Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The man who is completely responsible for putting me back in the woods after a twenty-five year absence called me with an urgent request to get together. We agreed to meet later in the day. “You know me, John. I’ve been carrying too much weight for way too long and it’s catching up with me. I go to do a weight workout and I’m just not recovering the way I once did. My legs and ankles are sore. I need to lose weight and I know it. I’ve been reading what you’ve done with the ‘Paleo Diet’ and I need to make myself do it. I trust you to tell me how to make it happen,” he said over a cup of coffee at Starbucks.
I’d been thinking about Henry since a voicemail he had left me on Sunday. Coincidentally, he’d left that message as I was hitting the summit of Wright Mt., a peak I would neve be on if not for his influence in getting me back to the Adirondacks His message said he was in Grayling, Mi., the headwater of the Au Sable River and one that we had run twice in our kayaks…a distance of over 100 miles. I owed him a great debt for putting me back in touch with the woods and all of the wonderful things that have occurred because of that since that time. When he called again to get together, I started thinking about what he needed to do to get back in shape and was ready for the meeting with some basic questions. “You’ve got to change the way you eat and that means everyone in the house has to be on board,” I began. He said his wife totally supported his efforts and only needed some of the particulars to put a plan into action. “I really think you should focus on the eating first and worry about the exercise in 30 days. The Paleo has worked for me and it will work for you. I’ll get you a copy of the book, but I really think you ought to meet with my nutritionist, Bob…get the blood work and do it right,” I said. He agreed to the broad strokes of our plan and said he’d call Bob right away.
And I know he will. Henry…like an addict who really wants to conquer his or her problem…has hit rock bottom. He knows and accepts it and will give himself completely to the steps he has to take to fix the problem. As I’ve analyzed my success over the previous months and that of others I have helped over the years, it is this starting point that must be reached. It’s not a part-time thing…particularly as you age. There is no forgiveness. Body fat, poor conditioning, high blood sugar and other self-inflicted maladies don’t give a rat’s ass about how busy you are or how difficult it is to eat correctly. Either you do it right or you pay the price. There are no negotiations. When you truly understand and accept this simple truth, you can recapture your fitness and health. I know you’re reading, Henry, and I also know you’ll be a new man…Younger Next Year…as we go forward. Let’s climb a peak next September…
I got back in the saddle with a good Survival Workout, breaking my push-up record by doing 60 in my final set on trembling arms and totaling 166 for the three sets. I had someone pass me as I was curling rocks and actually cheer for the methods I was employing. “Beats the hell out of a fitness club,” he called as he ran by. I couldn’t agree more.
Survival Workout duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100 to 150 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 600.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
No time to work out
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The least favorite part of a trip to the Adirondacks is the fact that you must leave them. And so we did on Tuesday morning, making the eight hour drive home in eight hours. Holly had a chicken dinner waiting when we arrived after which I drove the Jeep to see Dan for an oil change and final inspection before Savannah returned to Ohio State the following day. He completed his inspection after changing the oil and closed the hood. I was climbing in the car when I remembered she’d said that the spare tire was no good. I went to the rear hatch to check it to find that it was one of those useless little things that comes stock with the vehicle and that it had a gash the size of a piece of bread in it. “Don’t bother fixing that. You need a new wheel and tire,” Dan said. We talked about where I’d get such a thing before tomorrow and with that, climbed in the Jeep and headed home.
Holly offered me the chance to go on a 40-minute walk later that night, and though I had done nothing physical that day, I declined. I still had to download and save all my pictures, sort through and put away the camping gear I would not be using this coming weekend, clean up the cooking gear and put away the food. I also needed to sift through the mountain of emails I had received while traveling and, if I had time, post some pictures of the trip on Facebook. It was a poor excuse not to do something, but I stuck to it. Maybe a rest day wasn’t a bad thing with the activity that was quickly approaching.
