Monday, August 30, 2010
Have you ever met anyone who feels like they’re always right? You know the type…no matter what the discussion, they’ve got an opinion they think is correct and will never back down or concede that there is even the possibility that they could be mistaken.
Well…recently…and all the time up until recently… I’ve been accused of being such an inflexible type of person. Shocking really…because I’m not. What I am is…well…right…all the time. There is a difference. The people accusing me of being stubborn and unwavering just don’t get that I am right. It’s a problem because they think I think I’m right just because I said I’m right when actually what I’m saying is I’m right because I’m right. Right? Anyway, I wanted to get that off my mind.
I don’t know how many of you saw the results of the ‘GoFit’ program initiated and sponsored by the Cleveland Clinic, Greater Cleveland YMCA and Curves, but they were pretty impressive. For those with no recollection of this, anyone in Cuyahoga County was eligible to get a 3-month free membership at their local Curves or ‘Y’ starting this past January. The only hitch was that you needed to get assessed…have some baseline information gathered on your level of fitness and fatness and then have periodic remeasurements during the three months. Over 25,000 people registered on line for the opportunity of which 14,300 showed up at facilities to have their measurements taken. Most impressively, 5,900 stuck with the program for the entire three months. Weight losses were posted and that was the concentration, but for my way of thinking I don’t care how much they lost…sticking with any program for three months means there so much more likely to continue it for life…and that’s where the real changes start to happen.
A spokesperson for the Clinic, Kate Fox Nagel, was asked why she thought so many people stuck with it and she was quoted as saying “John Rolf’s blog. Yes…if there was one constant amongst the 5,900 people it was that. They were inspired by his dedication to fitness and the absolutely entertaining nature of his stories. I must admit…he’s always right. Oh…and of the 8,000 plus who dropped out…not one was reading his stuff. Truly amazing.”
I guess I just don’t know what to say other than I’m not surprised. Dizzy Dean said it best when asked about his incredible pitching and the fact that he was always self-promoting, “it ain’t braggin’ if you can do it.”
I went out for another ride yesterday and although I was still a little sore from the 55 miles on Saturday and my hamstrings were still screaming from being on a roof half the day Sunday, managed to complete another 27 miler. It was hot as hell, too. How many days above 90 this summer is that now? I’m willing to bet it’s the most since the beginning of time…or thermometers, at least.
Holly wanted to do a long walk later in the evening, so we did the 45-minute block. I was a little worried that the hip would act up, but it wasn’t a problem. I’m thinking now of going to the bleachers soon and walking/jogging them without the pack…just to get the conditioning for climbing going again. I really don’t want to go back to the Adirondacks with only cycling under my belt, though I will.
Finally, my son Jack just called from the kitchen to ask if you’re supposed to take the shells off the peanuts before you eat them.
”That’s generally the way it’s done,” I said.
“Oh…yeah…okay. The shells don’t taste too good,” he said.
Give some kids books…and they eat them.
Bike duration: One hour and 40 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,500.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
More roofing...more eating.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Jason was supposed to arrive at 10 a.m. for roofing work. I had wanted to get it done before the heat of the day set in, but when 11 a.m. rolled around, I knew that wouldn’t be happening. I knew a workout would be tough today, what with family dinner at 5 p.m. and so I was anxious to get moving. Now I was figuring that the roof would be the workout. It was.
I had eaten Frosted Flakes for breakfast…they’re the breakfast choice of folks who want the most bang for their nutritional dollar, but that was it for the whole time we were roofing. By the time we finished, I was hungry, hot and sweaty, covered in tar and reeking of the gasoline I’d used to clean the tar off. Chicks were digging me. I headed home for family dinner knowing it would be something good and fatty and that I wasn’t going to be riding. I was also hoping we’d be getting more of Holly’s peach cobbler since I’d seen that she’d purchased a basket of fresh peaches the day before. I was not disappointed.
I ate mashed potatoes with gravy, chicken, and green beans smothered in butter. Then…the peach cobbler with whipped cream (still no ice cream in the house…barbarians…I know). I suppose once a week for total decadence isn’t so bad, but it is when you’re running has been curtailed. Still…I ate.
Later that evening, Holly asked me to go on the block walk. The hip has been just a little sore and wanted to know what the reaction would be, so I joined her. It went fine although it is still painful to the touch and I’m thinking I won’t even attempt running until John and I return from the Adirondacks.
Oh…and Kim stopped over to taste my pinole. She had a couple of pieces and I couldn’t get a read on what she thought, but she later confirmed that it was awesome…she was limiting herself because she needed to get home for dinner. I like confirmations from runners.
Roofing duration: Four hours.
Training Heart Rate: 75…except when I accidentally got tar all over my shorts and legs.
Calories burned during workout: Maybe 1,000.
Jason was supposed to arrive at 10 a.m. for roofing work. I had wanted to get it done before the heat of the day set in, but when 11 a.m. rolled around, I knew that wouldn’t be happening. I knew a workout would be tough today, what with family dinner at 5 p.m. and so I was anxious to get moving. Now I was figuring that the roof would be the workout. It was.
I had eaten Frosted Flakes for breakfast…they’re the breakfast choice of folks who want the most bang for their nutritional dollar, but that was it for the whole time we were roofing. By the time we finished, I was hungry, hot and sweaty, covered in tar and reeking of the gasoline I’d used to clean the tar off. Chicks were digging me. I headed home for family dinner knowing it would be something good and fatty and that I wasn’t going to be riding. I was also hoping we’d be getting more of Holly’s peach cobbler since I’d seen that she’d purchased a basket of fresh peaches the day before. I was not disappointed.
I ate mashed potatoes with gravy, chicken, and green beans smothered in butter. Then…the peach cobbler with whipped cream (still no ice cream in the house…barbarians…I know). I suppose once a week for total decadence isn’t so bad, but it is when you’re running has been curtailed. Still…I ate.
Later that evening, Holly asked me to go on the block walk. The hip has been just a little sore and wanted to know what the reaction would be, so I joined her. It went fine although it is still painful to the touch and I’m thinking I won’t even attempt running until John and I return from the Adirondacks.
Oh…and Kim stopped over to taste my pinole. She had a couple of pieces and I couldn’t get a read on what she thought, but she later confirmed that it was awesome…she was limiting herself because she needed to get home for dinner. I like confirmations from runners.
Roofing duration: Four hours.
Training Heart Rate: 75…except when I accidentally got tar all over my shorts and legs.
Calories burned during workout: Maybe 1,000.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Finally...the birthday ride.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
I’d missed a workout yesterday and I’d eaten terribly for the last two days, so that meant ‘long ride’. I’d been thinking it was time to do the birthday ride I’d never done because it had been snowing on the day I’d tried. That meant 55 miles and although it sounded good in theory, I didn’t know if my body was ready for 3-plus hours on the bike over hilly terrain. I did know that it would be a great calorie burner though, and good training for the long climbing days John and I had planned for mid-September…which is now only three weeks away.
I headed out around 3 p.m. on what was a glorious day for riding…reasonably cool and sunny, blue skies overhead. I headed for my Pekin Road route, which meant up the Iron Lung first. I stayed in the saddle for most of the Lung so the quads would get the maximum training effect (noun – right John?), but reminded myself I was in for a long ride and should maybe take it easier for the first half.
Pekin is such a great riding road with little traffic and mostly excellent road surfaces. In fact, it was just repaved between Watt and Sperry, which was the only rough spot. It takes me east to Butternut, which is about the 20-mile point for me, and I continue east on Butternut all the way to Burton-Windsor Road, my turn-around on this ride.
I decided I’d stop and take a break to call John and tell him why he should be with me, but I couldn’t get a signal…I was way out there. I saw an Amish man coming down the road with a hay wagon being pulled by a team of huge plow horses. I took their picture…the phone wasn’t good for anything else out here.
Rest over, I hopped back on the bike for the long ride home. It had taken an hour and 40 minutes to the turn-around and unless I had a big negative split, I’d be spending close to three and a half hours on the bike before the day was over. I was feeling pretty good and thought a negative split (faster second half than the first half of a ride or run) was a possibility. I kept thinking that until I reached the intersection of Fairmount and River Road and the lowest elevation of the ride. Now I’d need to climb about 600 feet out of the valley over the last 8 miles of the ride…and I was starting to lose it. I struggled up Berkshire, a mile and a half climb out of the valley, and had very little left when I reached the top. I pedaled easily for the remaining 25 minutes of the ride, suffering with a sore neck and shoulders, aching feet, and quads that were beginning to cramp. I rolled into the driveway three hours and 15 minutes after leaving, dog-tired, but thrilled that I’d accomplished my negative split (7 minutes faster on the return trip) and 55 miles under my belt. I knew I’d need to do this ride again, preferably with John since I think he needs the long stuff, too. I think for tomorrow’s workout I’ll…sleep.
Bike duration: 3 hours and 15 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 2,925.
I’d missed a workout yesterday and I’d eaten terribly for the last two days, so that meant ‘long ride’. I’d been thinking it was time to do the birthday ride I’d never done because it had been snowing on the day I’d tried. That meant 55 miles and although it sounded good in theory, I didn’t know if my body was ready for 3-plus hours on the bike over hilly terrain. I did know that it would be a great calorie burner though, and good training for the long climbing days John and I had planned for mid-September…which is now only three weeks away.
I headed out around 3 p.m. on what was a glorious day for riding…reasonably cool and sunny, blue skies overhead. I headed for my Pekin Road route, which meant up the Iron Lung first. I stayed in the saddle for most of the Lung so the quads would get the maximum training effect (noun – right John?), but reminded myself I was in for a long ride and should maybe take it easier for the first half.
Pekin is such a great riding road with little traffic and mostly excellent road surfaces. In fact, it was just repaved between Watt and Sperry, which was the only rough spot. It takes me east to Butternut, which is about the 20-mile point for me, and I continue east on Butternut all the way to Burton-Windsor Road, my turn-around on this ride.
I decided I’d stop and take a break to call John and tell him why he should be with me, but I couldn’t get a signal…I was way out there. I saw an Amish man coming down the road with a hay wagon being pulled by a team of huge plow horses. I took their picture…the phone wasn’t good for anything else out here.
Rest over, I hopped back on the bike for the long ride home. It had taken an hour and 40 minutes to the turn-around and unless I had a big negative split, I’d be spending close to three and a half hours on the bike before the day was over. I was feeling pretty good and thought a negative split (faster second half than the first half of a ride or run) was a possibility. I kept thinking that until I reached the intersection of Fairmount and River Road and the lowest elevation of the ride. Now I’d need to climb about 600 feet out of the valley over the last 8 miles of the ride…and I was starting to lose it. I struggled up Berkshire, a mile and a half climb out of the valley, and had very little left when I reached the top. I pedaled easily for the remaining 25 minutes of the ride, suffering with a sore neck and shoulders, aching feet, and quads that were beginning to cramp. I rolled into the driveway three hours and 15 minutes after leaving, dog-tired, but thrilled that I’d accomplished my negative split (7 minutes faster on the return trip) and 55 miles under my belt. I knew I’d need to do this ride again, preferably with John since I think he needs the long stuff, too. I think for tomorrow’s workout I’ll…sleep.
Bike duration: 3 hours and 15 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 2,925.
"Do fries come with the one-pound burger?"
Friday, August 27, 2010
I kind of knew I wouldn’t be getting in a workout today. My oldest son, Jason, had asked me to come over and help him put a new roof on his garage. I knew it was in bad shape and that we’d be pulling the old one off, but I figured it was a rolled roof and wouldn’t take long to install the new one…even though I’d never done one before.
We got there and climbed up to measure and check the condition before heading to buy the necessary supplies at Home Depot. When we entered the store, I tried to find someone who knew something about rolled roofing, but when the roofing expert they sent me thought I was looking for felt, I knew I was on my own. I called my brother Jim…he’d had his own roofing business for a number of years, and he explained the process. I didn’t know about the tar to glue down the sides to the drip edge and for the overlapping edges between rows, so I was glad I’d reached him.
When we returned and climbed on the roof to take off what was left of the old roll job, we quickly discovered rotting boards underneath. It was 1” by 12” board and I figured I could cut out the bad stuff pretty easily and replace it so Jason headed back to Home Depot to get what I needed while I went about removing old nails and the last pieces of rolled roofing. He returned with 2-by planks instead of 1-by and at that point I knew…no bike ride and we wouldn’t be finishing the roof before dark. He was getting impatient, but I told him shit happens and we’d just get it all ready and do it Sunday morning…the only time he wouldn’t be working over the weekend. We finished preparing the roof, cleaned up the scrap we’d been throwing into the yard, put away our tools and called it a night. He had told me he wanted to take me to Kristi’s for a burger and though I’d had two the night before with Don, couldn’t say no.
Kristi’s is an old, family-style, Italian restaurant on the corner of his street in Euclid and he said they made fantastic burgers. We walked in and were told to sit wherever we liked. There were only two other tables occupied, which concerns me because it’s Friday and if the place is good…shouldn’t it be packed? The waitress brought us menus and told us about the 1-pound burger they were serving. Jason’s eyes opened up like saucers.
“I think I’ll have that. Does it come with fries too?” he asked.
“Do you really think you’ll need fries with a one-pound burger?” I asked. He seemed to think he did and was pleased to discover they came with the burger. I just ordered the plain, old half-pounder, but mine didn’t come with fries so I got a side of cold slaw, which Jason said was really good…”better than ‘Bob Evans’ cold slaw any day.” I’d have to see that to believe it…I like ‘Bob Evans’ slaw.
The food arrived…Jason’s came on a platter instead of a plate and the burger was bigger than my head. It was loaded with fries and cold slaw, too, and the waitresses gathered to see if he’d actually be able to pick it up and eat it. He’s got his mother’s manners, so he took a knife and cut it into about four pieces for easy handling. Wimp. He didn’t say much while he was eating it and it was gone in about 5 minutes. The kid can flat-out eat…and yes, he’s rail thin, but very active. He kind of shocked me though, when he started looking over the dessert menu.
“Really? Dessert? Not me…I’m full,” I said. He decided against it, but I’m sure he could have handled a half of a pie if I’d said yes. And the burgers were damned good…I recommend the place…for what that’s worth.
Roofing duration: A couple of hours…give or take.
Training Heart Rate: 75…except when I was pissed about not bringing my circular saw. Then it was 200.
Calories burned during workout: Maybe 500.
I kind of knew I wouldn’t be getting in a workout today. My oldest son, Jason, had asked me to come over and help him put a new roof on his garage. I knew it was in bad shape and that we’d be pulling the old one off, but I figured it was a rolled roof and wouldn’t take long to install the new one…even though I’d never done one before.
We got there and climbed up to measure and check the condition before heading to buy the necessary supplies at Home Depot. When we entered the store, I tried to find someone who knew something about rolled roofing, but when the roofing expert they sent me thought I was looking for felt, I knew I was on my own. I called my brother Jim…he’d had his own roofing business for a number of years, and he explained the process. I didn’t know about the tar to glue down the sides to the drip edge and for the overlapping edges between rows, so I was glad I’d reached him.
When we returned and climbed on the roof to take off what was left of the old roll job, we quickly discovered rotting boards underneath. It was 1” by 12” board and I figured I could cut out the bad stuff pretty easily and replace it so Jason headed back to Home Depot to get what I needed while I went about removing old nails and the last pieces of rolled roofing. He returned with 2-by planks instead of 1-by and at that point I knew…no bike ride and we wouldn’t be finishing the roof before dark. He was getting impatient, but I told him shit happens and we’d just get it all ready and do it Sunday morning…the only time he wouldn’t be working over the weekend. We finished preparing the roof, cleaned up the scrap we’d been throwing into the yard, put away our tools and called it a night. He had told me he wanted to take me to Kristi’s for a burger and though I’d had two the night before with Don, couldn’t say no.
Kristi’s is an old, family-style, Italian restaurant on the corner of his street in Euclid and he said they made fantastic burgers. We walked in and were told to sit wherever we liked. There were only two other tables occupied, which concerns me because it’s Friday and if the place is good…shouldn’t it be packed? The waitress brought us menus and told us about the 1-pound burger they were serving. Jason’s eyes opened up like saucers.
“I think I’ll have that. Does it come with fries too?” he asked.
“Do you really think you’ll need fries with a one-pound burger?” I asked. He seemed to think he did and was pleased to discover they came with the burger. I just ordered the plain, old half-pounder, but mine didn’t come with fries so I got a side of cold slaw, which Jason said was really good…”better than ‘Bob Evans’ cold slaw any day.” I’d have to see that to believe it…I like ‘Bob Evans’ slaw.
The food arrived…Jason’s came on a platter instead of a plate and the burger was bigger than my head. It was loaded with fries and cold slaw, too, and the waitresses gathered to see if he’d actually be able to pick it up and eat it. He’s got his mother’s manners, so he took a knife and cut it into about four pieces for easy handling. Wimp. He didn’t say much while he was eating it and it was gone in about 5 minutes. The kid can flat-out eat…and yes, he’s rail thin, but very active. He kind of shocked me though, when he started looking over the dessert menu.
“Really? Dessert? Not me…I’m full,” I said. He decided against it, but I’m sure he could have handled a half of a pie if I’d said yes. And the burgers were damned good…I recommend the place…for what that’s worth.
Roofing duration: A couple of hours…give or take.
Training Heart Rate: 75…except when I was pissed about not bringing my circular saw. Then it was 200.
Calories burned during workout: Maybe 500.
Friday, August 27, 2010
I hate loud music...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I’ve probably mentioned before that I love the movie ‘Dances with Wolves’. There are so many things about it that I enjoy, but particularly the relationships that are developed throughout the movie. They are simple, but powerful examples of the unbreakable bonds of friendship – how quickly they can develop and how completely they can be cemented. Kostner’s character, a Union Cavalry soldier, befriends a tribe of Sioux Indians and particularly two braves, one a fierce warrior and the other a more peaceful man, wise in medicine and life. Kostner comes to adopt their ways and leaves his white world behind to become a Sioux, but circumstances dictate that he must leave the Tribe and when he makes this announcement to the group, his warrior friend says “be quiet…you are hurting my ears.” It is not his ears Kostner is hurting, of course, but his heart. He does not want to lose contact with his close friend…his brother.
My ears have been hurting over the last few weeks with the death of my friend Bob, the break-up of two other close mates, and now my brother tells us he will need more radiation. He says it’s no big deal, but when one of my brothers is going through life stresses…well…it hurts my ears. Hang in there, bro.
Okay…now the workout. John put me on to a cool website that allows you to monitor the routes you ride, run, or hike as workouts providing things like distance traveled, elevation changes, calories burned and other useful information. It’s free and you can check it out at www.mapmyride.com. It graphs out the elevation changes, which I like because I can see just how tough the ‘rolling hills’ are in the courses I ride. I actually already know that information from the way my thighs and lungs scream while I’m climbing them, but this quantifies my whining. I’m guessing I could plug in the trails I follow in the Adirondacks and gather the same information. I’ll try that and report back.
My riding legs are returning. I completed my sixth ride in seven days with a 25-miler though I skipped Rogers for what I thought was a lack of time. Don was coming over and we were heading to Akron to listen to a band replicating the music of Mahavishnu Orchestra. He was due at the house around 5:30 p.m., but wouldn’t actually arrive for another two hours…vintage Don and what was I thinking…worrying I needed to get back quickly.
Don loves music and insists that is MUST be loud if one is to completely appreciate all that it has to offer. I hate loud music and had told him so…but somehow he talked me into going. “Heidi will appreciate it and if they can play the music of ……., they’re really good musicians,” he said in trying to convince me to go. Heidi’s boyfriend Matt is the base player and Don spent a bunch of time explaining to me the importance of the base and the difficulty of playing it well.
