When not to bathe...

Friday, September 25, 2015

I’d pulled into my campsite just off State Route 9 south of Keene Valley about 1:45 a.m.  There were two cars parked in the area, but experience told me they were likely camping at a site a short walk down the river.  When my headlights flashed on the site closest to me, my suspicions were confirmed.  It was empty.

I began to pull my ground cloth and sleeping gear from the back seat when I saw two head lamps moving through the woods towards me.  Two young men went to the cars to retrieve something, though I wondered what had them up voluntarily at that time.  As they passed and said ‘hello’, one asked, “would you like me to move the car so you can get yours closer to your site?”  I readily accepted his offer.  We chatted briefly about the beauty of the evening and then they returned to their site about 100 yards away.

I slept until eight, unusually late for me, before scrambling into the car and heading for Noonmark for breakfast.  My phone was totally dead, but I knew I could recharge while eating and planning my day’s hike.  I arrived there to find five girls crowded around my table and queried Mindy about their presence.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming…again,” she admonished.  I reminded her that regardless, it was my table and that she should permanently reserve it on the off chance that I might arrive.  I’m not sure I convinced her.  I plugged in my phone expecting it to spring to life.  It didn’t.  I tried it in several outlets around the restaurant, but to no avail.  I started wondering if it was the charger or the phone because clearly there was power in the restaurant.

“There’s a Verizon store in Saranac Lake,” Mindy informed me as I was paying my bill and inquiring about phone options.  Saranac Lake was about 35 minutes away, but if I didn’t do something, I would be out of touch for the entire weekend and my sister and cousin would both be wondering if I’d met an untimely demise.

I drove there and learned that my phone really was fine, but needed to be charged at least 5% before it would come on.  Still…I needed a new phone and finally broke down and spent the $71 necessary to secure the IPhone 6. While waiting for things to transfer from old phone to new, I inquired about Haystack Mt., a peak nearby.

“I was up there last fall and it’s a really pretty hike,” Ashley informed me while providing directions to the trailhead. 

And she wasn’t wrong.  It was a relatively easy climb, covering about seven miles round trip with an elevation gain of 1,500 feet.  It offered spectacular views and was relatively deserted.  I broke a decent sweat, something I do quite easily, and drove back towards my campsite thinking about a body of water in which to submerse myself.  I found the perfect opportunity off SR 73 just east of Lake Placid in Cascade Lake.  There was a parking lot devoid of cars and a retaining wall near the water’s edge where I could change after bathing without exposing myself to the passing motorists.

I entered the water in my hiking clothes and lowered myself below the surface in water about 55 degrees.  It got my attention and after some quick scrubbing, quickly retreated to the shore and began to undress and towel off.  It was then that two large busses from Oberlin College in Ohio came rumbling down the dirt road to my changing station.  They slowed as they passed me, likely to give the college students on board the opportunity to see what you shouldn’t be doing in a public parking lot in the Adirondacks.  They parked a short distance away and I finished dressing. 

“There’s a good therapist for this kind of thing back in Oberlin and you’ll probably be using him for life,” I suggested as I passed the students disembarking.  Some were on their hands and knees and vomiting in the grass.  “I’ll be back next year doing the same thing, but only uglier and more wrinkled should you be coming back,” I concluded.  Ah hell…got to have a sense of humor about these things.  

Hike Duration: Three hours
Training Heart Rate: 90-120 bpm.
Calories burned: 1500.

"Has anyone ever told you..."

Sunday, September 20, 2015

After spending hours hauling equipment, setting up tents and generally doing extensive physical labor to set up for our massive fund raising event, ‘Chef’s Unbridled’ on Thursday, I went to the park and did a hike with Savannah.  The following day, I pounded out a third consecutive Survival Workout and followed that with another hike, pack on my back, before a total collapse.  The weekend end was scheduled for floor sanding and lots of it.  Saturday and Sunday totaled 13 hours walking/wrestling with a 100-pound drum sander as I stripped the old finish off Savannah’s bedrooms, living room and dining room floors.  My ears were ringing and my throat was parched from the dust.  I was limping badly from the pain in my heel by the time I crossed the floor holding back the sander for the last time Sunday afternoon.

I’d received a call from Kathy earlier that day asking if I’d like to do a hike following sanding.  Well…I never say no to a chance to work out though if she hadn’t made the suggestion I’d have likely gone home and iced my heel.  “I’m still sore from those steps I did yesterday though,” she confided.