The least favorite part of a trip to the Adirondacks is the fact that you must leave them. And so we did on Tuesday morning, making the eight hour drive home in eight hours. Holly had a chicken dinner waiting when we arrived after which I drove the Jeep to see Dan for an oil change and final inspection before Savannah returned to Ohio State the following day. He completed his inspection after changing the oil and closed the hood. I was climbing in the car when I remembered she’d said that the spare tire was no good. I went to the rear hatch to check it to find that it was one of those useless little things that comes stock with the vehicle and that it had a gash the size of a piece of bread in it. “Don’t bother fixing that. You need a new wheel and tire,” Dan said. We talked about where I’d get such a thing before tomorrow and with that, climbed in the Jeep and headed home.
Holly offered me the chance to go on a 40-minute walk later that night, and though I had done nothing physical that day, I declined. I still had to download and save all my pictures, sort through and put away the camping gear I would not be using this coming weekend, clean up the cooking gear and put away the food. I also needed to sift through the mountain of emails I had received while traveling and, if I had time, post some pictures of the trip on Facebook. It was a poor excuse not to do something, but I stuck to it. Maybe a rest day wasn’t a bad thing with the activity that was quickly approaching.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Uncle Bill and the Survival Workout
Monday, September 12, 2011
The plan for the day was to return to Noon Mark for breakfast and then drive the two hours north to Potsdam and the home of my Aunt and Uncle where we would spend the night visiting with relatives…including my 105-year old grandmother. The plan did not include any hiking or climbing…a shame in my estimation…so I alerted the girls the night before that I might get up before dawn and climb Mt. Van Hoevenberg so I could get some pictures of the sun rising over the high peaks. This only made sense if I had a clear morning sky, so when I woke at 5 a.m. to overcast conditions, decided it wouldn’t be worth making us late for breakfast. I fell back asleep, but woke again around six to see the color of fire in the sky over the mountains I could see from my tent. I quickly dressed and headed for the meadows where I was sure to take some great pictures and I wasn’t disappointed. A mist was rising off the tall grasses that spread in front of me to the mountains beyond. The sky over the mountains was more orange than anything else and I cursed myself for not climbing…but what I was seeing was still spectacular.
I returned to the tent and began taking it down and returning my gear to the van and organizing the mess we’d made of it over the past two days. By eight I was getting hungry and woke the girls, still sore from yesterday’s climb, to begin their process of packing to leave. We went for our breakfast and then drove to Potsdam where we found my very fit 66-year old aunt and 72-year old uncle preparing us a healthy lunch and talking about the afternoon’s activities. “I was thinking we could all go for a ride…Eunice and I on the tandem, the girls on the mountain bikes and you can ride my road bike, John,” my Uncle Bill said. Heidi was okay with it, but Savannah is no big fan of riding and the 13-mile trip he discussed had them both thinking…no thanks. Aunt Eunice came to the rescue and suggested a trip to the Raquette River and some kayaking…of which they had two…while I biked with my Uncle. Perfect.
My Uncle has been biking for over 30 years and always has the best equipment. He ordered me onto his Trek 2400 carbon fiber road bike, which I gladly accepted. He was riding a much slower mountain bike and so I did a series of hard rides out and back to him as we pedaled the country roads outside of Potsdam. I could see from his speedometer that I was riding much faster than I usually do averaging 21 mph for 31 miles of riding. His bike was easily 8 pounds lighter than mine, which would account for the 3 mph difference I was enjoying. I was extremely pleased to get in the ride as I was thinking it was going to be a day with no activity.
Later that night after a fabulous dinner of fresh corn, spinach picked that morning, a fresh garden salad and a meatloaf of veal and pork, I treated them to one of my smoothies. After dinner, my Uncle and I got to talking about his workout routine and how he found it difficult to always get to the gym and that he felt he needed more upper body strength. He hadn’t counted on what came next…a full demonstration of the Survival Workout with particular attention to the things he could do around the house. “My balance is bad, Johnny…and ideas how to make that better?” I showed him how to ‘walk the line’ in the duck walk position and to do knee bends while staying on the balls of his feet. He thought it was so great that he called my Aunt to show her what he’d learned. With little effort…another convert.
Bike workout: 90 minutes
Training Heart Rate: 130 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1,200.
