Serenity in a picture..

Friday, August 28, 2015

I woke Friday morning and went through my normal pre-work routine before driving off to the farm.  I knew I wasn’t completely right, but I had so much to do there and wanted to put a dent in it before the weekend.  I spent about an hour cleaning up a multitude of messes before deciding I needed another day off and since I had them available, elected to drive back home.

I took a two-hour nap once home, but after receiving a picture from Kathy of the Hiawatha Trail she was riding, I started to get that cycling itch again.  She had sent me a picture that showed a dirt bike trail passing through a beautiful pine forest and I could literally put myself there and smell the conifers and hear the crunch of gravel beneath my tires.  It brought me a complete sense of peace if only for a moment, but there was great pleasure in knowing that a simple picture could transport me to a place where all of my stress seemed to melt with the aroma of a pine forest. 

I don’t know if this is unusual, but I have discussed with my camping buddies how an absolute peacefulness comes over me when I drive to a trailhead, throw the car in park, open the door and just take in the sounds and smells.  I can feel my blood pressure and heart rate dropping, muscles in my shoulders and arms relaxing and my breathing growing deeper and more regular.  It is almost impossible for me to think of stressful things in this environment and is likely the reason I return over and over.  Like an addictive drug, I simply can’t get enough.  Like Kathy, I think I would have noticed the Hiawatha Trail, an offshoot of the Coeur d'Alene bike trail she’d been riding, and decided it needed to be explored.  And what a gem she discovered, too.  I have made it one of my life’s missions to expose as many people to these experiences as I can in the hopes that they will be one of the lucky ones who, like me, breathes deeply, uses all their senses to take in the serenity, and determines that it won’t be long before they are again in nature.

I was on my bike by mid-afternoon and heading for my Waite Hill course.  It too is rolling and challenging and I figured I’d be tired from the previous day and would be taking it slower.  I was right, but it wasn’t horrible.  I completed the course in two hours tired but pleased that I’d ridden again instead of napping the day away.  I may pay for it later, I surmised, but I might not either.  I’d gotten out.  I’d pushed out of my comfort zone and into my sweat and training zone.  It was a good place to go.

Bike duration:  Two hours.

Training Heart Rate:  120 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  1700.

Passing of the kidney boulder...

Thursday, August 27, 2015

I’d made it through Wednesday evening with the help of good pharmaceuticals and a dinner from my friend, Nancy.  I was feeling very little pain as I’d headed off to bed and somewhere in the night, I’d woken because I had to pee.  I took my screen with me into the bathroom and was quite pleased when a huge boulder came splashing into the interceptor with the wonderful message that the stone had passed.  I rinsed it off and put it in a baggie so I could bring it to my Urologist at a later date and went back to bed.  When I woke in the morning, I was groggy from medication and sore from having gone ten rounds with a kidney stone.  I don’t know about others, but for me the days after feel like I’ve been in a prizefight and was the recipient of many illegal kidney blows.  I elected to stay home and rest some more.

I was up around nine and decided since I was burning a day off, I had to do it with some style.  I dressed and drove to Kleifelds for breakfast and brought along my Adirondack log to update and read over trying to find some places I’d like to return.  I was planning a trip for Labor Day weekend, but still unsure about going.  Still…better to have a plan.

I returned home feeling about 90% and thinking that meant I should ride my bike.  Kathy was in Idaho and kicking butt on the Coeur d'Alene bike trail and it was really making me antsy to ride.  I headed out on the tougher of my two favorite trails, which meant I’d be riding up Old Mill Road in Gates Mills.

I arrived at the bottom of the hill feeling a little out of sorts and with some pain in the area of my right kidney.  Hmmm.  I began the ascent a gear easier than I would normally ride and it took me almost nine minutes to complete the climb.  I was breathing heavily at the top, but I was there and now had another hour to my turnaround.  I headed east on Dines/Pekin Road, a rolling, quiet country road with many horse farms and few cars.  It was a beautiful riding day with a breeze, plenty of sun and temperatures in the low seventies.  When I’d ridden 21 miles, I decided it was enough even though I knew Kathy was riding over seventy that day, which would be her longest ride ever.  Had I been feeling better, I would have continued to 25 so I’d at least have done 50, but for once my brain had control of my body and I turned around.

I rode strongly home and felt pretty good, though there was still some pain in my kidney.  The ride had taken two and a half hours, which wasn’t terrible considering I’d been holding back some.  I was considering going to Savannah’s to do some painting, but things began to catch up with me and I found myself sleeping on the couch by six. 

