Wednesday, June 27, 2012
I’d suggested a trip
to East Coast Custard to Holly the previous evening, but she’d turned me
down. I suppose that was okay...it wasn’t
like I NEEDED ice cream...but I sure as hell wanted some.
She walked in the
door from shopping and handed me a bag destined for the freezer. It contained a single item...Breyer’s Ice
Cream.
“I thought we could
use a treat after dinner,” she said as I walked it to the downstairs freezer
trying to think of where I could hide it so that Jack wouldn’t find it before
we could have a bowl. He was working and
wouldn’t be off until 10, but he seemed to have some kind of ice cream detector
built in to his unusually functioning brain and I figured he already knew it was
in the house.
“Maybe we should eat
it now,” I said, starting to worry I wouldn’t get any.
“Seriously? He’s at work.
He doesn’t know we even have any,” she said.
“Oh...he knows,” I
countered.
I’d done a hard ride
in the heat earlier and had a smoothie upon my return. My legs had felt good the entire time, but I’d
ridden a little slower than usual due to the heat. My sugar cravings were running high and the
smoothie had not met the requirements. I
no longer just wanted the ice cream...now I needed it. I checked my watch. He’d be home soon. He’d be like a shark around a chum line...he’d
go crazy and the ice cream would be gone and if I was anywhere close, he might
accidently snap off a finger...or something worse.
“I’m having mine now,”
I said.
I filled a large
cereal bowl with five scoops, added chocolate syrup and peanuts, and sat down
to watch an episode of ‘Modern Family’.
I’d no sooner hit the play button, when I heard the door from the garage
crash open and looked to see Jack walk in.
He had a frenzied look on his face as his eyes darted around and finally
came to rest on the bowl in my hands.
“You’re...um...home
early,” I said.
“Yeah...I told Cheryl
I had to go home. An emergency...” he
said.
His eyes never left
my bowl. I considered setting it
down. I’ve seen how quickly he can move
to the basket. His first three steps are
lightning fast – and I was closer than an easy lay-up. In the woods, if he were a grizzly, I’d throw
the food one way and run the other. But
there was nowhere to run and he was faster than a grizzly. Then it hit me.
“The rest of the
container’s in the freezer. Have some.”
He spun and went for
the freezer. In one smooth motion, he had the door open, a bowl on the counter
and filled, the empty container in the trash and a spoon shoveling product to
his mouth. It was a sight to see and I
shuddered at the ferocity of his moves.
Fortunately, I eat quickly and managed to finish my own before he turned
towards me again. When he did, he looked
calmer though...as if whatever had overcome him was gone. Relieved, I watched him ascend the
stairs. I’d gotten mine and that was all
that really mattered. Sorry, Holly.
Bike
Duration: Two hours.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 1600.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
I received a note
back from Dawna, the town clerk in Eads, Co. regarding my inquiry into their City
Park on the Transamerica cycling trail.
I’d written that I wanted to speak to someone about how they’d started
their City Park invitation to cyclists to camp and use their pool and showers
and what impact, positive or negative, there had been. I was gathering this information in hopes of
using it to build my case for similar parks on my Ohio cycling course.
“Well,
actually...they just started camping in the park one day and have been doing it
ever since,” she told me.
“You mean the city
never voted on it and set it up formally?” I asked, quite surprised. I couldn’t imagine anything like that
happening in any town around here.
“That’s right. I’ve been here for 21 years and they’ve
always used the park. There’s seldom
more than five tents at a time and they kind of check in with the police
department...which is across the street...and that’s it,” she said.
I asked her about
using the pool, showers, and city retailers and if there were ever any issues.
“They can use the
pool and showers for $3...same as the residents and they go to the restaurant
and grocery store and spend some money, so that makes us happy. We’re kind of a small town...only 700
people...so any extra business is good.
And there has never been anything but good experiences,” she concluded.
Kim had told me that
the towns providing such services were almost all quite small, and extremely
hospitable. Dawna’s willingness to share
information was certainly evidence of that for me. I can only hope I will get a similar
reception from the small towns around Ohio when I approach them with my idea.
For the second
workout in a row, I completed 21 workout stations. The forecast is for more days in the 90’s
coming soon and I’d like to put in some killer workouts before it hits. With Clear Creek all but dried up, I’ll have
nowhere to take a refreshing dip on my courses.
It hasn’t rained a lick in the month of June, which is almost over, and
all the waterholes are gone. A year ago
I was cursing the constant rain, but the pendulum has swung too far. Well...there’s still 14,000 gallons in my
neighbors’ pool.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned: 600.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Monday evening was
just one of those nights cyclists die for.
Though it was windy, the temperature was hovering around 70 and the
skies were clear and blue. To me, it all
said ‘long ride’.
I’ve been riding more
in the past 10 days than I have since last summer. Since it’s all I’m really supposed to do,
I’ve filled my exercise craving by doing more of it. I’d ridden 50 miles with Bruce last Friday
and been in the saddle for over three hours that day, but half of it was easier
than my normal pace. Not so today. I was going to ride alone and try to push
myself.
I left the house
thinking I’d head out Pekin Road and turn around at Burton/Windsor, a ride of
54 miles. When I reached the turnaround
though, I was feeling good and decided to keep going deeper into Amish
country. I like riding the roads through
their farms since the traffic is lighter and the scenery is unique. It’s like stepping back into a time when the
bicycle would be an advanced form of transportation. I rode a little beyond the 30-mile mark
before turning and heading for home.
Throughout the return trip I waited for the cramping in my thighs that
I’ve been experiencing on almost every ride over two hours...but it never came.
I was facing a strong headwind for the
return trip and expected to take ten minutes longer going home, but managed to
keep it to five, arriving in my driveway about three and a half hours after I’d
left.
So...two weeks after
surgery and I’m riding hard for over sixty miles. Not bad.
