Into the bleachers...

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Let’s skip past Thursday and Friday since they were both days that included lots of work and no real exercise.

Thursday, I had 15 volunteers to supervise as they attempted to paint various areas of the farm.  I’m a bit of a stickler about painting, particularly when it comes to the trim where most amateurs consider close good enough.  It’s not their fault.  Having the steady hand to do the trim work around doors, windows and the ceiling takes patience and practice both of which are in short supply when you get a group of random sales people together to do a job.  I asked if anyone was comfortable with a brush and three hands shot up.  When I distributed brushes and one of the volunteers asked for a smaller one, I knew he wasn’t really comfortable.  “We can scrape it off with a razor later…right?” Um…well…we can if we have to, but ‘HELL NO’.

Friday was a long day of painting, repairs and more heavy lifting.  I received an email that one of our volunteers had some plywood the farm could have if I was willing to pick it up.  I was, of course and asked for her address.  Maureen/Mo came back to the shop with the information.

“The person with the wood lives on Bass Lake Road and his name is Jon.  He’ll be there to help you load it,” she said.

I thought for a moment.  “Is his last name Duer?”

“Yeah.  How did you know?”

“He’s my nephew,” I said, putting the pieces together.  “He’s not going to help me load that plywood, he’s going to do it alone.”

I arrived at his farm and we stacked the wood into the back of the truck.  It had been nailed into his loft and he’d neglected to remove the thirty nails which held each sheet in place.

“I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon taking these friggin nails out of this plywood,” I said. 

He smiled.

I finished the day by working four hours on a side job staining a deck.  The people are so nice and when I was told I was staying for dinner, I didn’t argue.

Saturday started with brickwork on my house.  A friend who does that kind of work stopped over and we began mixing mortar to apply to the outside of the front of the brick façade where the brick faces had been popping off.  I climbed on the roof and did the same on the chimney and we both sweat profusely.  I did introduce him to an ice cold fruit smoothie half way through the day though.

I felt like I’d done plenty, but as it got closer to sunset, I made up my mind to put a bag of salt in my backpack and head for the Mayfield bleachers for an tough climbing workout.  I’d lightened the salt bag from fifty to maybe thirty pounds and loaded it into my pack.  All told, I was probably lugging about forty pounds on my back as I headed for the bleachers.  I spent the next 40 minutes going up and down and mixing in a mile walk on the track.  I ended up climbing over 800 steps in my twenty sets in the bleachers and wondered if the groin injury would return and debilitate me the next day.  I had plans to ride two hours in the morning, but only a good night’s sleep would confirm that plan.  I was reasonably pain free during the workout and it felt awfully good to be testing myself again.  Climbing steps with that weight truly taxes the quadriceps and is excellent preparation for the Adirondacks…or the nut house. 

Bleacher work duration:  45 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  110-140 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  500

An honest to goodness bike ride...

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

I keep telling myself ‘you’ll get back to riding tomorrow’ and manage to put it off another day with a variety of excuses.  Too much hard work at the farm leaves me tired, but conditioned.  Extra jobs after work don’t leave enough time.  Getting the house ready to sell takes priority.  And…it’s raining again.  The last one is actually legit.  The others?  I could do any of them and still ride the bike for an hour or so without any real problem, but I’ve gotten lazy.

Well…I was close to running out of time for a ride in daylight when I just made myself change into my cycling outfit and hop on the bike.  Ninety minutes later I was happy with myself. 

The ride offered some challenges.  I noticed the groin injury almost immediately, but was determined to ride through it.  I was careful on hills and tried not to pull too hard on the pedals as you can when clipped to them, but for the first twenty minutes, it was nagging.  After that, I think it loosened to the point that it was no longer a problem though I was concerned about the next day.  With injuries like this, at some point you just have to try it out and see what happens.  I tend to do too much too soon, but not this time.  Well…let’s see what tomorrow brings.

I am trying to embrace being single.  For the first time since Holly left, I’ve told myself to enjoy this time.  I’m healthy and strong and my head is coming around to what I have to do to live the rest of my life with a semblance of sanity.  I can make a difference yet in the lives of others and in my own, so do it.  I can also just enjoy an evening of solitude and not having to answer to anyone’s needs.  It can be refreshing or disconcerting.  I’m trying to make it refreshing.

Bike duration:  90 minutes.

Training Heart Rate:  120 bpm.

