Kibbey calls euphemistic student activism. There was a lot of draft dodging and cheating on deferments. “There was a whole institution of how to dodge the draft,” Kibbey says. Guitarist Phil Ochs song “Draft Dodger Rag” became an anthem for the late ’60s. Kibbey recalls strumming the chords on his guitar, singing the lyrics that ran all-too-true across the campus and country.

I hate Chou En Lai and I hope he dies, but one thing you gotta see, that someone’s gotta go over there, and that someone isn’t me. Flat feet, poor eyesight, homosexual tendencies, allergies. The list of possible loopholes was endless. The fact is, most of them didn’t work. Even if they did, Kibbey didn’t see them as viable options. The song might be fun to sing in Dunn Meadow, but dodging the draft was never a consideration. “I would not, I did not, approve of that sort of behavior,” Kibbey says. “I was surprised my deferment continued as long as it did.”

Problem solved For 65 years, a baffling geometry problem puzzled mathematicians. After three months and the use of the polynomial ham sandwich theorem (no, we didn’t make that up), an IU professor found the answer. By Caitlin Johnston


ets Hawk Katz is drawn to unsolvable problems. The math professor recently solved the Paul Erdös Distinct Distances Problem, a fancy name for a 65-year-old math problem. Katz, with Larry Guth of the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, was able to combine the algebraic method with topological math to solve the Erdos distance problem in three months. Instead of basking in the glory of

his success, Katz quickly moved on to a new project. “Some people are really good at developing a big idea and turning it into a cash cow with lots of elaboration and follow up,” he says. “I find it a lot more fun to work on problems where I don’t think I have a very good chance of solving them.” While Katz says this breakthrough will eventually have some use in the real world, he admits that’s not his main concern when solving a problem. “Pure mathematicians don’t worry immediately about what the applications are of what we’re doing,” he says.


Every day Wes Trueblood wakes up,

and tries to outrun the demons inside him.

to quiet the voices pushing him toward

Now the 30-year-old has a new addiction:

RUNNER’S By Rachel Stark

24 2 4

| IInsi Inside nsside nsi id dee mag m ma magazine aaggazi a ne Is Iss Issue ssue ss u Im IImp Imposs Impossible m oss mp osssibl ble

slips on his shoes,

He logs mile after mile

a drug addiction he fought to escape.


HIGH Photos by Zach Hetrick |


Ever since he stepped wrong off a curb a few days ago, the area above his left knee is tender. Trueblood runs 90 to 100 miles a week. A man of excess, he always wants more. If 20 miles feels good, why not try 21? If 30 feels great, what about 50? Trueblood understands the consequences of overworking his body, and the only thing holding him back is the terrifying thought of an injury. Running keeps him on sturdier ground. Without it, he could slip back into his old ways. By now, the sky has turned a lighter shade of purple. Cars speed by, the town wakes, and the noise in Trueblood’s mind grows softer. He feels light, calm. Every day, Trueblood tries to outrun the demons inside him. He’s been running from them for three years now and doesn’t plan on quitting soon. He fears what would happen if he stopped.

lone in i his hi studio apartment, surrounded by empty Gatorade bottles and stacks H of books, the runner sleeps. Peace comes easily when he’s in a dream. At 5 a.m., his alarm clock breaks the silence. He opens his eyes, and the turmoil begins. Wes Trueblood’s mind lurches into the constant chatter he battles daily. Thoughts dart through his brain, swirling and swelling until they overwhelm. Before dawn, when he’s most vulnerable, the negative seeps in to conquer. What if I don’t get into grad school? He worries. If I don’t get into grad school, I’ll probably become homeless. If I become homeless, I’ll do drugs. Thirty-year-old Trueblood knows what he needs to quiet the chatter. A run of at least six miles, two times a day. He slips into his running shoes, then steps out into the 32-degree February morning. The sky above Bloomington is a deep shade of purple, lit softly by streetlights. He’s off, crossing the barren street in a steady jog. “Atlantis,” by Donovan, plays in his headphones. “Way down, below the ocean, where I wanna be …” Trueblood winds through neighborhoods lined with darkened houses. He could run this route with his eyes closed. He created it — the six-mile out-and-back — three years ago when he got clean. He runs downtown past the courthouse and the public library, dodging puddles that glisten from the streetlights. As usual, he passes the man who drops off newspapers on Kirkwood Avenue. He runs through the Sample Gates at the edge of campus and passes a group of the university’s groundskeepers on a smoke break. It’s the same group, every time. “Hey,” Trueblood calls as he hurries by. “Hey,” they reply, cigarettes in hand. “Good morning!” Bryan Park marks the halfway point, and the runner stops to stretch.