Bike duration:  Two hours and 30 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  120 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  2150.

The return of the kidney stones...

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

A little over a year ago, I was in the Adirondacks on Cranberry Lake with my cousin Donnie.  We were camping on Joe Indian Island and I was sleeping reasonably comfortably in my tent when I woke with back discomfort.  I climbed out of the tent and went for a walk to try and loosen it up, but it continued to get worse.  Then it dawned on me.  I knew this pain, but had tried to erase it from my memory in the hope that it would never visit me again…but it was…and it was a kidney stone.  I woke Donnie, explained the situation and an hour later we were back at the cars and driving to the nearest hospital sixty miles away in Potsdam.  After finding I was seriously dehydrated and my kidneys were in distress, I was eased close to unconsciousness with some wonderful drugs.  I drove home the next day, but was soon in the hospital again and suffered horribly for three days before the surgeon came in and took it out. 

And now I was lying in bed at two in the morning and feeling that horrible pain returning.  I knew from the last CT scan a year ago that I still had three stones in my right kidney.  “They could stay put forever and not give you any problems or they could start moving next week,” the surgeon had told me.  I voted for staying put forever.

By three I was in full pain and panic mode.  I threw up once and knew things were going to get really bad really fast.  I was hoping to make it until 8 a.m. so that I could try to get in to see the Urologist instead of the Emergency Room and texted Cecilia and Holly for my support team.

Holly tried to doctor’s office at eight, but the best they could do was an appointment for 3:30 p.m.  “Let’s go to the ER,” I said.  The pain was becoming unbearable. 

I had Holly pull over on the short drive to the ER so I could throw up again.  She had volunteered her quickly emptied lunch box as a catch basin, but I was pretty sure the side of the road would be a better choice.  I was checked in quickly and had some good drugs pulsing through my system within the hour.  The nurse poked three holes in my arms trying to get some blood for analysis, but with no luck.  An expert came in and I was flowing freely when he located the correct spot.  I don’t really care about the holes…I was in too much pain from the stones to notice her using me for acupuncture practice, but if they’re incompetent in the area of drawing blood, I’m surprised they let them do it.  If she needed practice, she certainly got some on me.

I waited a couple of hours for the CT scan results and when they finally arrived the doctor came in to give me the verdict.

“Your stone is small, about 3 millimeters, and it’s low so you should be able to pass it on your own,” he said.

“Thirty millimeters sounds big to me though I’m kind of an inches and feet guy, doc, and I’m not going home without some amazing drugs to keep me from slamming my head into my concrete laundry room floor,” I said.

“That was THREE millimeters…not thirty, and yes, we’ll give you something pretty strong,” he said.  And then he was gone.

We stopped at the drug store to pick up the chemicals I’d need to survive the passing and headed home.  I had something to eat so the pills wouldn’t eat holes in my stomach and lay down after Cecilia left.  I fell asleep quickly and did not exercise for the day.

Going where the trail leads...

Monday, August 24, 2015

I didn’t do much of a workout on Sunday, though I did get in a hike with the dogs in the Metropark. Since I didn’t strap on my pack, I only consider it activity and not a workout. I don’t give myself credit for a workout unless I get my training heart rate consistently above 100 bpm. Walking, it seldom gets about 75.

We had a huge, heavily caloric family dinner of chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, dressing, corn, noodles and something else I’m sure I’ve forgotten. I passed on dessert though and noticed I was having some severe gas pains when I went to bed. They continued through the night and into Monday. I had an active day, finding out that a riding mower needed to be disassembled and the steering mechanism replaced. I drove home still not feeling entirely right, but determined to get in a ride on a windy, but otherwise perfect evening.

I had that strong tail wind for the first half of the ride, but once I turned into the wind, found it to be unrelenting and strong. I pushed hard though and added some extra miles in recognition of what Kathy was continuing to do out west to shame me. She shared her latest plan; to drive to Idaho and ride portions of the Coeur d'Alene bike trail. It is a 72-mile paved trail running between the cities of Plummer and Mulian, Idaho. I love that spontaneous nature she exudes. It reminds me of me. She’s there and always looking for the next beautiful site to experience from a bike or hiking. Personally, I believe it is the necessary ingredient to staying in shape forever because she is doing physical activity that she craves. I’m hooked on the same things and you can’t continue to do them into your seventies and beyond unless you keep doing them and stay in shape. I don’t think any exercise routine survives without this motivation. I see a future for myself where I explore this continent from top to bottom with a bike, kayak and on foot. I can see no other good way to do it and it is that close and slow contact with the environment that gives me the serenity I crave. I need to touch and feel the land as I move through it and the slower, the better. When I’m not doing myself, I’m doing vicariously through friends like Kathy and Alaska Paul. My time is coming to join them in these quests.

