Running, and raking, in the rain...

Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Schools were cancelled throughout Northeast Ohio as high winds and rain pummeled the north coast.  Further south, snow was falling and adding to the mayhem on the roads and in the communities.  I made it to work, but my clients were struggling to get there as travel issues began to escalate.  By noon, I’d cancelled everything and was heading for home.  I gave serious consideration to driving out to Mentor-on-the-Lake to visit my sister and watch the waves crashing against the break wall that protected the bluff at the edge of her back yard.  Then I thought of all of the requests by safety departments to stay off the roads and not become one more person that needed assistance and headed for home.  Though seldom, I have responsible moments.

We’d been without power for about ten hours, but it was back on.  I spent some time reading and then went on-line where I was confronted by reminders that this was the second anniversary of my brother Jim’s death.  Not that I needed any since no day passes that I don’t think about him.  I looked out my office window at the accumulation of leaves on the grass and remembered that, after leaving the hospital two years ago, I’d come home and raked leaves in my yard and my neighbor’s (they had lost their son one day earlier) until my arms felt leaden.  I put on some rain gear and went outside.

Jim and I had the responsibility of raking leaves from the forest of Oaks we had in our yard growing up on Debra Lane.  We would put them in a pile for jumping, throwing and burying younger siblings and neighbor kids before our father would begin burning our piles.  How I loved that smell.  I’d walk with him through the smoke so we could have it on our clothes for the next several days.  With six kids to monitor, my mom never seemed to care how long we wore a particular outfit.  I don’t remember how Jim felt about it, but I loved raking and everything that followed.

So, I raked in the rain.  I put them in piles and made no attempt to drag them to the tree lawn, which was still full from the ones I’d placed there last Friday.  I just wanted to go through the process of raking and remembering and it was quite therapeutic...and even had me sweating.  After 45 minutes of this, I figured it was time to do a real workout and since I was already used to the rain, changed into my running gear and headed for the Metropark for a run.

I found that I had the park to myself...go figure.  I’d expected to find numerous trees down and decided I’d stick to the bridle paths to avoid the mud I was sure to find on the hiking trails.  Though I did see many branches down, found only two trees across the three miles of trail I saw.  I had parked at the entrance on Wilson Mills nearest River Road and upon returning to my car, walked over to the bridge spanning the river to check the flood level.  The indicator next to the bridge said showed the water level had reached seven feet which is about six feet above normal and running extremely fast.  With rains predicted to continue for two more days, I wondered if this road wouldn’t be closed soon.  I returned to the car and added some push-ups and dips before returning home covered in mud and thoroughly soaked, but feeling pretty happy with myself and the day.

Run Duration:  45 minutes.  Rake duration:  45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm running and 80 bpm raking.
Calories burned during workout: 750 running and 225 raking.

Riding indoors...

Monday, October 29, 2012
Hurricane Sandy had begun her assault locally with rains and high winds.  Neither are things are particularly care for when doing a workout, so I decided to put the old Univega on the trainer and do my first indoor ride.  Now that I have Netflix and a giant computer screen, I think I’ll find riding indoors a little more palatable.  I tuned into an episode of ‘Friday Night Lights’ and began to spin away.  The episode kept me reasonably focused and forty-five minutes quickly passed.

As I watched the storm turning inland on TV after my ride, I was again thankful for living in Northeast Ohio where we never seem experience weather catastrophes.  I have friends and relatives in the direct path of the waters and winds ravaging the coast and through facebook, was able to see how they were doing.  All had electricity for the time being, though that would likely change in the next couple of days.

I checked my supply of batteries and flashlights, putting them in convenient places.  Camping has created a surplus of headlamps, extremely valuable tools in a blackout.  I told Jack to ignore the garbage as I didn’t want it blown all over the neighborhood by morning.  We have enough garbage cans to skip putting it out for a week.

I continued to field political calls on our land line.  I can’t remember ever getting so many obnoxious calls and if I could only take the time to listen to whose calling, I could make sure not to vote for them.  I don’t have the patience and as soon as I say ‘hello’ and don’t get an immediate response from a human, I hang up.  I hate this invasion of my privacy and the politicians may be the final straw that causes me to cancel my landline. 

Bike Duration: 45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 625.

Early morning road race with Heidi...

Sunday, October 29, 2012

It was 5:45 in the morning and I was sitting in the Jeep outside the house where Heidi had been babysitting the previous evening waiting for her to come out.  I was driving her and an old high school friend to Cuyahoga Valley National Park where they would each be running a relay half of a half marathon…or a little more than 6.5 miles.  I would be the photographer and hopefully manage to keep their warm-up clothing dry, though the forecast was ominous.

I was startled by a knock on my window.  I rolled it down to see a man standing outside my car.  I wondered if he wasn’t some early morning walker out in the neighborhood and wondering why I was parked in a neighbor’s drive, but he offered a quick explanation.

“My car broke down at Monticello and Green and I was wondering if you could give me a lift,” he said.

I’m a soft touch for helping distressed folks and I was prepared to help this one, but something rang false.  We were a half mile off Wilson Mills Road and it seemed rather peculiar that he would be walking this side street looking for a ride when he would have walked past more than one open service station where he could have tried to hitch a ride or secure some other kind of help.  I asked him why he was back here.

“Oh…I live around the corner and I was just walking back to get the car when I saw you pull in here,” he offered.  Again…I tend to want to believe people until they prove to be untrustworthy.  I told him I’d give him a lift part way and told him to climb in the back, though my radar was still on high alert.

Heidi got in the front seat and asked about our passenger.  I told her I was taking him as far as Bishop Road.  This triggered another response from him.

“Where’s Bishop Road?” he asked.

I turned in my seat, looked him in the eye and noticed the faint smell of alcohol.  “Get out of my car,” I said coldly.

“Hey man…I just need a ride…”

“I said get…out…of…my…car!”

He quickly exited and I waited until he left the driveway before backing out.  I told Heidi to call ‘911’ and when she handed me the phone, I related my story to the Mayfield Village Police.  I gave them a description of the man and they said they would send cars out immediately.  Puzzled by everything, Heidi asked what had made me tell him to get out.