I jumped in the neighbors pool, destroying his pH balance while cleaning
off the salt caked on my body. I made a
wonderful smoothie but found that my sweet cravings had not be satiated and
found myself downing a sweet roll and some chocolate milk later that
evening. You burn a lot of carb calories
on a sixty-mile ride and I needed to replace them, though I hate doing it with
simple, crap calories. I’ll punish
myself tomorrow with another hard ride.
Bike
Duration: Three hours and 30 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 2900.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
I typically measure
the intensity of my Survival Workouts by the number of stations I include. I consider a station a point on the trail
where I stop and perform any of the variety of exercises I’ve laid out to
address a total body workout. When I was
able to perform my calesthenic-type moves for the muscles of the lower body
like sprints through the woods and picnic table hops, it would not be uncommon
to have over 20 stations. Since the
injury to my knee and the resulting surgery, I’ve been limiting myself to about
16 stations…until Sunday morning.
I start the workout
with push-ups normally. I’m tuned in to
my pr in a big way with push-ups and always challenging myself to do more. Then I move to the pull-up station where,
tired from the push-ups, I tend to manage around 12 full extension
repetitions. Well this day I thought I’d
start with the pull-ups to see if I could break my pr of 14. Happily, I managed 16 though could only do
65 push-ups following my pull-up effort.
Along the way, I did
extra biceps curls and recorded another pr with 18 overhead rock presses. I was feeling so good that I did 4 climbs of
the swing set, but at that point all the extra work began to take its
toll. I managed to get close to pr’s on
many of the final lifts, but was completely spent when I returned to the
car. I had a nice pump as a result of
all the additional sets, but no one was there to see my sweaty, glistening
biceps. Bummer...since I know chicks
really dig that.
I’d hoped to get in a
bike ride later in the day, but Heidi returned from her three-week field trip
out west and wanted to share her pictures from the Grand Canyon, Zion National
Park, and the Colorado Rockies. She’d
taken over a thousand and I wanted to see them all. It was an amazing trip, one she says she will
never forget and was so grateful that I had introduced her to camping,
backpacking and the wilderness, which inspired her to take the trip in the
first place. She was able to do and see
the things she did not only because of her desire to visit these places, but
because she keeps herself in shape to do them through cycling, swimming and
running...and I’d like to think I inspired some of that, as well.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned: 600.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
If you think you’re going to go to someone’s graduation at Quaker Steak and Lube and eat food that is Paleo, low in fat and calories and good for you, you’re delusional. If you’ve read even one of my blogs, you know I have tendencies on the delusional spectrum, so I went and looked over the vegetable platter sitting next to the wings and onion rings and thought I’d give it a go. After two tomatoes and a bunch of broccoli, I began to crumble. Wings are small and so if I ate twenty or so, it’s not really a lot of food. Onion rings are in that same category…at least that was what I told myself for my second helping. At least I washed it down with diet Coke and said ‘no’ to the cake. I don’t like cake.
I made it home in the late afternoon with the idea that I’d change out the tire I’d had newly mounted for the Jeep and then go for a long ride. Only one of the lug nuts on the Jeep didn’t seem to know how important it was for me to ride. After having the wrench slip off a couple of times and begin the process of stripping it, I decided a trip to Dan’s was my only safe bet. I hated driving all the way to Chardon to remove a lug nut so I suggested that I bring the kayaks along and that we put them in Bass Lake, a small 160-acre lake at the end of his street. He agreed and I headed out.
The lug nut was a mess, but he had the tools to deal with it. He discovered a second that was the wrong size, so we drove to Auto Zone and purchased two new ones. While waiting, I noticed their sales flier featuring a 2-ton hydraulic jack for $24.99. For guys, having a 2-ton hydraulic jack is a kind of status symbol. If you don’t have a truck with a gun rack, it’s a nice way of saying ‘I’m a manly man. I jack up my vehicle and do all my own repairs, get grease on my hands, feet and clothes, and do stupid shit like walk in the house afterwards and get that grease in all the places it shouldn’t be.’ At least I think it does…so I bought it.
We returned to Dan’s, finished the Jeep and headed for the lake. Dan informed me it was his maiden voyage in a kayak,though I’d have figured it out rather quickly as I watched him struggle to climb inside without turning it over…while still on land. I decided he needed a demonstration from a pro.
“You get in the thing with a little water under you and then push your hands down on the bottom of the lake and lift your body and boat up and over…into the deeper water,” I said as I demonstrated the technique I used when I wanted to get in without getting my feet wet…which is everytime I kayak.
He followed my lead and was soon in the water. I demonstrated good forward paddle technique and started off across the lake to look at the beautiful beach house on the island about a half mile away. When I was half way there, I turned to see how Dan was doing…and didn’t see him. A quick scan of the water found him off to the right, fighting with the seaweeds running along the shore. He’d hardly moved.
I paddled back noticing as I went that he had no clue how to keep the craft moving in the direction he wanted to go. It dawned om me that there was a strong wind blowing and I was adjusting with every stroke to keep my kayak on course. I do it as a matter of course and don’t think about it anymore. Dan, on the other hand, needed to be giving it considerable thought…and soon.
“John…it won’t go straight,” he said as I approached.
“It’ll go straight if you had a clue,” I said.
I like that I can do something he can’t and since so much of our interaction is over my vehicles, I’m always at a disadvantage. I spent the next several minutes explaining the issue of the wind and how to compensate with different strokes. He’s a clever guy and in short order he was beginning to travel in a direction that resembled the movement of a snake…but one that knew where it wanted to go. I figured I’d leave him alone to learn the trade and paddled ahead to the island. As I approached it, I noticed a large, plastic eagle perched on the rocks that protected the shore. And then it moved.
Now…I almost never enter my kayak without my camera. On this occasion, I’d decided not to bring it because what could I possibly see on Dan’s little lake worth photographing. I sure was right about THAT decision.
I was no more than forty feet from this magnificent beast when it began to spread its wings. It rose slowly and drifted towards a pavillion on the property, landing on its peak and offering me a spectacuar view of its beauty and grace. It began making a strange chirping sound and looked to me as if to say ‘hell of a Kodak moment, shit for brains.’ To make matters more unbearable, its mate suddenly appeared in the sky over my kayak screeing wildly while being pursued by three or four smaller birds with a death wish.