I ran into Kim there…and she had a beer in her hands. “Aren’t you running tomorrow?”
“Yep…workout at 7:45 a.m. But this is only half a beer and I’ll have the other half later,” she said. Right. The bartender only filled the glass halfway and she’ll go back and get the other half later. She knew one of the musicians as well and was there to hear the music. She says she likes the taste of that vile, disgusting stuff. “I need to replace the fluids I lost from the workout today,” she said.
“I’ll grab you a glass of water. Besides…that stuff doesn’t rehydrate…it just makes you pee…which is why I think people drink the stuff in the first place…they like to pee,” I said. I actually did witness her returning to the bar and getting the other half of her beer…she wasn’t fooling. Interesting idea.
Tomorrow should be interesting. I need to fit a bike ride in between helping Jason roof his garage and pick Heidi up from Kent…and I have to do it before it gets dark. Man…do I miss running.
Bike duration: 88 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,275.
I’ve probably mentioned before that I love the movie ‘Dances with Wolves’. There are so many things about it that I enjoy, but particularly the relationships that are developed throughout the movie. They are simple, but powerful examples of the unbreakable bonds of friendship – how quickly they can develop and how completely they can be cemented. Kostner’s character, a Union Cavalry soldier, befriends a tribe of Sioux Indians and particularly two braves, one a fierce warrior and the other a more peaceful man, wise in medicine and life. Kostner comes to adopt their ways and leaves his white world behind to become a Sioux, but circumstances dictate that he must leave the Tribe and when he makes this announcement to the group, his warrior friend says “be quiet…you are hurting my ears.” It is not his ears Kostner is hurting, of course, but his heart. He does not want to lose contact with his close friend…his brother.
My ears have been hurting over the last few weeks with the death of my friend Bob, the break-up of two other close mates, and now my brother tells us he will need more radiation. He says it’s no big deal, but when one of my brothers is going through life stresses…well…it hurts my ears. Hang in there, bro.
Okay…now the workout. John put me on to a cool website that allows you to monitor the routes you ride, run, or hike as workouts providing things like distance traveled, elevation changes, calories burned and other useful information. It’s free and you can check it out at www.mapmyride.com. It graphs out the elevation changes, which I like because I can see just how tough the ‘rolling hills’ are in the courses I ride. I actually already know that information from the way my thighs and lungs scream while I’m climbing them, but this quantifies my whining. I’m guessing I could plug in the trails I follow in the Adirondacks and gather the same information. I’ll try that and report back.
My riding legs are returning. I completed my sixth ride in seven days with a 25-miler though I skipped Rogers for what I thought was a lack of time. Don was coming over and we were heading to Akron to listen to a band replicating the music of Mahavishnu Orchestra. He was due at the house around 5:30 p.m., but wouldn’t actually arrive for another two hours…vintage Don and what was I thinking…worrying I needed to get back quickly.
Don loves music and insists that is MUST be loud if one is to completely appreciate all that it has to offer. I hate loud music and had told him so…but somehow he talked me into going. “Heidi will appreciate it and if they can play the music of ……., they’re really good musicians,” he said in trying to convince me to go. Heidi’s boyfriend Matt is the base player and Don spent a bunch of time explaining to me the importance of the base and the difficulty of playing it well.
I ran into Kim there…and she had a beer in her hands. “Aren’t you running tomorrow?”
“Yep…workout at 7:45 a.m. But this is only half a beer and I’ll have the other half later,” she said. Right. The bartender only filled the glass halfway and she’ll go back and get the other half later. She knew one of the musicians as well and was there to hear the music. She says she likes the taste of that vile, disgusting stuff. “I need to replace the fluids I lost from the workout today,” she said.
“I’ll grab you a glass of water. Besides…that stuff doesn’t rehydrate…it just makes you pee…which is why I think people drink the stuff in the first place…they like to pee,” I said. I actually did witness her returning to the bar and getting the other half of her beer…she wasn’t fooling. Interesting idea.
Tomorrow should be interesting. I need to fit a bike ride in between helping Jason roof his garage and pick Heidi up from Kent…and I have to do it before it gets dark. Man…do I miss running.
Bike duration: 88 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,275.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
'Affect' or 'Effect'...only John knows for sure
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
We were riding through Gates Mills when John let loose with an expletive and yelled that he had a flat.
“I never get flats,” he said, pulling to the side of the road and examining his rear tire…which was definitely flat.
“Well…you’ve got one now. Got a spare tube?” He was looking through his saddle bag behind his seat and coming up empty. I looked through mine and found that I did. I mean I should…I can get flats at rapid rates and should always be carrying. I’m also like the dad in ‘A Christmas Story’ when it comes to changing them…dreams of Lance’s pit crew in the Tour de France…let’s see how fast I can go.
We had the wheel off quickly and I sat in the grass on the side of the road…which is against the law in Gates Mills, but I was living dangerously for now…and began pulling off the old tube and inserting the new. We had it done quickly and reinflated to about 90 pounds – the best I could do with the hand pump – in short order. I gave it to John to put back together. No sense in my getting greasy.
“Um…which way do you turn this thing?” John asked, trying to reinstall his repaired tire.
“Lefty loosey, righty tighty,” I replied.
“Is that true here?” John asked. I think he was confusing north and south of the equator…you know how water in your toilet swirls clockwise here, but counter clockwise in the southern hemisphere.
“We’re only in Gates Mills. All the rules of physics that apply in Twinsburg still work here,” I said as he finally figured out which way to turn the nut holding his wheel in place.
We finished the ride without incident and it was rather refreshing to not be the person getting a flat. John was interested to see where he was on the condition scale and asked that we climb Rogers Road, which we did. He was disappointed with the way he felt when we reached the top knowing that he had a ways to go before he would be ready for our trip to the Adirondacks.
“Why is it that I finally get myself going with riding when the days are getting too short to ride?” he asked, rhetorically. Like so many, he tended to put off fitness and training…letting life get in the way. He knew the issue here though…either he got it over the next four weeks or he’d pay the price when he needed it in the mountains. They wouldn’t care about his excuses. They’d make him pay.
We rode for a little over an hour and forty minutes and returned to my place to review my climbing plans for our trip in September and to once more cover my shortcomings as a writer.
“They’re two different words. ‘Effect’ is a noun and ‘affect’ is a verb. They’re not interchangeable and you’re always using them the wrong way,” he admonished.
“Um…right. Verb and noun. Got it. Um…what’s a verb and a noun?”
I’m the training partner…gotta love me.
Bike duration: One hour and 40 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,500.
We were riding through Gates Mills when John let loose with an expletive and yelled that he had a flat.
“I never get flats,” he said, pulling to the side of the road and examining his rear tire…which was definitely flat.
“Well…you’ve got one now. Got a spare tube?” He was looking through his saddle bag behind his seat and coming up empty. I looked through mine and found that I did. I mean I should…I can get flats at rapid rates and should always be carrying. I’m also like the dad in ‘A Christmas Story’ when it comes to changing them…dreams of Lance’s pit crew in the Tour de France…let’s see how fast I can go.
We had the wheel off quickly and I sat in the grass on the side of the road…which is against the law in Gates Mills, but I was living dangerously for now…and began pulling off the old tube and inserting the new. We had it done quickly and reinflated to about 90 pounds – the best I could do with the hand pump – in short order. I gave it to John to put back together. No sense in my getting greasy.
“Um…which way do you turn this thing?” John asked, trying to reinstall his repaired tire.
“Lefty loosey, righty tighty,” I replied.
“Is that true here?” John asked. I think he was confusing north and south of the equator…you know how water in your toilet swirls clockwise here, but counter clockwise in the southern hemisphere.
“We’re only in Gates Mills. All the rules of physics that apply in Twinsburg still work here,” I said as he finally figured out which way to turn the nut holding his wheel in place.
We finished the ride without incident and it was rather refreshing to not be the person getting a flat. John was interested to see where he was on the condition scale and asked that we climb Rogers Road, which we did. He was disappointed with the way he felt when we reached the top knowing that he had a ways to go before he would be ready for our trip to the Adirondacks.
“Why is it that I finally get myself going with riding when the days are getting too short to ride?” he asked, rhetorically. Like so many, he tended to put off fitness and training…letting life get in the way. He knew the issue here though…either he got it over the next four weeks or he’d pay the price when he needed it in the mountains. They wouldn’t care about his excuses. They’d make him pay.
We rode for a little over an hour and forty minutes and returned to my place to review my climbing plans for our trip in September and to once more cover my shortcomings as a writer.
“They’re two different words. ‘Effect’ is a noun and ‘affect’ is a verb. They’re not interchangeable and you’re always using them the wrong way,” he admonished.
“Um…right. Verb and noun. Got it. Um…what’s a verb and a noun?”
I’m the training partner…gotta love me.
Bike duration: One hour and 40 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,500.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Where's the junk food?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Reza had stopped in for a visit and, as is my custom, I offered him something to drink. Before my blog, this would have meant he’d be getting my famous mixture of Minute Maid lemonade and Lipton Iced Tea. I’ve been keeping a half gallon of each in the fridge and mixing them 50/50 for a lot longer than Arnie Palmer has been putting it in a jug and making millions on it. Another lost opportunity…but that’s another story.
“I’ve got some Crystal Lite Raspberry Green tea if you’d like it,” I said and since he’s polite, he took some. Then I offered him a piece of the pinole I’d just taken from the oven. He’s been trying the different versions and took this one with his usual skepticism, but that was about to change.
“This is actually really good,” he said after swallowing his first bite. “I think you’re really on to something.”
“I know it’s good…and what’s more, it’s like Lay’s potato chips…there is no way you can eat just one,” I said. He agreed and took another, but had this funny grin on his face. I asked him why the goofy look.
“You know…this used to be a place I could come and be assured I could eat and drink stuff that was totally full of sugar and bad for me…and now look what you’ve become,” he answered.
And he was right. I suppose though, the drink is the single biggest difference I’ve made to my diet that has stuck, but what a difference it has made. I know I was drinking 300 calories a night before the blog began and with all the training I’m doing now, I’d likely be averaging 500 calories in beverages if I hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it’s the simple things hiding in plain sight…you just need to look around and figure out what they are.
The hip was actually feeling a smidge better, but a long way from right. It was another bike night, which was fine since the weather was perfect. I planned to go a little longer…I really need to build up to 3-4 hour rides before going back to the Adirondacks…so I headed for Old Mill Road – the Iron Lung – and my course out Pekin Road.
I love this route because of the lack of traffic, challenging hills, and the endless variations I can do for a change of scenery. It’s quite amazing how quickly Greater Cleveland becomes and stays rural…and I’m definitely the beneficiary when it comes to riding bikes. My legs felt good and I pushed hard taking a route that had me riding for almost two hours. I’m getting stronger quickly, since this ride was pretty easy and I had now ridden four of the previous five days. It comes back that way when I’m already in shape, though my neck and shoulders don’t like the bent over, awkward position I put them in when riding with drop handlebars. Just another problem of becoming a really old man.
Bike duration: One hour and 55 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,700.
Reza had stopped in for a visit and, as is my custom, I offered him something to drink. Before my blog, this would have meant he’d be getting my famous mixture of Minute Maid lemonade and Lipton Iced Tea. I’ve been keeping a half gallon of each in the fridge and mixing them 50/50 for a lot longer than Arnie Palmer has been putting it in a jug and making millions on it. Another lost opportunity…but that’s another story.
“I’ve got some Crystal Lite Raspberry Green tea if you’d like it,” I said and since he’s polite, he took some. Then I offered him a piece of the pinole I’d just taken from the oven. He’s been trying the different versions and took this one with his usual skepticism, but that was about to change.
“This is actually really good,” he said after swallowing his first bite. “I think you’re really on to something.”
“I know it’s good…and what’s more, it’s like Lay’s potato chips…there is no way you can eat just one,” I said. He agreed and took another, but had this funny grin on his face. I asked him why the goofy look.
“You know…this used to be a place I could come and be assured I could eat and drink stuff that was totally full of sugar and bad for me…and now look what you’ve become,” he answered.
And he was right. I suppose though, the drink is the single biggest difference I’ve made to my diet that has stuck, but what a difference it has made. I know I was drinking 300 calories a night before the blog began and with all the training I’m doing now, I’d likely be averaging 500 calories in beverages if I hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it’s the simple things hiding in plain sight…you just need to look around and figure out what they are.
The hip was actually feeling a smidge better, but a long way from right. It was another bike night, which was fine since the weather was perfect. I planned to go a little longer…I really need to build up to 3-4 hour rides before going back to the Adirondacks…so I headed for Old Mill Road – the Iron Lung – and my course out Pekin Road.
I love this route because of the lack of traffic, challenging hills, and the endless variations I can do for a change of scenery. It’s quite amazing how quickly Greater Cleveland becomes and stays rural…and I’m definitely the beneficiary when it comes to riding bikes. My legs felt good and I pushed hard taking a route that had me riding for almost two hours. I’m getting stronger quickly, since this ride was pretty easy and I had now ridden four of the previous five days. It comes back that way when I’m already in shape, though my neck and shoulders don’t like the bent over, awkward position I put them in when riding with drop handlebars. Just another problem of becoming a really old man.
Bike duration: One hour and 55 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1,700.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
A painful walk...
Monday, August 23, 2010
I was starting to get concerned about the nagging ache in my hip because it was bothering me anytime I was walking. It’s not too bad, but the dull ache could become something more acute and troublesome if I’m in the middle of a 10-hour day of hiking and climbing in three weeks when John and I return to the Adirondacks. I decided, therefore, to try a short hike in the park without the pack.
I started out at a brisk pace with the intent of walking 30 minutes on flat bridle trails. The ache was there and never went away, so I returned home, hit the sofa and applied ice for the next 30 minutes. I sent a note off to the doc to let him know and asked about Aleve and the strengthening exercises he has me doing. I was thinking that, while the pain persists, I’d lay off. It never seems like a good idea to exercise an injury. He keeps saying the bike is okay and so I’ll be back at that tomorrow. What a pisser.
My old high school buddy and retired Top Gun and Navy Captain Todd Miller has been reading the blog and was pleased to see I’m putting in cycling miles again. He and I rode from Willoughby to Buchanan, NY and back after our senior year of high school – an 1,100 mile round trip excursion – to visit my grandparents and just to say we’d done something rather wacky. He’s still cycling, as well and recently completed a century called ‘Mountain Mama’ in Monterey, Va. The course was truly difficult, with 9 climbs totaling elevation climbs of over 7,000 feet. I know he thinks I want to do stupid stuff like that again, but I tend to look for ways to ride around mountains – not over them. I suppose that’s not entirely true – particularly when I’m getting ready for climbing in the Adirondacks, but it my mind there is little worse than climbing long mountains with a bike. It basically just hurts…but he always was the screwier of the two of us.
My pinole continues to rock. I made another batch using Red Raspberry syrup this time. I think the raisins add a lot, as well. I’ve got to be careful though, because I’m starting to treat it like a dessert and I don’t want extra calories. It packed well without crumbling for over a week, which was my goal. I know I can pack it on longer backpacking trips and have an excellent source of complex carbohydrate energy that tastes good and isn’t as expensive as the energy bars.
Hang in there, JD, I'm thinking about you.
Hike duration: 30 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 75.
Calories burned during workout: 150.
I was starting to get concerned about the nagging ache in my hip because it was bothering me anytime I was walking. It’s not too bad, but the dull ache could become something more acute and troublesome if I’m in the middle of a 10-hour day of hiking and climbing in three weeks when John and I return to the Adirondacks. I decided, therefore, to try a short hike in the park without the pack.
I started out at a brisk pace with the intent of walking 30 minutes on flat bridle trails. The ache was there and never went away, so I returned home, hit the sofa and applied ice for the next 30 minutes. I sent a note off to the doc to let him know and asked about Aleve and the strengthening exercises he has me doing. I was thinking that, while the pain persists, I’d lay off. It never seems like a good idea to exercise an injury. He keeps saying the bike is okay and so I’ll be back at that tomorrow. What a pisser.
My old high school buddy and retired Top Gun and Navy Captain Todd Miller has been reading the blog and was pleased to see I’m putting in cycling miles again. He and I rode from Willoughby to Buchanan, NY and back after our senior year of high school – an 1,100 mile round trip excursion – to visit my grandparents and just to say we’d done something rather wacky. He’s still cycling, as well and recently completed a century called ‘Mountain Mama’ in Monterey, Va. The course was truly difficult, with 9 climbs totaling elevation climbs of over 7,000 feet. I know he thinks I want to do stupid stuff like that again, but I tend to look for ways to ride around mountains – not over them. I suppose that’s not entirely true – particularly when I’m getting ready for climbing in the Adirondacks, but it my mind there is little worse than climbing long mountains with a bike. It basically just hurts…but he always was the screwier of the two of us.
My pinole continues to rock. I made another batch using Red Raspberry syrup this time. I think the raisins add a lot, as well. I’ve got to be careful though, because I’m starting to treat it like a dessert and I don’t want extra calories. It packed well without crumbling for over a week, which was my goal. I know I can pack it on longer backpacking trips and have an excellent source of complex carbohydrate energy that tastes good and isn’t as expensive as the energy bars.
Hang in there, JD, I'm thinking about you.
Hike duration: 30 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 75.
Calories burned during workout: 150.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tragic bear attack.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sam Mazzola of Columbia Station owns seven black bears, along with other exotic wild animals. He has a history of brushes with the law over his business and ownership, but only recently did his dangerous business turn deadly. A 24-year old man who had been working with Sam for seven years was accidentally killed by a bear he had known and been playing with since it was a cub. The 400-pound behemoth may have been friendly and loved the man as Sam claimed, but when it bit and severed an artery under the man’s armpit, an unnecessary tragedy culminated in the man’s untimely death. Spending as much time as I do in the woods and teaching the importance of ‘Leave No Trace’ camping and backpacking techniques, I tend to feel that wild animals should remain wild. It is their nature and it seems that humans are tempting fate when they interact in any way with them. As much as I would love to see and photograph more wildlife on my trips, I work hard utilizing their space in a way that does little to interfere with their lives and leaves the area I camp and travel as I found. I suppose the less I see of them, the better I’ve achieved my aim. I’m terribly sorry that this incident occurred and that the animal was subsequently destroyed, but taking them out of their environment is a mistake, in my opinion.
The hip continues to hurt, even while walking around the house, but is no problem on the bike. My doc says that there may be a femoral stress fracture that cannot be detected with an x-ray and if the problem continues, he’d like to do an MRI to determine the problem. For now he says stay away from running…but biking is okay. So…I keep biking.
It looked like rain all morning and into the early afternoon, but it never came so I climbed on the bike around 2 p.m. I’d gone about 5 minutes when the skies opened up, soaking me and making the road quite slippery. I knew I couldn’t run and so I decided to just keep going hoping it would clear up. Looking at the gray, cloud filled skies made this outlook seem overly optimistic, but over the next ten minutes the rains subsided and the roads dried.
I’ve been riding the same course for a couple of weeks and it only has three climbs that get me out of the saddle. I decided that since I had 2 hours, I’d add a bigger one to the loop. I’m tough on chains, having snapped them twice while climbing Rogers Road off of Chagrin River Road. It’s particularly steep near the base and when I stand to get the leverage I like for climbing, I must put too much torque on the chain and…snap…tip…fall over. I picked this hill for my extra training and as I climbed from the saddle, couldn’t help but think of the two instances when my chain had failed. Today…it held.