“He said his car was on Monticello and Green and he lived in this neighborhood, but he didn’t know where Bishop Road (a major thoroughfare) was.  Up until then I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but when he said that I knew he was lying,” I said.

It was a dumb move to have let him in the car in the first place.  I tend to think I can handle any situation, and I handled this one, but it could have gotten out of control easily.  He’d been drinking and he was definitely lying about his situation.  I don’t know what became of him, but I heard the squad cars coming and I’m guessing he’d have trouble explaining his presence to the police.

We drove to the race site and I spent the next several hours trying unsuccessfully to stay dry.  It was in the forties and the wind was blowing.  Heidi ran first and Janet and I hiked to the 3-mile mark to take pictures.  We found an aide station there with the Woodridge Cross Country Girls Team handing out water to the runners.  They were getting soaked and I decided to help them by filling cups with water as the runners approached.  We talked and I discovered they had qualified to next week’s State Championships.  I worked the station with them until Heidi ran by and after some quick pictures, Janet and I returned to the starting line where she would receive Heidi’s bracelet and run the second leg of the relay.

The runners were all soaked to the bone as they passed though none seemed to be suffering from the ordeal.  Running warms you and other than their hands, most seemed comfortable.  When Heidi finished her leg, she was happy with her 9-minute per mile effort, but her hands were little blocks of ice.  We hiked back to the aid station to get some pictures of Janet and for me to help out some more.  By the time we returned to see Janet finish, I calculated that I’d hiked about five miles in a chilling rain.  My hands were frozen from holding an umbrella, but the hiking was enough to keep me warm.

It was a well-organized event, offering the runners hot soup along with other food staples, at the finish.  Both of the girls were shivering though, so we returned to the Jeep and I took them to Heidi’s place where I made French toast for us all.  I was chilled to the bone and when I returned home, decided to climb under the covers for a nap.  I’d wanted to rake the leaves, but the rain continued to fall all day and evening and I decided I’d settle for hiking the running course as my day’s workout.

Hike Duration: 75 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 80 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 350.

Hiking in Highbanks Metropark...

Saturday, October 27, 2012

“The Polaris Mall is awesome.  We can do some shopping for clothes and I need some boots and then we can get our eyebrows done,” Savannah said.

Holly was excited.  I wanted to cry.  We’d just finished our continental breakfast where I’d made and eaten two waffles.  I was stuffed and thinking how walking around a mall with two women who like to shop would be something less than an ideal situation.  “How about I drop you guys at the Mall and I return to Highbanks Park for some more hiking,” I said.  No one seemed to object.

I’d noticed that I’d missed the Overlook Trail when running the previous evening.  It was described on line and said that it offered views of the Olentangy River from cliffs 110 feet high.  With my camera in tow, I knew this had to be better than Polaris Mall.  I started off on the crushed gravel trail and spent the next two hours hiking to the overlook, checking out Indian burial mounds and earthen defensive works, stately oaks that reminded me of a scene in ‘Shawshank Redemption’ in the middle of an open meadow and a deer or two focusing on my progress.

I returned to the Mall to find that the purchases of fingernail polish were incomplete.  We made our way to Anne Ann’s Pretzels where I succumbed to aromas and ordered a hot dog and a cinnamon pretzel.  I was only half way home in my eating disasters for the day.  We drove Savannah back to Ohio State and then headed home.  My next door neighbor, Pat, was hosting a mini-event.  He’s a Penn State graduate and relishes the Ohio State – Penn State matchup and had me and Mike, another neighbor and an Ohio State grad, over to watch.  Naturally, there were fattening snacks and during halftime, we proceeded to Mike’s place for chili dogs, of which I ate two.  By day’s end, I’d consumed more fatty, crappy calories than I would normally in a month. 

I felt bloated and overweight as I made my way home after the Ohio State victory.  I went to work making it worse by collapsing onto the sofa to watch the World Series.  I say worse because I could have chosen to ride the trainer, but my heart wasn’t in it.  There’s always tomorrow, though with Hurricane Sandy on the horizon, I’m thinking there will be very little outdoor activity.

Hike Duration: 90 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 80 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 450.

Columbus Metroparks...

Friday, October 26, 2012
I drove Jack into school and returned home to my neighbor raking leaves.  First of all, I commended him on taking the physical way.  I absolutely hate leaf blowers.  The noise makes me insane, ruins the serenity of the neighborhood or what there is of it, and is also a large, missed opportunity.  Raking leaves is semi-strenuous, but not overly so.  I rake mine into reasonably-sized piles, throw them onto a large tarp which I try to load to the breaking point though this is optional, then I attempt to drag it to the tree lawn for pick-up by the city.  I strain as I pull the load weighing about as much as a small motor vehicle, but I figure it’s a great leg workout and gets me sweating profusely.  I could move smaller loads, but where would the fun be in that?

Anyway, depending on how you do it, it’s an opportunity to turn a necessary activity into a decent workout.  Leaf blowers rob you of that opportunity AND disturb me...two excellent reasons to NEVER use them.  Inspired by his actions and knowing rains were on the way, I spent the next two hours dragging most of mine to the tree lawn.

Holly and I followed my raking with a trip to Columbus to visit Savannah.  We’d hoped to make a visit with her and an opportunity to do some hiking at Hocking Hills to see more fall colors.  The rains had a different idea.  We picked Savannah up and went to lunch at Steak-n-Shake where you have to be pretty versatile to eat something not loaded with fat.  They make tremendous milkshakes, but I opted for a salad and a diet Coke.  We drove to our hotel where Holly and Savannah plopped into the king-sized bed to take a nap.  I googled the area and located Highbanks Metropark, a park that appeared to be even bigger than the North Chagrin Reservation and with hiking trails.  I changed into my running gear and began the five-mile drive.

If you haven’t driven the roads of the greater Columbus region, you aren’t missing a thing.  Two-thirds of the cars sold in the United States are on the roads in this area.  You can’t leave your driveway without getting into a bumper to bumper situation and I don’t care what time of day it is.  Anyway, I spent about thirty frustrating minutes getting to the park.