Bike duration:  Two hours and 30 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  120 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  2150.

Pushing past the heel pain...

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Maybe I am getting just a little old.  Only just a little, though.

Friday had been a pretty tough one on the body.  I woke up Saturday knowing I’d be spending time working at Mimi’s and then heading for Savannah’s for some painting.  Somewhere in there I wanted to do a workout, as well.  That’s what my head said.  My body had different plans.

I made it to Mimi’s and after an hour of whacking away at two mostly dead bushes the size of small trees and hauling my cuttings into the woods, I pulled out the 24-foot extension ladder and pushed it to its top, safe, usable height to scrape paint from the overhang on the back of the house.  For the next three hours I scraped, moved the ladder, and scraped some more.  I have found that more than any other single activity; time on a ladder causes me the most pain in my heel.  When I descended for the final time, my heel was throbbing and thoughts of painting at Savannah’s were fading.

I called her and found out thankfully, that her brother had not finished plastering the ceilings and so they weren’t ready for the painter.  Instead, I made my way to the park and even though my heel was quite sore, sucked it up and strapped on the pack.  An hour later I was back at the car, pleased that I’d gotten in something that would help me in the climbs and hikes to come during my September Adirondack trips.

Hike Duration: One hour

Training Heart Rate: 110 bpm.

Calories burned:  600.

Hay delivery and bike rides...

Friday, August 21, 2015

I’d received a note that morning about the hay delivery, but somehow it had slipped my mind until I saw a fully loaded trailer pulling on the lot. 

“Shit!  Looks like we’ve got some work to do,” I said to Justin.  He was sitting on the tractor waiting for the dump trailer to be filled by the excavators digging our trench.

“I’ve got to move this dirt,” he said, indicating with his thumb in a backward motion to the trailer being filled.

“I’m pretty sure that dirt will still be in the trailer when we’re done with the hay.  You don’t want to miss the fun, do you?”

And how much fun it was.  We had almost 300 bales at sixty pounds a piece, which meant I’d be stacking around eight tons of hay.  It was cool, at least.

“Hey John, how’s your love life goin’,” Eli called as he loaded the first bale onto the conveyor rigged up to deposit it at my feet in the loft.  I’d made the mistake of telling him I’d put my profile on a dating site and that I’d actually had a couple of dates as a result.  He’d warned me that he’d heard men dressed as women put their information out there and I was likely to get one of those, ugly as I was.

“She was a girl as it turns out.  Thanks for asking,” I said.  He was pleased to hear that, at age sixty, men still had an interest in women. 

“Ya know, there’s this site called ‘lonelyfarmers.com’ that maybe you should check out.  I think girls really dig farm boys especially old, wrinkly ones like you,” he said.

“Send me that hay as fast as you can, we’ll see who’s old,” I said…and wished I hadn’t.

It turned out that I was old as the last one climbed the conveyor.  I was soaked to the bone; even my socks and shoes were wet from my sweat.  It had taken 45 minutes, but we’d managed it.  I returned to the shop and collapsed in a chair. 

“I’m beat,” I said.

“You’re getting soft,” Justin replied, grinning.  He knew better, but liked to razz me.

It took me most of the day to start feeling like myself again.  Losing so much water from sweat drains me, but I drank copiously all day.  I knew I had to go to the park for a hike though, because I had Copper at the house for the weekend and she would need some exercise if there was any hope of keeping her from driving me crazy.  I got home, loaded her and Dakota in the car and drove to the park.  Once there, I struggled with the decision to strap on the pack…I was still feeling the hay.  I again imagined Kathy in Oregon bagging another peak while carrying a small truck and figured I could handle the pack.  I did decide not to stop for step-ups because that would only make Copper crazy if she had to wait.

We went an hour and I felt good the entire time.  My heel was sore naturally, but that was just how it was and there seemed to be little I could do about it.  I came home, showered, and drove to Geneva on the Lake to visit Kristen at ‘The Loft’, a bar/restaurant she worked that served a good fish fry.  I ate my fried haddock thinking that a block of wood deep fried and dipped in tartar sauce would likely taste good.  I watched the Indians trounce the Yankees before heading home, exhausted.