I spent the rest of my time on the lake combing the shoreline to see if I could spot the nest, but without luck. Dan…somewhere lost on the lake…saw them only from a distance. He had the hang of paddling, in a primitive fashion, after an hour of fooling around and said he’d like to try again.
“Are you kidding? I’ll be back with kayaks and camera. That was the greatest eagle experience I’m likely to have,” I said.
I’ll never paddle again without my camera.
Kayak Duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 90 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 500.
Friday, June 22, 2012
I was scheduled to
meet Bruce for a 20-mile ride, but I knew he’d be going a little more slowly
than I was used to traveling and I wanted to get in a longer ride, so I planned
my route to meet him in the park after I’d already ridden 27 miles.
I pushed hard in the
cooler temperatures and felt great as I pulled into the park. He hadn’t arrived yet, so I hopped off the
bike and did a little walking and stretching.
It didn’t matter how hard we would be riding, time in the saddle is time
in the saddle and if I was to be on the bike another couple of hours as I knew
I would, I’d need to give my neck, shoulders, and butt a time out.
He arrived on
time...he always does...and pulled out his light-weight road bike. He’d picked it up on Craig’s List for $600
and it was a beauty. I picked it up,
amazed at how light it was. Noticing the
gear ratio I said, “Bruce...sweet ride.
With this gear set-up, you should be able to ride up the side of the
Terminal Tower so don’t start whining like a little girl when we hit a couple
of hills.”
“Oh man...you said ‘no
hills’,” he said, with that little girl whine.
“Did I? Well...we’re in a valley. How did you think we’d get out of it?”
“Couldn’t we stay in
it?” he asked.
It was a good
thought, but I had that covered. “The
bridge is out in Gates Mills, so you’d have to ride up Old Mill. That, or we can head north and ride up the
hill by Squires Castle. I’d recommend
north,” I said, failing to mention that we could get past the bridge in Gates
Mills by taking the pedestrian bridge and walking our bikes. I’m not a big fan of River Road for
cycling. Though it is beautiful and
scenic, running along the Chagrin River, and very popular with cyclists, it’s
also quite narrow and heavily traveled by vehicles...something I look to avoid
at all costs. He could see he’d been
painted into a corner and chose north.
As we approached the
first hill, I reminded him to use his easiest gear. “Walk that bike up the hill,” I said, which
meant take it slow and easy, get up out of the saddle and save yourself for the
rest of the ride. People new to the
sport tend to want to ride in the harder gears and push from the saddle to
climb any hill as quickly as they can. I
suppose they think getting to the top quickly will be easier on them then
spending more time on the hill moving slowly.
The opposite is true. Pushing
hard on one hill and could empty the tank for the rest of the ride. You have to know yourself, the course, and
when and for how long to attack a hill.
He made it to the
top...but barely.
“I had to walk on
that one the last time,” he admitted once past it.
“You used the gears
well. Try going slower on the next one
and getting up out of the saddle. Use
your body weight to force the pedals down by standing on them. That’s ‘walking it up’,” I said.
“The next one?” he
blurted.
We rode down into
Waite Hill, climbed another hill of medium size, and then went over a series of
rolling hills on Eagle Road as we made our way to Route 306. By the time we arrived there, he was
played. I suggested a break on the
church grounds at that corner, and after fifteen minutes, he was refreshed and
ready to go on.
We made our way back
to the cars over the next thirty minutes with only one more hill. He was exhausted upon our return and
embarrassed about his performance.
“You make it look
easy...and you’d already ridden two hours,” he said.
“Bruce...I’ve been
riding like this for over forty years. I’ve
got a slight edge. Do a ride like this
once a week and you’ll be ready for that flat ride to Sandusky and you’ll be
leaving your buddies in a trail of dust.
We’re doing this again...and soon,” I said.
Like any sport or
activity, it just takes a little time and discipline. Riding is so forgiving because of the
gearing. If it’s set up right, there are
few hills that can’t be conquered, even by beginners. He’s a stubborn, determined guy. He’ll be back for more soon.
Bike
Duration: Three hours and 30 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 2500.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
I’ve known Bruce for
years. I encouraged him to join me on a
trip to the Adirondacks a couple of years ago and he came and climbed. I’ve dragged him kayaking and encouraged him
to get into cycling. He did last year by
signing up for the ‘Pedal to the Point’ ride, a 150-mile round trip bike ride
serving as a fund raiser in the fight against Multiple Sclerosis. He had an old road bike for his first trip,
but has since purchased a carbon fiber frame beauty and called recently to ask
me to join his group on the ride.
“We’re kind of
slow. We cover about 12 miles an hour,”
he said.
“How do you stay
upright without training wheels then?” I asked.
Not that I’m Lance,
but I average about 18 mph and riding that slow would make me insane. The course they follow starts in Brunswick
and goes to Sandusky. Thousands of
recreational cyclists participate in the event and each must raise a minimum of
$250 to participate in the ride. They
can ride the 75 miles to Sandusky only, or do the round trip over two
days. A spaghetti dinner awaits and
there is support all along the course.
Apparently, sleeping space is provided in the high school gym though
most riders choose a local hotel.
“Look Bruce...it’s a
wonderful cause and you know I like to ride, but honestly I don’t like to ride
in those kinds of crowds. Besides,
Savannah and I are going to Detroit that weekend to see the Tribe play the
Tigers,” I said.
We left it with him
joining me for a training ride the next evening. I promised him I’d go easy and avoid a course
with hills...which was a lie since there is nowhere I ride that doesn’t have
some hills. I figure he knows me well
enough to know I’m lying, and if he doesn’t...well...it’ll be too late once we’re
out there.
Savannah and I did
another Survival Workout. I’d skipped
the morning ride because the rash was still giving me grief. It’ll be clear by tomorrow I’m thinking, but
if it isn’t I’ll just slather it with some kind of cream and ride anyway. Lance would.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned: 600.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
One of the problems
with aging is forgetting things you shouldn’t forget...like never wearing a wet
pair of cycling shorts when going for a long ride.