Then the comparisons began.  When you’ve run in the best Metropark system in the country for forty years, you tend to look down on everything else.  And with good reason.  Without the mature forests, severe ravines and marshes, winding and secluded trails of the North Chagrin it was, well, just a run in a park.  I don’t think there was any part of it that was far enough away from a major thoroughfare to avoid hearing the constant drone of rubber on road.  I did see a beautiful, large Barred Owl and had three white tails stand their ground as I ran within ten feet of them, though.  And if you’d never been to the Cleveland Metroparks Emerald Necklace, you’d think Highbanks was a pretty special place...which it was.

It drizzled during the entire 47 minutes of my run as I explored almost the entire trail system (I’d only hit about 10% of the trails of North Chagrin in that amount of time) and I returned to my car completely soaked and slightly chilled since the temperatures were now in the high forties.  I returned to the hotel to find my companions still napping.  I showered and dragged them from their stupors to go out to dinner at the Rusty Bucket where I ordered their homemade meatloaf.  It wasn’t a very Paleo dinner, but we’re on the road and I take liberties.  In all, I felt that I’d had a negative caloric day burning considerably more than I’d consumed.

Run Duration:  47 minutes.  Rake duration:  Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm running and 80 bpm raking.
Calories burned during workout: 800 running and 600 raking.

It's prison time, Frank Russo...

Thursday, October 25, 2012
Frank Russo, the politician...Frank Russo, the criminal…Frank Russo, the rat. 

Convicted of 21-corruption related crimes and sentenced to 22 years in a Federal prison, former Cuyahoga County Auditor, Frank Russo, elected to turn on his old buddies in crime, particularly Jimmy Dimora, and assist the Federal prosecutors in gaining convictions on many of them.  He didn’t do this because he felt bad about stealing $2 million from the taxpayers of Cuyahoga County, though he should have.  He did it because he was offered a deal.  Confess your own guilt and rat out your fellow criminals and you’ll spend less time in prison was the message he heard…and he complied.

So now it’s time for him for him to view the inside of a jail cell and his lawyers are arguing for a reduced sentence because of what a good guy he’s been in helping convict Dimora and others.  Personally, I think it’s a crock of shit.  His abuses of power were so egregious that no amount of ratting should spare him any time behind bars.  He should spent every possible minute there to consider the evil of his ways and to send a message to all those who might consider his method of serving his constituents a blueprint for their own actions when serving the public.  Sorry, but I have no sympathy for a guy who steals from the poor to make himself rich.  You did the crimes...now do the time...without whining.

I dropped the Honda off at Dan’s for some routine maintenance.  Normally, the ride from Chardon, which is more down than up, would be an easier ride.  Not this night, though.  There was an extremely strong wind blowing from, well; whatever direction I turned my bike forcing me to shift one to two gears lower to maintain any kind of speed.  It gets annoying after awhile, so I tried to remind myself that I wanted a workout and thanks to the wind, I was getting a particularly difficult one.  When I finally rolled into my driveway two hours later, I was exhausted but pleased.  I’d certainly earned my extra large smoothie...something Frank shouldn’t be enjoying where he’s going.

Bike Duration: Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1,700.

The World Series begins...

Wednesday, October 24, 2012
We’re in the last week of October...according to my calendar...but the weather was like late August.  With temperatures in the high seventies and the sun shining in a cloudless sky, I rode out my driveway with a full supply of water and intentions of riding for two hours.  I hadn’t gone ten minutes when I noticed a strange clicking noise coming from the bike and coinciding with the turning of the pedals.  I stopped to see if I’d gotten a leaf or twig lodged in the crank or chain, but could find nothing.  The noise disappeared but would return occasionally throughout the ride.  Winter bike maintenance was upon me.

The ride went smoothly from that point.  It may seem like summer, but with darkness settling in by 6:30, rides need to be shortened.  Still, I managed two hours with no unusual aches...quite novel.  I returned home and put together a huge smoothie with a new ingredient.  I know my daughter adds vegetables to hers...a disgusting thought for me at first...but I thought I’d give it a try and threw in five baby carrots.  I honestly couldn’t taste them and I know she puts in spinach and other green leafy things, so I think I’ll try that, as well.  I began drinking smoothies for two reasons...sensible calories and to satisfy my craving for sweet things like milkshakes.  I want to continue with my Paleo diet, but I often find it impractical to eat my vegetables since I hate to cook them.  Mixing them in the smoothie and camouflaging their taste, if it works, will be brilliant.  I’ll move slowly though, experimenting with the spinach before trying something as drastic as, let’s say, broccoli or cauliflower. 

I tuned into Game One of the 108^th World Series.  Though the San Francisco Giants, dating back to the early career of Willie Mays and Juan Marichal, has always been my second favorite team behind the Red Sox, I am a creature of the American League and feel the need to root for the Detroit Tigers.  They had their heads handed to them in the game and I suspect it will be downhill from here.  I wrote to Don to say that we needed to get together for every elimination game and have a spaghetti dinner.  There could be three of those, which is what San Francisco faced against the Cardinals to make it to the Series.  Anyway, I like spaghetti so three days of it is no problem.

Bike Duration: 2 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1,700.

Living through the Cuban Missile Crisis...

Tuesday, October 23, 2012
As a seven-year old, I had no understanding of the gravity of the Cuban Missile Crisis.  To me, and my classmates, it was kind of a game.  We’d hear an alarm go off in the school and we’d all dive under our desks as we’d been taught and cover our heads with our arms...probably to keep the radiation from getting to us if the initial nuclear warhead didn’t.  It probably would have, though.

The Soviet Union had moved over forty mid-range nuclear missiles into Cuba in early October of 1962.  For a week, only the leaders in Washington were aware of the situation, but the rest of the world became aware when President Kennedy entered into every American home with the news during a short TV broadcast.  As I look back on it now, my parents...and all adults...must have been terror-stricken.  Bunkers were dug in back yards and grocery stores were being emptied of any and all non-perishable food items and other essential supplies people thought they would need to survive life after an all-out nuclear war.  And we were so close to this happening.  The warheads installed in Cuba could reach all major areas of the United States in less than 30 minutes.  The United States military, on the order of the President, had moved to Defcon Two, which is defined as the final step before nuclear war.  Twenty-three B-52 bombers with nuclear arsenals were flying in close proximity to the Soviet Union, prepared to obliterate that country should a nuclear war begin and the United States Navy had instituted a blockade of Cuba and was prepared to turn back and Soviet vessel heading for that country.