Hike Duration: One hour

Training Heart Rate: 110 bpm.

Calories burned:  600.

Camping fever...

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Finally, the temperatures dropped and the humidity with it.  I put in a hard day at the farm and drove from there to the Morrow’s where I still had a dock to stain.  An hour later, I was headed for home and thinking about a bike ride since I had the time.

I was on the road by six with a goal of returning by eight.  A friend was coming over to borrow a tent and some camping gear for a weekend trip.  She had little experience camping or with gear as evidenced by a call she’d made to me earlier in the week.

“I’m looking on line at this tent for $50.  It says it sleeps two.  I need it for Olivia and me for the weekend,” she said.

“Look, Maria, I applaud your wanting to get a tent and do some camping, but you’re throwing your money away.  Anything that costs so little will be crap and only good for sleepovers…if it’s pitched in the living room,” I replied.

I convinced her not to spend the money and told her to come by and I’d show her how to set it up.  My gear sits in the attic between trips and better it is used by someone who will then become more interested in the activity and get into it themselves.  I still figure the more people camping, the better.  Backcountry land is protected because people like me want and need it and become advocates.  The more there are, the better the chances of its preservation.

The ride proved challenging because of the winds, which were blowing hard and out of whatever direction I seemed to be facing.  The course I typically take does put me into the wind over the last ten miles and is exhausting.  I returned home just as Maria arrived.  We pulled the tent, sleeping bags, and bedrolls from the attic and I showed her how to set it up.  “It’s really quite easy, but if you have any difficulty, I’m sure one of the 15 people you’re going with will know something about it.  Besides, you’ve seen the picture of Savannah and Heidi setting it up and they did it in ten minutes with no instruction.  And they were ten and eight at the time,” I said.

I made some French toast for us before she left and wrapped my heel in my ice pack for 45 minutes before settling down in front of the TV to watch a K2 climbing documentary.  I have watched several of these on the climbing of the world’s highest peaks and am still amazed at the determination of the people making the attempts.  K2 presents 50/50 odds of dying under some of the most brutal conditions on the planet.  Yet like moths to a candle, climbers are drawn to the world’s second highest, but most difficult climbing challenge.  God bless them.  Absolutely no interest here.

Bike duration:  Two hours.

Training Heart Rate:  120 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  1700.

Welcome to the Survival Workout, LuAnn...

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

LuAnn arrived around 5 p.m. for our scheduled Survival Workout/hike.  I’d been encouraging her to come by the park and do the workout as it was designed to be done…in the woods.  I’d set up a course for her and her daughter Kristen to do around their house and at the local track, but that’s just not the same in my opinion…the one that matters most.  Grabbing rocks covered in poison ivy and logs with worms and boring bugs on and under them while getting smeared and covered in dirt is special.  Climbing hills and managing fallen trees and other obstructions is also special.  Using a tree branch for pull-ups and picnic tables for hops is a dimension you can’t always find in your yard.  And best of all, you’ll often see deer, the occasional fox or coyote, or a Pileated Woodpecker banging its beak against a rotting tree.  Oh…and mosquito’s enough to carry off small children. 

We completed our push-ups, dips, and abdominal work by the car before starting down the trail.  “We can do some high knees here,” I suggested.

She looked at me and began to whine, “those hurt my hip.”

I stopped in place on the trail and looked her in the eye and said, “do you really think I care whether it hurts or not?”

With some fear in her voice she replied meekly, “umm…no?”

We discussed the pain and of course I’d been kidding and told her so.  “Never do anything that hurts like an injury.  Muscle soreness we work through.  Real injuries you take it easy…I keep going…you heal and I need to go to the doctor,” I said.

We lifted rocks and logs, and arrived at a very steep hill behind what used to be the sledding hill.  Half way up is a large cement emplacement about chest high and four foot wide.  I placed both hands on top of it, jumped and pushed myself up while swinging a leg over it so as to climb on top.  LuAnn watched me and blubbered, “I can’t do that!”

“Oh, but you can…and you’re going to,” I replied.

She started to back away to go around it when she suddenly found me behind her and shoving her towards it. 

“Put your hands on top and imagine yourself on it looking down at your feet,” I said as I placed my hands lightly on her waist for a boost if she needed it, but more for the confidence to be able to do it.  “Now go!” I barked.