I’d started my ride
with damp cycling shorts, which feel good on a hot day, but when the padding in
the butt that is designed to offer some protection from hours of sitting on a
hard seat is even a little wet, it’ll lead to chafing before the a ride is
done. I began to feel the discomfort
after an hour...about the point that I remembered I shouldn’t ride with wet
shorts...but I was an hour from home and my options were limited. I spent considerable time out of the saddle,
but it was no use. I was going to be
hurting and that was that.
It was also hovering
around 90 degrees...a temperature that has me sweating profusely and
dehydrating quickly. Just past the hour
mark in my ride, I began to feel the tingling sensation in my head that warns
me I’m overheating. I’ve been through
this numerous times and it’s a signal I give serious attention. I slowed my riding and started drinking from
my second bottle. I was determined to
make it back without losing too much time, but in one piece.
I rolled the final
mile down my street thankful that the ride was almost over. It ended up taking me 15 extra minutes to
finish the ride, which means that I slowed about 5 mph over the second half of
the ride. My rash was making walking
painful and when I introduced it to the chlorine in my neighbors’
pool...well...let’s just say I didn’t stay in there long.
I’d suffered with the
beginnings of heat illness and this always kills my appetite. I made a blender full of smoothie and called
it dinner. I’m hoping I’ll be able to
remember the ‘wet shorts’ lesson...I know I’ll have a reminder for the next
couple of days, at least. I’ll figure
out tomorrow’s workout tomorrow, but it likely won’t include sitting for a
couple of hours on a bicycle seat.
Bike
Duration: Two hours.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 1600.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
I tried my first
before work ride and it went extremely well.
I used to ride my bike to the Cleveland Athletic Club throughout the
summer months and always enjoyed hitting the roads early. It’s great to beat the heat on those muggy
Cleveland days, and Tuesday was going to be one of them. My only difficulty came from my contacts
which apparently do not like morning rides.
I found them curling on my eyes...which tends to make vision a
struggle...and finally had to pull over, take one out, spit on it and then try
to get it back in my eye. I succeeded
and it worked. Who needs saline
solution?
I’d forgotten how
much more wildlife you’re likely to see in the morning, as well. I was cruising through Chesterland when I saw
a large goose and her 5 goslings crossing the street...only as I drew closer,
realized it was a goose family at all. I’d
never seen wild turkey chicks, so it was a special treat to see them now. I didn’t register that I should stop and take
a picture until it was too late, though my phone doesn’t do a very good
job. I rode a little further and looked
up to notice a woman heading for her newspaper box with a large dog on a
leash. Except I was mistaken again. Instead of a large dog, she was walking her
very small animal that resembled a horse.
It was the size of a large St. Bernard...which is small for a horse and
she had it on a dog’s leash as if she’d just taken it from the house for a
little walk to do its business. Why not?
I rode for almost two
hours and felt so accomplished when I returned.
I’d decided about six different work-related things while riding and got
off to one of my best and most productive days in a long time. Better still, I managed to meet Savannah in
the park that evening for a Survival Workout and my first double in some
time. I hope to keep the pattern
going. Two hours may be too long in the
morning, but for now, it’s light enough to ride by 6 a.m., leaving plenty of
time to ride and get to work.
Bike
Duration: One hour and 50 minutes. Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm riding and 100-150 for SW.
Calories
burned during workout: 1550 biking and 600 for SW.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Marie’s hip continued
to give her trouble to the point that her coach at Purdue nixed her running
entirely. I’d texted her to get an
update and found that, although she couldn’t run, like me…she could ride, so we
planned a workout together.
You have to love the
bike. I was in so much pain just prior
to my surgery, but was able to ride 3 hours the night before...with no
discomfort to the knee. Cycling allows
you to get a tremendous aerobic workout, but lots of calories, see some great
things and not cause stress to the joints.
I rode to her house
concerned that she’d be out to hammer me and I was not ready to ride hard, but
when she climbed aboard her hybrid with tires twice the size of mine, I thought
I’d be okay. She was riding the kind of bike
I would likely need for my long distance trek around the state...wider tires,
upright positioning...so that I might be able to work around the shoulder
strain I suffered after a couple of hours in the saddle. The down side...they don’t roll as fast and
take more effort to pedal.
Marie found out just
how much of a difference equipment makes when I rocketed ahead of her down
Eagle Road. I typically top 45mph on
that short hill, something her ride was incapable of doing and was 100 yards
ahead of her when she reached the bottom.
The pattern continued throughout the ride, which was fine for me because
we were on a 2-hour ride, my first of that distance, and I wanted to be sure I
didn’t push the knee too hard.
We both managed the
ride pain free...another endorsement for the healing power of the bike. The more I do on the bike, the more I want to
do...and want to get others involved, too.
I’ve begun the task of trying to gain information and support for the
course around Ohio and my belief in the value of long distance cycling has
reinvigorated me to pursue this objective.
It’s good for me...and anyone who gets on a bike.
Bike
Duration: Two hours.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 1600.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
It was Father’s Day and who can’t help but reflect on their father and grandfathers and compare those experiences to the ones they’ve been creating with their own children…if they have them. Well…I do…and somehow I always tie it back to exercise and activity while I’m thinking about how much fun it must be to have me for a dad. That assumes my children would be interested in exercise and activity, quite naturally, and also assumes having me for a dad would be fun. The expression ‘he’s a legend in his own mind’ has some bearing here.
Anyway, my dad thought I was a little more than a half a bubble off center regarding exercise. He spent time in the military and that ended any desire to camp. Exercise and athletics? Fuh-get about it…it just wasn’t his thing. Sadly, I think it led to a diminishment in his quality of life. He ate poorly and was extremely inactive after his retirement, which led directly to high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and type II diabetes. Like so many people, he got away with this lifestyle for many years, but when it caught up to him, he was unable or unwilling to make the changes that could have returned some of that quality. He never did and would spend the final 10 years of his life struggling to deal with simple, everyday tasks.