As frightening as all this was to the leaders and citizens of this country...and the rest of the world, for that matter...thankfully, we did not know about an incident on one of four Soviet submarines steaming for Cuba.  All four had a ‘special weapon’ on board...a nuclear armed torpedo...and with final authority to launch that weapon.  One of the four subs upon being discovered by the U.S. Navy, initiated launch procedure.  Three men needed to agree to conduct the launch, the captain of the sub, the political officer on board, and the commander of the four-sub fleet.  The first two were ready to launch their missile, but the commander refused to begin WWIII and likely the end of humanity as we know it today.  Not until 2002, the fortieth anniversary of the Crisis did this information become known to the rest of the world.  Those of us in the second grade at St. Joseph’s grade school in Bristol, Ct. had been seconds away from actually hearing those sirens for real and would have been ducking under those desks though we know now that it would have been a vain effort.

Thank God for immense courage in a strange and electric situation filled with more tension and pressure than the human psyche is designed to endure.  The Russian officer simply had to agree with his countrymen...the easier route...but instead chose to think and wonder if those orders were something he should carry out.  He chose life for us all and I believe I am writing this blog today because he did.  Eventually, the Russians would turn around ships they had headed for Cuba with the intention of running the blockade.  Premier Khrushchev, the initiator of the Crisis, would ask for concessions from the Americans concerning warheads in Turkey.  Kennedy, against the advice of all his advisors, would agree to remove these antiquated arms and Khrushchev would then turn around his ships and agree to the removal of all weapons in Cuba.  The thirteen-day crisis that shook the world to its core would end.

I skipped a workout day to nurse a throbbing head.  Advil and a Cuban Missile Crisis special worked wonders.  Tomorrow’s weather calls for sunshine and temperatures in the seventies.  I’ll be riding if all goes well.

Fall colors make for great hiking and running...

Monday, October 22, 2012

Lance Armstrong’s seven Tour de France titles he earned from 1999 through 2005 were officially stripped today.  Apparently it has been decided not to award the titles to anyone, probably because they cannot figure out if anyone was clean during those years.  It is a sad state of affairs and I can only continue to hope that Lance’s word is good and really wasn’t cheating.  We can only find out for sure that he did...by his admitting so, but will never know otherwise as there is no hard evidence to prove it...only hard evidence substantiating his claim that he did not.

I went for a run on two sore feet.  They’re always sore now and I choose to ignore them.  It was in the seventies and with a high humidity; I was as drenched as I’ve ever been on a run.  My body had forgotten what heat and humidity feels like I suppose, since we seemed to go from the crazy heat of the summer in the nineties, right into the fifties.  I’m not complaining, mind you, just observing.

Holly joined me for a hike after the run and we managed 45 minutes before dark set in.  The trails are completely covered with over half the leaves having fallen, yet those that remain on the trees still made it a spectacular hike.  How I wish we could keep the fall foliage throughout the fall.  For me, there is no close second to being in the woods during this season.

Run Duration:  35 minutes.  Hike duration: 45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm running and 75 hiking.
Calories burned during workout: 600 running and 200 hiking.

Survival Workout with Jack...

Sunday, October 21, 2012
Jack surprised me yesterday when he asked if he could join me for the Survival Workout.  He’s been training diligently at the gym for over six months now and has added over 35 pounds of muscle during that time.  He is used to doing multiple sets of exercises and focusing on a particular muscle group or groups and has no cardiovascular or muscular endurance in his routine.

“Who do you think is stronger Dad...you, me or Jason?” he asked at the beginning of the workout.

“Well...you’re brother is strong and he’s ten years older than you, but you’re more dedicated to the gym.  But the answer is me,” I concluded.

He chuckled at this notion and asked me what we’d be doing first. 

“Reverse-incline push-ups,” I said while hooking my feet on the rail and beginning my count.  He moved in next to me and was done around 40.  I kept going until I hit a new pr at 86.

“Those things aren’t about strength,” he said as we moved to the dip station where I did 60 and he managed about 40.  “And neither is that,” he said, breathing heavily as I dragged him to the tree for pull-ups.

He managed about 6 good ones, but with all the push-ups and dips preceding, he had little left.  I haven’t been doing pull-ups since mid-summer when the elbow became enflamed, but thought I’d see where I stood and managed 8.  My arms were trembling as well.

We headed down the trail with him still convinced he was the strongest Rolf.  When we reached the overhead rock lift, he managed two fewer than me.  At the row station, I let him go at it alone...my elbow would not tolerate this lift.  We then peeled off for a thirty-second sprint through the woods, leaping and dodging downed trees and were both gasping when we made our way back to the bridle path.  After another set of dips, push-ups and crunches, we moved to the picnic table hop where sixty seconds had him ready to hurl.  I indicated the hill for karaoke’s, but he had plopped down on the picnic table bench.

“I want to catch my breath before we go,” he said.

“That’s the point...I don’t want you to catch your breath.  We’re trying to keep our heart rates up for the entire workout,” I said.

He got up slowly and joined me at the foot of the hill and followed my lead up the steep incline.  By the time we reached the top, he needed to sit down again.  He was beginning to understand that the old man was in the process of kicking his young, strong ass.  Not that I had that as a goal and told him so.  “I do this kind of exercise all the time Jack and no amount of lifting in a gym will prepare you for this kind of stuff.  It’s more active and tests your muscular endurance...like you would if you were in a competitive sport.  It’s just different and you’re doing really well.”

We reached another overhead rock lift and again, he became competitive.  I did ten on my third set and he followed, struggling to get six.  He dropped the rock to the ground and blurted, “you win...you’re stronger.”

We continued on doing more log lifting and hill climbing and by the time we’d returned to the car, we’d done over 20 different sets of a very wide ranging and total body workout.  He finished strong and mentioned he’d be going to the gym for his leg work out when we returned home.  He was truly in great shape.

“I have to say though, you’re in the best shape of any dads I know,” he commented as we drove.

Not a bad compliment from an 18-year old training beast.

Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned:  600.