The hill only added about 15 minutes to the length of the ride and I was still feeling strong at the conclusion. Like any activity, the more you do, the better you perform. I guess I’m becoming a rider again, though I can’t wait to get back to running. Nothing seems to burn the fat from my body better.
Speaking of fat calories, Holly had purchased fresh peaches from Patterson’s Fruit Farm yesterday and decided that peach cobbler for dessert was in order. I seldom eat dessert right after dinner…I’m too full then and like to wait until I can truly enjoy the decadence of the calories. Today though, it was warm, smelling wonderful and sitting in front of me on the table with a container of whipped cream in close proximity. I’m weak. I filled a bowl, slathered it with the whipped cream and indulged. Later, I finished the remaining amount. I’m worthless and weak and need to get back to running before I regain all the weight I’ve shed over the past seven months.
Bike duration: 100 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 125.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
Sam Mazzola of Columbia Station owns seven black bears, along with other exotic wild animals. He has a history of brushes with the law over his business and ownership, but only recently did his dangerous business turn deadly. A 24-year old man who had been working with Sam for seven years was accidentally killed by a bear he had known and been playing with since it was a cub. The 400-pound behemoth may have been friendly and loved the man as Sam claimed, but when it bit and severed an artery under the man’s armpit, an unnecessary tragedy culminated in the man’s untimely death. Spending as much time as I do in the woods and teaching the importance of ‘Leave No Trace’ camping and backpacking techniques, I tend to feel that wild animals should remain wild. It is their nature and it seems that humans are tempting fate when they interact in any way with them. As much as I would love to see and photograph more wildlife on my trips, I work hard utilizing their space in a way that does little to interfere with their lives and leaves the area I camp and travel as I found. I suppose the less I see of them, the better I’ve achieved my aim. I’m terribly sorry that this incident occurred and that the animal was subsequently destroyed, but taking them out of their environment is a mistake, in my opinion.
The hip continues to hurt, even while walking around the house, but is no problem on the bike. My doc says that there may be a femoral stress fracture that cannot be detected with an x-ray and if the problem continues, he’d like to do an MRI to determine the problem. For now he says stay away from running…but biking is okay. So…I keep biking.
It looked like rain all morning and into the early afternoon, but it never came so I climbed on the bike around 2 p.m. I’d gone about 5 minutes when the skies opened up, soaking me and making the road quite slippery. I knew I couldn’t run and so I decided to just keep going hoping it would clear up. Looking at the gray, cloud filled skies made this outlook seem overly optimistic, but over the next ten minutes the rains subsided and the roads dried.
I’ve been riding the same course for a couple of weeks and it only has three climbs that get me out of the saddle. I decided that since I had 2 hours, I’d add a bigger one to the loop. I’m tough on chains, having snapped them twice while climbing Rogers Road off of Chagrin River Road. It’s particularly steep near the base and when I stand to get the leverage I like for climbing, I must put too much torque on the chain and…snap…tip…fall over. I picked this hill for my extra training and as I climbed from the saddle, couldn’t help but think of the two instances when my chain had failed. Today…it held.
The hill only added about 15 minutes to the length of the ride and I was still feeling strong at the conclusion. Like any activity, the more you do, the better you perform. I guess I’m becoming a rider again, though I can’t wait to get back to running. Nothing seems to burn the fat from my body better.
Speaking of fat calories, Holly had purchased fresh peaches from Patterson’s Fruit Farm yesterday and decided that peach cobbler for dessert was in order. I seldom eat dessert right after dinner…I’m too full then and like to wait until I can truly enjoy the decadence of the calories. Today though, it was warm, smelling wonderful and sitting in front of me on the table with a container of whipped cream in close proximity. I’m weak. I filled a bowl, slathered it with the whipped cream and indulged. Later, I finished the remaining amount. I’m worthless and weak and need to get back to running before I regain all the weight I’ve shed over the past seven months.
Bike duration: 100 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 125.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
I hate bees...
Saturday, August 21, 2010
I was riding along, minding my own business and enjoying the cool, morning air along the Chagrin River on Dodd Road when something with wings crashed through the slit in my helmet and smashed into my shaved, bald head. I considered that it might be a bee, but decided if I did nothing, it would fly away. I mean…why, if it was a bee, would it sting me when I wasn’t doing anything to it and if it did, it would die? So…if it was a bee my logic told me I was safe.
Wham…the pain radiated throughout my head and into my neck. I yelled and grabbed for the strap to my helmet, loosening it and pulling it from my head…all while riding along at 20 mph. That little bastard stung me and it hurt like hell! I continued to ride while searching the crevices of my helmet to make sure he wasn’t still in there somewhere and waiting for another opportunity to inflict another sting. He was gone, but the pain remained and intensified…and I still had an hour to go. Now…I always tell Holly when she’s complaining about my complaining about any aches or pains that I have…that what I’m going through would kill an normal human…but this time I think it would have. Maybe I’d developed an allergy to bee stings since my last one…about three weeks ago…and I was about to keel off the bike. I don’t know…but it hurt…like…hell!!!
Alright…alright…I manned it out and finished the ride without stopping to dial 911 on my cell phone. I finished the same ride I’d done yesterday evening 5 minutes faster…I suppose so I could get home and tell Holly how tough I was, riding when most men would have fallen to the side of the road and called their wives to pick them up. I’m not most men, though.
I have to do some more bragging. In addition to being a tough, old geezer, I’ve become quite the baker. My pinole has reached the point of legendary status…everyone in the house is eating it like its dessert. I made the latest batch with eggs, oil and the strawberry syrup but also added in raisins and I think that’s the big difference and the winning ingredient. I’d post the recipe again, but you’ve seen it a couple of times. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m making it in a 9” x 13” pan because if I make it any smaller, its gone too fast and I hardly get any. It makes a terrific breakfast and I like to take it to work and have it with a cup of coffee some mornings. They were great on the last camping trip because I’ve figured out how to make them so they don’t crumble and the oil is keeping them moist for almost a week (don’t know if they last longer because I eat it).
I’m missing run already. My doc, Nilesh, wrote asking me all about the symptoms and how I triggered them again and I told him he needs to fix me. Riding’s okay…but I have to run.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 125.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
I was riding along, minding my own business and enjoying the cool, morning air along the Chagrin River on Dodd Road when something with wings crashed through the slit in my helmet and smashed into my shaved, bald head. I considered that it might be a bee, but decided if I did nothing, it would fly away. I mean…why, if it was a bee, would it sting me when I wasn’t doing anything to it and if it did, it would die? So…if it was a bee my logic told me I was safe.
Wham…the pain radiated throughout my head and into my neck. I yelled and grabbed for the strap to my helmet, loosening it and pulling it from my head…all while riding along at 20 mph. That little bastard stung me and it hurt like hell! I continued to ride while searching the crevices of my helmet to make sure he wasn’t still in there somewhere and waiting for another opportunity to inflict another sting. He was gone, but the pain remained and intensified…and I still had an hour to go. Now…I always tell Holly when she’s complaining about my complaining about any aches or pains that I have…that what I’m going through would kill an normal human…but this time I think it would have. Maybe I’d developed an allergy to bee stings since my last one…about three weeks ago…and I was about to keel off the bike. I don’t know…but it hurt…like…hell!!!
Alright…alright…I manned it out and finished the ride without stopping to dial 911 on my cell phone. I finished the same ride I’d done yesterday evening 5 minutes faster…I suppose so I could get home and tell Holly how tough I was, riding when most men would have fallen to the side of the road and called their wives to pick them up. I’m not most men, though.
I have to do some more bragging. In addition to being a tough, old geezer, I’ve become quite the baker. My pinole has reached the point of legendary status…everyone in the house is eating it like its dessert. I made the latest batch with eggs, oil and the strawberry syrup but also added in raisins and I think that’s the big difference and the winning ingredient. I’d post the recipe again, but you’ve seen it a couple of times. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m making it in a 9” x 13” pan because if I make it any smaller, its gone too fast and I hardly get any. It makes a terrific breakfast and I like to take it to work and have it with a cup of coffee some mornings. They were great on the last camping trip because I’ve figured out how to make them so they don’t crumble and the oil is keeping them moist for almost a week (don’t know if they last longer because I eat it).
I’m missing run already. My doc, Nilesh, wrote asking me all about the symptoms and how I triggered them again and I told him he needs to fix me. Riding’s okay…but I have to run.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 125.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
Friday, August 20, 2010
"Say it ain't so, Rocket Man..."
Friday, August 20, 2010
As a young boy, I must admit that I looked up to and admired major league baseball players. It was an era when, regardless of the things these men were doing, only positive information was shared with the adoring public…especially the kids. I grew up in Bristol, Ct., which was the home of the Bristol Red Sox and minor league franchise for the Boston Red Sox. Most of my buddies rooted for the Red Sox and I was a fanatic. My hero was Carl ‘Yaz’ Yastrzemski and he could do no wrong in my eyes. I liked Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, Sandy Koufax, and many others, but Yaz was my man. I copied his unusual batting stance, played left field, and taught myself to hit left-handed since he did. If he’d have stolen purses from old ladies…well…I’d have probably figured he was giving the money to the poor or something. He could do no wrong.
I grew up and times changed. Try to find a lily-white professional athlete today. I don’t bother. I’ve come to the conclusion that, like me, they’re human and, with so many more temptations resulting from a life of playing, pampering, and way too much money…what chance have they got? They’re also in a spotlight and followed by folks whose job it is to report those shortcomings. No thank you.
Still…I have a couple of heroes. If you’ve read this for some time, you know how I feel about Lance. The other has been Roger Clemens.
I met Roger when I was managing the Cleveland Athletic Club. He was still with the Red Sox at the time and whenever the Sox were in town, he’d come over to the Club for a workout. I admired his dedication to his fitness and his profession. I observed him working out on a couple of occasions and was impressed with the intensity of his workouts and effort to always be in peak form. I also had the chance to sit with him and eat burgers and drink milkshakes in our coffee shop while talking about things ranging from building a new ballpark for the Red Sox, but moving the Green Monster (famous left field wall) to the new facility to what its like to have a family and travel the way a major league ballplayer does. I even asked him about the ‘curse of the Babe’ for which he shared his strong disdain.
Note: In 1918, the Boston Red Sox sold Babe Ruth, arguably the greatest ballplayer in the history of the game, to the New York Yankees. For the next 85 seasons, the Red Sox would fail to win the World Series, falling short for a variety of reasons…not necessarily a lack of talent…and to the point where it was said that the franchise was cursed because of the infamous sale of the Babe and would never again win the Series. The curse was finally broken in 2004 when the Red Sox, down three games to none in the American League Championship Series against the vaunted Yankees, went on a rampage such as the baseball world has never seen before, winning the next four games against the Yankees and moving on to the World Series where they defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in a four game sweep.
So…Roger was my man and, outside of the Indians, the only player I actually knew well and completely respected. For the last several years, he has been tainted with the steroid debacle, accused of having used Human Growth Hormone (HGH) to aid his Hall of Fame career (many considered him the greatest pitcher of the last half century, having won baseball’s greatest pitching award for a season’s accomplishment – the Cy Young Award – a record seven times). In 2008, he appeared voluntarily before a House committee looking into steroid use in baseball with the specific purpose of clearing his name regarding their use. He is now being indicted for lying to Congress at that time.
I don’t know where this will all shake out…but I still believe in one of the most important foundation blocks of this country which basically states a man is innocent until proven guilty. I’m wishing you all the best, Rocket Man…
Oh yeah…I rode 90 minutes and felt rather crappy. The hip is still sore and running is out for some time. I’ll become a serious cyclist for the next four weeks since John and I will be climbing seven peaks in three days on our next trip to the Adirondacks in mid-September and I really need to be in good form.
Bike duration: 90 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
As a young boy, I must admit that I looked up to and admired major league baseball players. It was an era when, regardless of the things these men were doing, only positive information was shared with the adoring public…especially the kids. I grew up in Bristol, Ct., which was the home of the Bristol Red Sox and minor league franchise for the Boston Red Sox. Most of my buddies rooted for the Red Sox and I was a fanatic. My hero was Carl ‘Yaz’ Yastrzemski and he could do no wrong in my eyes. I liked Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, Sandy Koufax, and many others, but Yaz was my man. I copied his unusual batting stance, played left field, and taught myself to hit left-handed since he did. If he’d have stolen purses from old ladies…well…I’d have probably figured he was giving the money to the poor or something. He could do no wrong.
I grew up and times changed. Try to find a lily-white professional athlete today. I don’t bother. I’ve come to the conclusion that, like me, they’re human and, with so many more temptations resulting from a life of playing, pampering, and way too much money…what chance have they got? They’re also in a spotlight and followed by folks whose job it is to report those shortcomings. No thank you.
Still…I have a couple of heroes. If you’ve read this for some time, you know how I feel about Lance. The other has been Roger Clemens.
I met Roger when I was managing the Cleveland Athletic Club. He was still with the Red Sox at the time and whenever the Sox were in town, he’d come over to the Club for a workout. I admired his dedication to his fitness and his profession. I observed him working out on a couple of occasions and was impressed with the intensity of his workouts and effort to always be in peak form. I also had the chance to sit with him and eat burgers and drink milkshakes in our coffee shop while talking about things ranging from building a new ballpark for the Red Sox, but moving the Green Monster (famous left field wall) to the new facility to what its like to have a family and travel the way a major league ballplayer does. I even asked him about the ‘curse of the Babe’ for which he shared his strong disdain.
Note: In 1918, the Boston Red Sox sold Babe Ruth, arguably the greatest ballplayer in the history of the game, to the New York Yankees. For the next 85 seasons, the Red Sox would fail to win the World Series, falling short for a variety of reasons…not necessarily a lack of talent…and to the point where it was said that the franchise was cursed because of the infamous sale of the Babe and would never again win the Series. The curse was finally broken in 2004 when the Red Sox, down three games to none in the American League Championship Series against the vaunted Yankees, went on a rampage such as the baseball world has never seen before, winning the next four games against the Yankees and moving on to the World Series where they defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in a four game sweep.
So…Roger was my man and, outside of the Indians, the only player I actually knew well and completely respected. For the last several years, he has been tainted with the steroid debacle, accused of having used Human Growth Hormone (HGH) to aid his Hall of Fame career (many considered him the greatest pitcher of the last half century, having won baseball’s greatest pitching award for a season’s accomplishment – the Cy Young Award – a record seven times). In 2008, he appeared voluntarily before a House committee looking into steroid use in baseball with the specific purpose of clearing his name regarding their use. He is now being indicted for lying to Congress at that time.
I don’t know where this will all shake out…but I still believe in one of the most important foundation blocks of this country which basically states a man is innocent until proven guilty. I’m wishing you all the best, Rocket Man…
Oh yeah…I rode 90 minutes and felt rather crappy. The hip is still sore and running is out for some time. I’ll become a serious cyclist for the next four weeks since John and I will be climbing seven peaks in three days on our next trip to the Adirondacks in mid-September and I really need to be in good form.
Bike duration: 90 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
Thanks for reading...
Thursday, August 19, 2010
I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet…but I like to write. I know I’m a long way from being a writer, but I like to do it knowing that somewhere, someone is reading and maybe even being entertained. I mean if nothing else…I got that going for me.
I’m listening to a book written by Haruki Murakami titled ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Running”. He’s an author who happens to run and the book is his effort to connect the aspects of his distance running with the scope of his writing. As a pure running book…it won’t get your juices flowing, but as a book about writing and running…well, can’t say as I’ve got anything to compare it to, but I like it. He made one point that applies to my own writing, which I’d like to share. He often makes speaking appearances in the U.S. and as one would expect, speaks English to his audiences. He says this is so much easier than using the Japanese language to make speeches or to write since, with his limited English vocabulary, he does not have as many choices when selecting words.
That’s me…the limited English vocabulary part…I don’t know any Japanese. I mean…when I’m trying to describe something like…oh…stars in the Adirondack sky let’s say…I figure everyone knows what a star looks like and so I just call them “stars in the Adirondack sky”. I was talking to John the other day and he used the word ‘doppelganger’ to which I replied “what’d you just say?”
“C’mon, John…don’t tell me you don’t know what ‘doppelganger’ means,” he said with exasperation. I admitted I didn’t and so he blah, blah, blahs about it and when he’s done…I still don’t know.
“It’s not a common word and using words like ‘doppelganger is the reason you used to get beat up as a kid,” I said.
Anyway, this my long-winded, not-so-fancy worded way of saying ‘thanks for reading and keep an eye out for my first novel’ thing…which will become required reading for the criminally insane, most forms of human riffraff, and all English speaking illiterates.
On another note…something I hate to report. Holly and I went to the Palace last night to watch the film ‘Back to the Future’. They’ve got this terrific summer movie program where they show great, older movies on their giant screen. The whole evening starts with a guy playing some kind of crazy organ/piano thing…like they used to do at the movies when the world was still black and white…you know…a LONG, LONG time ago…and then follow it with a really great cartoon, usually Bugs Bunny…before showing the movie. It’s $5 a person…lot’s more than I’ll usually pay for a movie (I like Cinemark in Willoughby Hills for $1 on Tuesday nights), but you can beat the ambiance (big ‘John’ word for ‘nice stuff all around the place’).
Anyway, we finished the movie and returned to the van, which was parked on E.17th street, just north of Chester Ave. We climbed back in the car when Holly noticed the glove box open and her GPS missing. “You left the car unlocked,” she said.
I was sure I hadn’t, but turned to look in the back seat when I noticed the rear side window was pulled open.
“They got in through the window,” I said with disgust and guilt since I knew that I’d left it open. If you know mini-vans, these windows only act as vents, with barely two inches of opening. I suppose the perp (fancy word for ‘assholes who take stuff that doesn’t belong to them) pulled it open, reached in to pop the lock on the sliding door and then climbed in to find how little we had in the vehicle. A bike patrol person was passing by and I flagged her down to report the incident. She called it in and in less than 5 minutes, we had two other bike patrollers and one Cleveland Police officer on the scene. They all apologized for the situation…as if they were to blame…and took our information. I know the district is trying to attract business to the area and they really take it personally when some knucklehead messes things up.
I really hate the invasion of our personal space, but what can you do? I told Holly that I only lost a GPS, but that there was some sorry individual out on the streets that needed stuff in my car so badly that they had turned to crime. Eventually, they would get caught and a life that was already in a shambles would get even worse. I work with folks who have spent time on the wrong side of the law and its hard for them to find work and straighten out their lives once they’ve made this kind of mistake. I pity them…and the life they’ve chosen.
I also didn’t do any exercise again. The hip is still rather inflamed, but tomorrow it’s back to the bike.
I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet…but I like to write. I know I’m a long way from being a writer, but I like to do it knowing that somewhere, someone is reading and maybe even being entertained. I mean if nothing else…I got that going for me.
I’m listening to a book written by Haruki Murakami titled ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Running”. He’s an author who happens to run and the book is his effort to connect the aspects of his distance running with the scope of his writing. As a pure running book…it won’t get your juices flowing, but as a book about writing and running…well, can’t say as I’ve got anything to compare it to, but I like it. He made one point that applies to my own writing, which I’d like to share. He often makes speaking appearances in the U.S. and as one would expect, speaks English to his audiences. He says this is so much easier than using the Japanese language to make speeches or to write since, with his limited English vocabulary, he does not have as many choices when selecting words.
