BoingBoing!

Today's weight: 175.6.
Resting Pulse: 65
Yesterday's Calorie Count: 1988

Not bad.

Here's a graph of my weight since 6 July:

As you can see, it tends to dip way down, then uptick a bit, then drop again (like a bouncy ball descending on a long straightaway, perhaps?).

I think the effect has something to do with water.  Specifically, the biggest drops, if I'm not mistaken, each correlate with the day after a long, sweaty ride.  Over the next couple of days, as my body hangs on to extra water in an effort to recoup its hydration level, my weight swings up a bit, then back down.

This week, I haven't broken 20 miles in one day.  Because of the heat, I've been a little more conservative about distance than usual.  I'm also about an hour short of my riding goal of 3.5 hours, so I might go get some time in on the bike before the temperature gets too far off the chain.

I'm really happy that I'm able to ride in this stuff at all, this year.  Last year, I couldn't have -- at least, not any real intensity.

A lot of that, of course, is simply having my asthma pretty much under control.  While it's true that hot, humid days definitely impact my ability to climb and to ride hard, the fact that I can ride at all in those conditions is pretty great.  Likewise, some of the gain is simply adaptation.  You ride enough, and your body adapts.  About eighteen months ago, a twenty-five mile day was a pretty big achievement, and not something I would do back-to-back.  Now, twenty-five miles seems like nothing.

I think the best part about this whole adaptation thing is that it has greatly expanded my geographic freedom.  A destination twelve miles away isn't one for which I need to plan all week.  Most of my there-and-back-again commutes net fifteen to twenty miles, and that's pretty cool.  Going out to 'just ride around' for an hour or so, I traverse between twelve and twenty miles.

Fitness gains are sneaky.  You don't notice the things you do every day, until you have some breakthrough moment like knocking out a roughly eight mile ride, uphill most of the way, in 24 minutes.  Then you look at how things have been going lately and you think, "Huh, that's pretty cool."  And then you think, "Wow, if I'm twice as fit this year as I was last year, imagine what I might be able to do next year!"  And then you start having grandiose visions of riding across New Zealand on a tandem with your newly-minted spouse.  Heh-heh.


I hope to keep riding for the rest of my life.  There have been times that I've been frustrated by my health, and especially by how slowly some of the gains have come along -- but even slowly, they've come.


Even though I'm still heavier than I'd like to be, I'm pretty sure I'm healthier now than I have ever been, period.


I owe a great deal of that to my bikes -- but on top of great health, they give me fun, freedom, relaxation, challenge...


Makes it kinda hard to understand why there aren't more of us out there, now that I think of it :)

Fits and Starts

My 2-week stint as a courier is done, the Mayor's Hike, Bike, and Paddle is behind us (DD rode with me this year -- very different experience from hammering it out with the fast group!), and summer is unofficially officially here.  I guess it won't be officially officially here 'til somewhere around 21 June, but if you live in Louisville, you know it's summer already.

You know that because the streets are only a few degrees cooler than the surface of the sun and the trees and grass look all jungly, because only like one person in your 6,000+-bike group ride is wearing tights, and because you've already seen the first firefly of the year (woot!).  Also, you know it's summer because every time you set foot out of your front (or back) door, you are tortured by the delicious scent of BBQ (OMG BBQ!) or smoking meat wafting from somewhere nearby ... a scent that follows you as you roll through the city, eventually forcing you to buy teriyaki beef* jerky in the middle of your semi-epic-ride-of-the-moment in a meager effort to overcome THE CRAVING, which might otherwise cause you to tear open and chug the nearest bottle of BBQ sauce (OMG WTF BBQ!) ... or maybe that's just me.

In other news, the bikes are currently not very happy.  Hg is waiting for a new bottom bracket -- which should permanently correct the loose crank issue -- after I attempted to hammer it home ahead of the Doomsday Storm last Monday and managed to exacerbate its existing problems.  Fortunately, DD came and rescued me just in the nick of time (I love him for many reasons, among them, the fact that he bears a startling resemblance to a modern day fairy-tale hero, at least in terms of ability to show up just in time and rescue me from whatever danger currently threatens my bodily, psychological, or bike-o-logical well-being).