Calories burned during workout:  1275.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015
“John…we have no water pressure at the farm!”

These are not calls you like to get, particularly when you’re half an hour away, it’s a hot day, the horses need water and anyone you may need to call is unavailable to help.  Once at the farm, I quickly got on the line with our well expert and he assured me he’d be there by 3 p.m., or in an hour.  He was.  It turned out to be simple.  A urinal in the men’s room was running non-stop at a very high volume and pumping the well dry.  Shut it off and things were back to normal.

I drove from the farm to a pressure washing job with rain threatening.  I wasn’t too concerned about getting wet since I was spraying water all over at 3,000 psi, but when the skies opened up and the lightening was flashing, I must have looked a little foolish.  Well I am and the job needed to get done so I continued on.  It gave me the opportunity to see that there were gutters blocked on the home since a huge stream was overflowing one of them and landing directly on the deck I was power washing in preparation for staining.

I finished up and put my gear away, toweled off and changed into dry clothes before heading home for a dinner of salmon and coleslaw while watching another rerun of ‘Lost’.  Damn, John Locke surely looks like me.

I’d felt a couple of twinges in the groin area throughout the day and had determined that time off was still in the cards.  I did call John and schedule a ride for this weekend and having the goal of getting back to the Adirondacks in August will help me keep my eye on the ball and work my way back into an exercise routine.  Tomorrow night will present obstacles though as I have someone coming over to do brick work on the front of the house as I continue preparations to sell.

In search of happiness...

Tuesday, July 07, 2015

If you search for tenderness
it isn't hard to find.
You can have the love you need to live.
But if you look for truthfulness
You might just as well be blind.
It always seems to be so hard to give.

Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty is hardly ever heard.
And mostly what I need from you.   Billy Joel

It was pointed out to me recently that I was unhappy and ‘out of balance’ and that I couldn’t be in a fulfilling relationship without correcting those two issues.  I don’t know if it is true – being unhappy or ‘out of balance’, but I do know that it has caused me to look deep inside and try to find answers about where I am now and where I want to be.  Though the person telling me these things had been less than forthright, I was determined to be honest with myself regardless and search for answers. 

I’ve been divorced since last October, though living alone the year prior to that.  I had never been able to convince Holly to give our marriage a second chance after finding out about her affair and so ended a 39-year marriage.  Happiness? Well, it is elusive in these situations, but it needs to be found and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself at times to get it back.  I’d met someone with whom I’d thought I’d found it, but it was she who gave me the opening advice and who has disappeared without a trace.  Yet her salvo lingers and I truly believe I have come up with important answers.

First – happiness for me must come from within.  I can’t go out and expect to find it from those around me or from the things I do.  I have looked inside myself and determined that I do like who I am and that there is an exciting life waiting for me to live.  A burden of pain and depression had hung over me and it is refreshing to shed.  There is a process to achieving inner/self-happiness and I feel I understand it, but need to enhance it.  Accepting that it wasn’t what it should have been and recognizing the beauty of what I possess is all something I owe to this person and can thank her for that.

Balance is a little less definable, but equally important.  Do I like my job, my lifestyle, and where I see things headed?  These are critical issues I need to address.  I’m starting with the sale of my house.  It is a burden of both finances and memories and I need to rid myself of both.  I love it – it is my home and the home of my family, but it is clearly much more than I need to own and maintain and the freedom to act on other parts of any future plans will be simplified if I let it go.  I have talked to my father-in-law about moving in with him after selling and during the transitional time I’m going through and he’s all for it.  He’s suggested more than once that I do it and would love the company.  At 94, maybe it’s time he wasn’t living alone. 

From there, I don’t know.  I’ve spoken to Interlake Steamship about coming on board as a Merchant Mariner.  I’ve given this much thought and like the idea of the adventures it would bring at this point in my life.  I’ve also considered the purchase of the Tacoma with a cap, outfitted with what I need to sleep and perform work, and going on the road to see things I want to see and work in places I’d like to be for a period.  It’s radical, but it’s doable.  Naturally, I would write about all these life experiences for cathartic reasons and possibly to entertain and inform others down the road.

Alaska beckons, as well.  Paul and my sister Cristin reside in Anchorage and it is a place I could live and work for a spell.  What holds me from any of these things?  Expectations, I suppose.  Expectations for myself, for the way I’m wired to think I should live.  I’m no electrician, but I’m re-wiring.  We’ll see how it goes.