That’s me…the limited English vocabulary part…I don’t know any Japanese. I mean…when I’m trying to describe something like…oh…stars in the Adirondack sky let’s say…I figure everyone knows what a star looks like and so I just call them “stars in the Adirondack sky”. I was talking to John the other day and he used the word ‘doppelganger’ to which I replied “what’d you just say?”
“C’mon, John…don’t tell me you don’t know what ‘doppelganger’ means,” he said with exasperation. I admitted I didn’t and so he blah, blah, blahs about it and when he’s done…I still don’t know.
“It’s not a common word and using words like ‘doppelganger is the reason you used to get beat up as a kid,” I said.
Anyway, this my long-winded, not-so-fancy worded way of saying ‘thanks for reading and keep an eye out for my first novel’ thing…which will become required reading for the criminally insane, most forms of human riffraff, and all English speaking illiterates.
On another note…something I hate to report. Holly and I went to the Palace last night to watch the film ‘Back to the Future’. They’ve got this terrific summer movie program where they show great, older movies on their giant screen. The whole evening starts with a guy playing some kind of crazy organ/piano thing…like they used to do at the movies when the world was still black and white…you know…a LONG, LONG time ago…and then follow it with a really great cartoon, usually Bugs Bunny…before showing the movie. It’s $5 a person…lot’s more than I’ll usually pay for a movie (I like Cinemark in Willoughby Hills for $1 on Tuesday nights), but you can beat the ambiance (big ‘John’ word for ‘nice stuff all around the place’).
Anyway, we finished the movie and returned to the van, which was parked on E.17th street, just north of Chester Ave. We climbed back in the car when Holly noticed the glove box open and her GPS missing. “You left the car unlocked,” she said.
I was sure I hadn’t, but turned to look in the back seat when I noticed the rear side window was pulled open.
“They got in through the window,” I said with disgust and guilt since I knew that I’d left it open. If you know mini-vans, these windows only act as vents, with barely two inches of opening. I suppose the perp (fancy word for ‘assholes who take stuff that doesn’t belong to them) pulled it open, reached in to pop the lock on the sliding door and then climbed in to find how little we had in the vehicle. A bike patrol person was passing by and I flagged her down to report the incident. She called it in and in less than 5 minutes, we had two other bike patrollers and one Cleveland Police officer on the scene. They all apologized for the situation…as if they were to blame…and took our information. I know the district is trying to attract business to the area and they really take it personally when some knucklehead messes things up.
I really hate the invasion of our personal space, but what can you do? I told Holly that I only lost a GPS, but that there was some sorry individual out on the streets that needed stuff in my car so badly that they had turned to crime. Eventually, they would get caught and a life that was already in a shambles would get even worse. I work with folks who have spent time on the wrong side of the law and its hard for them to find work and straighten out their lives once they’ve made this kind of mistake. I pity them…and the life they’ve chosen.
I also didn’t do any exercise again. The hip is still rather inflamed, but tomorrow it’s back to the bike.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
I'll miss you, Bob...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sometimes, we are fortunate enough to meet people to whom we take an immediate liking and for reasons we can never put into words. I met such a person about four years ago when I was working as a Vocational Teacher at Fieldstone Farm Therapeutic Riding Center. His name was Bob Sposito, but everyone called him ‘Spo’ and he was President of the Board at the time. I knew him because he came to the farm almost every week to help with the grass cutting. He rode the John Deere for hours, happy to help with the mundane chores, which was a small portion of all the things he did to aid the Farm in achieving its admirable mission.
He had an easy manner, a winning smile and a kind word that made everyone like him. He’d bring doughnuts along for the other volunteers, but always kept one out for my brother Jim, the head maintenance guy for the farm. Jim kept ‘Spo’s’ lawnmower in peak operating condition and only let the most competent and careful students use it when Spo wasn’t there.
He was a proud man and when his body was ravaged by cancer and, for a time, he needed help maintaining the yard around his home, he reluctantly asked Jim for help. Last summer, Jim was finding it difficult to make it there and asked me if I’d fill in for him. I gladly did.
I spent many hours with Bob that summer, cleaning out gutters, power washing his deck, painting the back porch, cleaning and washing the windows and screens, pruning trees, moving mulch and, most importantly, rebuilding the roof on the tool shed his son had built over 20 years ago. I would come on Saturday mornings and he’d have a cup of coffee and some pastry waiting. We’d gripe about the Indians and discuss the current events of the previous week before moving on to the chores of the day. It was the only civilized way to approach work. He and his wife, Mimi, took meticulous care of their home and it inspired me to try and achieve perfection with anything I did for him. Though he had been weakened by the cancer, he still insisted on helping me wherever he could. I was doing the tasks he used to do and to some degree I know it bothered him to see me doing them when he couldn’t. I tried to get his help whenever I could, but looked to do as much as possible when he wasn’t observing so that he wouldn’t try to do it when I wasn’t around.
This past summer, he became worse. I reminded him that I was running in the park almost every day and would be happy to stop at any time for any small task that needed to be done. “I’ll work for a diet Snapple Iced Tea,” I told him and he took me up on it on a number of occasions. I was always so happy when he called because I wanted to do these things for him. My own father had died less than two years ago and I missed the opportunity to help and visit with him. Bob had become that second father for me…but a tremendous friend, as well.
A couple of weeks ago, he called to inform me that he was going in the hospital for some work and didn’t think he could make our scheduled Saturday meeting. “Just leave the list and I’ll get the work done, Bob,” I told him. Mimi met me at the house and went over the things that needed to be done. When I inquired about visiting him, she told me he had deteriorated to the point that he really didn’t want visitors…talking was difficult “and you know how much he likes to talk, John,”. She left me there to do the work and headed for the hospital. I headed for the shed, but was suddenly overcome with emotion and had to sit for awhile and wipe away the tears. I sensed I would never see or speak to him again.
That Monday, he called from his hospital bed. I could hear the weakness in his voice but was thrilled to hear it none the less. We talked about the stamps he wanted me to have and the work that still needed to be done. I assured him that I would always be there to help him, but I really needed him at home because I had so many important things to discuss with him. “Jim needs you, too, you know,” I reminded. He thanked me profusely for all I had done for him, not understanding that it was he that had done so much for me in allowing me to enter his life and help in my small way. He had made me a better person by simply being around him…he had that gift.
I wrote him a letter and tried to express my feelings and what time with him had meant to me and Jim. I brought it to Mimi and she took it to him at the hospital. Then I left for the Adirondacks.
At some point as I struggled up the final feet on my way to the summit of Skylight Mt., Bob breathed his last. When I returned to the car and cell phone reception, I found a message from Jim informing me that “Bob played his last round.” Mimi had left a message later saying she had tried to contact me, but when I didn’t answer after numerous tries, she left the voice mail. “The letter you wrote meant so much to him, John,” she said.
So…as we all do, I lost a good friend and an important influence, though that remains. He meant so much to so many with all the charitable work he did and the kind and giving spirit he possessed. I can only hope to be half the man he was…he truly inspired. Don’t worry, Bob, whenever Mimi needs help, Jim and I will be there. You can count on it.
No workout. Hip is a mess.
Sometimes, we are fortunate enough to meet people to whom we take an immediate liking and for reasons we can never put into words. I met such a person about four years ago when I was working as a Vocational Teacher at Fieldstone Farm Therapeutic Riding Center. His name was Bob Sposito, but everyone called him ‘Spo’ and he was President of the Board at the time. I knew him because he came to the farm almost every week to help with the grass cutting. He rode the John Deere for hours, happy to help with the mundane chores, which was a small portion of all the things he did to aid the Farm in achieving its admirable mission.
He had an easy manner, a winning smile and a kind word that made everyone like him. He’d bring doughnuts along for the other volunteers, but always kept one out for my brother Jim, the head maintenance guy for the farm. Jim kept ‘Spo’s’ lawnmower in peak operating condition and only let the most competent and careful students use it when Spo wasn’t there.
He was a proud man and when his body was ravaged by cancer and, for a time, he needed help maintaining the yard around his home, he reluctantly asked Jim for help. Last summer, Jim was finding it difficult to make it there and asked me if I’d fill in for him. I gladly did.
I spent many hours with Bob that summer, cleaning out gutters, power washing his deck, painting the back porch, cleaning and washing the windows and screens, pruning trees, moving mulch and, most importantly, rebuilding the roof on the tool shed his son had built over 20 years ago. I would come on Saturday mornings and he’d have a cup of coffee and some pastry waiting. We’d gripe about the Indians and discuss the current events of the previous week before moving on to the chores of the day. It was the only civilized way to approach work. He and his wife, Mimi, took meticulous care of their home and it inspired me to try and achieve perfection with anything I did for him. Though he had been weakened by the cancer, he still insisted on helping me wherever he could. I was doing the tasks he used to do and to some degree I know it bothered him to see me doing them when he couldn’t. I tried to get his help whenever I could, but looked to do as much as possible when he wasn’t observing so that he wouldn’t try to do it when I wasn’t around.
This past summer, he became worse. I reminded him that I was running in the park almost every day and would be happy to stop at any time for any small task that needed to be done. “I’ll work for a diet Snapple Iced Tea,” I told him and he took me up on it on a number of occasions. I was always so happy when he called because I wanted to do these things for him. My own father had died less than two years ago and I missed the opportunity to help and visit with him. Bob had become that second father for me…but a tremendous friend, as well.
A couple of weeks ago, he called to inform me that he was going in the hospital for some work and didn’t think he could make our scheduled Saturday meeting. “Just leave the list and I’ll get the work done, Bob,” I told him. Mimi met me at the house and went over the things that needed to be done. When I inquired about visiting him, she told me he had deteriorated to the point that he really didn’t want visitors…talking was difficult “and you know how much he likes to talk, John,”. She left me there to do the work and headed for the hospital. I headed for the shed, but was suddenly overcome with emotion and had to sit for awhile and wipe away the tears. I sensed I would never see or speak to him again.
That Monday, he called from his hospital bed. I could hear the weakness in his voice but was thrilled to hear it none the less. We talked about the stamps he wanted me to have and the work that still needed to be done. I assured him that I would always be there to help him, but I really needed him at home because I had so many important things to discuss with him. “Jim needs you, too, you know,” I reminded. He thanked me profusely for all I had done for him, not understanding that it was he that had done so much for me in allowing me to enter his life and help in my small way. He had made me a better person by simply being around him…he had that gift.
I wrote him a letter and tried to express my feelings and what time with him had meant to me and Jim. I brought it to Mimi and she took it to him at the hospital. Then I left for the Adirondacks.
At some point as I struggled up the final feet on my way to the summit of Skylight Mt., Bob breathed his last. When I returned to the car and cell phone reception, I found a message from Jim informing me that “Bob played his last round.” Mimi had left a message later saying she had tried to contact me, but when I didn’t answer after numerous tries, she left the voice mail. “The letter you wrote meant so much to him, John,” she said.
So…as we all do, I lost a good friend and an important influence, though that remains. He meant so much to so many with all the charitable work he did and the kind and giving spirit he possessed. I can only hope to be half the man he was…he truly inspired. Don’t worry, Bob, whenever Mimi needs help, Jim and I will be there. You can count on it.
No workout. Hip is a mess.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Injured again.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I hadn’t slept more than a combined eight hours over the last three nights and was still pretty groggy when I got up to go to work Tuesday morning. I packed my running gear in the car, wondering what the evening would bring. The hip had been a little sore and I was still thinking it was hiking with the pack that had caused the problem. If so, I hadn’t done it any favors over the last three days. Still, I had to go.
I started the run with apprehension, but the first three minutes felt great. It was a cool evening and I knew I could run fast if it was only about my condition. It wasn’t. I felt a mild twinge in the hip and knew it was going to go badly. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been two weeks earlier when I’d gone to the doc’s until I reached the end of the run about 30 minutes later. I’d noticed that the pain had radiated down to the ankle on a couple of occasions…not too sure what that was all about…but figured I’d mention it to the doc when I called tomorrow.
I was truly depressed. It had taken me over ten years to become a runner again and I didn’t want any setbacks. I went home and packed the hip in ice and whined some to Holly. I don’t think she was too interested. I had another date in the Adirondacks scheduled for mid-September and decided right there that running was out for now. I’d get back to the bike in a couple of nights and stick with it. I can maintain excellent conditioning by riding and I will need it because I’m going to tackle some of the toughest peaks when I return. I know John will be reading this and since he’s coming, he’ll know that he needs to ratchet up the training
Run duration: 31 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140.
Calories burned during workout: 475.
I hadn’t slept more than a combined eight hours over the last three nights and was still pretty groggy when I got up to go to work Tuesday morning. I packed my running gear in the car, wondering what the evening would bring. The hip had been a little sore and I was still thinking it was hiking with the pack that had caused the problem. If so, I hadn’t done it any favors over the last three days. Still, I had to go.
I started the run with apprehension, but the first three minutes felt great. It was a cool evening and I knew I could run fast if it was only about my condition. It wasn’t. I felt a mild twinge in the hip and knew it was going to go badly. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been two weeks earlier when I’d gone to the doc’s until I reached the end of the run about 30 minutes later. I’d noticed that the pain had radiated down to the ankle on a couple of occasions…not too sure what that was all about…but figured I’d mention it to the doc when I called tomorrow.
I was truly depressed. It had taken me over ten years to become a runner again and I didn’t want any setbacks. I went home and packed the hip in ice and whined some to Holly. I don’t think she was too interested. I had another date in the Adirondacks scheduled for mid-September and decided right there that running was out for now. I’d get back to the bike in a couple of nights and stick with it. I can maintain excellent conditioning by riding and I will need it because I’m going to tackle some of the toughest peaks when I return. I know John will be reading this and since he’s coming, he’ll know that he needs to ratchet up the training
Run duration: 31 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140.
Calories burned during workout: 475.
"You're going to do what with that toothpaste?"
Monday, August 16, 2010
I heard the thunder in the distance and was up and preparing to break camp around 6 a.m. I let everyone sleep until 7 a.m. before rousing them to help with the process. We ate a breakfast of gorp, energy bars, and pinole and were on the trail for home by 8 a.m. The going was slowed by the recent thunderstorm, which tended to make the trail a muddy quagmire and the rocks and roots normally used for walking, slippery as ice.
The trail out loses over 1,000 feet of elevation, so it makes life a little easier…that and the fact that I’ve got about 10 pounds less food in my pack. Still, I broke a good sweat and would need a good cleansing at the conclusion. As we neared the end of the hike, Marie and I stopped to gorge ourselves on the blackberries which were out in abundance. The bears were busy eating camping food so I suppose its okay to eat theirs. Frankly, I was surprised how many they’d left.
We completed the hike in two and a half hours and it felt great to drop the pack and head for the water. We ate the food we left in the cooler before getting on the road knowing that we were headed for my Uncle’s house and an opportunity to shower and eat burgers and drink milkshakes. I was about to close the bear canister when Don asked me if the toothpaste was in there.
“We’re going to eat when we get to my uncle’s place so why bother brushing your teeth now?”
“I’m not going to brush with it…I’m going to put it in my armpits so I smell better,” he said. The girls and I began to laugh because I was pretty sure he was kidding, but to my amazement, he put some on his fingers and reached under his shirt and applied.
“If I’d known you would go this far, I’d have let you bring your deodorant…or do you use that on your teeth?” I grabbed my camera to capture the moment because I’m thinking some folks aren’t going to believe me.
We arrived in Potsdam at my uncle’s place 90 minutes later only to find that they weren’t at home and when my aunt called me, she wondered why I would ever make arrangements with Uncle Bill.
“He said you were coming on Wednesday and staying overnight,” she said.
“Umm…nope. I told him Monday and that we’d only be there for a visit since I had to get Heidi back for work and that we’d have company with us. It was 9 in the morning when I called him, so I don’t think he was drinking,” I kidded.
She reminded me that he was much older than her and that I should call her when I came back in September. We managed to meet up with my cousin Donnie though, and he was able to regal Don with stories of bears coming into his camp sites on Cranberry Lake and stealing food.
“I was sitting on the picnic table bench with my back to it when I heard something behind me. When I turned around, there was a black bear with his nose on the table and in my pepper jar…which he didn’t like. When I stood up, so did he,” Donnie said while using his hand and holding it over his head to indicate how tall the bear was…and he’s 6’4”. The bear grabbed a butter dish and headed for the woods to feast. Later, when Donnie reported the incident to the ranger, he was informed that the bear was a regular they’d trapped and moved once before and weighed in at over 400 pounds…very large for a black bear.
We climbed back in the van and were on the road for home, which would take another 8 hours. I was wondering how my hip would be when I tried to run the next day…it had been a little sore during the climbs. I’d find out in 24 hours.
Hike duration: 2.5 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
I heard the thunder in the distance and was up and preparing to break camp around 6 a.m. I let everyone sleep until 7 a.m. before rousing them to help with the process. We ate a breakfast of gorp, energy bars, and pinole and were on the trail for home by 8 a.m. The going was slowed by the recent thunderstorm, which tended to make the trail a muddy quagmire and the rocks and roots normally used for walking, slippery as ice.
The trail out loses over 1,000 feet of elevation, so it makes life a little easier…that and the fact that I’ve got about 10 pounds less food in my pack. Still, I broke a good sweat and would need a good cleansing at the conclusion. As we neared the end of the hike, Marie and I stopped to gorge ourselves on the blackberries which were out in abundance. The bears were busy eating camping food so I suppose its okay to eat theirs. Frankly, I was surprised how many they’d left.
We completed the hike in two and a half hours and it felt great to drop the pack and head for the water. We ate the food we left in the cooler before getting on the road knowing that we were headed for my Uncle’s house and an opportunity to shower and eat burgers and drink milkshakes. I was about to close the bear canister when Don asked me if the toothpaste was in there.
“We’re going to eat when we get to my uncle’s place so why bother brushing your teeth now?”
“I’m not going to brush with it…I’m going to put it in my armpits so I smell better,” he said. The girls and I began to laugh because I was pretty sure he was kidding, but to my amazement, he put some on his fingers and reached under his shirt and applied.
“If I’d known you would go this far, I’d have let you bring your deodorant…or do you use that on your teeth?” I grabbed my camera to capture the moment because I’m thinking some folks aren’t going to believe me.
We arrived in Potsdam at my uncle’s place 90 minutes later only to find that they weren’t at home and when my aunt called me, she wondered why I would ever make arrangements with Uncle Bill.
“He said you were coming on Wednesday and staying overnight,” she said.
“Umm…nope. I told him Monday and that we’d only be there for a visit since I had to get Heidi back for work and that we’d have company with us. It was 9 in the morning when I called him, so I don’t think he was drinking,” I kidded.
She reminded me that he was much older than her and that I should call her when I came back in September. We managed to meet up with my cousin Donnie though, and he was able to regal Don with stories of bears coming into his camp sites on Cranberry Lake and stealing food.
“I was sitting on the picnic table bench with my back to it when I heard something behind me. When I turned around, there was a black bear with his nose on the table and in my pepper jar…which he didn’t like. When I stood up, so did he,” Donnie said while using his hand and holding it over his head to indicate how tall the bear was…and he’s 6’4”. The bear grabbed a butter dish and headed for the woods to feast. Later, when Donnie reported the incident to the ranger, he was informed that the bear was a regular they’d trapped and moved once before and weighed in at over 400 pounds…very large for a black bear.
We climbed back in the van and were on the road for home, which would take another 8 hours. I was wondering how my hip would be when I tried to run the next day…it had been a little sore during the climbs. I’d find out in 24 hours.
Hike duration: 2.5 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
Climbing in a fog...