QS also really needs a BB overhaul as well, but Hg will probably be done first.  I haven't yet determined what kind of BB QS needs (OMG, WTF, BBQS?).  I think QS will hold out a little longer ... at least, I sincerely hope so, since it's....

Short Track Racing Time Again!

I, of course, will not be racing in the Short Track Series, because I continue to not own a mountain bike ... though I am fighting a mighty temptation to ask a friend of mine if I can borrow his and give it a go.  Ahem.  I do, however, plan to ride over to help set up and so forth tomorrow night.  That should be fun.  I am debating whether or not to wear my team kit.  I probably won't this week, since I'm absolutely, definitely NOT RACING this week, and also because I am back to thinking I look like good ol' Sta-Puft in said team kit (though I did wear it on Monday for the Hike&Bike, because I left home wearing that and the wind vest, and the wind vest got to be too ridiculously hot).  That said, though it should be no surprise at all, two weeks of couriering have done wonders for my fitness level, assuming I haven't blown it all over the weekend pigging out at an amazing BBQ (OMG BBQ!) thrown by our friends K (with whom Swift now resides) and J (her husband, owner of the mountain bike I'm itching to borrow for the short-track series).

The goal, of course, is to not look like Sta-Puft by September.  The problem being that I have become rather a decent cook, and am generally rather surrounded by tasty food, since I like to feed said tasty food to DD and our housemate, LT.  I hope that an almost-totally-blank summer schedule, which provides ridiculous amounts of time for doing nothing but Riding The Bike, will ameliorate the effect of said tasty food on my figure.  Because, really, that's pretty much what it's about for me: I am decently fast when I want or need to make an effort, and not expecting to get a whole lot faster by 'cross season, but I'd really, really like to look better in my team kit.

Sad?  Perhaps.

This concludes today's rambling and hyperactive update :)

Notes
*or soy, or turkey, or whatever

Back in Action

Let me state, for the record, that I actually managed to forget, somehow, how awesome it is to get to ride my bike all day while still earning money.  That's pretty sweet.  This has been a phenomenal week for me thus far, if not as great for our other courier, C, who had a run-in with a car and is laid up with an arm/shoulder injury (he plans to be back soon, even if it means rollin' one-handed: that's what I like about this dude; when he gets knocked down, he just springs back up, usually without even spilling his coffee).

With E on vacation in Ireland and C temporarily out of commission, I've been running my behind off for the past couple of days.  Today QS's bottom bracket started making odd noises, so I decided to run with Hg for the afternoon stuff.  I pulled off a sub-30 minute round trip to American Printing House for the blind, including a blazing outbound run, which actually surprised me.  Apparently, I need to drink tea before taking runs more often.  I am pretty sure I have never actually ridden as fast on the flat as I did on that run, and I am not actually sure I ever will again -- at least, not unless I'm riding with a group, or racing, or something.  Putting out that kind of speed, in my case, apparently requires some serious motivation.  Besides, it feels almost reckless to ride that fast in traffic.

I was surprised to find that Hg makes a really phenomenal couriering bike.  There is no way you could mount a standard rack on him (though one of those seatpost-mounted ones could go), but he's cat-nimble and handles brilliantly at high speed.  I think I'll probably do the same routine tomorrow -- take QS out for the big mail run in the morning, then switch to Hg for the lighter stuff.  And carry an 8-mm allen wrench for those random moments when his left crank gets loose (apparently a 'known issue' with the early SL-K cranksets).

In other news, not long ago, I ran into Dave, the 'Fa(s)t Guy,' on the way home (don't worry, I didn't literally run into him!).  It was nice to get a chance to ride with one of the RCCS guys and chat for a while, especially since it happened totally by chance.  It was also pretty impressive watching him sprint for the light when he peeled off at his corner!

It's funny how that sort of thing happens -- one moment, you're sitting at a stoplight, admiring bike in front of yours; the next minute, you're rolling along in the company of a fellow bike nut, talking shop and so forth.

It's a lot harder, I think, to make that happen in a car.  Plus, it annoys the drivers behind you way more than two bikes rolling along together and still leaving them room to pass.