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible


is gig as a roofer pays the bills for now. But someday, Wes Trueblood wants to be a historian and teach young people the importance of the past. He’s quick to smile and speaks with confidence, expressing his thoughts with big words and quotes from Malcolm X and Nietzsche. His sister calls him her best friend. His mom calls him magnetic. He’s loyal to what he loves, yet a stranger to moderation. Trueblood has an addictive nature he can’t shake. He speaks to his sister on the phone 10 to 15 times a day. His favorite TV show is “Golden Girls,” he admits with a laugh, and he owns every season. His one-room apartment is a disheveled library, with high stacks of books on his nightstand, his floor, his dresser. Reading, he feels, gives him power. He stores the facts he reads away in his mind and drops them in conversation with ease. He likes history best. He thinks about the earliest accounts of running and can launch into the story of the first marathon without hesitation. “The Persians were attacking the Greeks back in 490 B.C. ...” he’ll begin. An Athenian runner was sent to deliver the news to Sparta, a route 26-miles long. Sometimes on a run, he’ll picture himself as a running messenger. Wes, we need you to take this message to Indianapolis. Be back in a few days. What job could be better? The incessant chatter in his mind began when he was 13. The marijuana followed shortly after. Trueblood turned to harder drugs in high school, the only way he knew to ease his overactive mind. He enrolled at Indiana University in 1999, but didn’t last long. After troubles with the police and poor grades, he was kicked out. Trueblood spent the next few years of his life jobless, sleeping on and off his mom’s couch, on a $300-a-day habit. His list of drugs included cocaine, heroin, meth, oxycotin, and morphine. But his favorite was a speedball — a mix of an opiate and amphetamine. To maintain his lifestyle, he stole from his grandmother’s church group and snuck change from his niece’s piggy bank. He hustled drugs, including Adderall to stressed college students in the library, making a $5 profit per pill. His sister, Wendy Miller, knew Trueblood better than anyone. Helplessly, she watched as her brother’s addiction transformed him into someone even she couldn’t recognize. The breaking point for her came when Trueblood stole her pain medicine after she had surgery. Until then, she had not turned her back on her brother. But this had gone too far. “I’m done,” she told him over the phone. “Don’t come back to my house. I love you, but I’m done.” Cut off from his family, Trueblood checked into rehab and stayed for five months. He felt safe in the structured world of rehab. But less than 48 hours after he left, Trueblood was already drowning in the anxiety of freedom. He

was stuck — he couldn’t live in rehab the rest of his life, yet he couldn’t live in a place rife with beer cans and joints around every corner. It was a couple weeks before Christmas in 2007 when Trueblood, then 27 years old, made his decision. He picked up the phone and called his sister in Evansville. “I’m going to kill myself,” he said. “I love you. Goodbye.” Click. He popped pill after pill — an anti-anxiety drug called Klonopin — and washed them down with Budweiser. He hopped into his light blue Ford Escort and took off, heading nowhere fast. Then he blacked out. Minutes, maybe hours later, Trueblood awoke in a ditch. He couldn’t remember flipping his car or climbing out of it. He had no idea how he managed to escape the Escort, but there he stood, watching the wreckage he created as if a stranger in his own life. Not only had he survived, he had emerged without a single cut on his body. As he stared at the car, he remembered the can of Budweiser he put in the cup holder before leaving his house. It was probably still there, he thought. Still intoxicated, he waited for his world to stop spinning, then reached his hand through the broken window to pop the tab. •••


y five in the afternoon, Trueblood feels antsy. Hours have passed since his last run. He needs another release. Soon his friends Scott Breeden and Emily Weisbard jog into the parking lot of his apartment complex. Clad in sleek black running tights, lightweight shoes, hats, and gloves, they are ready to take on the belowfreezing temperature. The group begins their second six-miler of the day, eager to get warm, while the sun sets over Bloomington. A few miles in, a skateboarder flies through an alley at the same moment the runners begin to cross it. Breeden reacts first, halting and jutting his right arm out to stop Trueblood, who was closest to the boarder. The teen comes to a stop in front of them, jumps off his board and apologizes. A fluke injury from a skateboard accident, or any other mishap, holds serious implications for Trueblood. While he hasn’t gotten high from drugs in over three years, Trueblood is still an addict. His sister knows it, his girlfriend knows it, his friends know it. But Trueblood knows better than anyone. He’s addicted to running. If he can’t run a day, he’s irritable, tense, short with people. He often finds himself lying about running to keep people from thinking he has