She jumped, and pushed with her arms and suddenly found her leg on top with the rest of her body not far behind.  I climbed up beside her and said, “I hardly lifted at all.”  And I hadn’t.

She looked thrilled to have done it and we continued to climb by grabbing protruding roots and looking for footholds.  Once on top and breathing heavily, she asked, “so where do we go back down?”

I looked at her and said, “the way we came up.”

Now, I do tend to joke at times and by the look in her eyes, she was sure this was one of them.  It wasn’t.  And then she knew it. 

“I’ll die if I go back down the way we came,” she said.

“Well…there is that possibility,” I said as I started down.  “Follow me,” I called.

She did and with a little help, managed to get back without major injury.  We continued on to the swing set where after watching me do a climb to the top on one of the supporting poles, I again heard ‘I can’t do that.’

“When will you learn that that is an unacceptable statement?” I asked. 

She grabbed a pole and using her legs, began to climb.  She didn’t reach the top, but pulled and tried and made it half way.  It was a start and the effort was there.  It was all you could ask.

It was a hot day and the hike alone would have had me sweating.  We completed the workout on the return to the car and, I believe, created another convert to working out in the woods.  I hadn’t been doing the Survival Workout myself, having put it aside as I prepared for the Adirondack hikes, so I’m guessing I’ll feel some soreness tomorrow.  I’d missed it though.  It has served me well in maintaining good body tone and muscular endurance into my sixties and that is a very good thing.

Survival Workout:  60 minutes

Training Heart Rate:  100-150 bpm.

Calories burned:  600

"Could I sweat any more?"

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Though I dislike air conditioning, I dislike not being able to sleep even more.  I’m a warm body.  At eighty, I’m sweating and the ceiling fan just won’t answer the call.  It was headed for ninety and was supposed to stay there through tomorrow.  The AC was staying on.

At work, I began sweating through my clothes by 8 a.m. and kept it up throughout the day.   As Justin and I put the finishing touches on another piece of fencing, I knew I needed to get inside and to some cooler conditions.  We hit the tack room and the water cooler and looked for something to fix.

“Snap that shelf off the brackets,” I said, nodding towards a shelf above the garbage can.

“Huh?  Why would I do that?” Justin asked.

“Because then we’ll come back in here and fix it for a couple of hours while I cool off,” I said. 

He didn’t break the shelf and we went back to the humid pastures. 

I left work wondering what I should do to myself for a workout.  I kept thinking of Kathy in Oregon where she was probably climbing K2 or riding her bike 2,000 miles…all uphill…and thinking she’d be kicking my ass on any ride we did when she returned unless I began to get totally serious.  It was about 110 degrees when I picked Dakota up and headed for the park to hike.  I pulled my pack from the trunk, slipped it on my back and covered myself in bug spray.  Who was I kidding?  That spray would be sweated off at the top of the first hill and then those biting bastards would have their way with me.  I walked over to the rock in front of my car for the first set of step-ups.

I was thinking of doing thirty per leg for starters, but then thought ‘what would Kathy do?’ and went to forty.  As I headed up the trail on wobbly legs, I began contemplating beating my last outing when I’d don 400 step-ups and nearly puked.

I climbed the first big hill and had sweat flowing so freely that my shorts were already saturated.  This was likely to become a ‘squishy shoe’ day and those really suck.  I hit station two and did another forty.

I felt like I was swimming as much as hiking, the air was that heavy with humidity.  It was starting to feel good, though, and that’s a positive sign.  I was drinking from my Nalgene liberally, but there was no way I was going to keep up with the water loss.  I’d refuel later. 

It was a quiet evening with most sane people at home, wisely enjoying their air conditioning or swimming pools.  Dakota and I were enjoying our over-heated, sweat drenched bodies.  When I hit 400 step-ups and was still feeling like I had some fuel in the tank, I began planning for 500.

Somewhere along that final mile of the hike, I regained my senses and ended up with 460 step-ups and about eight pounds less water weight than when I’d started.  I put several towels over my seat to absorb some of the perspiration before climbing in the car.  They tried, but they were clearly overmatched.

Once home, I made a smoothie and began to relax.  It felt good to know that at some point I could write about this workout and brag about what a beast I was to have persevered through heat and step-ups.  It paled in comparison to whatever Superwoman was doing in Oregon, but in my little corner of the world, it was a good thing.

Hike/step-up duration:  90 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  100-150 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  900.