This Friday is Bike to Work Day proper, and I'm looking forward to the festivities.  Here's hoping that the demiurges in control of weather will favor us!

The City of the Future

When my parents were kids, the world was still imagining flying cars in the year 2000.  At least, I think they were. 

Now, we're not sure if we're going to have any petrol to power those flying cars by the time we get around to inventing them.  Instead, we're scrambling to try to figure out better, more cost-effective ways of doing things like getting from point A to point B and generating electricity.

We're scrambling, that is, if we haven't already figured out that there's a better way, and that the Way rolls on two wheels and burns coffee and carbs for fuel.  That Way is called 'Bicycle,' and -- from its humble beginnings as a plaything for the idle rich -- it has become a fine and wonderful machine that really may contribute a great deal to saving the collective bacon of humanity as we know it.

For those of us who follow the traditional Christian church year, Lent is nigh upon us -- a time of penitence, reflection, and re-dedication to our faith (some other traditions probably do that kind of thing this time of year, too).  Rather than observe the rather tired 'give x up for Lent' formula (which rarely seems to achieve its objective of creating a sense of reflection, penitence, and spiritual focus), my particular church has decided to undertake a neat program called 'Lent 4.5,' wherein we focus, rather than on simply depriving ourselves of some or another enjoyable indulgence, on trying to live simpler, more-Christlike lives: lives in which we reduce our own footprints to afford a little more breathing room for everyone.  I think this is a pretty good thing, and -- of course -- I think that riding a bike is a good place to start.  Likewise, using less non-renewable fuels.

In that vein (and because both DD and I are currently in end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it mode, because we keep watching movies about the impending end of the world's oil supply), DD and I have recently been kicking around ideas for various bike-powered machines: one that would power a washing machine, for example; another that would generate electricity so we could watch movies after the end of the world (at least 'til all our DVDs and so forth wear out).  Thus inspired, DD stumbled upon this neat resource full of bicycle-powered machines that a fellow in Guatemala has designed to help smooth life in an area where electricity and gas power are already pretty unusual (URL, just in case: http://mayapedal.org/machines.html).

I think it's full of pretty inspiring ideas, and I also think it's a great way to celebrate the life-changing power of two wheels and a bunch of cogs.

My 'City of the Future' is powered by bikes (even the washing machines).  How about yours?

You Give Me Fever

One morning last week, our head mechanic came in with a cough.  By closing time, he was looking a bit cadaverous; the next day, he called in sick.  That same day -- Friday, in the morning, to be exact -- I developed a curious itchy sensation in my throat.

I worked all of Friday with an itchy throat and an ever-growing sinus-headachy, wheezy, puny feeling, but went home feeling optimistic about the lovely weekend forecasters were promising.  By bedtime on Friday, however, I was feeling pretty bad, though still not so bad that heading to the doc-in-the-box was a foregone conclusion.  Saturday morning, I woke up feeling just a little worse; by around 11:00, I had decided that I didn't feel up to riding even though it was absolutely beautiful out, and also that it was probably a good idea to head over to the nearby Take Care Clinic 'just to be safe.'

I arrived at the clinic with a temperature of 98.4  Since my normal temperature is rarely over 97.5, I was a little concerned, but not terribly so.  The nurse-practitioner on duty checked me out, diagnosed a sinus infection, noted that my lungs sounded a little rough as well, prescribed some doxycycline, and sent me on my way to the pharmacy, reminding me to call if things either got worse or if I wasn't starting to feel better within 48 hours.

By the time I got home, I was feeling rather bedraggled.  I went to bed with a temperature of 99.1, slept like the dead -- and awoke on Sunday feeling like the inside of a dry-rotted tire.  In the rain.  Or something like that.  By then I was running a fever of 100.3, and I felt like I was breathing through a straw.

Later that morning, my temperature was hovering close to 102 degrees Fahrenheit, and I felt thirsty enough to drink the Great Lakes dry.  Within the course of the day, I took a really long nap, then downed basically an entire half-gallon bottle of Gatorade, plus assorted glasses of water, iced tea, and lemonade.  Since my fever showed no sign of abating, and indeed seemed determined to keep on climbing, DD and I both began to worry.