The plan for the day was to return to Noon Mark for breakfast and then drive the two hours north to Potsdam and the home of my Aunt and Uncle where we would spend the night visiting with relatives…including my 105-year old grandmother. The plan did not include any hiking or climbing…a shame in my estimation…so I alerted the girls the night before that I might get up before dawn and climb Mt. Van Hoevenberg so I could get some pictures of the sun rising over the high peaks. This only made sense if I had a clear morning sky, so when I woke at 5 a.m. to overcast conditions, decided it wouldn’t be worth making us late for breakfast. I fell back asleep, but woke again around six to see the color of fire in the sky over the mountains I could see from my tent. I quickly dressed and headed for the meadows where I was sure to take some great pictures and I wasn’t disappointed. A mist was rising off the tall grasses that spread in front of me to the mountains beyond. The sky over the mountains was more orange than anything else and I cursed myself for not climbing…but what I was seeing was still spectacular.
I returned to the tent and began taking it down and returning my gear to the van and organizing the mess we’d made of it over the past two days. By eight I was getting hungry and woke the girls, still sore from yesterday’s climb, to begin their process of packing to leave. We went for our breakfast and then drove to Potsdam where we found my very fit 66-year old aunt and 72-year old uncle preparing us a healthy lunch and talking about the afternoon’s activities. “I was thinking we could all go for a ride…Eunice and I on the tandem, the girls on the mountain bikes and you can ride my road bike, John,” my Uncle Bill said. Heidi was okay with it, but Savannah is no big fan of riding and the 13-mile trip he discussed had them both thinking…no thanks. Aunt Eunice came to the rescue and suggested a trip to the Raquette River and some kayaking…of which they had two…while I biked with my Uncle. Perfect.
My Uncle has been biking for over 30 years and always has the best equipment. He ordered me onto his Trek 2400 carbon fiber road bike, which I gladly accepted. He was riding a much slower mountain bike and so I did a series of hard rides out and back to him as we pedaled the country roads outside of Potsdam. I could see from his speedometer that I was riding much faster than I usually do averaging 21 mph for 31 miles of riding. His bike was easily 8 pounds lighter than mine, which would account for the 3 mph difference I was enjoying. I was extremely pleased to get in the ride as I was thinking it was going to be a day with no activity.
Later that night after a fabulous dinner of fresh corn, spinach picked that morning, a fresh garden salad and a meatloaf of veal and pork, I treated them to one of my smoothies. After dinner, my Uncle and I got to talking about his workout routine and how he found it difficult to always get to the gym and that he felt he needed more upper body strength. He hadn’t counted on what came next…a full demonstration of the Survival Workout with particular attention to the things he could do around the house. “My balance is bad, Johnny…and ideas how to make that better?” I showed him how to ‘walk the line’ in the duck walk position and to do knee bends while staying on the balls of his feet. He thought it was so great that he called my Aunt to show her what he’d learned. With little effort…another convert.
Bike workout: 90 minutes
Training Heart Rate: 130 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 1,200.
Ten years later...back in the Adirondacks
Sunday, September 11, 2011
It’s hard not to think about where you were and what you were doing on this day ten years ago. For the first time in several years, I found myself again in the Adirondacks. Ten years ago, I’d been hiking and kayaking on Cranberry Lake with John and Henry throughout that day and having seen no one, hadn’t known of the attack. Only when I kayaked into the hamlet of Wanakana to pick up some supplies at the general store and heard a report on NPR did I begin to understand. The clerk at the counter looked at my three day growth of beard and said, “You don’t know what happened this morning, do you?” I admitted I didn’t and as he told me, struggled to comprehend what I was hearing. When I returned to our camp site an hour later and relayed what I had been told, neither of my camping partners could believe what I said upon the first telling…it was just too unbelievable. Since we had no access to any form of mass media to give us any details, we sat around our campfire that night and speculated how and why the deed had happened and what it would mean to the rest of our lives. All these things…and the efforts of the police, fire and civilians that went into saving lives throughout that day coursed my mind as I sat on rock outside my tent waiting for the girls to stir.
By eight o’clock I quit waiting and got them up because I knew it would be a long day and we were burning daylight. I made some peaches and cream oatmeal for them and ate my usual breakfast of Kashi cereal. The milk I’d brought along had begun to freeze overnight and was the consistency of yogurt, which disturbed me with each bite…but I finished it because I knew I’d need the calories. We packed a lunch, raingear, and other essentials of a day hike to a peak and were on the trail by 9:30 a.m.