a problem. He runs in the morning and at night, in ice storms and heat waves, deep in the woods or on city streets. With addictions come tough withdrawals. So far, he’s been lucky to remain healthy in a sport where overuse injuries are the norm. But any minor ache sets him on alert-mode. Oh God, is this something that could debilitate me for a month? No one knows what will happen should Trueblood get hurt. Maybe he’d take up swimming. He’d lift weights. He’d rely on the support of his family and friends, like he’d done before. But it would undoubtedly be devastating. He would always be thinking about running. The three runners continue on their route, just a few miles in. They keep the topics light this time, referencing Seinfeld episodes and planning their next meals. Sometimes, the runs get too painful to talk, and those become the best memories. The runners feed off pain. “Of course you have to hurt, but the reward is so much greater,” Trueblood says. As his feet fly across the sidewalk, a Road I.D. clings to his shoe — a tag that identifies him in case of an accident. His name, his sister’s name, and his mom’s name are engraved on it, along with a favorite quote: “Pain is God’s greatest gift to man.” •••


t’s one of those moments that would haunt him years later. Somehow, Trueblood had escaped from his wrangled car without a scratch, but there he was on the outside, reaching back in for his beer. A piece of glass slashed the palm of his hand. Blood gushed out of the inch-long wound. His only scar from the accident. Bloody and intoxicated, he called his grandmother to pick him up, and it wasn’t long before Trueblood was back at his mom’s house, hiding from the police. His eyes were wide and vacant — drugs had taken over his body. When the police arrived, the addict snapped. They were there to help, they told him. They didn’t want to arrest him, they wanted to take him to the hospital. But he didn’t want their help. He didn’t want anyone’s help. Even his mom tried to calm him, but when the two locked eyes, Trueblood looked as if he didn’t know her. “Wes, it’s Mom,” Vicki Trueblood pleaded. He just wanted to be alone. He barricaded himself inside his bedroom by shoving a queen-sized mattress against the door, and threatened to kill himself. Several hours passed before Trueblood agreed to be driven to the hospital, where he was given a psychiatric evaluation and mild narcotics to relieve |


“He can be addicted to running all he wants,” his sister says. “He’s pure Wes when he’s running.”


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible

the throbbing of his hand. Soon after he was released from the hospital, he went with his sister to Evansville in search of a job and an ounce of stability. But he couldn’t escape his suicidal thoughts. They still lurked. He told his sister, who drove him back to the nearest hospital. That’s where Trueblood got back on his feet. It was 1 a.m., and inside his hospital room he stared into darkness. It was almost impossible to sleep when coming down off drugs. Hours earlier he had asked his doctor for Tylenol PM. Absolutely not, the doctor replied. So Trueblood was left alone with his thoughts. I want to feel good. Without drugs, Trueblood couldn’t remember how to feel OK in the world. What has made me feel good? What has quieted my brain? What has made me not so insecure? Then he remembered. When he was younger, he ran. He enjoyed the simple, rhythmic pounding of his feet against the pavement or trails, propelled by the engine inside his body. Running calmed him. He had talent, too. In middle school, he ran a sub-five-minute mile. As a freshman at Bloomington High School South, he was consistently one of the top runners. He had won races and broken records. But he’d quit running after his sophomore year, choosing drugs instead. Trueblood remembered feeling good after every run. He decided he wanted that feeling right there in the hospital room. He got out of bed and stood on the floor, then began running in place. The motion seemed foreign to his body that had grown soft and carried an extra 60 pounds. But the addict was running. He continued to run until he couldn’t any longer — no more than 20 minutes. His legs burned and his heart pounded against his chest, but he felt lighter. He had cleansed himself of the internal energy that was bogging him down, the tireless thoughts that swelled inside his head. He was filled with hope. If I can run, I’ll feel good, he thought. And if I can run enough, I can feel good all day. This is it. This is what I need to do. •••