After some debate (more in the vein of 'should we call, or just go straight to the ER?') DD and I started trying to call the Take Care Clinic, which actually proved to be rather a challenge.  When we finally managed to get through to them, it was around 4:00 in the afternoon.  The nurse-practitioner sounded pretty concerned, decided to prescribe a steroid, and debated switching my antibiotic prescription to Levaquin.  She was concerned that I might have pneumonia (again) and said that I should head to the ER if the initial steroid dose didn't start improving things in pretty short order.

DD went out and picked up the methylprednisolone dose-pack for me, which I greatly appreciated.  While he was out, my temperature peaked at just over 102, and I started sweating like crazy -- like, hard-sprint-in-July crazy.  I was extremely happy when DD came back, owing both to the simple comfort of having someone you love near when you're sick, and to past experience, which has dictated that in situations like this, steroids are extremely effective in getting my lungs to straighten up and fly right, so to speak.

After much sweating and a ridiculously-hot bath, my fever broke, dropping my temperature back to a more tolerable 99.6, though it climbed back up to 100.9 by bedtime.  I slept pretty well, though several coughing fits woke me up during the night.

This morning, I woke up with a temperature of 97.1, and it has been no higher than 98.4 all day, which is a vast improvement over yesterday.

So why am I writing about all this?  Partly, I suppose, to satisfy a kind of morbid interest in human disease modeling.  I was really surprised by how fast this thing came on -- though it's possible that it had some kind of 'incubation' period -- and even more surprised at how aggressively it progressed.  I'm curious how B, our head mechanic, is doing (I actually *GASP* called in sick to work!).

Partly, though, I'm writing about this because it's worth noting that, while I'm still more prone than most to respiratory infections, it does seem that cycling has done my immune system a world of good.  The last time I ran into an aggressive infection like this one, given almost exactly the same course of treatment, it took nearly a week before I felt semi-human again.

At the moment, I'm still subject to violent coughing fits -- though I also think that cycling has improved the function of my respiratory system in such a way that those coughing fits are doing their job, clearing stuff from my lungs, instead of just nearly breaking my ribs for no good reason -- and I still feel pretty puny (I almost washed a dish this afternoon, then realized I actually wasn't up to doing that much just yet, LOL).  However, I feel about 60% normal right now, which is really pretty surprising.  I'm hoping by tomorrow I'll make it up to around 80%, so I can get my butt back on the bike.  (Sidebar: If I continue at this projected rate of 20% gain, I can expect to feel about 160% normal by Saturday, whereupon I will find a nearby race and dominate the by-our-lady out of it.)  In reality, that might be asking a bit much, but we'll see.

Perhaps just as importantly, the fact that I'm now used to feeling pretty darned good, physically, made it pretty easy to tell when things had reached that 'better safe than sorry' break-point.  I've found riding provides handy little reference-points -- I knew on Friday that things weren't quite right when I was feeling a bit washed out and wheezy during the afternoon scheduled runs that I ride pretty much every day.  Moreover, the moment I realized that I didn't feel up to taking a ride with DD on a mind blowingly-beautiful day in late January was the same moment I realized I needed to go to the doctor.

I may be conflating correlation and causation, here, but I can say that both my health and my awareness of said health, not to mention my fitness, have improved dramatically over the course of the past year, during which time my bike-usage has also increased dramatically (as has the population of my bike-stable, LOL, which now consists of three bikes that I actually own -- though only one of them counts as a fully-operational road-worthy bike at the moment, while one is still an embryonic, wheel-less frameset -- and, by extension, DD's assorted machines).

I'm currently deciding whether to try to work tomorrow or to play it safe and stay home.  I guess that will ultimately depend on my ability to breathe at around 4:45 PM today, which is as late as I can safely call up JP at work and say, "Ohai, I can haz nuthor sick dai pleez?"  We shall see.

I guess the whole point is that, at least from my perspective, cycling is paying some very measurable dividends (beyond being tons of fun and a good way to spend all that extra money we all have lying around right now ;D).

I think I have now used up my coherent-thought quota for the day, so back to reading the internets...

Cycling Tips!