The floods and storm damage had done little to the trail we followed, which was reasonably step over the first mile and had left the girls breathing heavily and bemoaning their own lack of training. “I really should have done a little more to get ready for this,” Savannah said at one of our breaks. “Hey…we’ll get there. Take your time and enjoy the journey,” I said, but knew it was lost. When you’re suffering, you only want it to be over…and that was a long way off at this point.
We hit the junction for the final half mile to Wright Mt. after 4 miles of hiking, but this would prove to be the steepest and most difficult. Savannah is not particularly thrilled when traveling on open peaks above the tree line, but proceeded stoically. There were numerous spots where we were forced to use hands and feet to make the ascent and Heidi worked with Savannah over these difficult points while I scouted ahead to find the easiest route. We arrived at the summit after three hours of hiking to winds of forty mph, but spectacular views. After pictures, we hunkered down behind a rock outcropping to eat a meal of beef stick, cheese, apples, and Kashi bars. Savannah was uninterested in food, mostly because she was dreading the descent which she found much more terrifying than the trip up. We tried to get her to eat…she would need the fuel for the return trip, but she resisted and ate little and after 45 minutes on top, began our return trip.
Fatigued and sore, the girls both stumbled and struggled with the descent. We took our time though, and arrived safely at the trail head at the Adirondack Loj in a little over three hours and in the late afternoon. I hiked the final mile to the van and drove back to them so we could take hot showers in the Loj bathhouse…a heavenly experience after sweating for 7 hours on the trail.
We drove to Keene for a dinner at the famous Noon Mark Café and then back to Lake Placid for a night consisting of sitting in a Starbucks and discussing the travails of the day. We returned to our camp site and quickly climbed into our sleeping bags. I was awakened only once to the sound of a lone coyote calling to a mate.
Hike/climb duration: 7 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 70 to 150 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 3,000.
It’s hard not to think about where you were and what you were doing on this day ten years ago. For the first time in several years, I found myself again in the Adirondacks. Ten years ago, I’d been hiking and kayaking on Cranberry Lake with John and Henry throughout that day and having seen no one, hadn’t known of the attack. Only when I kayaked into the hamlet of Wanakana to pick up some supplies at the general store and heard a report on NPR did I begin to understand. The clerk at the counter looked at my three day growth of beard and said, “You don’t know what happened this morning, do you?” I admitted I didn’t and as he told me, struggled to comprehend what I was hearing. When I returned to our camp site an hour later and relayed what I had been told, neither of my camping partners could believe what I said upon the first telling…it was just too unbelievable. Since we had no access to any form of mass media to give us any details, we sat around our campfire that night and speculated how and why the deed had happened and what it would mean to the rest of our lives. All these things…and the efforts of the police, fire and civilians that went into saving lives throughout that day coursed my mind as I sat on rock outside my tent waiting for the girls to stir.
By eight o’clock I quit waiting and got them up because I knew it would be a long day and we were burning daylight. I made some peaches and cream oatmeal for them and ate my usual breakfast of Kashi cereal. The milk I’d brought along had begun to freeze overnight and was the consistency of yogurt, which disturbed me with each bite…but I finished it because I knew I’d need the calories. We packed a lunch, raingear, and other essentials of a day hike to a peak and were on the trail by 9:30 a.m.
The floods and storm damage had done little to the trail we followed, which was reasonably step over the first mile and had left the girls breathing heavily and bemoaning their own lack of training. “I really should have done a little more to get ready for this,” Savannah said at one of our breaks. “Hey…we’ll get there. Take your time and enjoy the journey,” I said, but knew it was lost. When you’re suffering, you only want it to be over…and that was a long way off at this point.
We hit the junction for the final half mile to Wright Mt. after 4 miles of hiking, but this would prove to be the steepest and most difficult. Savannah is not particularly thrilled when traveling on open peaks above the tree line, but proceeded stoically. There were numerous spots where we were forced to use hands and feet to make the ascent and Heidi worked with Savannah over these difficult points while I scouted ahead to find the easiest route. We arrived at the summit after three hours of hiking to winds of forty mph, but spectacular views. After pictures, we hunkered down behind a rock outcropping to eat a meal of beef stick, cheese, apples, and Kashi bars. Savannah was uninterested in food, mostly because she was dreading the descent which she found much more terrifying than the trip up. We tried to get her to eat…she would need the fuel for the return trip, but she resisted and ate little and after 45 minutes on top, began our return trip.