"Wish I were climbing South Sister..."

Monday, August 17, 2015

I find my heel getting progressively worse…again.  Two cortisone shots and no better.  I’ll be contacting Doc Mendeszoon again because we need a solution for my long-term goals of walking the Continental Divide.  Or I could just whine about it with each step.

The heat and humidity continued to play a role in how I felt.  I tried drinking copious amounts of water, what an interesting concept and something I think I invented, but by the time I arrived at the park to hike, I was feeling depleted and unenthusiastic.  My friend Kathy was visiting her daughter in Portland and would be climbing South Sister Mt., which is a 12-mile hike with a 4,900 foot elevation gain and topping out at 10,400 feet and I was thinking of bagging this simple workout?  Couldn’t do it.

I started with a set of 80 step-ups with my forty-pound pack on my back and again felt the twinge in my hip I’d been feeling when walking around Cleveland the day before.  I decided to forget the step-ups, but do the hike. 

Dakota was walking slowly and for good reason.  It was close to 90 and probably near 100% humidity.  Sweat was streaming from my face and landing on my shoes.  I did have the foresight to bring my Nalgene bottle and was drinking regularly.  We made it an hour before returning to the car soaked, but pleased I hadn’t been a big weenie.  I’m sure you’ve completed your climb by the time you read this Kathy, so try not to hold me in the low regard I deserve.  I’ll get pushing the envelope soon.

Hike Duration: One hour
Training Heart Rate: 100-110 bpm.
Calories burned: 500.

Real maple syrup and blueberry pancakes...

Sunday, August 16, 2015

I don’t normally make two trips to Kleifelds in a weekend, but I was determined to actually get all the way to the restaurant and use the maple syrup I’d brought along.

“So…what’ll it be this morning?” Andrea asked.

“Bring me those blueberry cakes again.  This time I remembered the syrup,” I said.

They came smothered in butter and spilling off the plate, which is what I wanted.  I spread the butter to all three cakes and liberally and lovingly applied the syrup.  I patiently watched as it ran down the sides and headed for the end of the plate and the table underneath.  I would have none of that and quickly sopped it up with my first cut of pancake.

I groaned as I put the first bite in my mouth.  I was sitting at the counter and Louis Armstrong was singing ‘What a Wonderful World’ on the juke box.  “It most certainly is, Louie,” I said as I swallowed. 

I couldn’t finish, it was so rich and so good.  I’m trying not to be a member of the clean plate club any longer since I’ve had a habit of forcing down every molecule on my plate over the 57 or so years I can actually remember eating.  I usually am satisfied three quarters of the way through, so why keep going?  Well…there was REAL maple syrup on it, but still…discipline.

I managed a one-hour hike while carrying my 40-pound pack and some step-ups for good measure, but it was hot and humid and that was enough.

John and Teri came over for dinner and we cooked out and talked about the Adirondacks.  “I’m seriously ready to go,” John said.  I knew he meant it.

“You know I love going in September when it’s bug and people free and cool enough to dive into that warm down bag the whole night,” I said.  John has a work situation going and may be unemployed soon.  He doesn’t know his schedule for sure, but regardless, will carve out time for a trip.  “It’s therapeutic,” he concluded and it is all that and more.  I have been to a good deal of state and national parks, but never feel the same sense of serenity I gain from the Adirondacks.  Maybe it is a sentimental attachment; the memories of childhood, times with Donnie and friends and family, but I think it is something more.  I simply have to arrive, open my door and take in a lung full of air to have my blood pressure drop 20 points and for any and all tension to leave my body.  I don’t know why it works any more than I understand how planes stay in the air, but I does and I’m thankful because there is no better feeling. 

Hike Duration: One hour

Training Heart Rate:110 bpm.

Calories burned:  600.

A couple more excuse filled days...

Saturday, August 15, 2015

So just what is it that takes what used to be a complete exercise fanatic and turn him into a mortal?  I don’t like it and want to get back in touch with my crazy inner self.  Admittedly, things have been busier than usual both on the farm and my after work jobs, but that’s really not an excuse.  Even if I’m arriving home late, I really could suit up and jump on the trainer, but the motivation is not there.  It’s close, though.

I did manage a hike on Saturday morning of a little over an hour before heading for Kleifelds for breakfast.  As wonderful as it is there, they do not offer real maple syrup, which is the reason I always order an omelet.  This morning, however, I was packing my own ‘LuAnn’s homemade Ohio maple syrup’ in a small Tupperware container…which I then left in the car.