My grandfathers were both hard working, physical men who really didn’t need sports or exercise to stay fit…life kept them that way.
Well…my life doesn’t and neither do the lives of any of my children…and probably never will. There jobs are and will likely be, sedentary. They could create a lot of opportunities around their homes to have some physical labor, but like so many of us, they’ll probably take advantage of the many and assorted mechanical and electrical conveniences to do the tasks my grandfathers did with old fashioned muscle power.
So I’ll keep encouraging them to ride the bike, do my Survival Workout, kayak and backpack with me, and head to the mountains of the Adirondacks for some great climbing and quality time. It’s what I like to do, sure, but it is good for them and then they get to spend time with me learning about life and what’s really important…creating lasting memories with the ones who love them the most.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned: 600.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
When I’d talked to
the surgeon and discussed how many minutes I should go on my first ride, we’d
never got around to the second. I
figured I should add 30 minutes a ride until something broke and left my
driveway thinking I’d go easier, but for 90 minutes. I picked a course on which I’d only have to
climb a couple of medium-sized hills and determined that I’d keep it to easier
gears and not try to set any speed records.
I really did want to get better and was willing to make some
concessions.
Things were going
famously as I approached Squire’s Castle on River Road and my one-hour
mark. And then there was this pain in
the inside of my knee…right where the medical meniscus had been trimmed. I immediately cut back on my gears and speed
and gave quick consideration to pulling over and calling Holly for a ride
home. All this thinking was happening
while I continued to ride and after about 10 revolutions, the pain was
gone. I rode reasonably easy for the
remainder of the ride, but the pain never returned.
I took a cleansing
dip in the neighbor’s pool…it needed some more salt and road grime…before
heading inside and packing my knee in ice.
There was a little noticeable swelling, though no different than what
has been there since the surgery. And
not that I really need one, but it was a great excuse to prop up my leg while
sitting in front of the TV for some sports and maybe a movie. Holly doesn’t read the blog and I’m milking
this thing for all that I can. At some
point, she’ll figure out that if I can ride two hours, I can probably stand in
front of the sink long enough to resume kitchen clean-up duties. Until then…
Bike
Duration: One hour and 25 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 1200.
A meniscus tear...
Friday, June 15, 2012
I went to see the
surgeon for a one-week check-up and to have the stitches removed. I brought along a couple copies of the
magazine he’d requested and to make certain he understood what he was dealing
with should he give me the green light to ride.
“Wow! This is really great. You should autograph it and we’ll frame it
and hang it in the lobby,” he said when I handed him an issue.
“Give me your pen,” I
said. I mean, how many times is someone
likely to ask for my autograph? Hundreds
of thousands? I can’t be sure...so I
signed it ‘Stay in the game...cross train’.
He loved it since he’s a big proponent of cross training in general and
particularly for me. He pulled out the
images of my scoped knee and began to explain.
“Here’s the part of
your meniscus I had to cut out. Quite a
lot, as you can see. Not so sure how you
even walked in here. You must have been
in a lot of pain,” he said.
I realized I’d made a
mistake. Being a superhero and having
inhuman strength is sometimes difficult to cover up. “I was taking a lot of Advil. I thought that way I could make it to the
appointment so you could fix me up.”
He pointed out how
the meniscus had been flapping around and rubbing the bones of the joint in
ways it shouldn’t have and thus leading to the arthritis.
“Hold on there,
Doc. Did you say arthritis? I’m not old...” I protested.
But my knee is. We talked about what this would mean in the
long run...that if I was likely to have an issue with either knee in the
future, it would likely be the same one.
Then we got into my running.
“I probably only run
3-4 times and around 20 miles a week,” I said.
This pleased
him. He felt at that level, I’d likely
be fine for a lifetime. We talked about
the Survival Workout and he cautioned me about high jumps. “You put so much more stress on the knee when
you land from a height. Your cushioning
is gone in that knee. The more riding
you do...the better,” he concluded.
And I suppose none of
that is a problem. I truly enjoy riding
and the more I do, the more I seem to enjoy it.
I’ve got big plans for riding cross country in the future and this all
fits. What I don’t like is being
limited. He was somewhat concerned about
the hiking and step-ups I do with the sixty-pound pack, too. I only do this when getting ready for a
climbing trip and I suppose I can curtail it somewhat...biking does as much
good for my legs. Backpacking is a big
part of my life, though and I’m not going to stop.
I went home and, of
course, hopped on the bike. He’d said ‘ride
30 minutes and see how it feels’. I
multiplied that by 2 and subtracted 5 minutes...it’s a solid formula I
invented...and rode nearly an hour without pain. I did stay off the hills as he
suggested...except for that one coming up Berkshire...and I stayed in the
easier gears like he suggested...except when I wasn’t. I’m trying to be good...but I’ve been off for
a week. I’m only human!
Bike
Duration: 55 minutes.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 825.
Thursday, June14, 2012
Since the June edition of Ohio Sport and Fitness hit the stands featuring me and my obesity busting triathlon story, I’ve been doing some work on the bike route I intend to take and create around the perimeter of the state of Ohio – a trip of roughly 1,000 miles.
Part of my inspiration for the triathlon is to create something permanent for people interested in improving their fitness through outdoor recreational opportunities. As a life long cycling advocate and knowing the value and ease of this sport, I believe it will be the most important leg of my triathlon and provide the greatest chance to make something special and lasting from my efforts. I was inspired by the stories I’d heard from Kim Lorentz last summer as she traveled a large portion of the TransAmerica Bicycle Trail from Akron to California. The TransAmerica Trail was created in 1976 for cyclists and in honor of America’s 200th birthday. It stretches 4,250 miles from Yorktown, Va. To Astoria, Oregon. Along the way, she and other riders following this trail, take advantage of the City Parks in the states of Missouri, Kansas and Colorado where communities offer up space for cyclists to pitch tents, catch showers and use city swimming pools at that end of a hard day of riding…and in most cases, without charge. These communities take pride in inviting cyclists and providing these amenities, likely for a variety of reasons. Clearly, there is some economic value to having thousands of cyclist, many with disposable income, stay overnight in your town. They are very likely to catch a meal, buy supplies for the road, send souveneirs home, and generally find a way to thank their hosts by spending a little money. To hear Kim talk about it, they were a Godsend on days when temperatures regularly climbed above 100. And it wasn’t just the City Park availabiltiy that intrigued me, but stories Kim shared about residents inviting cyclists into their homes for a home-cooked meal or an opportunity to sleep overnight in an air conditioned room. The level of trust and openness gave me a thrill…a part of America I’d be proud to call home.