Fatigued and sore, the girls both stumbled and struggled with the descent. We took our time though, and arrived safely at the trail head at the Adirondack Loj in a little over three hours and in the late afternoon. I hiked the final mile to the van and drove back to them so we could take hot showers in the Loj bathhouse…a heavenly experience after sweating for 7 hours on the trail.
We drove to Keene for a dinner at the famous Noon Mark Café and then back to Lake Placid for a night consisting of sitting in a Starbucks and discussing the travails of the day. We returned to our camp site and quickly climbed into our sleeping bags. I was awakened only once to the sound of a lone coyote calling to a mate.
Hike/climb duration: 7 hours.
Training Heart Rate: 70 to 150 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 3,000.
"You know...the 'Miracle on Ice'?"
Saturday, September 10, 2011
We were on the road a little before 8 a.m. for a nine-hour drive to Keene Valley, N.Y. and our camping destination point. I was right on time as I exited Rt. 87 heading into Keene when I came up against a detour sign. I know the roads in this area…because there are only two…and knew that this detour was long and not very promising. We made our way east and north and then back south to Keene only to find that the road and trails to the campsite and peak we were looking to climb had been washed away from the flash floods that had devastated the area from Hurricane Irene. My mind raced for a back-up plan to my carefully prepared itinerary and with deft mental gymnastics, came to a quick conclusion. “Shit…now what are we going to do?” The girls…not terribly concerned…had nothing to offer. “We can camp in another area, but we’ll be next to the car and won’t be able to have a fire. It’s in the High Peaks area where they’re prohibited,” I said as a way of explanation. Hiking in with packs was never high on their bucket list and they readily agreed. Their bigger concern was over the peak we would be climbing and how many miles of hiking would be involved. “Maybe we’ll do Colden. It’s only a few miles,” I said.
“Colden? Yeah…I’d say 7 miles to the peak…14 round trip,” the guy at the Information Center at the Adirondack Loj said…with the girls listening. “That’s not happening. We need something closer, dad,” Heidi said without hesitation. I’d been on Wright Mt. last summer, but it had been raining and foggy and I hadn’t seen a thing so thought maybe we should try that. “Trail map says its about 3.4 miles to the peak,” I said which they agreed was doable.
Evidence of the flooding was visible wherever we went. Apparently, people had been trapped in the Loj for four days as water crested and damaged the bridge on the only road out of the area. Trail bridges had been washed out throughout the region and would make many trips difficult. Ours did not have any major water to cross, so we were good. We went to our campsite and had a spaghetti dinner before driving into Lake Placid so the girls could get a feel for an Olympic town. “You guys ever heard of the ‘Miracle on Ice’?” They looked at me with blank expressions. Why would they know? Though the victory of the USA hockey team over the Soviet Union may rank as one of the biggest events in the history of sports in this country, it happened in 1980…eight years before Heidi was born. They gave me a ‘that’s a nice story, grandpaw’ look and continued to window shop the stores along the main drag of this scenic little town.
We returned to our site and climbed into our tents on a clear but chilly night. I fell asleep quickly but later woke to the sound of four or five coyotes calling to the night.
We were on the road a little before 8 a.m. for a nine-hour drive to Keene Valley, N.Y. and our camping destination point. I was right on time as I exited Rt. 87 heading into Keene when I came up against a detour sign. I know the roads in this area…because there are only two…and knew that this detour was long and not very promising. We made our way east and north and then back south to Keene only to find that the road and trails to the campsite and peak we were looking to climb had been washed away from the flash floods that had devastated the area from Hurricane Irene. My mind raced for a back-up plan to my carefully prepared itinerary and with deft mental gymnastics, came to a quick conclusion. “Shit…now what are we going to do?” The girls…not terribly concerned…had nothing to offer. “We can camp in another area, but we’ll be next to the car and won’t be able to have a fire. It’s in the High Peaks area where they’re prohibited,” I said as a way of explanation. Hiking in with packs was never high on their bucket list and they readily agreed. Their bigger concern was over the peak we would be climbing and how many miles of hiking would be involved. “Maybe we’ll do Colden. It’s only a few miles,” I said.