he runners zigzag through town, past college houses with beer cans strewn across the yard, past Big Red Liquors, past bars at the start of happy hour. Silent temptations in every step. A few miles in, Trueblood, Weisbard, and Breeden reach the downtown square. They stop across the street from the Indiana Running Company, a store they frequent, to talk to a friend. “How far are you guys going?” She asks them. “Just six,” Trueblood replies. “We did six earlier so we’re doing six now. Messing around, getting some mileage in. Talk to you later, Tracy.” The pounding of their feet on the sidewalk continues. Both Breeden and Weisbard are ultra-marathoners, who run races longer than the marathon length of 26.2 miles. Trueblood is proud to fit in with these accomplished runners. In December, he reached his primary goal since returning to the sport: finishing in the top 10 at the Tecumseh Marathon. He placed seventh. Trueblood had experienced excruciating pain before — coming down off drugs, for instance. But nothing in his life had ever hurt worse than that marathon. Yet, at the same time, it was the sweetest feeling. He was finally there — a competitive distance runner. With the marathon down, he now looks to longer distances. He plans to run a 50-mile race next year. Addicts, Trueblood says, move at the speed of pain. It was the pain of hitting rock bottom that night in the hospital over three years ago that got him running. As soon as he left, he told his mom he was done with drugs and alcohol. This time was for real. She had heard it too many times before. “You’re going to have to show me,” she told him.

So he did. Trueblood lived on her couch for a year, got a job, and began running. He went back to IU in 2008 to finish his degree in history, and graduated with a GPA just under 4.0 his last two years. The running started slow, at 10 miles a week. He ran alone, too insecure about his out-of-shape body to seek running partners. Trueblood dreamed of a strong finish in the marathon and, eventually, an ultra-marathon. But he couldn’t train alone for very long. He needed someone’s help. Enter Breeden. Nine years younger than Trueblood, he was already competitive in the national ultra-marathon scene. The two runners were acquaintances, but after Trueblood saw Breeden’s impressive finish at a race last year, he asked to run with him. Their first one was an eight-miler on trails in sweltering heat. Now, a year later, the two run together almost every day. They’ve shared delusions by dehydration, countless heart to hearts, and a run they’ve dubbed “The Death March.” Breeden knows he can count on Trueblood to run at the same time each day. Usually, he’ll run the same route, one they call “The Wes Loop.” He never cuts a run short. “He always says if you go out to run six miles, why would you run 5.8,” Breeden says. This year, on his anniversary of being sober, Trueblood wrote on Facebook: “Three years ago today I changed.” He had not taken drugs since the night of the wreck. Those who meet him now could never guess his past. Trueblood’s energetic, upbeat personality makes people smile. His kind eyes make them want to share their hardships with him, never expecting he has plenty of his own as well. He returned to his true self, the Wes his family longed to meet again. Trueblood’s sister commented on his wall: “Glad to have my brother back.” Miller knows her brother swapped one addiction for another, but she doesn’t care. “He can be addicted to running all he wants,” she says. “He’s pure Wes when he’s running.” Trueblood’s mom has watched his love for running evolve through the years. As a teenager, he felt pressured by others’ high expectations, and running lost its luster. Now, he runs with sheer passion. “He has a very strong desire to be free,” Vicki Trueblood says. “When he runs, he’s free.” In her eyes, Trueblood’s battle with drugs was just part of his life plan. Even when he hit bottom, when he thought his life was over, his mom knew he’d find his way out. “He’s got a lot of heart and a lot of spirit,” she says. “I always hoped that it got directed in the right way.” •••


he demons can’t keep up when he’s running. With his heart pounding and endorphins flowing, his muddled mind clears itself of the negative thoughts. Trueblood is left alone. Sometimes when he runs, he thinks about his next race, imagining himself on track for a great finish. Stay up straight, he tells himself when he gets tired. Keep breathing. He thinks about his hunter ancestors or the Greeks who ran to deliver messages. This was how they retrieved their most basic necessities. This was how they survived. Trueblood runs believing it saved his life. He also runs knowing he traded one addiction for another. He doesn’t like being dependent, but says it’s a fact of his life. And if he must be dependent on something, he’s happy it’s running. At the end of every run, the internal battle continues. Trueblood can’t outrun something inside of him, because when he stops, the demons catch up. So he’ll just keep running, as much as he can, for the rest of his life. It’s all he knows to do. |


What’s impossible at IU? Answers from our survey: Graduate without taking unnecessary classes, find silence, boredom, major in architecture, calculus.



Do you have a job yet?


You’re a senior, right?

After graduation, what are you thinking about doing?

What do you want to do?