“What’ll you have sweetie,” Andrea asked.

“I forgot the friggin’ maple syrup in the car, but I kinda had my heart set on blueberry pancakes so I think I’ll have them anyways and put this ‘Log Cabin’ crap on them and whine like a little girl about it,” I said.

“Now her I thought you were a little girl from all the whining you do about everything else,” Andrea said as she walked away to put in the order. 

Oh…she knows me.  Later that afternoon, I took my friend Terry on a walking tour of downtown Cleveland.  It took around two hours for the complete hike and again, I am so impressed with the progress the downtown area has made towards residential living.  It has been fifteen years since I worked at the Cleveland Athletic Club and the changes in that time are simply unreal.  I could honesty see myself living down there, particularly when they complete the Towpath into the Flats making the 115-mile trail to New Philadelphia and the Cuyahoga Valley National Park easily accessible to any downtown resident.   Coupled with the revitalization of the near West side, it is simply an exciting place to live and recreate.

In any event, I see big changes on the horizon.  I’m finishing up a couple of side jobs and will use that evening time to get my training squared away.  I’m looking at September now and seeing at least two trips to the Adirondacks.  I’m going to be ready and I’m going to have fun.  Which means I’m going to be ready.

Hike Duration:  Three hours

Training Heart Rate: 90 bpm.

Calories burned:  Three blueberry pancakes in crappy syrup.

Wow! A lot of nothing...

Wednesday, August 12, 2015
So here I am writing about Wednesday’s workout and you may be wondering what happened to Monday and Tuesday.  Well, life happened to them. 

As always, life was physical at the farm so at least there’s that.  I did some digging, some hauling, some lifting and some whining (very few calories burned whining).  Then I received a text from my favorite smoker, Kristen,that she and her mom wanted to come over for a movie night, something I never say ‘no’ to.  I stopped to do some work at a side job for an hour then hurried to Heinen’s to pick up the food I’d need to make Amish casserole, which is nothing more than sautéed ground meat with some other stuff in it, poured over noodles mixed in a can of condensed chicken soup and covered in shredded cheddar cheese and baked.  I hurried home, showered, cleaned up the part of the house they were likely to see, threw dinner together and in the oven and they were there.  We watched one of my all-time favorites, ‘Parenthood’, and laughed and thought…it’s that kind of movie.

After they left, I thought about doing some exercise, which also does not burn up calories, and went to bed.

Tuesday included a dinner at Ty Fun in Tremont, a hike before going, and probably a few more calories than I should have eaten.

Wednesday found me down in Akron for dinner at Larry’s, which meant a burger and fries, though I only ate half of each.  I did a short hike before that meal, but for three days, I’ve done little formal exercise and nothing rugged and preparatory for another visit to the Adirondacks.  Thursday will hopefully change that pattern as September is almost here, which is far and away my favorite month for the mountains. 

Flowed Lands...I'm coming back!

Sunday, August 9, 2015
I started Sunday morning with a call to my sister letting her know I’d be at Kleifeld’s for breakfast.  Saturday had been too crazy to make the trip and I didn’t want a whole week to go by without a dose of ham and cheese omelet.

She’s a good girl and was late because church had run over.  My soul, being beyond redemption, does better with coffee and an omelet.  In reality though, I still find that I struggle with sitting through a service.  I was never one to take much away from the ritualistic nature of the Catholic or the Episcopalian Sunday services.  I knew them by heart from years of reciting the prayers and often found my mind drifting to other things as I sat there.  I truly find my spirituality more on a hike in any park, exploring the beauty and wonder of the natural world my Creator provided me to enjoy.  It keeps me balanced and focused on what is important. 

I conversed with other patrons and Stephanie, my waitress, because they didn’t have anything else to do and are terribly fascinated about all I have to say.  Common occurrence wherever I go.  Cecilia arrived and we had breakfast and talked for an hour about mostly my life and where it was going.  Self-centered as I am, it was a good subject.

We called Donnie to let him know where we were eating, which he appreciated immensely.  “Perfect, John, perfect.  Glad you’re enjoying the breakfast and the spandex,” he said.  I hate to rub it in by calling him and giving him this information, but, well, I actually like doing it.

I stopped at BJ’s on the way home and picked up my 2-pound piece of salmon to cook off and eat through the week and drove back thinking about my exercise for the day.  It would be a ride, I concluded.