No formal exercise, but a day of digging, pressure washing and painting left me quite exhausted by quitting time.   

A trip to Pensacola to visit Jack...

Monday, July 6, 2015
The last several days have been filled with pain, joy, and much introspection.  First, the pain.

The groin injury continued to hamper me throughout the day on Thursday, though I could see that it was slowly mending.  I was heading for Pensacola to spend a day with Jack and knew that the long car ride would force me to rest the injury.  It accomplished that over the course of a 10-hour drive that brought me to my resting place for the evening; a hotel midway down the state of Alabama.  I had hoped to camp, but when pulling up to the entrance to the state park, was surprised to find a gate in place and locked.

I arrived at Corry Station Naval Base, Pensacola, Florida around eleven Friday morning.  The temperature was somewhere in the high 80’s and the humidity was out of control.  I cannot imagine choosing this environment to live year round.  We spent the day by eating, shopping, going to see the new ‘Avengers’ movie, jumping in the ocean and just talking about what life had in store for each of us.  Like me, Jack is on the verge of an entirely new experience and it excited about it.  He will finish up his training in military intelligence sometime in October and then be assigned to either Hawaii, Washington D.C. or some place in Texas.  He’s got a solid savings plan and a very positive outlook on the rest of his life.  As it would any father, it brought me great happiness to see him on a trail that would very likely bring him fulfillment.

I was still hurting when I got up Saturday morning, but decided it was time to begin pushing through.  I suited up and went out the door for nothing more than a walk.  I ended up hiking for about 35 minutes, continuing the introspection that has been going on in my head over the past week.

We grabbed some breakfast together after which I dropped him at the base before beginning the long drive home.  I’d made up my mind to push all the way through, which would have me arriving back in Highland Heights sometime around 3 a.m. on Sunday.  With a good audio book and my thoughts to keep me company, I was sure I could stay alert and do it.  I was right.

Sunday was recovery day.  I went to the park and did a one-hour hike while I was having my tire fixed.  I’d picked up a nail in Florida and was told it couldn’t be repaired.  Since part of my new plan involves buying a Toyota Tacoma, I opted for one tire since I’d likely be trading in the Camry. 

I prepared for the family coming over for dinner and then rested.  I was craving sleep and was mentally exhausted.  It had been a difficult trip, but well worth the effort.  No one had been to see Jack since he went to Pensacola after basic training and it was gratifying to know how much he appreciated my effort. 

Hike duration: One hour.
Training Heart Rate: 90 bpm.
Calories Burned: 350.

Couch potato...

Thursday, July 02, 2015

I woke around 4 a.m. wondering if there was any improvement in the ‘groin situation’.  I was laying on my side and began to turn to my back when the pain stopped me cold.  I spent the next several minutes positioning myself to get up and out of bed for a trip to the bathroom.  Once on my feet, I stepped gingerly forward and almost toppled to the floor as the pain radiated from my groin around to my back.  I yelped in pain, but only Dakota was there to hear it.  She seemed rather disinterested.

Ten minutes later and with tears in my eyes, I was back in bed and thinking there was no way I was going to work in two hours.  I woke again at six and texted the farm that I wouldn’t be in.  I now knew that this was beyond ‘wait and see’ and would have to include a trip to the doctor.  Damn.  Hate spending money on something that I’m sure will clear up shortly, but since I was completely incapacitated, is seemed sensible.  I got up around 8 and made my way ever so slowly to my office to type an email to Mark Mendeszoon.  I mentioned that the heel was acting up again, as well and suggested that a lethal injection for someone so old and feeble might be appropriate.  He wrote back that it wasn’t yet legal.

He called and after hearing my description of the pain, felt that it was most definitely a severe groin injury.  “Ice for ten and heat for ten.  Take Advil in the maximum prescribed dosage on the bottle and stay the hell off your bike,” he said.

I spent the day on the sofa mostly and followed his advice.  I stayed away from the Advil because it isn’t something my stomach likes after the ulcer.  I’d asked Jason to stop by and get my camping gear out of the attic so I could take it on my trip to see Jack in Florida the following day.  By the time he arrived in the late afternoon, I was actually starting to feel better and considered climbing into the attic myself to get the gear.  Of course that would have been idiotic and although I am, I resisted the urge.