It is my objective to create something similar in Ohio. I’ve looked over the course I intend to travel and know that there will be limited opportunities to find tent camping along the way. State parks offering this amenity are few and far between, and at $40 a night, a little pricy. I’ve yet to determine the exact route I’ll travel, but I know I’ll pass through hundreds of communities on the trek and I have to believe that some would invite this kind of opportunity. In fact, I’ll check first to determine the interest of the concept before selecting the final route. I take pride in being an Ohioan and can't imagine that Kansas, Missouri or Colorado have anything on us when it comes to friendliness and supporting recreational opportunities. I truly expect that someday we’ll boast a trail that many will travel and enjoy and will be a strong supporter of safe cycling.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
I wasn’t sure what
I’d be doing for the evening workout…if anything at all…until Savannah texted
and asked if I’d take her to the park and put her through the Survival Workout. Naturally, I agreed…and with the
thought that I’d do as much as I could tolerate, as well.
We started with the
push-ups, pull-ups and dips…all three things I did without involving my
knee. She managed 14 solid “guy”
push-ups, but when she moved to the tree and grabbed the pull-up branch, things
didn’t go quite so well.
“When am I going to
be able to do at least one,” she wailed as she swung from the branch, pulling
and tugging but never moving vertically.
“Um…not today for
sure,” I said in encouragement.
I pushed her through
all the things I couldn’t do, including some high skips, sprint through the woods,
picnic table hops, and overhead rock lifts. I managed some of the lifts, but if it involved putting
extra weight on the knee, I bagged it.
We reached the
swingset, where I normally climb up but slide down since lowering myself seems
to hurt the ligaments in my elbow.
Only this time when I slid, I hit the ground hard and decided that was
stupid. On subsequent climbs, I
lowered myself – elbow pain or no.
Savannah tried climbing while using her feet and found that she was
getting somewhere.
“You couldn’t go that
high the last time here. You’re
getting stronger,” I said.
And she is. She’s been doing a workout at Ohio
State that mimics a lot of the things that we do outdoors in a weight
room. She’s leaner and has some
definition that was absent on Spring break. She got some inspiration and turned it into a solid program
with obvious results.
We finished the
workout in an hour, walking a little over two miles. I experienced the same level of pain I had on the
previous day’s hike, so adding the workout did nothing to make things
worse. Tomorrow will be an off day
before heading to the surgeon and…hopefully…his blessing to begin riding on
Saturday. Maybe a quick ride to
Pennsylvania and back…
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned:
600.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Still concerned about the soreness in my knee but wondering whether and what would make it worse, I headed for the Metropark and a planned hike. I arrived and parked where I would for my Survival Workout thinking that I should walk the bridle trails, avoiding hiking trails with roots that might trip me up...and shred my knee. Since I was at my push-up station, I decided I’d do a set before hiking. Hooking my feet over a rail and performing inverted push-ups may not have been my best decision, but it went okay and after 60, I dropped to the ground and began my hike.
It was just a hike. Nothing particularly strenuous or fast and I stayed away fromt the hills. I walked a mile, turned around and walked back. As I approached the car, I began to notice some discomfort in the knee and was happy I was almost done. What I was feeling may have been exactly what I was supposed to feel…I really don’t know. I do know I was told I could walk and see what I could tolerate…a risky thing to tell me, but I was being cautious.
I returned home and packed on the ice for the remainder of the evening and did get some satisfaction from watching the Oklahoma City Thunder beat the Miami Heat and LeBron. I’m not a vindictive man…well…maybe a little.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Day three of recovery
was little more than a repeat of day two.
I spent it mostly laying on a couch and icing while reading or watching
TV. I did manage to make business calls
and do work for clients from home as well as putting in some walking around the
neighborhood. The general stiffness in
my knee remains. I’m guessing it’s still
quite swollen in places I can’t see and this is limiting the range of
motion. I’m a ways from getting into a
catcher’s squat without pain, and it was this position that first alerted me to
the torn meniscus.
Savannah had spoken
about going to the park for a Survival Workout when she got home and I was
still considering it, but when she arrived and said it looked like a
thunderstorm rolling in and she didn’t want to go, I decided not to push
it. I’ve got the rest of my life to
exercise. A few more days won’t hurt.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
I suppose I’m not a
great patient. In fact, I’m probably not
even a good patient. What I am
is...impatient.
My first thought for
the morning was a trip to the Metropark and the Survival Workout. I figured I didn’t really use my knee for the
workout except to walk around and I was allowed to do that and could do it
slowly. When I got out of bed and found
that my knee was a little swollen and not that mobile, I actually made a good
decision and bagged the workout. Holly
was going there to walk with Dakota, which again sounded doable, but she does
walk reasonably fast and I don’t think that would be the best thing in the
world at this point.
So...I got my ice
pack, brought a book and the remote controls for the TV, propped my leg up on
the coffee stand in front of the sofa, and nestled in for a long, slow
day. I watched a three-hour documentary
about two 9th grade boys from Chicago’s inner city and the story of
their quest to make it to a big Division I college basketball program and
ultimately, the NBA. It was quite good
and kept me sedated for the entire time.
I followed that with a viewing of the 70’s movie ‘The Network’, a
classic I’d somehow overlooked through the years, then some time with a book
and a nap. In between, I reapplied my
ice pack to keep the swelling to a minimum.