Costco? No thanks.

Saturday, October 20, 2012
I could see it was going to be a full day of visiting and decided to take in a hike in the park with Dakota to start the day.  I returned home and began making my famous waffle batter since we would be entertaining for breakfast.  My waffles are as far from Paleo as a meal can be unless you consider the strawberries Holly turns into a strawberry, syrupy item we dump on top of a waffle smothered in butter, maple syrup and whipped cream with a side of bacon Paleo...but probably not.  It is just one of those times when I admit I’m not perfect and keep it limited to once a month or so.  Our friend Ash was coming for a visit and waffles with bacon had been our special breakfast, so I was compelled to make it.

Her visit ran over into John’s stopping by.  We sat and talked for another hour before she had to leave.  John had some time to kill and we’d talked about hiking since all other forms of exercise were still beyond his fragile, scarred body.  I gave him a little more shit about being so stupid as to ride down Hines Hill Road and reminded him that next climbing season I would be restricting him to a plastic bubble for the month before our trip in an effort to keep him from needing any surgery or hurting himself again.  It was miserable outside as we considered what to do and since shopping at Costco was on his list, I decided to join him.

We’re BJ’s people and after spending thirty minutes in the Mayfield Heights Costco, I’m thrilled we are.  Though this store is only five minutes from our house, I’d rather have gout in all ten toes than return weekly to shop there.  For starters, it’s huge...and size doesn’t always matter.  I’ve never seen so many people pushing carts, clogging aisles, and generally walking around with their heads up their butts.  I suppose the prices are great and they have everything under the sun, but the hassle of the crowds, which John said were always there, would be too much for me. 

“Actually, they don’t have everything we need.  We’re members of Sam’s Club, too,” he admitted. 

I thought ‘holy shit...you go through this and you don’t have everything you need?’  We loaded his cart and proceeded to the check-out line where it dawned on John that all he had to pay was a credit card.  “I don’t think they’ll take it,” he said.

He was right.  “They’ll take one at BJ’s,” I said as we headed for the door and my house to grab a check.  When we returned 15 minutes later, we found our cart where we’d left it and returned to the cashier who’d sent us on our way previously.  He rang up the purchases and I filled out the check, which he took and began comparing the name on the check to the membership card John had given him.  I’m not entirely sure why he was doing this...clearly we were two different people...and when he announced that the name on the check was not the same as the membership card, I began a slow boil.

“Um...really.  Remember us telling you we’d drive to MY house to get a check since he...the member...lived in Twinsburg, which was, you know 35 minutes away?  Do you suppose that would have been the time to tell us that you wouldn’t be accepting my check?”  He had that ‘deer in the headlights’ look going and signaled for a manager.  He came over and explained the policy of not taking checks from non-members, though he would gladly take a debit card from one.

“If we’d had a debit card, we wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of leaving to get the check,” I said, still in the red zone, having now endured two trips to Costco’s for what appeared to be for nothing.  He said he’d see what he could do, which didn’t make either of us happy since we knew what he should do was just approve the damned thing and move on.  When he returned with an approval, he condescendingly said that he could only do this just this one time, as though we were some conspirators who would be returning to pull off this incredibly stupid, time wasting caper again next Saturday. 

So...no more Costco for me.  I made an amazing smoothie when we returned and by the time John was on the road again, it was dark and too late for any kind outdoor workout and way too early in the season to be riding a trainer indoors, so I did nothing for the rest of the evening.

Hike Duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 80 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 400.

Memories of the Cleveland Athletic Club...

Friday, October 19, 2012
I attended a funeral service for an old friend and co-worker from my days of working at the Cleveland Athletic Club.  Whenever I have anything to do with the CAC, it’s hard not to think about my years there and the absolute perfect job I had as Athletic Director.  I was in the shape of my life at that time and loving every minute.  My days began and ended with a bike ride for six months of the year as I would regularly commute from my home in Willowick to downtown Cleveland and back.  I spent much of the day conducting fitness tests, taking people through workouts, testing cholesterol, and answering questions about health and fitness.  If a volleyball team was short a player or a handball match needed another body, I was there.  I worked out an average of three hours a day and loved every minute.  Staying in shape was a breeze and looking back at those times, I can now understand why so many people claim they ‘don’t have time’ for exercise.  Work was my exercise and fitting it in was never an issue.

I suppose I’m managing pretty well now, though.  It took the blog for me to once again make it a priority.  Without the writing, I often times found excuses for not doing what I knew I should do.  Now, I feel like I’ll let more than just myself down if I don’t...and that truly bothers me.  As long as one person continues to read, I’ll continue to write...and continue to work out.

I made my way to the park at the end of the day to run.  The leaves continue to fall and their layering of the hiking trails is complete.  There is little evidence of earth beneath this sea of leaves and if not for the rises in the covering, I’d have no idea where the roots and rocks were.  I started out running slowly and stayed that way.  I’d rather run the hiking trails and move gingerly than take the bridles, which the park uses a leaf-blowing vehicle to clear.  It’s trickier, but much prettier.  Besides, I’ve been known to trip on humid air so there really is little difference.

Run Duration: 45 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 750.

KFC's is not the same...

Thursday, October 18, 2012
Dan had called the night before to let me know that a flush of the radiator and new anti-freeze had the engine blowing heat that “will burn your hand.”  This is the third time we’ve gone through this and it is the result of what Dan believes is a rusty block, which means it will continue to happen.  I suppose that is the price I pay for continuing to drive vehicles that are 12 years old.  I don’t have a car payment on any of four vehicles though, and I kind of like that.

I mounted my bike and though it was in the fifties, decided I didn’t need any extra clothing to make the trip.  I was cold early in the ride, but try to live by the adage that if you’re comfortable at the start, you’re overdressed.  As I climbed up Old Mill Road and began dropping large amounts of perspiration, I was happy with my choice of attire.

I took the long route out to Chardon and arrived at Dan’s place about 2 hours later.  As I rode in the driveway, I couldn’t help but notice the flat tire on the left rear of the Jeep.  “Well...shit,” I muttered to myself.  I considered my options.  Dan had a compressor and I could fill it up and make it home, but what then?  Instead, I grabbed his 2-ton car jack, lifted the Jeep and changed out the flat with my balding spare.  I then loaded the bike and flat tire into the Jeep and drove it to Colsen’s Tires where I dropped it off for some new rubber.