Note: The faint of stomach and insect-phobic might want to skip this one. Fair warning!

Many authoritative books, blogs, and websites explain the important set of skills that one should master in order to become a competent group cyclist. However, I have noticed that many of them — maybe most — neglect a few key points.

As such, freshly back from a big group ride (in fact, the biggest group ride I have ever seen in person!!!), I believe I am in a good position to comment, if not-so-authoritatively, on them. Note that I'm just commenting here — not so much advising as just observing.

The first skill I'd like to address is an essential one — an unpleasant-but-important one that any cyclist who rides often enough will eventually have to employ, particularly during allergy season. It's the skill that allows us to clear our throats as well as our thoughts; to remove obstacles (from our tracheas); and to roll on even after aspirating the occasional mayfly. It's a skill that is also near and dear to the hearts of old-timey saloon patrons, runners, and thugs — yes, I'm talking about spitting.

Spitting

While nobody has performed a scientific analysis of the topic, I'm sure that we all agree that spitting, while totally gross, is sometimes necessary. It has taken me some time to become comfortable with the idea (and I still won't spit on the sidewalk, no matter how urgent the need), but there are simply times when one must, as they say, hawk a loogie, lest one drown in one's one sputum.

This is rarely a major issue for a cyclist — when riding solo, we may generally spit with abandon, and in a small group we can simply fall back or pull out of line just a bit.

In a large group, however, such as the main pack of a race, a charity ride, or a big municipal ride*, spitting without mishap requires a certain degree of grace and finesse.

This is especially true, I think, on non-competitive rides, wherein the riders come to have fun, not to suffer, possibly make it to within 43 spots of the podium, and earn another war story**. I suspect that I would be more willing to forgive the occasional ill-timed or ill-aimed goober in a race, assuming I even noticed it***. I tend to ride in a bit of a trance, anyway.

Among the first things I noticed (shortly after, Hey! I can actually keep up with these guys! Whaddaya know! and Crap, it's definitely time for a tuneup!) on my giant group ride yesterday morning is that I am the spittingest cyclist east of the Ohio River. West of the Ohio River, on the other hand, or east of the Eastern Continental divide, my allergies and asthma are much less bad, and thus I am less ... um ... productive.

But Louisville, she is a harsh mistress — and so I suffer through all the prime cycling months — you know, March through October — afloat on a sea of my own respiratory excreta. Or something like that.

This is especially true when one of my first orders of business during a ride is the aspiration of some kind of large insect (possibly a Mayfly?) during a climb. Normally, I can make it through a 20-ish mile ride without spitting 200 times, or even 20 times. Yesterday's ride, however, involved way, way more spitting than is usual for me, and probably doubled my annual loogies-per-mile average (an important cycling statistic).

I was concerned, at first, that it would be very difficult to, ahem, relieve myself of the bounty of my respiratory system's truly stupendous efforts without grossly (and I do mean 'grossly') offending some other poor soul. However, I quickly learned that a small set of steps can prevent catastrophe.

How to Spit in a Loose Group

1. Move to the edge of the group.
2. Check both your left and right sides — even if you plan to send your miniature missile sailing on the right, someone coming up behind you on the left might find it necessary to dart around you on the right. You might hear them coming, but if (like me) you are plagued with terrible allergies that also compromise your hearing, you might not.
3. If you're going less than 15 or 20 MPH, you can probably just turn your head to roughly 2:00ish and launch. Turn your head too far, and you're likely to wind up wearing it. Ask. Me. How. I. Know.
4. If you're moving fast, however, first check the immediate road for potholes and the like, then cock an elbow, tuck your head, and go for the hole shot.
5. Lastly: the idea is to spit down, not out. The faster you're going, the truer it is.

How to Spit in a Tight Group

1. Wait for the group to loosen up.
2. See above.

How to Spit in a Tight Group — Alternate Method

1. Pray.
2. Attempt 'hole shot' manoeuvre.
3. Apologize.

It may, of course, be that you're one of those lucky souls who never find themselves foaming at the mouth on a group ride. If so, please, share with me your secret.

Insects

I have noticed that group rides seem to attract pesky insects. On my first LBC ride, one of my fellow riders was stung by a wasp which flew into his shorts.