“Colden? Yeah…I’d say 7 miles to the peak…14 round trip,” the guy at the Information Center at the Adirondack Loj said…with the girls listening. “That’s not happening. We need something closer, dad,” Heidi said without hesitation. I’d been on Wright Mt. last summer, but it had been raining and foggy and I hadn’t seen a thing so thought maybe we should try that. “Trail map says its about 3.4 miles to the peak,” I said which they agreed was doable.
Evidence of the flooding was visible wherever we went. Apparently, people had been trapped in the Loj for four days as water crested and damaged the bridge on the only road out of the area. Trail bridges had been washed out throughout the region and would make many trips difficult. Ours did not have any major water to cross, so we were good. We went to our campsite and had a spaghetti dinner before driving into Lake Placid so the girls could get a feel for an Olympic town. “You guys ever heard of the ‘Miracle on Ice’?” They looked at me with blank expressions. Why would they know? Though the victory of the USA hockey team over the Soviet Union may rank as one of the biggest events in the history of sports in this country, it happened in 1980…eight years before Heidi was born. They gave me a ‘that’s a nice story, grandpaw’ look and continued to window shop the stores along the main drag of this scenic little town.
We returned to our site and climbed into our tents on a clear but chilly night. I fell asleep quickly but later woke to the sound of four or five coyotes calling to the night.
Friday, September 9, 2011
One day to go...
Friday, September 09, 2011
One day before the mountains and I’m feeling the serenity already. Tomorrow will be a nine hour drive to the trailhead, and then a short 30-minute hike into the area where we will camp. The girls are not crazy about three hour hikes with packs after long drives and convinced me to take them to a different place to camp and climb. There are so many in the Adirondacks, so it was easy. We normally camp in an area of high bear activity, which tends to make them nervous…and I’m avoiding that, as well. Though we’ll be camping in a part of the park less traveled by the bears, we’ll still need to have everything in a bear canister. It’s the law up there and even if it wasn’t, it’s just too easy to do and it keeps all critters out of your food.
I went for a Survival Workout and tried to make it really tough. I did some extra climbs and lifts and found that by the end of the workout I could only do 35 push-ups for my last set…which sucks. My knee was a little sore while walking…which is somewhat disconcerting, but I’ll know more on Sunday when we climb.
I spent the night packing and repacking to make sure I had everything we needed. No matter how careful I am, it seems I always leave something behind. On this trip at least, it won’t matter so much since we’ll be within an easy hike of the car and civilization should I forget anything too important. Up early to pack the food and take the last shower for a few days. There’s nothing quite as refreshing as submersing and washing in a cold, spring-fed mountain lake after a hard day of hiking. Shrinkage…gotta’ love it.
Survival Workout duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100 to 150 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 600.
One day before the mountains and I’m feeling the serenity already. Tomorrow will be a nine hour drive to the trailhead, and then a short 30-minute hike into the area where we will camp. The girls are not crazy about three hour hikes with packs after long drives and convinced me to take them to a different place to camp and climb. There are so many in the Adirondacks, so it was easy. We normally camp in an area of high bear activity, which tends to make them nervous…and I’m avoiding that, as well. Though we’ll be camping in a part of the park less traveled by the bears, we’ll still need to have everything in a bear canister. It’s the law up there and even if it wasn’t, it’s just too easy to do and it keeps all critters out of your food.
I went for a Survival Workout and tried to make it really tough. I did some extra climbs and lifts and found that by the end of the workout I could only do 35 push-ups for my last set…which sucks. My knee was a little sore while walking…which is somewhat disconcerting, but I’ll know more on Sunday when we climb.
I spent the night packing and repacking to make sure I had everything we needed. No matter how careful I am, it seems I always leave something behind. On this trip at least, it won’t matter so much since we’ll be within an easy hike of the car and civilization should I forget anything too important. Up early to pack the food and take the last shower for a few days. There’s nothing quite as refreshing as submersing and washing in a cold, spring-fed mountain lake after a hard day of hiking. Shrinkage…gotta’ love it.