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I was up by 6 a.m. The forecast was for possible thunderstorms, which can be pretty dicey if you’re above the tree line where there is no cover against lightning strikes. I could see that the peak of the mountain we were planning to climb was completely shrouded in fog…a condition I had grown to learn was unlikely to change for the entire day…so I began making plans for an alternate climb.
With everyone sleeping, the land was eerily silent. Then the silence was broken by a humming sound, which turned out appropriately to be a humming bird. I shot some pictures of it and then decided it was time to get breakfast going and my fellow campers up for a long day on the trail.
We ate oatmeal…except for Goldilocks Marie…who had porridge. She let me taste it…I don’t know…kind of seedy and crunchy and…well…I can see why the three bears ate it, but I’m unclear why Goldilocks made such a pig of herself with it…I avoid pissing off bears whenever possible.
We packed lunch and rain gear in my day pack…about 15 pounds total, which I would carry. Don took my camera, Heidi had the camel back and Marie took two nalgene water bottles, which she wore on her hips with a special belt designed to carry them.
We made our way north along a rocky, root-covered trail to Colden Lake and the trailhead for our climb to Skylight Mt. When trying to figure out how long it takes to reach peaks, I tend to think in the time from the trailhead to the peak and exclude the time it takes to get to the trail. That’s recreational walking to my way of thinking…but it creates problems for those who are asking me how long we’ll be walking.
We made two stops on the way to the lake, checking out other lean-to’s and speaking to their residents. This added about 30 minutes to the time it took to reach the trailhead and became a confusing time issue as we climbed. I’d said it would take around an hour to reach a privy about half way up the trail, but my time started when we hit the trailhead. Heidi’s bowel movement and bladder, on the other hand, was calculating from the time we’d left camp…and she was ready to go much earlier.
“I said it would be an hour from the trailhead…not from camp,” as way of an explanation for why we weren’t near the privy after an hour of hiking.
“If I poop my pants…well…it’s all your fault,” she shot back, convinced that I’d once again mislead her on the time it would take to ease the mental burden of how long we’d be walking. I don’t do that either, but I tend to give the time it actually takes to walk somewhere, which often differs from the time to get there by the time spent taking pictures, stopping for water and snack breaks, visiting with fellow hikers and just taking it all in. This can easily add a couple of hours to the daily hike, but there’s no good way to figure what it will be. I really didn’t care too much though, because they needed me. No one knew how to get back and I was the camp cook. I had the power. Never mess with the bull…you might get the horns.
We had taken one 32-ounce bottle of water from camp, which had been purified and was all Don would drink. I was now dipping and refilling the camel back and water bottles directly from the mountain streams since there was no standing water above them. I’d been doing this for years and never had a problem personally, nor had anyone that traveled with me. Don wouldn’t hear of it though, he was still imagining tape worms four feet long exiting his body through his eye sockets.
The trail gains over 3,000 feet for the climb with half coming over the first four miles and the rest on the last two…which makes much of the second half quite steep…and tiring. I was sweating like the pig I am and walking slowly to try and control it…impossible. We reached Lake Tear of the Clouds, the headwater of the Hudson River, to find it completely fogged in. Normally, we’d see Mt. Marcy, New York’s tallest peak at 5.344 feet, from this vantage point, but it was lost in the fog, as well. I knew we would have zero views from Skylight, but the landscape shrouded in fog was interesting. We reached the tree line at about 4,900 feet and then needed the cairns (small piles of rock placed strategically on the bare mountain peeks about every 100 feet to help keep hikers from losing the trail in just such conditions) to find our way to the summit. The wind was blowing strongly and combined with the mist of the fog and the altitude, we all found it necessary to put on our jackets against the chill of the air. With no views to appreciate, we ate our lunch of gorp, energy bars, cheese and hard salami and made our way back down.
The return trip went more quickly, though Don was slowed by a sore left shin…the result of whacking it 11 times (he always keeps stats) on the hike. He was also fogging up his glasses pretty badly, which tends to make seeing a struggle and walking a little slower. We arrived back in camp accompanied by a light rain, but not nearly hard enough to clean the sweat and filth of the trail from my clothes and body…I headed for a cleansing swim with Don. When we reached the bathing spot, he walked in with shoes on, dunked his entire body in quickly and then sprinted for the shore. I was sitting in two feet of water watching this futile attempt to get clean.
“You’re still covered in mud. Get your butt back in here and clean up. You stink and you’re a sissy-mary,” I said.
“What…I’m clean! I’m not getting back in there…its cold and there’s…umm…stuff with parasites in there,” he said. If I could have pulled one of those tape worms from my eye socket at that moment, he’d have had a stroke and that would have been the end of the ‘Don Alexander Saga’, but I didn’t.
“There’s no fish…no beavers…no ducks or birds and unless you’ve pooped in here recently…this water is clean,” I said, knowing that no amount of common sense was going to penetrate that fear-plagued, distorted and peanut-sized grey matter he stored in his head and called a brain.
We made our way back to camp and I put together a dinner of cous cous with salami and black bean soup. We had vanilla pudding for dessert, which I’d made using powdered milk and instant pudding mix. It was a little lumpy, but tasted great. I also made hot chocolate, but had no takers for another sardine sandwich. Babies.
We had been on the trail for around 9 hours with probably 7 hours of hiking. That burns a ton of calories and everyone ate as though they were working their last meal…which works for me because I carry the food and didn’t want any left for the hike out tomorrow.
Hike duration: 7 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: Around 4,000.
I was up by 6 a.m. The forecast was for possible thunderstorms, which can be pretty dicey if you’re above the tree line where there is no cover against lightning strikes. I could see that the peak of the mountain we were planning to climb was completely shrouded in fog…a condition I had grown to learn was unlikely to change for the entire day…so I began making plans for an alternate climb.
With everyone sleeping, the land was eerily silent. Then the silence was broken by a humming sound, which turned out appropriately to be a humming bird. I shot some pictures of it and then decided it was time to get breakfast going and my fellow campers up for a long day on the trail.
We ate oatmeal…except for Goldilocks Marie…who had porridge. She let me taste it…I don’t know…kind of seedy and crunchy and…well…I can see why the three bears ate it, but I’m unclear why Goldilocks made such a pig of herself with it…I avoid pissing off bears whenever possible.
We packed lunch and rain gear in my day pack…about 15 pounds total, which I would carry. Don took my camera, Heidi had the camel back and Marie took two nalgene water bottles, which she wore on her hips with a special belt designed to carry them.
We made our way north along a rocky, root-covered trail to Colden Lake and the trailhead for our climb to Skylight Mt. When trying to figure out how long it takes to reach peaks, I tend to think in the time from the trailhead to the peak and exclude the time it takes to get to the trail. That’s recreational walking to my way of thinking…but it creates problems for those who are asking me how long we’ll be walking.
We made two stops on the way to the lake, checking out other lean-to’s and speaking to their residents. This added about 30 minutes to the time it took to reach the trailhead and became a confusing time issue as we climbed. I’d said it would take around an hour to reach a privy about half way up the trail, but my time started when we hit the trailhead. Heidi’s bowel movement and bladder, on the other hand, was calculating from the time we’d left camp…and she was ready to go much earlier.
“I said it would be an hour from the trailhead…not from camp,” as way of an explanation for why we weren’t near the privy after an hour of hiking.
“If I poop my pants…well…it’s all your fault,” she shot back, convinced that I’d once again mislead her on the time it would take to ease the mental burden of how long we’d be walking. I don’t do that either, but I tend to give the time it actually takes to walk somewhere, which often differs from the time to get there by the time spent taking pictures, stopping for water and snack breaks, visiting with fellow hikers and just taking it all in. This can easily add a couple of hours to the daily hike, but there’s no good way to figure what it will be. I really didn’t care too much though, because they needed me. No one knew how to get back and I was the camp cook. I had the power. Never mess with the bull…you might get the horns.
We had taken one 32-ounce bottle of water from camp, which had been purified and was all Don would drink. I was now dipping and refilling the camel back and water bottles directly from the mountain streams since there was no standing water above them. I’d been doing this for years and never had a problem personally, nor had anyone that traveled with me. Don wouldn’t hear of it though, he was still imagining tape worms four feet long exiting his body through his eye sockets.
The trail gains over 3,000 feet for the climb with half coming over the first four miles and the rest on the last two…which makes much of the second half quite steep…and tiring. I was sweating like the pig I am and walking slowly to try and control it…impossible. We reached Lake Tear of the Clouds, the headwater of the Hudson River, to find it completely fogged in. Normally, we’d see Mt. Marcy, New York’s tallest peak at 5.344 feet, from this vantage point, but it was lost in the fog, as well. I knew we would have zero views from Skylight, but the landscape shrouded in fog was interesting. We reached the tree line at about 4,900 feet and then needed the cairns (small piles of rock placed strategically on the bare mountain peeks about every 100 feet to help keep hikers from losing the trail in just such conditions) to find our way to the summit. The wind was blowing strongly and combined with the mist of the fog and the altitude, we all found it necessary to put on our jackets against the chill of the air. With no views to appreciate, we ate our lunch of gorp, energy bars, cheese and hard salami and made our way back down.
The return trip went more quickly, though Don was slowed by a sore left shin…the result of whacking it 11 times (he always keeps stats) on the hike. He was also fogging up his glasses pretty badly, which tends to make seeing a struggle and walking a little slower. We arrived back in camp accompanied by a light rain, but not nearly hard enough to clean the sweat and filth of the trail from my clothes and body…I headed for a cleansing swim with Don. When we reached the bathing spot, he walked in with shoes on, dunked his entire body in quickly and then sprinted for the shore. I was sitting in two feet of water watching this futile attempt to get clean.
“You’re still covered in mud. Get your butt back in here and clean up. You stink and you’re a sissy-mary,” I said.
“What…I’m clean! I’m not getting back in there…its cold and there’s…umm…stuff with parasites in there,” he said. If I could have pulled one of those tape worms from my eye socket at that moment, he’d have had a stroke and that would have been the end of the ‘Don Alexander Saga’, but I didn’t.
“There’s no fish…no beavers…no ducks or birds and unless you’ve pooped in here recently…this water is clean,” I said, knowing that no amount of common sense was going to penetrate that fear-plagued, distorted and peanut-sized grey matter he stored in his head and called a brain.
We made our way back to camp and I put together a dinner of cous cous with salami and black bean soup. We had vanilla pudding for dessert, which I’d made using powdered milk and instant pudding mix. It was a little lumpy, but tasted great. I also made hot chocolate, but had no takers for another sardine sandwich. Babies.
We had been on the trail for around 9 hours with probably 7 hours of hiking. That burns a ton of calories and everyone ate as though they were working their last meal…which works for me because I carry the food and didn’t want any left for the hike out tomorrow.
Hike duration: 7 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: Around 4,000.
I can't use deodorant?
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I thought I heard music…but that couldn’t be…it was way, way too early. Then my brain cleared enough to connect the sound with my alarm and the fact that I was heading for the mountains. I shut it off and jumped out of bed. I woke Don, took my last shower for three days, put on deodorant…another thing I’d not have with me for the trip…which concerned Don.
“What? No deodorant? That’s….well…uncivilized,” he said.
“Well…either we all leave out deodorant or we leave out dinner one night. You have to pack deodorant in the bear canister over night and I’m not giving up food. Besides, we’re camping right on the water and you can wash up all you want…just not with soap,” I said.
I’m a ‘Leave No Trace’ Master Educator and worked hard at following the principles, which included never putting soap, regardless of its claims for being nature friendly, in any water. I will wash with it and then scatter the soapy water in the dirt, though. I told him all this, but I could see he was thinking he may have bitten off more than he could chew by agreeing to this adventure.
Heidi was up…she’d hardly slept two hours, but figured to make it up on the drive. We had breakfast, packed a cooler for the ride, loaded all our gear into Holly’s van (she hates giving it up for these trips since she then has to drive my Honda, but getting me out of the house for three days…well…take the bad with the good, she figured).
We were in Marie’s driveway by 6:30 a.m., but when she showed me her pack, which was almost completely full from her cotton, camp in the back yard, weigh-in at 20 pounds, sleeping bag, that I said we were returning to our house to get her a bag more appropriate to the conditions. We finally made it to I-90 and were heading west for Utica by 7 a.m. Marie hadn’t slept at all the night before and the girls were out before we hit the entrance ramp.
Don and I discussed life’s most important issues for a large portion of the freeway drive.
“Okay…what’s Yogi Berra’s nickname?”
“Umm….Yogi?”
“No, no…I meant what’s his real name,” he corrected himself. You know…important stuff like that. Oh…and it’s ‘Lawrence’.
We picked our all-time Baseball starting lineups with the idea that the players were part of a team (not just considering offensive numbers therefore) and that they weren’t tainted by the steroid scandal. That took quite awhile, but we did agree on a number of positions. Running, coaching, bears eating campers, falling off of mountains, guys dating our daughters, and on and on and on…
I’d been hearing something banging against the side of the car I thought and asked Don if he heard it. He did, but we couldn’t see anything in the car moving and I didn’t have anything strapped to the outside. When we made our first stop for gas, we discovered Heidi’s head phones hanging out the bottom of the sliding door. They didn’t seem any worse for the wear.
We arrived in the trailhead parking lot around 3:30 p.m. and were packed and on the trail for the 6.5 mile hike in by 4 p.m. We passed over 50 people headed out on our hike…a good sign that lean-to’s and camp sites would be available when we arrived, but it really messed with my serenity. I like coming so much better in the fall when, on a similar hike in I might see 5 people. Oh well.
As always, Heidi struggled with trying to find a comfortable way to carry her pack. She’s tall, but her legs make up most of her body and we never got a custom pack for her…which she needs…and the one we use just doesn’t fit right. By the time we reached the Flowed Lands, she was ready to camp. Normally, I’d have gone another mile, but I totally understood and when we found a lean-to open, we took it. We’d been hiking for two and a half hours.
The first order of business when I get into camp totally drenched in sweat is to wash up with a swim in the creek, which I did. The rest followed…less enthusiastically…then Don and Marie purified three gallons of water while Heidi and I began the process of getting camp set up and dinner ready. I made rice and mixed in chicken pieces, hard salami and covered the whole thing with a navy bean soup. Like everything on a camping trip…it tasted great. I prepared a sardine sandwich as an appetizer and Don bravely tried it, but spit it out as soon as it hit his tongue. No problem…I had the whole thing to myself.
We cleaned up the dishes, repacked the food in the bear canisters and stored them away from camp, and laid around talking for a couple of hours. The stars were out in their thousands, twinkling brightly, with the occasional shooting star passing through my field of vision. Marie nodded off and was snoring, which is good for keeping bears away and we crashed finally around 11 p.m.
Hike duration: 2.5 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
I thought I heard music…but that couldn’t be…it was way, way too early. Then my brain cleared enough to connect the sound with my alarm and the fact that I was heading for the mountains. I shut it off and jumped out of bed. I woke Don, took my last shower for three days, put on deodorant…another thing I’d not have with me for the trip…which concerned Don.
“What? No deodorant? That’s….well…uncivilized,” he said.
“Well…either we all leave out deodorant or we leave out dinner one night. You have to pack deodorant in the bear canister over night and I’m not giving up food. Besides, we’re camping right on the water and you can wash up all you want…just not with soap,” I said.
I’m a ‘Leave No Trace’ Master Educator and worked hard at following the principles, which included never putting soap, regardless of its claims for being nature friendly, in any water. I will wash with it and then scatter the soapy water in the dirt, though. I told him all this, but I could see he was thinking he may have bitten off more than he could chew by agreeing to this adventure.
Heidi was up…she’d hardly slept two hours, but figured to make it up on the drive. We had breakfast, packed a cooler for the ride, loaded all our gear into Holly’s van (she hates giving it up for these trips since she then has to drive my Honda, but getting me out of the house for three days…well…take the bad with the good, she figured).
We were in Marie’s driveway by 6:30 a.m., but when she showed me her pack, which was almost completely full from her cotton, camp in the back yard, weigh-in at 20 pounds, sleeping bag, that I said we were returning to our house to get her a bag more appropriate to the conditions. We finally made it to I-90 and were heading west for Utica by 7 a.m. Marie hadn’t slept at all the night before and the girls were out before we hit the entrance ramp.
Don and I discussed life’s most important issues for a large portion of the freeway drive.
“Okay…what’s Yogi Berra’s nickname?”
“Umm….Yogi?”
“No, no…I meant what’s his real name,” he corrected himself. You know…important stuff like that. Oh…and it’s ‘Lawrence’.
We picked our all-time Baseball starting lineups with the idea that the players were part of a team (not just considering offensive numbers therefore) and that they weren’t tainted by the steroid scandal. That took quite awhile, but we did agree on a number of positions. Running, coaching, bears eating campers, falling off of mountains, guys dating our daughters, and on and on and on…
I’d been hearing something banging against the side of the car I thought and asked Don if he heard it. He did, but we couldn’t see anything in the car moving and I didn’t have anything strapped to the outside. When we made our first stop for gas, we discovered Heidi’s head phones hanging out the bottom of the sliding door. They didn’t seem any worse for the wear.
We arrived in the trailhead parking lot around 3:30 p.m. and were packed and on the trail for the 6.5 mile hike in by 4 p.m. We passed over 50 people headed out on our hike…a good sign that lean-to’s and camp sites would be available when we arrived, but it really messed with my serenity. I like coming so much better in the fall when, on a similar hike in I might see 5 people. Oh well.
As always, Heidi struggled with trying to find a comfortable way to carry her pack. She’s tall, but her legs make up most of her body and we never got a custom pack for her…which she needs…and the one we use just doesn’t fit right. By the time we reached the Flowed Lands, she was ready to camp. Normally, I’d have gone another mile, but I totally understood and when we found a lean-to open, we took it. We’d been hiking for two and a half hours.
The first order of business when I get into camp totally drenched in sweat is to wash up with a swim in the creek, which I did. The rest followed…less enthusiastically…then Don and Marie purified three gallons of water while Heidi and I began the process of getting camp set up and dinner ready. I made rice and mixed in chicken pieces, hard salami and covered the whole thing with a navy bean soup. Like everything on a camping trip…it tasted great. I prepared a sardine sandwich as an appetizer and Don bravely tried it, but spit it out as soon as it hit his tongue. No problem…I had the whole thing to myself.
We cleaned up the dishes, repacked the food in the bear canisters and stored them away from camp, and laid around talking for a couple of hours. The stars were out in their thousands, twinkling brightly, with the occasional shooting star passing through my field of vision. Marie nodded off and was snoring, which is good for keeping bears away and we crashed finally around 11 p.m.
Hike duration: 2.5 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1500.
Last ride before the trip...
Friday, August 13, 2010
Are bad things supposed to happen on this day? I’ve heard that and I suppose I am a little suspicious, but I felt like I needed to go on that last ride before the backpacking trip…no more days off.
I headed out on the same course I’d done yesterday, but I figured I’d ride it a little slower. It was a pleasant night and although my legs were a little tired from yesterday’s effort, I felt pretty good and rode well…finishing in almost exactly the same time as the day before. I was ready to hike.
Don was planning on coming over and spending the night with us so that he’d be ready to go at 6 a.m. He’d told me he’d be over around 10 a.m., but I know Don and when he called and said that he was running a little late, I just laughed. He made it by 11:30 p.m. and he, Holly and I talked until 1 a.m. when I finally said I needed some sleep if I was to drive 8 hours after what would now be about 4 hours of sleep. I was counting on Don’s non-stop story telling to keep me fully alert for the entire drive.