The pursuit of happiness


By Sarah Hutchins

he conversations always start the same. “So, what are you doing after graduation?” I’ve been asked by family, friends, old high school acquaintances I mistakenly friended on Facebook and never deleted. Even my dentist broached the subject over winter break. ¶ As she slowly reclined my chair, and I gazed into the light, I thought about how I would answer The Question. ¶ “Well,” I said as she poked and prodded around my mouth. “I’m going to Virginia for an internship.” ¶ “Oh,” she said, clearly unimpressed, “and then what?” Silence.

She talked about her son, a high school classmate of mine well on his way to becoming a doctor, and another friend who had spent his summer in the White House. I felt like a failure. All I could manage to say was, “I don’t know.” The job search is daunting. Broaching the subject results in heavy sighs and visible anxiety. One college student compared it to asking a 45-year-old woman when she’s ever going to get married. The hunt for employment shouldn’t be this taboo. Let’s look at the facts. The recession is still hurting employers, and the unemployment rate continues to hover at a shockingly high level, 8.9 percent, as of February. But to understand what that means for us, we have to look beyond this single statistic. Dig deeper into the data and you’ll


find that candidates with bachelor’s degrees are least affected by the recession. These job hunters comprise only 4.3 percent of the current unemployed population. And while this number changes from month to month, the percentage of unemployed college graduates is generally decreasing. These numbers should encourage us, not bring us down. Yes, getting your dream job right out of college might be impossible; but getting a job, one that pays the bills, isn’t. Here’s the truth: There are jobs out there. In fact, we can even be a little picky about the jobs we take. But in order to reach this state of job nirvana, in order to move past the awkward dentist chair conversations, we need to stop panicking and start prioritizing. While blemish-free resumes and eye-catching cover letters matter, a

| Inside magazine Issue Impossible

successful job search hinges on something more important: an honest assessment of our values. Does location matter? Do you need to start work immediately, or can you afford to hunt? These are both questions an advisor at the Career Development Center asked me when I stopped in during walk-in advising hours. Sitting at the CDC, I found myself debating more than a job. I was thinking about where I wanted to start my life and what that life might look like. Was I ready to move to a state where I had no friends or family? Would I be content? Unfortunately, they don’t make comforting, pastel-colored handouts to answer these big questions. This deep introspection only bubbles to the surface after several glasses of wine and, perhaps, a panic attack.

Um ... uh ...

When I searched for a post-grad internship this fall, I sent out 11 applications. I told family and friends I was willing to work anywhere, for any pay, at any company. I just wanted to get my foot in the door. But when it came time to seriously evaluate my offers (and rejections), I found myself struggling to decide which criteria mattered most. I decided on this formula: I can work for a company I hate in a city I love, or I can work for a company I love in a city I hate. One way or another, I needed to find some joy. The combination of factors is different for everyone, and anyone who says they have it all figured out, well, they’re wrong. Even the people with the seemingly perfect post-grad plans get overwhelmed and confused. My roommate, a business student, went through a completely different process. She interned for a large firm after her junior year and, upon completing her summer, was offered a job for after graduation. At first I was jealous of her security. She would be able to go through her entire senior year without the stress of finding work. But the more time passed, the more I began to see her worry. She’d ask, what if I don’t like my job? What if I don’t like the city? What if it’s not the right fit? It’s time for us to dismantle the unemployment myth. In the process, we’ll need to make some sacrifices. Those of us wanting a job immediately after graduation might have to give up location and salary criteria for expediency. Others who value location might need to come to terms with a longer jobsearch timeline. Either way, we will find work. We’ll even find happiness.


Our master’s degree has the flexibility to fit your plans. You will gain real-world skills to enhance your professional portfolio or engage in academic research. You can add a focus in another department, study abroad with a travel course, or learn from renowned journalists and mass communications scholars, in addition to adding depth in one of four sequences: sçç'LOBALç*OURNALISM sçç$IGITALç*OURNALISM sçç3CIENCEçANDç(EALTHç*OURNALISM sçç0OLITICALç*OURNALISM

Journalism Experiences Classrooms without walls.


| Inside magazine Issue Impossible




Nick’s English Hut April 25, 2011 11:30–1:30 p.m.

Brothers, Kilroy’s on Kirkwood April 26, 2011 11 p.m.

DeVault Alumni Center April 28, 2011 4–6 p.m.

Come get personal finance and social media tips for the professional world.

Enjoy free hot dogs and find out more about Senior Salute.

The biggest graduation party on campus.


FREE FOOD PRIZES IUAA MEMBERSHIP | Inside magazine Issue Impossible

Apr. 12, 2011  

Issue Impossible. Inside Magazine, published twice a semester, is a product of the Indiana Daily Student at Indiana University.

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