She had gone to the Rocky River Reservation and walked up the 132 steps behind the nature center ten times.  Easy math.  She’d done 1,320 steps and was puzzled about the soreness.

“Speaking purely as an Exercise Physiologist, I’d say hmmm…wonder what could have caused that?” I said.

I went back to sanding and received a text suggesting maybe we wouldn’t hike, but rather meet at her place in Peninsula and walk into town for a bite to eat.  ‘It’s only four miles,’ she texted.

Okay, I was a little confused.  Was she four miles from town which would make it an 8-mile walk (which I’d call a hike) or only two miles away?  If it were me, I’d have said ‘four miles’ thinking nothing of misleading someone into doing more.  I figured she was doing the same.

When I arrived at her place, she walked out to greet me and hobbled painfully down the three stairs from her door.  After showing me around, we walked through the little development to the Towpath that passed a hundred yards from her drive.

“So it’s eight miles round trip and we’re taking an eight mile hike,” I stated.

“Well…not really.  We’re going four miles there and stopping to have something to eat, so it’s a four mile walk.  I mean it’s flat all the way there so it’s only a walk,” she concluded.

“And we’re calling ‘Uber’ or taking the train back so we won’t be walking the return four miles?”

“Um…no…so…um, that’s another four-mile walk.”

“Which, if my math is correct, is eight miles?” I queried.

She wouldn’t concede the point and insisted it was simply two, four-mile ‘walks’.  I watched her step gingerly and painfully up the railroad tie steps from the trail to the road in Peninsula where we were stopping to eat four miles later.  I was given a choice of the two eateries and picked ‘Fishers’ over ‘The Winking Lizard’ because I’d never been there before.  At least I’d thought I’d had a choice when she asked me.  “Oh…guess I won’t be able to work on my ‘beer list’ at the ‘Winking Lizard’ then,” she said.  Apparently, they have a list of 100 beers and keep track of the ones you’ve had over some period of time and once you’ve completed the whole list, they reward you with a thirty-day stay in a facility to dry you out...something like that.

“We can go there!  I don’t care,” I said once realizing I picked wrong…as men often do.

“No,” she sighed, “it’s okay.”

We sat outside and as the waitress approached slowly with menus, I knew she had ‘the question’ on her mind. 

I’ve recently started a beard and the resemblance to Terry O’Quinn of ‘Lost’ fame has increased geometrically.  “Has anyone ever told you…” she began when Kathy interrupted her.  She’s heard this before.

“It’s him!  Isn’t this exciting?!” she said.

Surprised how easily she slipped into the lie, I naturally played along holding both hands out, palms down and motioning to ‘keep it quiet’.

“I don’t want a lot of fuss,” I said.

“Oh…my…God!  It is you!  Isn’t it?” she said, not entirely sure the hero of TV was sitting at her table in lowly Peninsula.

“Jack, Katie and Hurley (three other characters from ‘Lost’) also like it here.  It’s kind of our place when we’re in town,” I said smoothly, continuing the lie with Kathy smiling and chuckling and enjoying every minute.

Finally she asked me for my I.D.  She had consulted with others and they were pretty certain I was the TV character.  “Don’t you think he’d have a fake I.D. to cover himself to remain incognito?” Kathy explained.  She was good at this.

I did manage to come clean before the meal was over, but could feel the stares of other patrons and staff.  We walked back with Kathy again stiff from the steps and having sat for an hour.  “We need to hurry.  It’s going to be dark before we get back,” she insisted as she picked up the pace and continued wincing.

I noticed some hot spots, places where blisters were beginning to form, on my feet by the time we reached her place.  I’d been hiking in hiking shoes, but hadn’t them on for this long a walk in some time.  It was a good warning for the Adirondacks where I would be headed with John Thursday night. 

So…I’m staying in shape though my climbing could be compromised.  I feel good about the consistency of the Survival Workout.  I’ve reached the point in age where it’s easy to let the muscle tone go forever and I’m determined that won’t be happening anytime soon.  I’m still in the eighties for push-ups, though I’ve got to get that over 100 again to be happy.  The coming week will include lots of floor finishing at Savannah’s place, which could make workouts a challenge, but I like a good one.  

Hike Duration: Two hours
Training Heart Rate: 75 bpm.
Calories burned: 600.