I’d made another batch of pinole for the trip and added another tablespoon of strawberry syrup and two tablespoons of vegetable oil…to make it sweeter and moister. It worked well – even Don liked it. He’s really quirky with life in general and, I figured, would be with food. He’d already told me that he was trying to figure a way to carry enough water for the entire three-day trip because he was paranoid about parasites in water that didn’t come out of a bottle from Giant Eagle or from the tap in his kitchen.
“We’re going to the source of those water providers. We’ll be able to see it coming out of the side of the mountain with no middle man to add chemicals, charge us an arm and a leg, or stick it in a bottle. It’s the best tasting water in the world…and I have a purifier to boot,” I tried to explain.
“Yeah? Well, I read ‘Born to Run’ like you suggested and in the book they talked about a parasite in that water that gives you a giant worm that you have to pull through your eye socket to get out of your body! I’m not taking a chance on that,” he said.
“Okay…first of all you do understand that the Adirondacks are in upstate New York, which is about as far from the Copper Canyon of Mexico as you can get in the United States, don’t you?” I explained to him how the parasite we were concerned about was found in water where animal and or human feces had a chance to be and was referred to as ‘beaver fever’ and I’d purify any water that had even a chance of being tainted, but he wasn’t buying it.
“You’re going to get thirsty then…because I’m not carrying a case of bottled water in for you,” I concluded.
I set him up in Jack’s bedroom and headed off to bed. This was going to be one, fun trip.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
Are bad things supposed to happen on this day? I’ve heard that and I suppose I am a little suspicious, but I felt like I needed to go on that last ride before the backpacking trip…no more days off.
I headed out on the same course I’d done yesterday, but I figured I’d ride it a little slower. It was a pleasant night and although my legs were a little tired from yesterday’s effort, I felt pretty good and rode well…finishing in almost exactly the same time as the day before. I was ready to hike.
Don was planning on coming over and spending the night with us so that he’d be ready to go at 6 a.m. He’d told me he’d be over around 10 a.m., but I know Don and when he called and said that he was running a little late, I just laughed. He made it by 11:30 p.m. and he, Holly and I talked until 1 a.m. when I finally said I needed some sleep if I was to drive 8 hours after what would now be about 4 hours of sleep. I was counting on Don’s non-stop story telling to keep me fully alert for the entire drive.
I’d made another batch of pinole for the trip and added another tablespoon of strawberry syrup and two tablespoons of vegetable oil…to make it sweeter and moister. It worked well – even Don liked it. He’s really quirky with life in general and, I figured, would be with food. He’d already told me that he was trying to figure a way to carry enough water for the entire three-day trip because he was paranoid about parasites in water that didn’t come out of a bottle from Giant Eagle or from the tap in his kitchen.
“We’re going to the source of those water providers. We’ll be able to see it coming out of the side of the mountain with no middle man to add chemicals, charge us an arm and a leg, or stick it in a bottle. It’s the best tasting water in the world…and I have a purifier to boot,” I tried to explain.
“Yeah? Well, I read ‘Born to Run’ like you suggested and in the book they talked about a parasite in that water that gives you a giant worm that you have to pull through your eye socket to get out of your body! I’m not taking a chance on that,” he said.
“Okay…first of all you do understand that the Adirondacks are in upstate New York, which is about as far from the Copper Canyon of Mexico as you can get in the United States, don’t you?” I explained to him how the parasite we were concerned about was found in water where animal and or human feces had a chance to be and was referred to as ‘beaver fever’ and I’d purify any water that had even a chance of being tainted, but he wasn’t buying it.
“You’re going to get thirsty then…because I’m not carrying a case of bottled water in for you,” I concluded.
I set him up in Jack’s bedroom and headed off to bed. This was going to be one, fun trip.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Great ride...great Pinole
Thursday, August 12, 2010
So…I take my pinole into the office to let a couple of folks try it out and, of course, to eat myself. I grabbed a cup of coffee, something I have irregularly but figured would go well with pinole, and started to eat. I can’t say that it’s the best thing I’ve ever had, but it’s good enough and kind of addictive to the point that I ate quite a bit. Now I had all those chia seeds sitting in my gut and sucking up any fluids they could find. Since they absorb 9 times their weight in fluids, I’m sure they took on the entire cup of coffee and more. Bottom line: I felt full for the rest of the day and didn’t even feel like eating anything until about 5 p.m.
The idea with the pinole is that it is a complex carbohydrate that fuels endurance exercise. Because of the chia seed, it digests slowly and releases its energy over a much longer period of time than your standard energy foods. That’s a good thing and may be part of the secret of the ultra-marathon running success of the Tarahumara Indians. On the other hand, I can see where it might serve as an excellent dietary aide in that it really quells the hunger pangs. I’d equate the way I felt to having eaten a couple of really big and juicy cheeseburgers…I just wasn’t hungry again for a long time. Since it doesn’t have that many calories, is nutritious and fills you up…well…I guess it should keep you from eating the wrong foods throughout the day.
I went home and made up another batch using eggs to help hold it together since I was finding it was quite crumbly. I pulled it out of the oven to cool and headed out for a bike ride. It had been three days since my last ride, which had been a disaster, but I figured with all that rest it would go well. It did. It’s the strongest I’ve felt on the bike since the spring, climbing hills effortlessly and finishing a course that normally takes over 90 minutes in 85. I’ll ride again tomorrow and then it’s off to the Adirondacks for more climbing. The new batch of pinole will join me and here’s the recipe I’m using now:
John’s most excellent Pinole recipe
• 1/2 cu. Cornmeal (toasted dry on the stove for 5 minutes in sauté pan)
• 1 Tbsp. chia seeds
• 2 Tbsp. of brown sugar
• 1 tsp of cinnamon
• 1 egg
• 2 Tbsp. of Smucker’s strawberry syrup – just a little tastier than the maple syrup
I mixed the dry ingredients together and then added the egg and sweetener. This made a pasty substance that was firm enough to put on a cookie sheet I’d sprayed with Pam. I shaped into something resembling a cow pile…but smaller. I suppose it was about the size of a giant cookie and about a half inch thick. I baked it at 350 degrees for 20 minutes and it came out a little firmer than a brownie.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
So…I take my pinole into the office to let a couple of folks try it out and, of course, to eat myself. I grabbed a cup of coffee, something I have irregularly but figured would go well with pinole, and started to eat. I can’t say that it’s the best thing I’ve ever had, but it’s good enough and kind of addictive to the point that I ate quite a bit. Now I had all those chia seeds sitting in my gut and sucking up any fluids they could find. Since they absorb 9 times their weight in fluids, I’m sure they took on the entire cup of coffee and more. Bottom line: I felt full for the rest of the day and didn’t even feel like eating anything until about 5 p.m.
The idea with the pinole is that it is a complex carbohydrate that fuels endurance exercise. Because of the chia seed, it digests slowly and releases its energy over a much longer period of time than your standard energy foods. That’s a good thing and may be part of the secret of the ultra-marathon running success of the Tarahumara Indians. On the other hand, I can see where it might serve as an excellent dietary aide in that it really quells the hunger pangs. I’d equate the way I felt to having eaten a couple of really big and juicy cheeseburgers…I just wasn’t hungry again for a long time. Since it doesn’t have that many calories, is nutritious and fills you up…well…I guess it should keep you from eating the wrong foods throughout the day.
I went home and made up another batch using eggs to help hold it together since I was finding it was quite crumbly. I pulled it out of the oven to cool and headed out for a bike ride. It had been three days since my last ride, which had been a disaster, but I figured with all that rest it would go well. It did. It’s the strongest I’ve felt on the bike since the spring, climbing hills effortlessly and finishing a course that normally takes over 90 minutes in 85. I’ll ride again tomorrow and then it’s off to the Adirondacks for more climbing. The new batch of pinole will join me and here’s the recipe I’m using now:
John’s most excellent Pinole recipe
• 1/2 cu. Cornmeal (toasted dry on the stove for 5 minutes in sauté pan)
• 1 Tbsp. chia seeds
• 2 Tbsp. of brown sugar
• 1 tsp of cinnamon
• 1 egg
• 2 Tbsp. of Smucker’s strawberry syrup – just a little tastier than the maple syrup
I mixed the dry ingredients together and then added the egg and sweetener. This made a pasty substance that was firm enough to put on a cookie sheet I’d sprayed with Pam. I shaped into something resembling a cow pile…but smaller. I suppose it was about the size of a giant cookie and about a half inch thick. I baked it at 350 degrees for 20 minutes and it came out a little firmer than a brownie.
Bike duration: 85 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1275.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Finally...the right pinole recipe.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Well…if I’m not going to work out…I’m not going to eat. I’ve got this all figured out. I skipped breakfast and lunch today, but did put in some baking time working on perfecting my pinole recipe. I had to do something to make it moister and Holly had suggested using an egg or some oil. I figured I’d try it both ways.
Now…to my way of thinking…if you’re going to leave out ¼ cup of water, you should add an equal amount of olive oil…which I did. I made the other batch with an egg instead of the water. I kind of make the recipe into a giant cookie, molding it into a round shape about a ¼ inch thick…and they pretty much stay that way, but when I pulled this batch from the oven after 20 minutes, the oil version had morphed into a thin, puddle version of its former self. It was crisp and brittle, unlike everything else I’d been making…normally the consistency of a chewy, oatmeal cookie. I gave a piece to Holly.
“This is really good…but why is it so hard?” I told her about the ¼ cup of oil I’d substituted for the water.
“Really? You’re that dumb? The sugar and the oil together will do this every time. You should have put in maybe a tablespoon,” she admonished.
I mean really…that dumb? Why the surprise…it’s not like I’m new or something. “Yeah…well…I guess that didn’t work so well…but you like the way it tastes, so I’ll just cut the oil and keep everything else the same,” I said…and did…and it tastes great.
I went to my sister’s later that evening because Donnie and his family were there and brought along my pinole. Everyone who tried it, liked it. I ran into a running coach I know and told him the whole Tarahumara story since he hadn’t read the book yet (Really? Have you been living in a shoe?) and had him try some with the same results. I’m starting to think I’d discovered the next, great energy bar. Have a Clif bar sometime and read the promo on the bar or box that tells the story of how the founder worked hard and long in his kitchen trying to develop a good tasting bar. He succeeded so why not me? I mean…other than that little screw-up with the oil thing, I’m doing pretty well.
So…I was off again in ‘Active Rest’ land. It was raining when I came home and by the time it stopped, it was too late to ride and I had to go to my sister’s to eat like a pig…which I did. I had two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, five pieces of chicken (skinless breast meat, at least), and some more pinole. Actually, other than pinole, it was the first time I was eating for the day and so I had some catching up to do…though I overdid it.
I’m really getting antsy, though. I hate to go into the mountains on Saturday having done so little over the past two weeks. It’s really more about my head than my body. I know I’m in shape, but the nagging conscience thing keeps telling me to do something…anything. If I can’t get in a ride tonight…Marie is coming over to plan her gear and to figure out what she’ll eat (she’s the one who eats porridge for breakfast and makes pinole that tastes like an old shoe), I’ll just go for a long walk…without a pack. I NEED an exercise fix…
Well…if I’m not going to work out…I’m not going to eat. I’ve got this all figured out. I skipped breakfast and lunch today, but did put in some baking time working on perfecting my pinole recipe. I had to do something to make it moister and Holly had suggested using an egg or some oil. I figured I’d try it both ways.
Now…to my way of thinking…if you’re going to leave out ¼ cup of water, you should add an equal amount of olive oil…which I did. I made the other batch with an egg instead of the water. I kind of make the recipe into a giant cookie, molding it into a round shape about a ¼ inch thick…and they pretty much stay that way, but when I pulled this batch from the oven after 20 minutes, the oil version had morphed into a thin, puddle version of its former self. It was crisp and brittle, unlike everything else I’d been making…normally the consistency of a chewy, oatmeal cookie. I gave a piece to Holly.
“This is really good…but why is it so hard?” I told her about the ¼ cup of oil I’d substituted for the water.
“Really? You’re that dumb? The sugar and the oil together will do this every time. You should have put in maybe a tablespoon,” she admonished.
I mean really…that dumb? Why the surprise…it’s not like I’m new or something. “Yeah…well…I guess that didn’t work so well…but you like the way it tastes, so I’ll just cut the oil and keep everything else the same,” I said…and did…and it tastes great.
I went to my sister’s later that evening because Donnie and his family were there and brought along my pinole. Everyone who tried it, liked it. I ran into a running coach I know and told him the whole Tarahumara story since he hadn’t read the book yet (Really? Have you been living in a shoe?) and had him try some with the same results. I’m starting to think I’d discovered the next, great energy bar. Have a Clif bar sometime and read the promo on the bar or box that tells the story of how the founder worked hard and long in his kitchen trying to develop a good tasting bar. He succeeded so why not me? I mean…other than that little screw-up with the oil thing, I’m doing pretty well.
So…I was off again in ‘Active Rest’ land. It was raining when I came home and by the time it stopped, it was too late to ride and I had to go to my sister’s to eat like a pig…which I did. I had two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, five pieces of chicken (skinless breast meat, at least), and some more pinole. Actually, other than pinole, it was the first time I was eating for the day and so I had some catching up to do…though I overdid it.
I’m really getting antsy, though. I hate to go into the mountains on Saturday having done so little over the past two weeks. It’s really more about my head than my body. I know I’m in shape, but the nagging conscience thing keeps telling me to do something…anything. If I can’t get in a ride tonight…Marie is coming over to plan her gear and to figure out what she’ll eat (she’s the one who eats porridge for breakfast and makes pinole that tastes like an old shoe), I’ll just go for a long walk…without a pack. I NEED an exercise fix…
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Active Rest...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Now it’s really starting to get to me. I’d forgotten just how easy running makes my exercise program. I can do it almost anytime, anywhere and in any conditions. Right now, I’m stuck doing non-weight bearing exercise, which for me means the bike and that has its limitations. I don’t like to ride in the rain and I won’t ride after dark. I was planning a ride for yesterday, but my cousin Donnie from upstate New York was in town for a visit so I put it off. He'd had an appointment at the Cleveland Clinic earlier in the day...something about a stroke or cholesterol or gout...I don't know. He's got a list of ailments that I can’t even remember and if folks knew about in the north country, they'd just put him down like an old horse. That's why he comes here for medical treatment...we're a little more civilized. He actually tries to take good care of himself, no more drinking or smoking and he's walking on a treadmill every morning and eats nothing but boring food. In fact, he's planning on climbing Mt. Van Hoevenberg in the Adirondacks with John and me this September. I’ve convinced him that he can handle the climb…he’s my age, but not near the physical specimen I am...so I told him we’d take it easy. I know he can handle it and he’s going to love the views.
Anyway, after he left, Dan called to say the jeep was ready to pick up. If I hopped on the bike immediately, I’d have enough daylight to get there. Just about then, Holly drove in.
“I was planning on making a nice dinner and I don’t want to wait for you to get back to have it,” she said…which pretty much meant I would be hanging out and not riding.
I was stuck. I didn’t want to do any walking because the hip is still a little tender and I for sure didn’t want to take another day off. Then something occurred to me. With the runners I coach, I force them to take active breaks twice a year for two weeks…one following their cross country season and the other at the conclusion of track. I’d been training non-stop since mid-February and…so…time for my active break. Yeah…that’s the ticket.
So now in my head…I’m good. I’m supposed to be resting. My body needs it and will perform even better when I get back to training…staleness all gone. The break is also designed to be a mental stimulant…making the runner anxious to get back to it after a grueling season. Well…I’m already ready to get back to it…so it’s working. At least I know I will be hiking and climbing this Saturday and that’s a hell of a good thing.
Now it’s really starting to get to me. I’d forgotten just how easy running makes my exercise program. I can do it almost anytime, anywhere and in any conditions. Right now, I’m stuck doing non-weight bearing exercise, which for me means the bike and that has its limitations. I don’t like to ride in the rain and I won’t ride after dark. I was planning a ride for yesterday, but my cousin Donnie from upstate New York was in town for a visit so I put it off. He'd had an appointment at the Cleveland Clinic earlier in the day...something about a stroke or cholesterol or gout...I don't know. He's got a list of ailments that I can’t even remember and if folks knew about in the north country, they'd just put him down like an old horse. That's why he comes here for medical treatment...we're a little more civilized. He actually tries to take good care of himself, no more drinking or smoking and he's walking on a treadmill every morning and eats nothing but boring food. In fact, he's planning on climbing Mt. Van Hoevenberg in the Adirondacks with John and me this September. I’ve convinced him that he can handle the climb…he’s my age, but not near the physical specimen I am...so I told him we’d take it easy. I know he can handle it and he’s going to love the views.
Anyway, after he left, Dan called to say the jeep was ready to pick up. If I hopped on the bike immediately, I’d have enough daylight to get there. Just about then, Holly drove in.
“I was planning on making a nice dinner and I don’t want to wait for you to get back to have it,” she said…which pretty much meant I would be hanging out and not riding.
I was stuck. I didn’t want to do any walking because the hip is still a little tender and I for sure didn’t want to take another day off. Then something occurred to me. With the runners I coach, I force them to take active breaks twice a year for two weeks…one following their cross country season and the other at the conclusion of track. I’d been training non-stop since mid-February and…so…time for my active break. Yeah…that’s the ticket.
So now in my head…I’m good. I’m supposed to be resting. My body needs it and will perform even better when I get back to training…staleness all gone. The break is also designed to be a mental stimulant…making the runner anxious to get back to it after a grueling season. Well…I’m already ready to get back to it…so it’s working. At least I know I will be hiking and climbing this Saturday and that’s a hell of a good thing.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Kenny Lofton was something else...
Monday, August 9, 2010
Kenny Lofton was in the broadcaster’s booth for the Indians game this past Saturday. He was in town for his indoctrination into the Indians Hall of Fame, which would be occurring the next day prior to the game. They were showing highlights from his brilliant career with the Tribe and seeing the players surrounding and congratulating him on one particular play, it made me sad for the young fans of today. I was looking at Jim Thome, Omar Vizquel, Sandy Alomar, Manny Ramirez, Eddie Murray, Carlos Baerga, and Albert Belle. Opposing pitchers must have trembled when they came to ‘The Jake’ knowing they would have to face this murderous lineup. And Kenny was the guy who set the table…made the whole thing run on high octane. I doubt that no matter how long I live or however many games I witness, I will ever see a play more important or exciting than seeing Kenny race home from second base on a wild pitch by Randy Johnson in the American League Championship Series of 1995 against the Seattle Mariners. No one…and I mean NO ONE…does that. You move up one base. He hit third and was half way to home before the Mariners realized what was happening. The look of shock on Randy Johnson’s face as he awaited the toss from the catcher recovering the wild pitch is priceless. Lofton slid under the tag and the Indians went on to beat the Mariners and earn a trip to the World Series…their first in 41 years. Anyway…I know…nice story, grandpa…but hey…when you’re right…you’re right. Right?
I decided to take another day of rest. My eye infection had returned and I couldn’t wear my contacts. I have a difficult time seeing when I wear glasses to workout because my sweat blurs my vision. It’s okay on a run, though I tend to stumble more, but it really doesn’t work riding the bike when cars are involved. Holly asked me to walk, but I’m even reluctant to do that…the hip is still tender and I don’t want to disappoint Heidi and Marie for backpacking and climbing this weekend. I should cut back on the eating since I’ve missed so many workout days lately, but…nah. I’m going to be burning major calories again soon and I need a little extra storage.