Holly and I had watched ‘The Help’ recently and I’d read the book, as well.  It is a gripping story of the interaction between the black maids and their white employers in the early sixties in Jackson, Mississippi.  Many emotions were stirred by the movie and book for me...laughter, outrage, sadness, despair, hope...and hunger.  One of the characters spends the movie trying to teach her employer how to cook, and fried chicken in an iron skillet with melted Crisco is something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.  I called Holly to tell her that we should try making it that way for dinner.

“Why would we do that?  We can go to Kentucky Fried Chicken and just buy it,” she said.

“Well...sure, that’s pretty good chicken, but I’m thinking it’s not nearly as good as the stuff Minny is making in the movie.  Anyways...wouldn’t it be fun to make at home?” I asked...having never made anything more complex than scrambled eggs on the stove.

I could see I wasn’t getting through and agreed to the KFC.  It was quite a letdown to what I’d had in my mind and it’s a theme I’ll be returning to until I get it.  I suppose I’ll have to do a little garage sale shopping for a decent iron skillet.  The last one I saw was in my grandmother’s kitchen about fifty years ago.

Bike Duration: Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1700.

Armstrong dropped by Nike...maybe they'll pick me up?

Wednesday, October 17, 2012
My son Jason sent me a text yesterday to tell me that he’d heard Lance Armstrong had been stripped of his seven Tour de France titles and that long-time sponsor, Nike, had cancelled their contract with him.  “I know he’s a hero of yours and that it’s probably upsetting for you, so I just wanted to tell you I was sad to find out,” he wrote.

My heroes are simpler people, Jason.  You, for example, are one of them.  The fact that you read about Armstrong and then took the time to consider my feelings and write what you did is more meaningful to me than all the Tours he won...clean or doped.  It speaks to the character of the man you have become and gives me pride to know that we share the same DNA.

As far as Lance is concerned...nothing new.  He continues to deny ever using drugs and there is still no hard evidence that he did.  There never will be.  The whole biking/doping issue has got me thinking though.  Maybe it is time to just stop checking cyclists and let them all do whatever they want...since it would appear they do anyway.  Lance rode in competition for over ten years and was subjected to some 500 tests during that time.  None of them found anything, and yet we’re told by witnesses that he was using performance enhancing drugs the entire time.  Others were supposedly using at the same time, and they tested and passed these tests, as well.  Some were caught and no one can satisfactorily explain the difference.  I don’t know who has won a race cleanly over the previous 15 years, because they keep finding more information that implicates winners and other competitors.  Were they all using something?  Is there any way to know?  Clearly testing wasn’t...and still isn’t...the answer.

I’m a fan and I want to believe in the winner and competitors and think that they’re on a level playing field, but it is becoming impossible to stay one.  No amount of testing will ever be able to give me comfort...so why bother testing?  If these athletes want to jeopardize their health and use these drugs...and the indication is that they all do...let’s just let them.  The playing field will be leveled and I’ll be able to cheer again knowing that everyone had an equal chance.  Just a thought.

I completed the Survival Workout and drove the Jeep to Dan’s for a little work on the heater that wasn’t throwing any heat.  I had my bike in the back and rode hard on the way home to beat the dark, which by 6:30 p.m. is already making biking unsafe.  And I can assure you that I was able to perform that double workout without the aid of performance enhancing drugs, so Nike, if you’ve got some extra dollars to throw around now that you’ve dropped Lance, maybe I’m your man.

Survival Workout: 60 minutes. Bike workout: 68 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150 for SW and 120 biking.
Calories burned:  600 on SW and 900 biking.

Kayaking the East Branch Reservoir

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

I was driving home from work going over the activity options presenting themselves to me.  It was a sunny, reasonably warm day and would be perfect conditions for a long ride.  On the other hand, with fall colors in full bloom, it would be an excellent day for a trip to the East Branch Reservoir and kayaking.  I’d burn more calories on the bike, but I’d gain more serenity from the kayaking.  I chose serenity.

I reached the Reservoir and drove to the put-in point, a little cove off the main body of water, only to find that it didn’t have any water in it!  I can only assume the summer’s drought is the culprit.  The water is easily down five feet and maybe more.  I parked the Jeep and dragged the kayak the extra 50 yards to the water’s edge, marveling at the colors exploding on the shoreline surrounding the water.  My eyes searched the skies for any sign of eagles since there was a nest at the far end of the reservoir...my ultimate destination.

I paddled the shoreline with my camera around my neck, snapping picture of Great Blue Herons and Canada Geese, but with no eagle sightings.  I’d been paddling about 15 minutes when I noticed that my paddle was sticking in the mud.  I was shocked to see that there was less than 18 inches of water under my craft...and I was over 100 feet offshore!  The East Branch Reservoir was created by the damming of the upper Cuyahoga River, which apparently had not cut a very deep trench in this area.  As I moved closer to the bridge carrying State Route 322 over the far end of the reservoir, I began to realize I would not be able to reach it.  The bridge marks the spot where the water conservancy begins and boats are not allowed, but it is from this vantage point that you can observe...through binoculars or the telephoto lens of a good camera...the eagle’s nest.  It was something I would not be doing on this day and I was sorely disappointed.

I turned my kayak before becoming stuck in the mud and began heading back to my put-in point.  I had only paddled a short distance when I noticed a large, dark brown bird heading my way.  It could only be an eagle and I quickly fumbled with my camera and tried to find through my telephoto lens.  When I did and tried to take a picture, the automatic focus and I disagreed on the subject.  It must have been locked on a mosquito three feet from my nose because the eagle was a complete blur.  By the time I’d switched over to manual focus, the eagle was 400 yards away and angling into the trees on the shoreline out of my sight.

I turned the craft back around and headed off in the direction the eagle had soared.  When I reached the point I thought he’d entered the trees, I sat in the kayak and scanned the tree line, but without success.  I was maneuvering the boat away from the area when finally I noticed him sitting high in a tree and watching my every move.  I paddled closer and was almost directly under him when he dropped like a rock from the branch, swooping low over the water and snagging a fish from the surface before rising quickly again and flying away. 