Watch where you're going...

Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Sometimes a good workout routine can be painful.  I have a friend whose name I won’t mention so as not to embarrass her.  Anyway she related a story to me of a recent hike she was doing with her dog, Lulu.

“So I was on the trail and it was a beautiful day.  I noticed how gorgeous the clouds were when suddenly I was falling.  I banged up my knee pretty badly,” she said.

I cautioned her about walking and watching where you were going when she said, “I’m not finished.  So I get up and start again and, well, the clouds were still so, so nice and so I’m looking at them some more when wham...I’m on the ground again.  And do you know that some guy saw me and didn’t even ask if I was okay?”

“Terry, look, the guy was probably afraid of you.  You’re falling down for no particular reason.  Maybe you were drunk because the Colts lost?” I suggested, knowing she is a huge Colts fan and that they’d taken it on the chin from the Buffalo Bills the previous Sunday.

“I wasn’t drinking…I’m just a klutz,” she said.

I suggested she try riding her biking helmet on her next walk since she clearly wouldn’t be following my sage advice to ‘watch where you’re going’.

Speaking of hurting from a workout, I’ve returned to the Survival Workout after a long absence.  I tend to put it aside when preparing for the Adirondacks, but I didn’t want to lose all that hard-earned muscular endurance either.  It’s been almost two months, so I didn’t have high expectations when I went to do my first set of push-ups.  I was pleasantly surprised when I hit 80.  I continued through the routine and when I reached the spot for my second set, reality hit.  I could only manage another 40 and that was on trembling arms.  My third and final set was a meager 20 and I was quite exhausted as I flopped into the car for the drive home.  That was Monday.  I did it again yesterday and already with better results.  My second and third sets of everything were closer to my first set, a sign that the endurance is returning.
Survival Workout: 60 minutes. 
Training Heart Rate: 100-150 bpm.
Calories Burned: 600.

Painting frustrations...

Monday, September 14, 2015
I’m not a big complainer.  Okay…I suppose that’s all about how you define ‘big’.  Anyways…I’m preparing a painting job for last weekend, having done the cutting around the ceiling of the Tack Room at the farm in preparation for doing the entire room.  I was trying to get a little ahead because I figured I’d be two-coating the entire room and the trim, as well.  The color selected a month earlier was not my first choice, but the ladies on the ‘paint committee’ wanted it and had selected a dark brown trim to go with it.  I liked that part, at least, since everything in the farm was currently trimmed out with forest green and there was room for a change.  I’d gotten them to use the same color in two classrooms and bathrooms, which I’d already painted, so there would be fewer cans of paint remaining and touch-up in the future would be easier.  I was heading home a little early because I would be working all day Saturday and Sunday when I was stopped by a member of the committee.

“John…no one likes the color you’ve been painting in the tack room.  They’re in there now and want to talk about it before you paint the rest of the room this weekend,” she said.

I walked calmly towards the group.  Surely they’d understand that things would look different when the entire room was painted and trimmed out?  Surely they would.  They didn’t.

“I sure this is the color we picked, John?” one asked.

“Probably not.  I’m sure I left the meeting with the paint chip you’d picked, drove to Sherwin Williams and said ‘give me something that will piss everyone off and make them scratch their heads and accuse me of switching colors.  I’m sure that’s what I did,” I said.

“Well…I don’t remember picking it and it’s not very attractive,” she said with the others in the group nodding agreement.

I really didn’t care.  I wasn’t that far along, but didn’t like the implication that I must have gotten something wrong.  “Follow me,” I said, walking out the door and across the hall to the classroom I’d painted a month ago.  We walked in the room and I flipped on the lights.  “How do you like this color?” I asked.

“This is really nice,” she replied and the others nodded agreement again.

“It’s the same color and came out of the same can I’m using in the tack room,” I said.

Now they were flustered.  Collective memory was coming back and they did agree that they’d decided to have the same color in both rooms.  Back in the tack room, it was decided I should use the color the professional painters were using to redo our lobby – Outerbanks.  I liked the color, having used it only the week before on the kickboards lining the indoor arena.

“That’s a good choice.  It looks good in the arena,” I said.

“That’s not the color in the arena,” I was told.

And now my dander was getting up.  “Um…okay…it’s not.  But the bucket I’m painting from says ‘Outerbanks’ on it and it’s what I called it when I went to Sherwin Williams to pick it up,” I said.  I went back to the shop, grabbed a can of the paint in question, brought it back and painted some on the wall.