On my daily excursions, I have inhaled, eaten, been eaten by, and wiped from both glasses and bike any number of species of flying arthropods.

And, of course, yesterday, I managed to inhale one, thereby profoundly irritating my highly-irritable respiratory tract. I spent the rest of the bridge crossing wheezing and trying to cough up my lungs (not to mention my breakfast), but manfully succeeded in keeping all internal items in place and, indeed, in keeping my spot in the fast group, minus a couple of places.

Likewise, I did not die, though for a moment I was mildly concerned about that possible outcome, as the Second Street Bridge is riddled with joints and various large metal structural elements just waiting to exact their revenge on some poor, addle-pated cyclist, and it is hard to watch out for obstacles while hacking up a lung, as it were.

I have absolutely no suggestions whatsoever concerning how to handle insects, short of 'Insects: avoid them when possible.' However, that's really not very helpful, because it is impossible to avoid insects while hurtling down the road at 20 MPH or faster.

Additional Observations

I learned a couple other things on this ride.

First, I learned that I can maintain a reasonable pace — not blistering, but pretty good — while choking on insects. Also while fighting back the intense nausea that results from keeping up athletic effort while unable to properly breathe.

Second, I learned that there is at least one other guy who comes out on an old Allez for these things. I've seen another Allez of roughly Quicksilver's vintage once before; the one I saw yesterday makes three.

Third, I learned that I am extremely susceptible to the pack mentality. I headed out on this ride intending to pause along the way to shoot some pictures. All the pictures I took, however, are from the start and the end of the ride. This is because I rolled myself up to the back of the first starting group, the 'Competitive Cyclists' group, and once I found myself riding in the flock ... well, you know how it goes.

There was a lot of chasing, bridging, passing, and getting passed going on, considering that the announcer firmly admonished us: "THIS IS NOT A RACE. IT IS A RIDE." No organized efforts, perhaps, but I suspect many of us in the front group were, in our own minds at least, having the race of our lives.

I wonder how big a podium we'd need to fit all the winners? That's my kind of race. I grew up with Shel Silverstein, and while part of me is all about crushing the competition, another part of me is all about 'Hug-O-War'-style racing, where everyone**** wins (also known as 'randonneuring,' I guess?).

As for me, I didn't win, because in my fantasy race I was playing the role of 'star climber,' because apparently climbing is what I do well (when I'm not aspirating mayflies, and even then I'm not too bad at it). I'm confident that I led my (imaginary) team to victory, nobly sacrificing my own shot a the podium, and that's good enough for me. Besides, I'm pretty sure I finished in the top 50, which is pretty good out of a field of 6,000 (non-racers). Not that I care, or bothered to notice ;)

Lastly, I learned that The Jens Voigt Method works really well. If your lungs act up, you tell them, SHUT UP LUNGS! in your best German accent. If your legs start burning, you tell them, SHUT UP LEGS! in your best German accent. If your wrists ... well, you get the point.

Because Jens Voigt is The Man, and we should all try to be a little more like Jens Voigt, even when we're (AHEM) not racing.

Notes

*Do other cities have these? If not, they're really missing out. Monday's ride was awe-inspiring!

**This, by the way, is my racing plan for next road-racing season.

***I hope my fellow cyclobloggers who have actually raced in actual races where they give you an actual number, as opposed to the kind which begin with exchanges like, "Bet I can beat you up that hill!", will be able to confirm or deny this theory. Thus far, all of my races have been the less formal kind (and sometiems not all the participants knew they were racing — I should note that it's particularly humiliating to lose a match race with someone twice your age who doesn't know he's in a race at all).

****...who finishes...

Why Jens Voigt Is The Best Bicycle Racer Ever

I'm trying not to write posts that are basically just links to other posts elsewhere, but this one needed a link:

http://www.bicycling.com/tour-de-france/tour-features/saying-no-sag-wagon

Only Voigt would ride a little yellow junior bike WITH TOE CLIPS in the TDF.

Moreover, he reads Terry Pratchett. This makes me want to hug him, only I would be crushed by his awesomeness before I ever got anywhere near close enough.