Survival Workout duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 100 to 150 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 600.
"Who's a fanatic?"
Thursday, September 08, 2011
My knee was still a little sore from my last run and so I was looking for something to do without impact…which pretty much left cycling on this particular night. It had been raining off and on, but the roads were reasonably dry though the skies looked menacing. I quickly changed and headed for my bike and arrived there just in time to watch the skies open up. I stood and watched the landscape guy across the street continue on through the deluge. I almost decided that if he could, so could I, but with further contemplation, decided it was time for a night off. I spoke to John later about my decision and that I’d purposely decided against the trainer, as well. “I can’t even think about riding the bike inside at this time of the year. I’d rather do nothing than do that. Besides…I don’t want to be a fanatic,” I concluded. There was a pause and a snort on the other end. “Seriously dude…you’re already a fanatic whether you took a night off or not.”
And I know he’s right. I worried throughout the night that I would suddenly gain back the 30 pounds I’d lost if I didn’t go out and do something…fast. Later that night, I considered going up to the track and doing some bleacher work. Right…my knee was hurting and I was thinking of bleacher work? Seriously…I do have a problem. So…I made myself do nothing.
I did take the time to do most of the packing for the camping trip with the girls. They pretty much show up and count on me to have gotten everything we will need for the trip. I do help them with their clothing because I want to be certain they have what they’ll need…no cotton, warm stuff, and rain gear. As every good backpacker knows…cotton kills…and we don’t bring it into the mountains. Which isn’t entirely true. I always bring a cotton t-shirt to sleep in, but I would never take it climbing. Once wet, it stays wet and if it’s on your body, it wicks body heat away and can lead to hypothermia in cool conditions…like the ones we will likely experience over the weekend.
I head into this weekend with some trepidation. We’ll be climbing Giant Mt., which is a vertical climb of over 3,000 feet and the descent could be tough on a torn meniscus. This is a warm-up with the true test coming in two weeks when John, Paul and I climb between three and five peaks with total elevation gains of probably 10,000 feet. If I make it through that week, I’ll be happy and ready to succumb to the knife and get my knee back so I can run or do whatever I want to do once again.
My knee was still a little sore from my last run and so I was looking for something to do without impact…which pretty much left cycling on this particular night. It had been raining off and on, but the roads were reasonably dry though the skies looked menacing. I quickly changed and headed for my bike and arrived there just in time to watch the skies open up. I stood and watched the landscape guy across the street continue on through the deluge. I almost decided that if he could, so could I, but with further contemplation, decided it was time for a night off. I spoke to John later about my decision and that I’d purposely decided against the trainer, as well. “I can’t even think about riding the bike inside at this time of the year. I’d rather do nothing than do that. Besides…I don’t want to be a fanatic,” I concluded. There was a pause and a snort on the other end. “Seriously dude…you’re already a fanatic whether you took a night off or not.”
And I know he’s right. I worried throughout the night that I would suddenly gain back the 30 pounds I’d lost if I didn’t go out and do something…fast. Later that night, I considered going up to the track and doing some bleacher work. Right…my knee was hurting and I was thinking of bleacher work? Seriously…I do have a problem. So…I made myself do nothing.
I did take the time to do most of the packing for the camping trip with the girls. They pretty much show up and count on me to have gotten everything we will need for the trip. I do help them with their clothing because I want to be certain they have what they’ll need…no cotton, warm stuff, and rain gear. As every good backpacker knows…cotton kills…and we don’t bring it into the mountains. Which isn’t entirely true. I always bring a cotton t-shirt to sleep in, but I would never take it climbing. Once wet, it stays wet and if it’s on your body, it wicks body heat away and can lead to hypothermia in cool conditions…like the ones we will likely experience over the weekend.
I head into this weekend with some trepidation. We’ll be climbing Giant Mt., which is a vertical climb of over 3,000 feet and the descent could be tough on a torn meniscus. This is a warm-up with the true test coming in two weeks when John, Paul and I climb between three and five peaks with total elevation gains of probably 10,000 feet. If I make it through that week, I’ll be happy and ready to succumb to the knife and get my knee back so I can run or do whatever I want to do once again.
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