Damn...was that cool.  I followed along in the direction he’d flown and was pointing my camera skyward and snapping pictures when a second eagle entered my frame.  It flew upside down under the first for a moment before righting itself and flying next to the first.  The shock and excitement of seeing two at once...and being able to photograph them...almost caused me to roll the kayak.  I would later find that the movement of the boat and thus my hands and the camera, had led to a blurred, out of focus picture.  The image in my head though, would remain for a lifetime.

Kayak Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-120.
Calories burned:  600.

It's all in your head...

Monday, October 15, 2012
“The difference between those who exercise and those who don’t is primarily a matter of mindset.”  So says Zachary Lewis in his PD article ‘Your mind, your coach’, but I think he’s wrong when he says ‘primarily’.  I’d say, in my best ‘Rocky’ imitation, “absolutely.”  Let’s face it...unless you’re in basic training with a branch of the military or on a sports team, no one is making you exercise...and even those folks signed up for the abuse.  If it isn’t mind set, what else could it be?  It all starts in your head with your first commitment to some form of an exercise program and then the first step you must take to start walking, jogging, riding or joining a fitness facility.  And five, ten, or forty years later, it’s still your mind that you’ll sometimes fight with over the decision to do something or maybe take a day off for vegetating.  I’m in the forty-year category and I still find myself struggling at least once a week with whether I’m going to get out of the car to start the workout or simply turn around and drive home.  Mostly, I overcome the urge to drive home.

“These days, people have an amazing amount of awareness.  They are either doing something or feeling bad about not doing anything,” says Jack Lesyk, director of the Ohio Center for Sports Psychology in Beachwood.  My experience is he’s mostly right.  People I speak to do have an awareness of the need to be doing something, but are often confused by the myriad of information they have consumed, or partially so, on the subject of fitness and nutrition.  They often need a little professional guidance to get the ball rolling in the proper direction and in such a way that it won’t bump up against a hill it can’t roll over.  I like to keep it simple and I have followed this prescription successfully with so many people over the years...determine where you are (simple fitness test), set realistic goals, map out a specific program, and check your progress in a few short weeks.

The biggest challenge in this ‘simple’ formula is the goal.  I don’t like to use the word ‘exercise’ in the achievement of that goal, either.  I think it has too many negative connotations.  It’s hard, it’s led to failure in the past, it causes injuries, it’s boring...and there are others.  I look for ‘activities’ that the person likes with ‘active’ being the key to the word.  If you look at your day and break it down, think of how inactive you may be and what you can do to put some activity in the process.  There are places...there is time...and you’ll more likely carve it out and keep it sacred if you enjoy the activity you’ve chosen.  Though I struggle some evenings, the bottom line is I like to ride, run, hike, kayak and do the Survival Workout.  I like what they do for my body and mind too, but I actually like doing them while I’m doing them...almost all the time.  It is more than ‘primarily’ the mind...right Rock?

I’d put another nitroglycerin patch on Sunday night for the elbow pain.  I’d cut the strip smaller than the previous tries, as per my doctor, and suffered no adverse headaches until mid-day on Monday.  It got so bad by late afternoon though, that I again peeled it off.  Thirty minutes later, the headache was gone and I was heading for the park to run.  In deference to a continuing pain in my left achilles, I went only 35 minutes.  The trails were covered in leaves, hiding rocks and roots but the cool air and sun filtering through the leaves seemed to give a golden hue to the trail and woods, making a run of any distance something to relish.  How I love the fall in Northeast Ohio.

Run Duration: 35 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 600.

Elbow's getting worse...

Sunday, October 14, 2012
Holly’s dad had two dressers that we needed to move from his place to ours, but with the way my elbow has been feeling, I’ve been reluctant to do it.  Since it is now sore all the time, I’ve decided to do things anyway and so I unloaded the seats from the van and drove over to pick them up.  Jack was there to help me, but when you’ve got one end of anything and you’re taking it down a flight of stairs, you pretty much are on your own on your end.  I could feel the tendon in my elbow and sense that it was wondering just what I thought I was doing.  We loaded it in the van and went through a similar process when we arrived back home...dragging them upstairs and into Jack’s bedroom.  I went back and put the seats in the van and was thinking of icing my elbow and watching some of the Browns game when I noticed weeds all over the sidewalk.

Holly does most of the weeding.  She pulls and throws and wherever they land is where they’ll stay unless I come by to retrieve them.  It’s kind of an unspoken partnership.  Unspoken because if I talked about it, I’d probably end up with more work.  Better to fly under the radar on this one.  Anyway, I went to work outside dragging around a trash can and filling it.  From that I moved to cutting down some of our Oriental grasses and bundling them for a trip to the curb.  Finally, I chipped away at the brick facade on the front of the house that had been cracking because water had gotten behind it.  I loaded this into the trash can, which gave it considerable bulk and when I went to move it to the garage, found that it now weighed about a hundred pounds.  I pulled with the arm I shouldn’t have pulled with, though only having two I found that I kind of needed them both.  The pain was enough to make me wince and when I finally dragged it into the garage and completed my sweeping chores, I headed inside for some Tylenol and ice.  My workout for the day was shelved.

It’s been that way lately.  I can’t seem to stay healthy for a solid week.  And it’s not age.  Well...maybe it’s a little bit age.  Mostly I think it’s me not listening to the signals to back off when something hurts.  That’s not age, either since I’ve always been stupid that way.  I suspect I’ll be going for more treatment for the elbow since I can see no end in sight for its recovery.  Since the knee turned out so well, I’m okay with that, but I think I’m going to have to do something sooner rather than later.  For now, I’ll continue to try different things, hurt myself and whine a little and try to get through the rest of the fall while the weather is still nice.

Quit riding on Hines Hill Road...

Saturday, October 13, 2012
Since mid-summer, I’d been thinking about ways to encourage Holly to travel with me to the Adirondacks for a couple of nights to do some easy hiking and enjoy fall colors.  I’d looked into different lodging arrangements, none that included time under the stars or in a tent or lean-to, but more appropriately an accommodation with indoor plumbing, electricity and a roof.  When I’d spoken to her about my plan, I noted the lack of interest and enthusiasm.