Marie came over for a
late afternoon visit and to do some work on her summer training program from
Purdue University. She suffered from a
femur stress fracture during cross country season and has been having some hip pain
recently. We were looking for ways to
mitigate it and decided on taking out one running day and adding in a
cycling/hill repeat day, which should strengthen the muscles in the area
causing her pain while providing some relief from the pounding on the joint. She’s a good cyclist and will enjoy the
repeats I’ve laid out for her on Old Mill Road...one of the toughest climbs in
the area. I made her a smoothie to
accompany the discussion and then sent her out for an 11-mile run in the
afternoon heat. Like me though, she does
all such runs in the shade of the North Chagrin Reservation.
Inactivity is my
curse. I don’t mind it when I choose
it...I love sitting down and reading or watching a good movie...but when you
have to and it just goes on and on...it’s just holy hell. I can’t imagine what my friend John must be
feeling, having been forced to the sidelines since last fall. He probably hasn’t had a workout pain-free in
over a year and the doc’s are still trying to figure out what’s wrong with his
neck. I suppose a lot of folks don’t
want to do activity at our level and it’s not as big a deal, but when your
recreational time revolves around long bouts of cardiovascular exercise and you
can’t do it, you tend to get goofy. He
certainly is...and I’m getting there quickly.
I know I only have to wait until Saturday before I’m officially allowed
back on the bike for a short ride and you can bet I’ll do it that
morning...knee permitting.
Saturday, June 9,2012
Jen is a wonderful
neighbor. She’s always cooking up
some fantastic dish and sending it over for us. She knew Holly was going out of town and had promised to
drop by with food to help Jack and I through the week. I’d told her that steak and lobster was
a known cure for a torn medical meniscus and she’d shown up the night before
with a burger and some kind of fish…a poor man’s surf and turf. She was also Holly’s eyes and ears.
I was feeling pretty
good Saturday morning sitting in my recliner with my ice pack wrapped around my
knee. Holly was planning a trip to
BJ’s and I was making some plans of my own. The surgeon had told me I’d be riding in a week, though I’d
have to take it easy on those first few rides and that I could walk around the
house, putting weight on the knee based on what I could tolerate. What I figured he wasn’t saying was if
I could walk around the house, I could ride around the neighborhood…kind of the
same thing. Anyway, I wanted to
see what the range of motion was for my knee with the bike, but figured it
would be much wiser to wait until Holly was out shopping. ‘Better to beg forgiveness than ask
permission,’ I always said.
I waited for ten
minutes after she left before walking out to the garage and climbing on my
bike. I just wore my slippers…I
didn’t want to ‘clip in’ to the pedals since twisting my foot to get it back
out was something I was sure even Lance wouldn’t do. I rolled down the driveway and out onto the road for a short
ride to the corner…and a trip past Jen’s house. I saw her working on the side of her house as I passed and
began to think that this wasn’t such a good idea. For all I knew, Holly had enlisted her to keep an eye on me
anticipating a stunt like the one I was pulling. I turned my head away, thinking if she saw me, she’d think I
was just another guy from the neighborhood…with a bandaged left knee…out for a
bike ride. Well…she didn’t.
Holly returned home
after an hour of shopping and came in to sit with me. Naturally, I’d returned to my chair and had my leg up and
again packed in ice. Her phone
vibrated. It was a text…and the
news was not good.
“So…go for a little
ride while I was out, did you?” she asked.
“Well…um…I…um…just to
the corner to check my range of motion,” I said.
“Jen says if you pull
another stunt like that she’s not bringing you anymore food,” Holly said.
Some Florence
Nightengale, I thought. I tried to
cover my blunder with excuses about the doctor said I could walk and that what
I’d done was about the same thing, but she was having none of it. And the more I thought about it, I
concluded even Lance wouldn’t have ridden 18 hours after major surgery so what
was I thinking? Contritely, I
backed off.
John stopped over for
a visit and related he’d be under the knife again next Friday. His voice had still not returned and
they were going in to see what they could do about it.
“You can’t stand that
I’ve had surgery…and you haven’t in what…three weeks?”
We discussed some
things which apparently we’d discussed the day before when John asked, “you
don’t remember speaking to me yesterday, do you?”
“Um…nope,” I replied
as we went into a discussion about the uselessness of the surgeon visit after
surgery.
His neck and shoulder
surgery were a complete bust and now the question is what will they do next and
more importantly…will he be ready to climb with me in September. I can’t begin to imagine his
frustration since I’m kind of stir crazy on my first twenty-four hours of
inactivity. We decide that, no
matter what, we’ll get something in this fall. He needs a goal and the mountains are a good one.
By the day’s end, I’m
really starting to notice the surgery.
My knee has become a little more swollen and there is definite pain, but
not so bad that I feel the need for medication. More than ever, I realize that I need to rest and ice…and
skip the short bike rides in the neighborhood. Besides, I’m sure now that the network goes beyond Jen’s
yard.
Friday, June 8, 2012
I know surgeon’s
insist upon visiting their patients after the job is done to explain what
happened. But I’m not so sure it
makes much sense since we’re just coming out of an anesthisiac haze. I’m sure he told me how well it went,
what I should be doing during the recovery and probably answered a couple of
questions I posed…but I don’t remember any of it. I did find that I was grasping a set of instructions when I
came to on the ride home, though.
I’d gotten up early
that morning and gone to the park for a final Survival Workout. I figured I’d have to hold off on
lifting heavy things for a week or so after surgery and pushed hard to make it
a good one. It was, and it offered
some unusual circumstances, as well.
I had just hit the
ground from climbing the swingset when I saw a red-tailed hawk come swooping
down between the pine trees in which the playground was set. He was clearly targeting something on
the ground at the base of a tree, flashing talons as he descended. Suddenly, a squirrel burst around and
up the pine and the safety of the branches above, screeching as he went. The hawk took to the air and slowly
circled the tree but was no match for the squirrels speed. He retruned to a perch twenty feet away
and waited for a second chance.