“So…how do you like this color?” I asked.

“What color is it?” they wanted to know.

“I asked if you liked it.  I’ll tell you when you answer the question.”

They agreed it was nice and I told them it was ‘Outerbanks’ the color of the arena.  Now there was serious discussion about changing the color of the lobby since it was going to be the same color as the arena, which couldn’t possibly be classy enough.  I just kept thinking ‘if you like it, you like it.  Go with it’ but what do I know.  While they were deciding this, I painted some of the dark brown trim color they’d selected on the door jam.

“What’s that color?” they asked.

“It’s the new trim you picked,” I said.

“I don’t remember picking a new trim,” the leader said.

Okay…now I lost it.  “Well…you did.  You said it was about time we tried something new around here and picked it from the same swath as the paint you rejected in here,” I said.

Seeing my frustration and probably figuring out that they were really questioning my integrity, that maybe I’d randomly picked colors to paint in the room.  Finally, the ice was broken when one brave soul admitted remembering they’d decided to pick a different trim color and this was the one.  They didn’t really like it on the wood, but at least were admitting to picking it.

“It’s not dry.  When it is, it will look different,” I said.

“And the second coat will give it a different look, too,” she said.

“No – actually this covers really well with one coat.  A second coat may not even be necessary,” I said.

“Oh…I’m sure it will need two coats,” she said.

“And I’m sure you’re right because you’ve done so much more painting than me and I really don’t know much about painting at all,” I said with annoyance.

I left the room, but when I returned, they were laughing and apologizing and asking me if I could have Sherwin Williams darken the trim.  I made a ‘zip it up’ motion with my finger and thumb across my mouth and they laughed some more.  No big deal what color we paint to me, but be willing to admit you’ve made a mistake and move on.  Don’t always be looking for someone else to blame.  That shit just pisses me off.

I went to the park and did a hard Survival Workout, something I haven’t been doing lately as I prepare for the Adirondacks, but it felt good and was a great way to blow off some steam.  Exercise has a calming effect and I needed it. 
Survival Workout: 60 minutes. 
Training Heart Rate: 100-150 bpm.
Calories Burned: 600.

Out of the comfort zone...

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

My daughter Heidi reported on one of her recent riding events.  She doesn’t drive and so her bike is her best friend, but she has not really done it as much to train, but simply to transport herself.  However, she has challenged herself.  She rode her bike from Akron (her home) to Cleveland along the Ohio-Erie Canal Towpath a month ago and with breaks, covered the distance in 3:45.  Since then, she’s been pushing out of her comfort zone and getting stronger and faster.  Yesterday, she did the same ride in 2:26 and is now talking about longer, more challenging rides.

My friend Kathy returned from Oregon recently where she too moved out of her comfort zone by climbing a 10,400 foot peak called South Sister.  She told me it was the most exhausting thing she ever did, and she’s done a lot.  She had also ridden the Coeur d’Alenes trail in Idaho during the trip, putting in over seventy miles one day when previously, she had never gone more than fifty.

I write these things and relate stories about my own efforts simply to inspire.  I don’t think Heidi or Kathy would mind too much if I described them, like me, as just ordinary, recreationally fit, folks.  We aren’t chiseled hard bodies spending countless hours in the gym.  We do fitness-related things as part of our routines for similar reasons, but with the underlying theme that we like the things we do and the way we feel when we do them.  They are always things that anyone could do with some training and a little extra effort.

I’ve also found that I seem to be in a minority.  I talk about the Adirondacks constantly.  I find that I truly like sleeping on the ground and going into the back country and experiencing things outside of my comfort zone.  I don’t know why and I do get why others don’t want to try it.  It can be frightening.  There is the fear of failure and the unknown.  It does hurt at times.  And yet I continue and continue to encourage others because I have experienced the thrill of accomplishment in some situations and the bliss of serenity in others.  I get both only when I do go beyond what I thought I could do to challenge my physical and mental self into areas that had frightened me.  It’s quite exhilarating.

So I will continue to train and to try to write about it to inspire.  I will continue to share stories of those in my life doing the same.  In the end, it is so worth it…to do so we can continue to do. 
Hike Duration: One hour
Training Heart Rate: 100-110 bpm.
Calories burned: 500.

Black bear attack in the Adirondacks...