After do the voluminous household chores I’d ignored for the week, I suited up and headed out on my Waite Hill course I’d done the day before with Kathy except that I was starting from home.  I lengthened it slightly and pushed rather hard, downing two bottles of water as I poured sweat.  My legs, unused to two straight days of riding, began to cramp as I neared the final hills.  I shifted down and stayed in the saddle for the climbs, a combination that seems to keep them at bay.  When they hit, riding becomes nearly impossible.

I finished in a little over two hours and was sore from being in the saddle two straight days for two hours or more.  Still, it is what I need for some good hikes in the Adirondacks, which I’m planning in earnest for September.  I’m planning on a trip back to Flowed Lands and a few days in the back country, which means carrying a heavier pack with food for the duration and another trip up Skylight…my favorite peak.

Bike duration: Two hours.
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm.
Calories Burned: 1700.

No respect...

Saturday, August 8, 2015
I had to meet with Larry Morrow, that’s right – the radio personality – to discuss home improvements I needed to make to satisfy his point of sale inspection.  We decided early Saturday morning was going to be the only chance.  I arrived and we went over the list of about ten things.

“And so when are you going on the market?” I asked.

“Tuesday.  Can you do it by then?”

“Larry…it’s Saturday!  I’m working all day today and tomorrow I have to do all that stuff I need to do to keep my house from being condemned,” I said.

We agreed that I’d start Monday and wouldn’t likely be done on Tuesday.  I drove to Mimi’s where I was planning to paint the front of the house, which was blistering badly because of the direct afternoon sunlight it absorbs.  I put my ladder against the house and began several hours of painting and scraping…and sweating.  The paint I’d picked up from Sherwin Williams was a spot-on match.  I was reaching to knock some paint from the top most clapboard when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, indicating a text.  I carefully placed my scraper in my pocket and reached for the phone.  The message was from Kathy, a cyclist I’d met recently, asking me if I’d like to meet her in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park for a ‘2-3 hour bike ride’. 

I know there are laws against texting and driving, but none that I’m aware of regarding texting while twenty feet up holding a can of paint and an Iphone.  Common sense maybe, but no law.

She had indicated that there was some gravel on the trail, so I wrote back saying that ‘road bikes and gravel equals crash’ and asked if she’d consider coming my way for a road ride.  She was amenable.

We met in the North Chagrin Reservation, the world’s greatest park, and headed out from there.  I took her on the Waite Hill course after she continually harangued me with sarcastic comments.  When we came back together after sweeping down Eagle Road Hill into Gates Mills, she pulled alongside me.  “You said ‘no hills’ in your text,” she whined.

“I don’t think that I did, but this is a great, downhill course that will end back at our cars having never gone up,” I said.

Her look said ‘last ride butthead’, one I’ve seen before…and ignored.

We rolled through ten miles of hills with her biting sarcasm a distant memory.  She didn’t know the way back, after all.  We were riding past Patterson’s, so I detoured in for a peach, the view and anything else I could welch.

“Do you like kayaking?” I asked and then explained how my friend Henry had picked mine up that morning so he could go out with someone, but that if she wanted to go, I could get them both.  We were walking out to finish the ride when I stopped short.  “That’s my kayak on the roof of that Toyota Tacoma,” I said and turned to find Karen, someone I’d never met and who had been kayaking with Henry, staring at me.  “Are you John?”

Henry emerged from the bathroom for introductions.  “This is Kathy and she’s been riding my ass since we got on the bikes,” I said.

Henry apparently doesn’t hear too well.  “And how do you like riding behind John?”

“No Henry…not riding on my ass…riding my ass!  She’s harder on me than I am on you…and so you know how much THAT sucks,” I said.

He looked from me to her…surmised she was a helpless innocent, and said, “I’ve known this guy for years.  You have my complete sympathy.”

And that’s what friends are for.

We finished the ride, taking over two hours.  Her bike was much heavier and built for trails, but she rode strongly and hardly complained about the hills.  The fact is, riding around me through cities with ‘hills’ and ‘heights’ as part of their names means you’re going to be going up and down.  We did just that.  I did avoid Old Mill for her though. 

It was a rather tiring day as I’d dropped copious amounts of sweat.  I knew I needed to get fluids back in after two straight days and with more planned tomorrow.  No more kidney stones for this wounded warrior. 

Bike Workout: Two hours and 30 minutes. 
Training Heart Rate: 120 bpm biking.
Calories Burned: 2100.