When it came, it was a second squirrel who seemed to know he was
watching and was tempting the fates.
The hawk attacked again, and like the first squirrel, he scampered round
the tree and just out of the reach of the talons.
We’ve all seen
squirrels play this game with passing autos. Run out in the road, turn, turn again, and then…splat. They aren’t very good at their
daredevil games and I’m thinking playing with a hawk isn’t much brighter though
I suppose that’s where the term ‘squirrelly’ comes from. Anyway, the hawk finally gave it up and
flew away, so this time it worked.
I was being attacked
throughout the workout by persistant deerflies, too. I made seven kills and left the remains smeared on my body
to discourage further attacks. If
I approached a human and noticed they had body parts laying at their feet, I’d
turn and go the other way.
Deerfly…like squirrels…don’t register the signals. What can I do? I squish them.
I finished my workout
and drove to Patterson’s Fruit Farm to grab a bag of apples and cider for my
smoothies. I always buy the
seconds…imperfect apples that cost about half the price…but they didn’t have
the variety I normally purchase.
They did have Fuji’s and I asked if I could sample one. I know what they taste like…but I was
intereested to find out how firm they were. The attendant cubed an apple and handed me a sample. I popped it in my mouth, chewed and
swalowed before what I had done sank in.
I was scheduled for surgery in four hours and wasn’t to have eaten
anything after midnight. Oops.
I arrived at the
Chardon Surgery Center at 1 p.m. and during the check-in, confessed to my
transgression. When I was
escourted into the surgery area, Iwas greeted by an anesthesiologist who said,
“so you’re the hungry one?”
“I wasn’t hungry…I
was just stupid,” I said in defense of my stupidity.
“Tell me it was four
hours ago,” he said.
“It was four hours
ago,” I said, knowing it had been only three but that it would be over four by
the time he juiced me for surgery.
Besides, it was such a tiny piece!
It also got me to
thinking. If I’d have been
scheduled for surgery at 8 a.m., they’d have cut me off at midnight. Or 10 a.m., or 2 p.m. as I was. Logically therefore, they didn’t need
much more than four hours on an empty stomach and the poor people scheduled for
afternoon surgeries were just made to suffer longer without food. In any event, he seemed to think it
would be okay, which was a huge relief since I didn’t want to put the surgery
off any longer.
I didn’t really wake
up until about 5 p.m. back at home and in my recliner. I was holding my cell phone and tapping
out texts that the surgery had gone well.
I could see I’d received a couple of calls…and apparently spoken to the
callers…but had no recollection of the conversations. Kind of like my normal evenings with Holly. I didn’t seem to have any pain to speak
of and so I opted to pass on the medication. I was even thinking I should get on the bike and take a ride
to the corner…I was sure Lance would have…but passed out again and didn’t wake
until after dark. Probably a good
thing.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned:
600.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
With surgery looming
and long rides a fading memory, I climbed on the bike with thoughts of a
three-hour effort. I hadn’t done one
so long in weeks and considered the implications of such a move...for about 10
seconds...and then headed out.
I have two primary
courses and ride them often. I was
on my Pekin Road ride...a straight out and back...which is good when you’re
riding on an uncertain knee. Stop
and turn around if things aren’t going well. Or not...it my case.
I felt great through
the first hour and reached my pr marker only seconds behind that pace. I did have a tail wind and wasn’t
really riding that hard. I wanted
to save something for the return since I thought I might really need it. I went 90 minutes and turned. I was a little over 25 miles.
I felt strong on the
way back, too, until I hit the two hour mark and the familiar cramps in my
quads began. These painful,
troubling spasms force me to ease my gearing and slow down. I don’t know where they come from and
they always hit both legs at precisely the same time. One of life’s little exercising mysteries.
Anyway...I slowed somewhat and
continued to battle a stiff headwind, but managed good time and actually pulled
into the driveway exactly 90 minutes after I’d turned around. I was exhausted, but happy. I went to shower and was amazed to find
the amount of salt crusted over my face that I did. I hadn’t felt like I was sweating so heavily, but clearly I
was dropping electrolytes.
Holly made a dinner
of pasta and shrimp and I took the opportunity to shake extra salt on
everything. I also downed a huge
smoothie and watched the multiple twitches in my calves slowly dissipate. I’ve got to talk to my nutritionist
again. I’m sure something is being
depleted on these long rides that, if I replenished, might end the twitching and
cramping spasms. Then
again...maybe I’m just getting old.
Bike
Duration: Three hours.
Training
Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories
burned during workout: 2500.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
It’s June 6th
again and now 68 years since the Allied invasion on the beaches of
Normandy. I cannot help but
reflect each year on the bravery of the men that hit those beaches against the terrible,
devastating weaponry of the Third Reich.
I dread to think what is was like to be alone with ones thoughts in one
of the thousands of landing craft, bucking and swaying in the rough waters of
the English Channel, losing their stomachs to their nerves and the waves,
knowing that shortly the ramp to the landing craft will drop and any protection
they’d been offered from the peppering of machine guns and other murderous fire
would have ended. They had to be
wondering how they could possibly cross those open beaches in one piece...I
know I would have been. And
yet...they did. They charged into
hostile fire and looked for some way to engage their tormentors. They ran and ducked and fired...and
watched their buddies being riddled and ripped to gory shreds before their very
eyes...and continued on. The fear
must have been numbing, but the training and will to survive so strong, that
they persevered...some to this day.
God bless them all...and the freedom they preserved from a madman they
never knew. I know I appreciate
their efforts.
I hit the trail for
another tough Survival Workout and was planning to follow it with a bike, but
the combination of walking the trail for the workout and the early morning walk
left me pretty sore and I decided I’d hold off and try one final long one on
Thursday. I know I’m not making it
any worse...it’s just a matter of loose cartilage flapping around in my knee
and causing the pain and irritation...but I am getting to the point where I’d
rather sit and have it feel reasonably okay than ride and have it hurt on every
stroke. I’m getting old and soft,
I suppose.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned:
600.