Thursday, September 10, 2015
I had just received my favorite publication, the ‘Adirondack Explorer’, and sat down to read it when one of the stories jumped off the cover.  ‘Black Bear attacks man and his dog’ or words to that effect.  Seems that a man was hiking with his unleashed dog on a trail in the town of Stratford, southern Adirondacks, when he saw a bear chasing his terrier back down the trail in his direction.  As I suppose most good dog owners would do, he went to the aid of his dog.  In the ensuing battle, he was bitten and scratched quite severely, but managed to fight the bear off when he hit it in the nose with a stick.  Bleeding badly, he bushwhacked his way back to the trailhead where he was aided by other hikers and before his blood loss threw him into complete shock.  Both he and the dog recovered nicely.

I sent this information along to Kathy, a friend looking to spend some time in the Adirondacks, and she wrote back ‘trip cancelled’.  I assured her that these attacks were extremely uncommon in the Adirondacks and by black bears, the only species of bear in the Adirondacks, and that the man was able to fight off the bear.  She’s hiked in grizzly country and takes appropriate precautions, like carrying pepper spray, and wasn’t really that worried.  I also reminded her that I would naturally throw myself at any bear that approached her, thus sacrificing myself for the greater good – though I’m sure no black bear is a match for me. 

Still, it is good to remind people that black bear country, which is expanding and includes all of the Adirondack park and all the parks of Pennsylvania, carries with it the possibility of an encounter and it is quite important to know the appropriate steps to take.  I saw a trailer for the new movie ‘A Walk in the Woods’ with Robert Redford and Nick Nolte, which is the story of author Bill Bryson’s experiences on the Appalachian Trail and when they encounter two black bears, Redford reads from his guide book, “we should intimidate the bears.”  Nolte is quite certain this is bad advice saying, “intimidate them?  They’re fucking bears!”

Redford’s guide book wasn’t entirely wrong.  The following recommendations come from New York’s Department of Environmental Conservation in how to deal with a black bear:
·         Never approach, surround or corner a bear: Bears aggressively defend themselves when they feel threatened.
·         Be especially cautious around cubs as mother bears are very protective. Never run from a bear: stay calm, speak in a loud and calm voice, slowly back away and leave the area.
·         Use noise to scare away bears from your campsite: yell, clap or bang pots immediately upon sighting a bear near your campsite.
·         Do not throw your backpack or food bag at an approaching bear: Doing so will only encourage bears to approach and “bully” people to get

Though these tips don’t include some other important considerations.  Make yourself look big by standing and waving your arms if they are approaching.  Don’t look them in the eye, but don’t bother to run or climb a tree.  They climb like squirrels and run faster than Usain Bolt.  If they actually attack, fight like hell as the man did in this situation.  Don’t play dead or you will be.

Such incidences only heighten my interest in being in the Adirondacks.  I want to be places where the wildlife originally intended for a region is still in place.  I want to get out of my comfort zone to some degree.  I like lying awake at night and wondering what the noise was that I just heard and what could have made it (likely a squirrel).  It is part of the beauty and serenity of the woods.  It’s primal and in our DNA and the tingling I get reminds me I’m alive and that what I’m doing has some degree of risk.  I’m not interested in living in a ‘plastic bubble’ and want to experience the great outdoors, albeit as safely as possible without missing the true adventure.  With two trips planned for this fall, I continue to train to be ready.  Bears?  Yes…we need those stinking bears!  
Hike Duration: One hour
Training Heart Rate: 100-110 bpm.
Calories burned: 500.

My favorite time of year...

Tuesday, September 1, 2015
September.  My favorite month of the year because it usually means multiple trips to the Adirondacks for the year’s most favorable weather, in my estimation.  I love it in September because it is cooler, bug free, and most hikers and vacationers have returned to school giving more space to roam unimpeded.  The cool nights makes it a pleasure to dive into my down sleeping bag after time around a campfire sharing stories greatly embellished over years of retelling. 

It also means winter is on the way and if this winter is anything like last, I’m moving south or finding another job…or both.  The bone chilling cold of last February with the mountains of lake effect snow almost broke my spirit last year.  And although I love the winter, snow and cold, I’d forgotten how miserable it can be to work in.  Well…I’m pretty old and retirement is just around the corner, I’m thinking.  There are so many peaks to climb, roads to ride, and trails to hike and I want to do them all while I still can.