Exercise on hold for now, but I must admit to many things going on inside my head about new goals.  For starters, John and I are planning and preparing for a trip to the Adirondacks the second weekend in August.  It won’t be a difficult one as we will target short climbs and none of the 46’ers.  By September, I hope to be heading back that way again and maybe climbing a little more aggressively.  That will force me onto the bike on a regular basis and climbing up things with a backpack and weight in place for leg strengthening.  The more drastic ideas will follow.

Maple syrup, Adirondack plans and no more smoking...

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

I was getting back into the swing of regular exercise and woke Sunday morning thinking about what I’d be doing that day to accomplish my workout goal.  Then I swung my legs around and put them on the floor only to feel a sharp pain in my right groin.  I rose painfully and stepped gingerly towards the bathroom.  The pain radiated across the groin and down my leg.  Now, I’d been healthy and happy when I’d gone to bed the previous evening, but now seemed injured to the point that I couldn’t even walk.  What the hell do I do in my sleep?

As with most injuries, I tend to think exercise will improve them.  It felt better as I moved and so I put on my cycling shorts and headed for the trainer since it was pouring outside.  I spent the next hour riding while watching another episode of ‘Dexter’ and felt fine when I dismounted.  It would be the last time I felt fine through the writing of this story four days later.

I did go to work Monday and that was a mistake.  I tried to get some things done and spent time on ladders and lifting heavy things.  Always the appropriate therapy for a groin strain.  Tuesday was more of the same except that I was hurting more with the limping causing further pain in my hip.  I had a meeting scheduled with LuAnn to pick up some home made maple syrup and discuss a trip to the Adirondacks, something I wasn’t about to miss.  I changed and struggled into my car, which is the most painful part of any movement.

She lives in Jefferson, which is in the middle of nowhere Ohio and a lovely community with perfect riding roads.  I pulled into the drive of her home, a converted church from the early 1800’s, and was immediately jealous.  There were a couple of cars in the drive, but she was moving and this is to be expected.  I spent five minutes climbing out of the car with pain etched across my face, but no one could see me so my manliness was maintained.

“Oh Bonnie – this is my friend, John.  He’s out here to pick up some syrup and talk about the Adirondacks,” LuAnn said as a way of introduction.

Bonnie said ‘hello’ and turned to LuAnn to say goodbye.  She looked to me then and said, “would you mind moving your car?”

Well…hell yes, I’d mind.  Didn’t she see me convulsing as I’d exited it three minutes earlier?  “No problem,” I replied.

Ten minutes later, sweating blood, I was back on her porch with her son, Aaron.  We discussed camping, kayaking and backcountry trips for the next hour before it was Aaron’s turn to leave.  They both knew about my groin strain and he suggested to his mom that he’d simply drive on the grass to go around the Toyota.

“Don’t worry – I’ll move it.  I like whining like a little girl in front of your mom,” I said.  And I did.

We went over some of my favorite spots to camp and climb until her daughter Kristen, Aaron’s twin, arrived from work.  She too, had an interest in things outdoors and being physical, but when she rose from the park and headed for her car to have a cigarette, I was outraged.

“Are you kidding me?  You’re a SMOKER?”  She headed sheepishly for her car.

When she returned, I laid into her again, but kindly.  We talked about running and pr’s and I assured her I could have her running fast, she had a distance build, if she’d quit the smokes and following a training program I would lay out.  LuAnn was interested, as well.

“You look like you work out,” Kristen said.

“I do what I call the Survivor’s Workout,” I said and described some of the ritual to them both.  LuAnn rides 30 miles at a crack, “but easy’,” she said though she touched her arms with concern over the lack of tone.

“Read ‘Younger Next Year’ and let me design a workout you can do right here in the yard and you’ll get back the muscle tone you want,” I said.  She was quite interested and we planned for me to return next week to set it up and put her through a workout.  “I’ll bring my skinfold calipers and we’ll do a body fat assessment and fitness test so you can see how much improvement you make, too.”  She didn’t look too enthused about that, though.

I climbed painfully into my car after two more hours of conversation and a gallon of maple syrup.  Back home, I pulled out bread for French toast and left over waffles from Sunday’s brunch, cooked them and lathered them in butter and maple syrup.  Though the pain continued in my groin, packed in ice as I ate, the syrup made me forget for the moment.  Damned good stuff.