Kenny Lofton was in the broadcaster’s booth for the Indians game this past Saturday. He was in town for his indoctrination into the Indians Hall of Fame, which would be occurring the next day prior to the game. They were showing highlights from his brilliant career with the Tribe and seeing the players surrounding and congratulating him on one particular play, it made me sad for the young fans of today. I was looking at Jim Thome, Omar Vizquel, Sandy Alomar, Manny Ramirez, Eddie Murray, Carlos Baerga, and Albert Belle. Opposing pitchers must have trembled when they came to ‘The Jake’ knowing they would have to face this murderous lineup. And Kenny was the guy who set the table…made the whole thing run on high octane. I doubt that no matter how long I live or however many games I witness, I will ever see a play more important or exciting than seeing Kenny race home from second base on a wild pitch by Randy Johnson in the American League Championship Series of 1995 against the Seattle Mariners. No one…and I mean NO ONE…does that. You move up one base. He hit third and was half way to home before the Mariners realized what was happening. The look of shock on Randy Johnson’s face as he awaited the toss from the catcher recovering the wild pitch is priceless. Lofton slid under the tag and the Indians went on to beat the Mariners and earn a trip to the World Series…their first in 41 years. Anyway…I know…nice story, grandpa…but hey…when you’re right…you’re right. Right?
I decided to take another day of rest. My eye infection had returned and I couldn’t wear my contacts. I have a difficult time seeing when I wear glasses to workout because my sweat blurs my vision. It’s okay on a run, though I tend to stumble more, but it really doesn’t work riding the bike when cars are involved. Holly asked me to walk, but I’m even reluctant to do that…the hip is still tender and I don’t want to disappoint Heidi and Marie for backpacking and climbing this weekend. I should cut back on the eating since I’ve missed so many workout days lately, but…nah. I’m going to be burning major calories again soon and I need a little extra storage.
I'm a wimp...and where are my biking shorts?
Sunday, August 08, 2010
A couple of weeks ago, I’d taken the jeep to Dan knowing that I’d be leaving it with him. I’d thrown the bike in the back for the ride home and just before leaving, realized I’d forgotten to grab my biking shorts. I’d grabbed them from my bathroom and thrown them in the back of the jeep with the rest of my riding gear…or so I’d thought. Once at Dan’s, a thorough search of the jeep had not revealed their location and I’d been forced to have Holly pick me up and bring me home. That was two in a row. The last time I’d come out to Dan’s with a vehicle, I’d forgotten one of my biking shoes and been forced to ride home with my running shoe on my right foot.
I’d gotten back home to find John there ready to ride. I searched in vain for the biking shorts I was sure I’d left somewhere between my bathroom and the jeep, but…they were gone! I put on an old pair that were two sizes too big and embarrassingly loose. They made me look like I had no butt…quite an accomplishment for any garment.
So…I’d taken the jeep back to Dan for some more work…and I had to ride for the next week because of the sore hip. The biking shorts have not resurfaced and I concluded they MUST be somewhere in that jeep. I’m always looking for different courses to ride so I decided I’d ride out to Dan’s in my baggy shorts and switch them out for my good ones. Excellent plan. I rode the 18 miles uphill to Dan’s and found him working on another vehicle…he’d already put a new radiator in the jeep. I told him the nature of my mission and began searching the jeep for the missing shorts. After a 10-minute effort, I gave it up. Those shorts were gone and that was that. I was riding in baggy shorts unless I quickly stored about 20 pounds of lard in my butt. Nice picture.
The ride to Dan’s…uphill and into the wind had taken 67 minutes and left me more than a little tired since I hadn’t been riding in two weeks and only sparingly when I did. I wanted to get in a long one though, and so I headed south on Auburn Road from his place to add another 10 miles to the return trip. By the time I’d been on the bike around 2 hours, I knew I was in trouble.
I like to mirror as closely as I can what I will be doing on all-day climbs in the Adirondacks with my training. It’s hard since there is no comparable terrain in Northeast Ohio, but I have found long bike rides to tax the cardiovascular and endurance systems in similar ways. The muscles of the thighs do so much work on a bike, which they also have to do when climbing peaks, so long rides make a lot of sense to prepare for climbing. I’d just come back from hiking 14 hours in two days and I’d thought the bike ride would be a breeze. There’s wrong…and there’s ‘John’s a dumbass’ wrong. This was the latter. I was attempting to ride a very hilly course in 90 degree weather on a windy day for about three hours when I hadn’t been riding anything to speak of in…oh…3 months? I crawled over the last 45 minutes of the ride, just thinking about how stupid I was and how good it was going to feel to dive into the neighbor’s pool.
I made it home, but was in bad need of a swim and a nap. I texted John about the disastrous ride and responded with one sympathetic word…”wimp”. He’s right, though, but we’re going climbing in September and if he’s not ready…well…he’ll be paying for that text.
Bike duration: two hour and 45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 2,400.
A couple of weeks ago, I’d taken the jeep to Dan knowing that I’d be leaving it with him. I’d thrown the bike in the back for the ride home and just before leaving, realized I’d forgotten to grab my biking shorts. I’d grabbed them from my bathroom and thrown them in the back of the jeep with the rest of my riding gear…or so I’d thought. Once at Dan’s, a thorough search of the jeep had not revealed their location and I’d been forced to have Holly pick me up and bring me home. That was two in a row. The last time I’d come out to Dan’s with a vehicle, I’d forgotten one of my biking shoes and been forced to ride home with my running shoe on my right foot.
I’d gotten back home to find John there ready to ride. I searched in vain for the biking shorts I was sure I’d left somewhere between my bathroom and the jeep, but…they were gone! I put on an old pair that were two sizes too big and embarrassingly loose. They made me look like I had no butt…quite an accomplishment for any garment.
So…I’d taken the jeep back to Dan for some more work…and I had to ride for the next week because of the sore hip. The biking shorts have not resurfaced and I concluded they MUST be somewhere in that jeep. I’m always looking for different courses to ride so I decided I’d ride out to Dan’s in my baggy shorts and switch them out for my good ones. Excellent plan. I rode the 18 miles uphill to Dan’s and found him working on another vehicle…he’d already put a new radiator in the jeep. I told him the nature of my mission and began searching the jeep for the missing shorts. After a 10-minute effort, I gave it up. Those shorts were gone and that was that. I was riding in baggy shorts unless I quickly stored about 20 pounds of lard in my butt. Nice picture.
The ride to Dan’s…uphill and into the wind had taken 67 minutes and left me more than a little tired since I hadn’t been riding in two weeks and only sparingly when I did. I wanted to get in a long one though, and so I headed south on Auburn Road from his place to add another 10 miles to the return trip. By the time I’d been on the bike around 2 hours, I knew I was in trouble.
I like to mirror as closely as I can what I will be doing on all-day climbs in the Adirondacks with my training. It’s hard since there is no comparable terrain in Northeast Ohio, but I have found long bike rides to tax the cardiovascular and endurance systems in similar ways. The muscles of the thighs do so much work on a bike, which they also have to do when climbing peaks, so long rides make a lot of sense to prepare for climbing. I’d just come back from hiking 14 hours in two days and I’d thought the bike ride would be a breeze. There’s wrong…and there’s ‘John’s a dumbass’ wrong. This was the latter. I was attempting to ride a very hilly course in 90 degree weather on a windy day for about three hours when I hadn’t been riding anything to speak of in…oh…3 months? I crawled over the last 45 minutes of the ride, just thinking about how stupid I was and how good it was going to feel to dive into the neighbor’s pool.
I made it home, but was in bad need of a swim and a nap. I texted John about the disastrous ride and responded with one sympathetic word…”wimp”. He’s right, though, but we’re going climbing in September and if he’s not ready…well…he’ll be paying for that text.
Bike duration: two hour and 45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 2,400.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
A good ride...a lot to eat.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I woke expecting to feel pain with the first step from my bed…but none. Okay…let’s put it to the test of landscaping for the next three hours. Again…it was okay. Hmm.
I was walking normally and without pain throughout the rest of the day and wondering how something that had been so painful 24 hours ago could be gone. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, though, and got ready for my doctor approved bike ride.
I hadn’t been cycling in some time and decided to go a little easier. I had time for a little over an hour before heading for a wedding reception and heavy calories.
The ride went well. I took a reasonably hilly course through Willoughby Hills and Waite Hill and finished in around one hour and twenty minutes feeling good. As anticipated, the hip was no trouble during the ride. I cooled off in the neighbor’s pool, screwing up his pH balance…like I always do. I think he likes the challenge of keeping it right after I’ve swum.
I was starving when we reached the reception in the swanky La Malfa Party Center in Mentor. We were late…pretty typical…and they were already eating salads. I sat down and had mine, but had passed the hors d’ovre table on the way in…and it was loaded! I excused myself from the rabbit food to go find something with real sustenance. I found a stray dinner plate and loaded it to the maximum with mussels, stuffed mushrooms, cheese, and other things I couldn’t name, but wasn’t afraid to eat.
“You shouldn’t be going up there to get hors d’ovre’s when they’re serving dinner. Didn’t you notice you were the only one up there?” Holly asked, probably embarrassed by me…again.
“Yeah…you’re probably right. So…I’m going back up…want some?”
“Um…maybe I’ll come, too,” she said…not so embarrassed to go if I’d take the lead.
Dinner came and it wasn’t light. Some kind of cheese potatoes, a filet, piece of breaded chicken and something else I couldn’t identify, but was glad to eat. I passed on the filet…not much of a beef eater, but scraped the rest of plate clean. Then they dropped off a large platter with assorted dessert things. I passed it around, but when it got back to me with about 20 pieces still on it, I set it down between Holly and me and that’s where it stayed.
So…I’ve been back from the Adirondacks for five days now and I just haven’t been able to stop eating. ‘Tomorrow’ I keep saying, but for real now. The good news? I don’t think I’ve gained an ounce and I’m ready for more activity.
Bike duration: 80 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1200.
I woke expecting to feel pain with the first step from my bed…but none. Okay…let’s put it to the test of landscaping for the next three hours. Again…it was okay. Hmm.
I was walking normally and without pain throughout the rest of the day and wondering how something that had been so painful 24 hours ago could be gone. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, though, and got ready for my doctor approved bike ride.
I hadn’t been cycling in some time and decided to go a little easier. I had time for a little over an hour before heading for a wedding reception and heavy calories.
The ride went well. I took a reasonably hilly course through Willoughby Hills and Waite Hill and finished in around one hour and twenty minutes feeling good. As anticipated, the hip was no trouble during the ride. I cooled off in the neighbor’s pool, screwing up his pH balance…like I always do. I think he likes the challenge of keeping it right after I’ve swum.
I was starving when we reached the reception in the swanky La Malfa Party Center in Mentor. We were late…pretty typical…and they were already eating salads. I sat down and had mine, but had passed the hors d’ovre table on the way in…and it was loaded! I excused myself from the rabbit food to go find something with real sustenance. I found a stray dinner plate and loaded it to the maximum with mussels, stuffed mushrooms, cheese, and other things I couldn’t name, but wasn’t afraid to eat.
“You shouldn’t be going up there to get hors d’ovre’s when they’re serving dinner. Didn’t you notice you were the only one up there?” Holly asked, probably embarrassed by me…again.
“Yeah…you’re probably right. So…I’m going back up…want some?”
“Um…maybe I’ll come, too,” she said…not so embarrassed to go if I’d take the lead.
Dinner came and it wasn’t light. Some kind of cheese potatoes, a filet, piece of breaded chicken and something else I couldn’t identify, but was glad to eat. I passed on the filet…not much of a beef eater, but scraped the rest of plate clean. Then they dropped off a large platter with assorted dessert things. I passed it around, but when it got back to me with about 20 pieces still on it, I set it down between Holly and me and that’s where it stayed.
So…I’ve been back from the Adirondacks for five days now and I just haven’t been able to stop eating. ‘Tomorrow’ I keep saying, but for real now. The good news? I don’t think I’ve gained an ounce and I’m ready for more activity.
Bike duration: 80 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120.
Calories burned during workout: 1200.
Time to see the doc...
Friday, August 6, 2010
I called Nilesh Shah, an old friend I’d coached in high school who was now a sports med doc working for Summa Health in Hudson. He was still running himself and working with athletes every day. I told him how I was due to head for the Adirondacks in a week…he was used to athletes calling for help a week before they were scheduled to compete and absolutely had to be ready. “Come on in at 3 p.m. and we’ll see what’s up,” he told me.
We went through the 50 questions to try to get a clearer understanding of what had led to my malady and did a physical examination, probing for pain and checking for range of motion and flexibility. Practically nothing with movement caused a response…a good sign he said…likely not a break or stress fracture. “Let’s do an x-ray just to be sure, though,” he concluded.
The x-ray confirmed what he’d suspected. The hip was weak leading to an imbalance in my running and an inflammation of the muscles in the area. He did point out a little arthritis in my low back…maybe the reason I’m laid up once or twice a year with pain, but I forgot to ask him more about it since we dove into the hip work I’d be doing to get it healthy over the next 7 days.
It amounted to Allieve, ice, stretching and some strengthening utilizing a resistance band. I was actually in such pain at the moment, I couldn’t imagine doing anything exercise-related with my hip in the near future. I knew I wouldn’t be running, but the thought of doing nothing was, well, freaking me out.
“Can I ride the bike?”
“Should be fine. This thing is inflamed with weight-bearing exercise, so give it a go,” he responded.
I thanked for helping out on such short notice…it pays once in awhile to have coached such a diverse population. I drove home and decided I’d try cutting the grass to loosen things up…and call that my workout. I needed to do my landscaping job in the morning and needed to know if I’d be able. It actually didn’t feel too horrible, so maybe work and a ride tomorrow would work.
I called Nilesh Shah, an old friend I’d coached in high school who was now a sports med doc working for Summa Health in Hudson. He was still running himself and working with athletes every day. I told him how I was due to head for the Adirondacks in a week…he was used to athletes calling for help a week before they were scheduled to compete and absolutely had to be ready. “Come on in at 3 p.m. and we’ll see what’s up,” he told me.
We went through the 50 questions to try to get a clearer understanding of what had led to my malady and did a physical examination, probing for pain and checking for range of motion and flexibility. Practically nothing with movement caused a response…a good sign he said…likely not a break or stress fracture. “Let’s do an x-ray just to be sure, though,” he concluded.
The x-ray confirmed what he’d suspected. The hip was weak leading to an imbalance in my running and an inflammation of the muscles in the area. He did point out a little arthritis in my low back…maybe the reason I’m laid up once or twice a year with pain, but I forgot to ask him more about it since we dove into the hip work I’d be doing to get it healthy over the next 7 days.
It amounted to Allieve, ice, stretching and some strengthening utilizing a resistance band. I was actually in such pain at the moment, I couldn’t imagine doing anything exercise-related with my hip in the near future. I knew I wouldn’t be running, but the thought of doing nothing was, well, freaking me out.
“Can I ride the bike?”
“Should be fine. This thing is inflamed with weight-bearing exercise, so give it a go,” he responded.
I thanked for helping out on such short notice…it pays once in awhile to have coached such a diverse population. I drove home and decided I’d try cutting the grass to loosen things up…and call that my workout. I needed to do my landscaping job in the morning and needed to know if I’d be able. It actually didn’t feel too horrible, so maybe work and a ride tomorrow would work.
My first injury...
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Okay…it’d been a full week since I’d run the pr on the Clear Creek trail and suffered the hip pain. I’d had some pain early on during the hike in, but absolutely no problem on the trail…even following 14 hours over two days climbing and hiking. In fact, I’d kind of forgotten about it. That changed quickly.
I was about 10 minutes into the run when I noticed the pain. I figured it would go away…I hadn’t run in a week and it should be okay…but I figured wrong. By 20 minutes I was to the point where I was considering stopping and finally did at 24 minutes. I walked for about 5 minutes determined to stretch it out and walk it off and continue the run. I hadn’t stopped a workout in a long time and was hell bent to keep that streak intact. Dumb ass. I started running and went another two minutes with every step sending pain throughout the hip. Finally, I gave it up.
I began this quest almost 6 months ago and during that time I have lost no time to injury…which is really rather unusual for me. As a runner, I was constantly coming up against nagging, overuse problems and the occasional fall/twisted ankle thing. To have gone half a year injury-free was amazing. Yet here it was. I’ve had nagging pain in the left hip and worried that I could be facing arthritis…old runners think that way.
I went home, took some Allieve and packed it in ice, but the pain didn’t abate all night. I knew I was in trouble and would have to break down and visit the doctor’s office the next day if I was to be ready for my trip to the Adirondacks in another week.
Run duration: 25 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140
Calories burned during workout: 425.
Okay…it’d been a full week since I’d run the pr on the Clear Creek trail and suffered the hip pain. I’d had some pain early on during the hike in, but absolutely no problem on the trail…even following 14 hours over two days climbing and hiking. In fact, I’d kind of forgotten about it. That changed quickly.
I was about 10 minutes into the run when I noticed the pain. I figured it would go away…I hadn’t run in a week and it should be okay…but I figured wrong. By 20 minutes I was to the point where I was considering stopping and finally did at 24 minutes. I walked for about 5 minutes determined to stretch it out and walk it off and continue the run. I hadn’t stopped a workout in a long time and was hell bent to keep that streak intact. Dumb ass. I started running and went another two minutes with every step sending pain throughout the hip. Finally, I gave it up.
I began this quest almost 6 months ago and during that time I have lost no time to injury…which is really rather unusual for me. As a runner, I was constantly coming up against nagging, overuse problems and the occasional fall/twisted ankle thing. To have gone half a year injury-free was amazing. Yet here it was. I’ve had nagging pain in the left hip and worried that I could be facing arthritis…old runners think that way.
I went home, took some Allieve and packed it in ice, but the pain didn’t abate all night. I knew I was in trouble and would have to break down and visit the doctor’s office the next day if I was to be ready for my trip to the Adirondacks in another week.
Run duration: 25 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140
Calories burned during workout: 425.
Two off days? Okay...
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I had the day off since I’d come home early from the Adirondacks. My plan was to do all the blog writing I needed to get done, but that never happened. Instead, I downloaded the pictures I’d taken and created a couple of DVD’s for Jimmy and Reza. I was still fatigued from the climbing and decided that another day off wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I was still eating more than usual, regaining the five or so pounds I’d shed on the trip. I was craving fats and sweets and since ice cream with chocolate syrup and peanuts covers both, I ate a large bowl. Tomorrow…back to the routine.
I had the day off since I’d come home early from the Adirondacks. My plan was to do all the blog writing I needed to get done, but that never happened. Instead, I downloaded the pictures I’d taken and created a couple of DVD’s for Jimmy and Reza. I was still fatigued from the climbing and decided that another day off wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I was still eating more than usual, regaining the five or so pounds I’d shed on the trip. I was craving fats and sweets and since ice cream with chocolate syrup and peanuts covers both, I ate a large bowl. Tomorrow…back to the routine.
Friday, August 6, 2010
A needed rest...
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
It’s my job to make my famous French toast whenever I visit Donnie, but he was sick in bed from the milkshakes and pizza yesterday evening. Lightweight. I made it anyway and ate 6 pieces before packing the car and heading home. I didn’t have much to eat on the way…driving normally makes me very hungry…but I wasn’t willing to stop either. I made good time, arriving home around 3:30 p.m. and after unloading the car, continued my quest to eat everything I touched. I don’t know why I was still so hungry, but I was. I polished off some leftovers I found in the frig then ate a cool whip container full of some kind of casserole the neighbor dropped off for the family…without the help of the family.