I finished painting the overhang and trim on the top of the back side of Mimi’s house and the trips up and down the ladder in the heat and humidity certainly took a toll.  Once again, I drove home instead of stopping to work out at the park.  A bad pattern with time running out for the conditioning I’d like to have when I return to the Adirondacks.  The only saving grace may be that John is in worse shape than me, so I’ll be able to stay ahead.  Not really a cancellation as I’m disappointed in myself, which is all that really matters.  Tomorrow…a bike ride for sure since I have no painting left to do. 

Summer heat returns...

Monday, August 31, 2015
I was getting behind with some projects at the Farm, particularly since losing time to the bastard kidney stone, so I went in Sunday and painted the walls of the indoor arena.  I needed a chance to do them when there would be no lessons or horses in the arena and that meant Sunday.  I spent seven hours cleaning, prepping and rolling and was reasonably tired when I returned home to crash without doing a workout.

On Monday, the heat of a typical summer finally visited.  Working outdoors in the sun tends to drain me of all energy, but I knew I needed something physically related to hiking in the Adirondacks – now planned for the end of September with John.  On that trip, we should climb one of the 46 tallest peak…I’ve still got 12 to go to complete the group…which means a hike into the back country and a very long day of climbing. 

I met Savannah with the dogs at the park and strapped my pack to my back.  We walked without step-ups, each step painful on a heal that had been getting too much activity of late.  Still, I broke a very good sweat and after an hour’s hike, felt like I’d accomplished something.  I went home and made a large smoothie for dinner and relaxed as only I can do.
Hike Duration: One hour
Training Heart Rate: 100-110 bpm.
Calories burned: 500.

"It's an abomination!"

Saturday, August 29, 2015
I looked to the right of the scoreboard at Jacob’s Field and noticed at the conclusion of each inning, a countdown clock started with 2:25 on it.  Just a hair under two and a half minutes until the start of the next inning. 

In the old days, baseball fans at the stadium would use that time to grab a dog, use the restroom or mostly to sit and discuss the game to that point.  We’d be noticing who was coming up that inning and anticipating what would happen next.  We’d watch the team in the field throwing the ball around and going through their warm-up drills, whatever they were.  It was under three minutes total, so action would resume quickly.

That is WAY to long for the modern day fan management would have us to understand.  Each and every break in the game is now some kind of festival.  Music rocks the stadium.  Some squeaky voiced person is up on the Jumbo Tron interviewing some fan about the contest to guess under what cup the bean is hidden that is moving and circling with two other cups on the scoreboard to her right.  The fans are shouting “two –it’s under cup two” as if it matters.  I listen to the chatter around me and from the talk you would never know we were even at a game.  Thankfully, I’m with John and he’s as rabid a fan as I and we’re busy arguing about the game and the stats of the players on and off the field.  We’re talkin’ baseball, for God’s sake. 

And then something really bad happens.  “So…who’s it going to be today?  Ketchup, Mustard or Onion?” the announcer bellows as the stadium begins to buzz in anticipation of the big race.  I mean I’m talking about three grown people, dressed up in suits that make them look like hot dogs having a foot race from the left field corner past home plate and finishing somewhere around first base.  People act like it matters; like American Pharaoh had just lined up for the running of the final leg of the Triple Crown, and are yelling and screaming as these costumed characters come running around the holiest of the holy grails…Jacob’s Field…heading for a sprint to the tape.  Somewhere in the stadium I think some group of seats is going to get a free dog depending on who wins, so in the crowd of 25,000, it actually may matter to four people, but holy shit…the place is going crazy!

“This,” I stutter, “is an ABOMINATION!”  John is laughing at me as I turn crimson and want to puke, but what can you do?  People must be entertained and there is almost three minutes to fill.

Anyway, the Indians went on to win and fans who know when to get excited and cheer did so without an announcer or a scoreboard prompting to ‘Get Loud’ or ‘Make Noise’.  We get loud when it matters and know when to cheer and when to keep quiet…if you know the game, that is. 

I hiked four miles earlier in the day and otherwise didn’t have an overwhelmingly physical day.  I’m still relying too much on the activity of my jobs and not formal training to stay in shape.  To some degree it is working, but not for serious hiking and climbing in the Adirondacks. 
Hike Duration: One hour
Training Heart Rate: 100-110 bpm.
Calories burned: 500.