“Isn’t there someplace closer we can go that you’ve never been so it will be new to both of us?” she wanted to know.

Well sure there was.  But that wasn’t the point.  I wanted to show her how beautiful the mountains, lakes and streams of this wonderful area were, and I couldn’t do that in Northeast Ohio.  I also know a little something about living to fight another day and began rethinking my plan.  I came up with two alternatives that semi-pleased her; Kinzua Dam in the Alleghany National Forest, Pennsylvania and Letchworth State Park in New York.  Both were around four hours away, but neither seemed to grab her with excitement, particularly as she read a weather forecast for the day that indicated clouds and rain by the afternoon.

Finally, I said, “how about we go to Cuyahoga Valley National Park and hike to Brandywine Falls then catch some lunch in Peninsula.  It’s only 30 minutes away and if it rains, so what?”

She lit up at the suggestion.  I could see that the four-hour ride in a car...with no one but me...could have been the issue.  Shocking.

I drove into the park and down Hines Hill Road, the site of the bicycle crash that had kept John from coming to the Adirondacks with me.  I told Holly she should note the narrowness, blind curves and steepness of the road as we proceeded.  As we descended, I noticed a number of cyclists...as many as 20...making their way up the hill on the opposite side of the road.  Most were walking their bikes and taking up a good 4-foot section of the pavement, or about twice as much as they would have if they were still pedaling instead of walking.  Cars were forced to swerve well into my line to avoid them and on the blind turns, it was truly a treacherous stretch of road.

Yes...cyclists are legally permitted on these...and almost all non-highway roads.  And yes, I’m an avid cyclist and willing to defend the right to the road wherever and whenever it makes sense.  This was not one of those times.  I’ve ridden over 100,000 miles in my biking career and feel qualified to say “you gotta be a moron to ride on Hines Hill Road.”  Sorry John...and anyone else who takes their bike to this hill...but give it up and find a safer route!  There are so many great places to ride, even in this vicinity, that are not nearly so dangerous.  Do they have a right to ride there?  Yes.  Should cars be looking for cyclists and use extra caution?  Yes.  If you wipe out going down because it’s so steep and winding, or should a vehicle weighing over 2,000 pounds hit you, will you get seriously messed up?  Absolutely.  Find another hill!

We parked and hiked for about 90 minutes, climbing through the gorge to Brandywine Falls and back to the car again.  It was my first trip to the Falls and I can see why they are such a local attraction, cascading the height of a five-story building to the pool of water at their base.  It was sunny and cool and the colors, though not in full bloom, were still magnificent.  Though not as spectacular as the ‘Grand Canyon of the East – Letchworth State Park’, we received a lot of bang for our buck and had a decent hike to boot.

Hike Duration: 90 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 80 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 450.

Killer Survival Workout...

Friday, October 12, 2012
I went to the park with the intention of doing a full Survival Workout, something I have not done in a number of weeks.  My gout was almost entirely cleared up, the ache in my heel was manageable and I’d come to the conclusion that my elbow will hurt regardless, so time to push things.

I began with my usual...inverted plank push-ups and was thrilled when I hit 86, 4 better than my previous best.  I followed that with 60 dips and was feeling strong as I headed down the muddy bridle trail.  I saw a downed tree just inside the tree line and went to it and did lateral hops over it for sixty seconds.  I reached my favorite uphill and did a series of four karaoke’s to the summit before moving to my next station of push-ups and dips. 

It turned out to be one of the better workouts I’ve ever done in the woods and very encouraging for a flagging spirit.  I’m entering that time of year for which focus can become an issue.  I’ve nothing specific to train for other than to stay in shape...and write my blog.  Mostly, it’s enough, but there are days when I’d much rather go home, grab a book and a bowl of ice cream and vegetate.  With the recent flare of different, more severe aches and pains, that feeling is harder to fight.  Having a good workout like this one makes me want to return and maybe over the next several weeks, crack 100 on the incline plank push-ups.

Survival Workout: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100-150.
Calories burned:  600.

Montorsi's decide storm sewer is a good place for their cyanide...

Thursday, October 11, 2012
This past April 22 – Earth Day – a tragic event took place in the Rocky River.  All forms of aquatic life along a three-mile stretch of this pristine river began to wash ashore, dead.  In all, an estimated 30,000 fish, frogs, turtles and other marine life would die beginning an intensive search by federal and state agencies to determine the cause and source of this natural disaster.  With the help of public tips and one anonymous source, the Ohio Environmental Protection Agency found themselves at the business site of Renato and Teresina Montorsi on Pearl Road.  

The Montorsi's, owners of a former metal-plating company, had a 55-gallon drum of cyanide that they’d needed to dispose of and when their garage service refused to take the hazardous material, they chose another course.  Hazardous chemicals must be removed by licensed specialists and the procedure is costly, so to save a couple of dollars and the hassle of a phone call, Renato formulated a better plan.   He rolled the drum to a storm sewer, chopped a hole in the bottom of the container and allowed it to empty into the sewer.  Those same chemicals eventually found their way to the Rocky River…creating the Earth Day disaster.  When the officials arrived to question the pair, Teresina stalled them while Renato hid the drum in the back of the warehouse.  Later, they removed it to their home in Lorain county.

Nice folks.  Though I doubt they envisioned the extent of their decision at the time they elected to turn hazardous materials loose in a storm sewer, I really wonder just what they were thinking.  They’re in their seventies and can’t get away with they didn’t know any better.  I have no ideal what the penalty will be for such an aggregious crime, should they be found guilty, but I’m thinking it will include financial restitiution and jail time.  And all they had to do was pay some money to have it hauled away properly.  Damn people like this all to hell.

I ate three apples over the course of the day with no improvement in my stomach ailment.  I went out for another two-hour ride and upon my return, ate a dinner of rice and salmon.  The ache was not as bad as it has been, but it was still there as I retired for the evening.  The voice of reason, Holly, says I should go to the doctor.  The voice in my head says it’ll go away if I give it a little longer.  I’ll probably listen to the one in my head instead of the one in my ear…for now.

Bike Duration: Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1700.