It was around 6 p.m. by now and I knew I would not be doing any exercise now. I had planned a short run in the park, but figured I could use a little break. I’d felt fantastic the entire time I’d been camping…always feeling like I could have done more. I’ve never felt that good in the Adirondacks and I’d never done so much on back-to-back days. I normally have a day off between peaks, but I’d done two majors in a day and been ready for more. I can only attribute this to the conditioning I’ve been doing since February and it’s so satisfying to know that it works. The weight and body fat is down and the conditioning levels are higher than they’ve been since my triathloning days in my 30’s. I’m heading back in a couple of weeks with Heidi and Marie and looking forward to the challenge already. John would like to go up in September and if we do, it will be to hit a group of major and difficult peaks…so stay in shape…not that I had any other plans.
It’s my job to make my famous French toast whenever I visit Donnie, but he was sick in bed from the milkshakes and pizza yesterday evening. Lightweight. I made it anyway and ate 6 pieces before packing the car and heading home. I didn’t have much to eat on the way…driving normally makes me very hungry…but I wasn’t willing to stop either. I made good time, arriving home around 3:30 p.m. and after unloading the car, continued my quest to eat everything I touched. I don’t know why I was still so hungry, but I was. I polished off some leftovers I found in the frig then ate a cool whip container full of some kind of casserole the neighbor dropped off for the family…without the help of the family.
It was around 6 p.m. by now and I knew I would not be doing any exercise now. I had planned a short run in the park, but figured I could use a little break. I’d felt fantastic the entire time I’d been camping…always feeling like I could have done more. I’ve never felt that good in the Adirondacks and I’d never done so much on back-to-back days. I normally have a day off between peaks, but I’d done two majors in a day and been ready for more. I can only attribute this to the conditioning I’ve been doing since February and it’s so satisfying to know that it works. The weight and body fat is down and the conditioning levels are higher than they’ve been since my triathloning days in my 30’s. I’m heading back in a couple of weeks with Heidi and Marie and looking forward to the challenge already. John would like to go up in September and if we do, it will be to hit a group of major and difficult peaks…so stay in shape…not that I had any other plans.
Hiking out...
Monday, August 2, 2010
I slept soundly until about 4 a.m. and fitfully after that. I never like breaking camp, but the chow hounds had eaten almost everything we could stuff in two bear canisters – usually enough food for a week. The weather was lousy…overcast and foggy and threatening more rain. Since this eliminated any chance of views…the reason I climb above the tree line…it didn’t make much sense to head up any peaks anyways. Breaking camp is always depressing to me, but that’s what we had to do.
We were on the trail and heading for the cars by 8 a.m. It’s about a 6.5 mile hike out, but at least it’s down hill and the packs are a little lighter because we’d eaten all the food. Still, mine was over 50 pounds and a little top heavy, so when I slipped on a wet rock in about the same area as I’d fallen on the way in, I found my face planted on the ground again. It reminded me how quickly a great trip can become a disaster with someone suffering a break or severe sprain. Fortunately, I’d only bruised my ego and I had some blood running down my forehead…which made me look cool.
We made it out in three hours and I plunged into the river near the car to clean up for the drive up north and a visit with relatives. We stopped at a little diner in Long Lake with home cooking and thus began the replenishment of lost calories. I devoured a cheeseburger in three bites and could have easily eaten another two. I made my way north to visit my Uncle and Aunt and to spend the night with my cousin, Donnie. Whenever I go there, I have to make them milkshakes because no one does it better. We had a shaker full of chocolate shakes and I ate about 8 slices of pizza…and was still hungry. Normally, I’d have pitched the tent and slept down by the Grasse River, which Donnie’s property abuts, but it was raining and I opted for a bed. Tomorrow…8 hour drive home.
Hike duration: 3 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1800.
I slept soundly until about 4 a.m. and fitfully after that. I never like breaking camp, but the chow hounds had eaten almost everything we could stuff in two bear canisters – usually enough food for a week. The weather was lousy…overcast and foggy and threatening more rain. Since this eliminated any chance of views…the reason I climb above the tree line…it didn’t make much sense to head up any peaks anyways. Breaking camp is always depressing to me, but that’s what we had to do.
We were on the trail and heading for the cars by 8 a.m. It’s about a 6.5 mile hike out, but at least it’s down hill and the packs are a little lighter because we’d eaten all the food. Still, mine was over 50 pounds and a little top heavy, so when I slipped on a wet rock in about the same area as I’d fallen on the way in, I found my face planted on the ground again. It reminded me how quickly a great trip can become a disaster with someone suffering a break or severe sprain. Fortunately, I’d only bruised my ego and I had some blood running down my forehead…which made me look cool.
We made it out in three hours and I plunged into the river near the car to clean up for the drive up north and a visit with relatives. We stopped at a little diner in Long Lake with home cooking and thus began the replenishment of lost calories. I devoured a cheeseburger in three bites and could have easily eaten another two. I made my way north to visit my Uncle and Aunt and to spend the night with my cousin, Donnie. Whenever I go there, I have to make them milkshakes because no one does it better. We had a shaker full of chocolate shakes and I ate about 8 slices of pizza…and was still hungry. Normally, I’d have pitched the tent and slept down by the Grasse River, which Donnie’s property abuts, but it was raining and I opted for a bed. Tomorrow…8 hour drive home.
Hike duration: 3 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90.
Calories burned during workout: 1800.
Redfield and Skylight
Sunday, August 1, 2010
I hadn’t slept too well, which I often don’t when backpacking. My back doesn’t seem to like sleeping on the ground, but it’s a small price to pay for being able to enjoy trips to backcountry wilderness settings like this one. I was up again by 6 a.m., but Jimmy didn’t join me until closer to 7 a.m.
“I’m pretty sore. I think I’ll just hang out at the lean-to today,” he said as we watched the mist rising off the water and marsh.
“No way. You can sleep all you want when you get home. Besides, you’d never hear the end of how this old man out-hiked you and walked your lazy butt into the earth.”
He pondered that implication and knew I’d do it. I made breakfast of oatmeal again, but Jimmy had decided he didn’t like oatmeal and was eating our lunch. He’d complained about one of the dinner’s I’d packed, as well.
“I showed you this food Thursday night before packing it into the bear canister. You said you’d eat anything and it was fine,” I’d said the night before. He’d whined about not looking at what I’d shown him…like that was my fault somehow, and wanted me to run to the nearest Giant Eagle to get him something different. I told him he was welcome to go…head south and walk about 50 miles…or eat what I had in the canister. He ate.
We were on the trail by 9:30 a.m. and walking through the wet marsh and grasses with the accompanying sound of whining, little girls. I offered Jimmy the opportunity to take the lead and find his own trail, but he’d rather walk behind me and complain. He’s good at it and wanted to stick with things he does well. We arrived at the trailhead for the Opalescent Trail in about 20 minutes. This trail was longer than yesterday’s and we were only going up about 2 miles and 2,000 feet at which point we would be breaking away and climbing to a ‘trail-less peak’ to Mt. Redfield. Many of the peaks are reached by following ‘herd paths’, trails not maintained by the Park and only identified by the fact that they are reasonably worn by fellow climbers. They can be misleading though, and it pays to have a topographical map and a compass…things I always carry.
The trail was much rougher than the marked trail we’d been on the day before and handholds were often necessary to ascend, which we all liked better. We met only one other party as we climbed and they assured us that there was no one on the peak. Though not above the tree line at 4,600 feet, it still offered some phenomenal views. We ate lunch alone on a large bolder overlooking a 1,000 foot drop into a valley below and with a wonderful view of some of the surrounding peaks.
I’d been talking about Skylight Mountain and how it offered what were arguably the best views in the Adirondacks. It was also on the Opalescent Trail, though we’d have to descend Mt. Redfield and then climb another couple of hours to reach its peak. Jimmy thought he’d pass on the chance, but Reza was ready to go. We returned to the Opalescent Trail by 2 p.m. and, like I figured, Jimmy decided to join us. We climbed to Lake Tear of the Clouds – headwater of the Hudson River - at around 4,000 feet and with another 1,000 feet to go. Reza and Jimmy took a break to eat the rest of the food in the pack as I moved slowly ahead to the final half-mile trail to the peak of Skylight. We headed for the peak together and arrived on top around 4:30 p.m. Though Jimmy had been here before, it had been snowing and we hadn’t stayed long. Now though, it was perfect and they were both thrilled with the views and felt the effort was well worth it.
I don’t like hiking in the dark and we had not brought head lamps, so I mustered them to leave at 5:30 p.m. for the two-plus hour descent and then the return hike to our camp. We arrived back around 8 p.m. completely exhausted, dirty, and starving having spent 8 hours hiking and over 10 hours away from camp. I had to jump in the water to clean off…as I did at the end of every day of hiking…clothes on. I cooked a meal of cous cous covered in Navy Bean soup, which was surprisingly good. We finished the gorp for dessert and washed it all down with Iced tea/lemonade and powdered milk. By the time we’d cleaned up dinner and packed the food in the bear canister, it was 10 p.m. and drizzling. I still had to write in my journal, but knew I would have no trouble sleeping.
Hike duration: 8 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-120.
Calories burned during workout: Around 5,000.
I hadn’t slept too well, which I often don’t when backpacking. My back doesn’t seem to like sleeping on the ground, but it’s a small price to pay for being able to enjoy trips to backcountry wilderness settings like this one. I was up again by 6 a.m., but Jimmy didn’t join me until closer to 7 a.m.
“I’m pretty sore. I think I’ll just hang out at the lean-to today,” he said as we watched the mist rising off the water and marsh.
“No way. You can sleep all you want when you get home. Besides, you’d never hear the end of how this old man out-hiked you and walked your lazy butt into the earth.”
He pondered that implication and knew I’d do it. I made breakfast of oatmeal again, but Jimmy had decided he didn’t like oatmeal and was eating our lunch. He’d complained about one of the dinner’s I’d packed, as well.
“I showed you this food Thursday night before packing it into the bear canister. You said you’d eat anything and it was fine,” I’d said the night before. He’d whined about not looking at what I’d shown him…like that was my fault somehow, and wanted me to run to the nearest Giant Eagle to get him something different. I told him he was welcome to go…head south and walk about 50 miles…or eat what I had in the canister. He ate.
We were on the trail by 9:30 a.m. and walking through the wet marsh and grasses with the accompanying sound of whining, little girls. I offered Jimmy the opportunity to take the lead and find his own trail, but he’d rather walk behind me and complain. He’s good at it and wanted to stick with things he does well. We arrived at the trailhead for the Opalescent Trail in about 20 minutes. This trail was longer than yesterday’s and we were only going up about 2 miles and 2,000 feet at which point we would be breaking away and climbing to a ‘trail-less peak’ to Mt. Redfield. Many of the peaks are reached by following ‘herd paths’, trails not maintained by the Park and only identified by the fact that they are reasonably worn by fellow climbers. They can be misleading though, and it pays to have a topographical map and a compass…things I always carry.
The trail was much rougher than the marked trail we’d been on the day before and handholds were often necessary to ascend, which we all liked better. We met only one other party as we climbed and they assured us that there was no one on the peak. Though not above the tree line at 4,600 feet, it still offered some phenomenal views. We ate lunch alone on a large bolder overlooking a 1,000 foot drop into a valley below and with a wonderful view of some of the surrounding peaks.
I’d been talking about Skylight Mountain and how it offered what were arguably the best views in the Adirondacks. It was also on the Opalescent Trail, though we’d have to descend Mt. Redfield and then climb another couple of hours to reach its peak. Jimmy thought he’d pass on the chance, but Reza was ready to go. We returned to the Opalescent Trail by 2 p.m. and, like I figured, Jimmy decided to join us. We climbed to Lake Tear of the Clouds – headwater of the Hudson River - at around 4,000 feet and with another 1,000 feet to go. Reza and Jimmy took a break to eat the rest of the food in the pack as I moved slowly ahead to the final half-mile trail to the peak of Skylight. We headed for the peak together and arrived on top around 4:30 p.m. Though Jimmy had been here before, it had been snowing and we hadn’t stayed long. Now though, it was perfect and they were both thrilled with the views and felt the effort was well worth it.
I don’t like hiking in the dark and we had not brought head lamps, so I mustered them to leave at 5:30 p.m. for the two-plus hour descent and then the return hike to our camp. We arrived back around 8 p.m. completely exhausted, dirty, and starving having spent 8 hours hiking and over 10 hours away from camp. I had to jump in the water to clean off…as I did at the end of every day of hiking…clothes on. I cooked a meal of cous cous covered in Navy Bean soup, which was surprisingly good. We finished the gorp for dessert and washed it all down with Iced tea/lemonade and powdered milk. By the time we’d cleaned up dinner and packed the food in the bear canister, it was 10 p.m. and drizzling. I still had to write in my journal, but knew I would have no trouble sleeping.
Hike duration: 8 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-120.
Calories burned during workout: Around 5,000.
Algonquin and Iroquois
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I was up at 6 a.m., having slept pretty well. Jimmy was up, too which shocked me. He tells me he typically needs around 16 hours of sleep a day to revitalize his massive brain, though I’m not sure why since he uses it so sparingly. I wanted to be on the trail by 9 a.m., so we had plenty of time to eat our breakfast of peaches and cream oatmeal, pack lunch, raingear and other vitals we’d need in one daypack, and get some water.
We hiked north over the marshy, sponge-like terrain that spread out across the open valley that was once under water from the dam to the south. Our shoes were immediately filling with water, which became worse when we entered the tall grasses I call ‘the bear maze’. These were soaked in dew and traversed only by the ranger checking on the area and the bears that visited every evening to see if some dopey camper had left their food in something other than a bear canister for their consumption. We didn’t. The grasses scratched and soaked my companions, which had them whining…something which bothered me not at all. Little girls.
We met the ranger stationed permanently in the area and living in a cabin. He told us a couple of stories about the knuckleheads he’s had to deal with here and mentioned that there had been a bear in the area last night, which campers had deterred with loud noise.
A short distance from the ranger’s cabin was the trailhead to Algonquin Mountain, the second tallest peak in New York and, with a 3,000 foot gain in elevation over the 2-mile trail we would be climbing, was the continually most steep in the Adirondacks. I’ve taken this trail many times and enjoy it for the views it offers as you ascend and the availability of water. In this modern day of backpacking, no water is considered completely safe from the parasite known as giardia lamblia found in the feces of mammals and often referred to as beaver fever (beavers poop in the water). I purify any water that has the potential for mammal presence, but once I begin to climb an know that the water is coming straight out of the side of the mountain, I simply dip my water bottle and drink. I’ve been doing this for 12 years and have yet to have a problem. It’s also a fantastic workout.
Though steep, the ascent is not technical in that no equipment is necessary to climb…only decent conditioning. We arrived at the tree line in a little less than 90 minutes and I was drenched with sweat. The last half mile up is done on mostly bare rock with what vegetation there is noted as ‘artic’, appearing only on these northern peaks and above the artic circle. It is extremely fragile and every effort should be made to avoid stepping on it.
It was some kind of Canadian holiday and the peak was crowded. Most people had come from another, longer trail, which was not nearly as steep and easier to access. We ate lunch on the peak, but decided to head for another peak by descending into a col and following a trail for about a mile through all kinds of slop and mud before ascending to the peak of Iroquois Mountain where there were only a few other climbers. The views were spectacular on this clear, cool day with the outlines of the Green Mountains of Vermont visible on the horizon to the east.
Jimmy took a nap on the peak while Reza enjoyed the serenity. My running shorts had fallen from the daypack on the ascent and so I left early to search for them with a planned meeting place about half way down. I found them a short distance from the peak and continued down. We rendezvoused and continued the descent together. Descending can be very taxing on the muscles of the lower body so unused to this stress and we were all quite tired when we reached the bottom and started the two-mile hike back to camp, arriving there around 5:30 p.m. – over 8 hours after we’d left that morning.
Normally, everything tastes good when backpacking, but I was struggling with Reza’s request…macaroni and cheese. We ate that and then wolfed down a second dinner of chicken and rice and followed that with vanilla pudding I made using powdered milk…which was excellent. I had burned a ton of calories hiking that day and don’t think the extra food would have any negative impact on the weight loss. Tomorrow…two more peaks.
Hike duration: 6 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-120.
Calories burned during workout: Around 4,000.
I was up at 6 a.m., having slept pretty well. Jimmy was up, too which shocked me. He tells me he typically needs around 16 hours of sleep a day to revitalize his massive brain, though I’m not sure why since he uses it so sparingly. I wanted to be on the trail by 9 a.m., so we had plenty of time to eat our breakfast of peaches and cream oatmeal, pack lunch, raingear and other vitals we’d need in one daypack, and get some water.
We hiked north over the marshy, sponge-like terrain that spread out across the open valley that was once under water from the dam to the south. Our shoes were immediately filling with water, which became worse when we entered the tall grasses I call ‘the bear maze’. These were soaked in dew and traversed only by the ranger checking on the area and the bears that visited every evening to see if some dopey camper had left their food in something other than a bear canister for their consumption. We didn’t. The grasses scratched and soaked my companions, which had them whining…something which bothered me not at all. Little girls.
We met the ranger stationed permanently in the area and living in a cabin. He told us a couple of stories about the knuckleheads he’s had to deal with here and mentioned that there had been a bear in the area last night, which campers had deterred with loud noise.
A short distance from the ranger’s cabin was the trailhead to Algonquin Mountain, the second tallest peak in New York and, with a 3,000 foot gain in elevation over the 2-mile trail we would be climbing, was the continually most steep in the Adirondacks. I’ve taken this trail many times and enjoy it for the views it offers as you ascend and the availability of water. In this modern day of backpacking, no water is considered completely safe from the parasite known as giardia lamblia found in the feces of mammals and often referred to as beaver fever (beavers poop in the water). I purify any water that has the potential for mammal presence, but once I begin to climb an know that the water is coming straight out of the side of the mountain, I simply dip my water bottle and drink. I’ve been doing this for 12 years and have yet to have a problem. It’s also a fantastic workout.
Though steep, the ascent is not technical in that no equipment is necessary to climb…only decent conditioning. We arrived at the tree line in a little less than 90 minutes and I was drenched with sweat. The last half mile up is done on mostly bare rock with what vegetation there is noted as ‘artic’, appearing only on these northern peaks and above the artic circle. It is extremely fragile and every effort should be made to avoid stepping on it.
It was some kind of Canadian holiday and the peak was crowded. Most people had come from another, longer trail, which was not nearly as steep and easier to access. We ate lunch on the peak, but decided to head for another peak by descending into a col and following a trail for about a mile through all kinds of slop and mud before ascending to the peak of Iroquois Mountain where there were only a few other climbers. The views were spectacular on this clear, cool day with the outlines of the Green Mountains of Vermont visible on the horizon to the east.
Jimmy took a nap on the peak while Reza enjoyed the serenity. My running shorts had fallen from the daypack on the ascent and so I left early to search for them with a planned meeting place about half way down. I found them a short distance from the peak and continued down. We rendezvoused and continued the descent together. Descending can be very taxing on the muscles of the lower body so unused to this stress and we were all quite tired when we reached the bottom and started the two-mile hike back to camp, arriving there around 5:30 p.m. – over 8 hours after we’d left that morning.
Normally, everything tastes good when backpacking, but I was struggling with Reza’s request…macaroni and cheese. We ate that and then wolfed down a second dinner of chicken and rice and followed that with vanilla pudding I made using powdered milk…which was excellent. I had burned a ton of calories hiking that day and don’t think the extra food would have any negative impact on the weight loss. Tomorrow…two more peaks.
Hike duration: 6 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 90-120.
Calories burned during workout: Around 4,000.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
