Do. Want.

OMG!  It's the official 'SHUT UP, LEGS!' t-shirt.


http://stomachofanger.com/legs

Mom, Sis -- if you're reading this ...

It's only ... um ... like ... 205 days, 10 hours, and 45 minutes 'til Christmas.




...Am I pathetic yet?

It's SCIENCE!!!

First, I haven't been on a bicycle in like SIX WHOLE DAYS. I am pretty sure that at any moment I am going to A) burst out of my pants, having gained 286 pounds (even though they seem to fit exactly as they did before I went to the doctor way back on Tuesday) and B) die. Of lack of exercise and/or bicycle withdrawal syndrome. Etc.

Hm.

The following may be kind of gross. I invite those who would rather not read an in-depth exploration of the current state of the inside of my mouth to visit Cake Wrecks instead.


...


It's okay, I won't be offended.


...


No, really, you can go. We're good.


...


Still here? Okay, well, don't say I didn't warn you.

So, here goes.

I am mostly over my bronchitis/sinus-infection thingy — and that in and of itself is actually a good thing.

However, I had conveniently forgotten that the medication I normally wind up taking for these things because I'm allergic to penicillin, amoxycillin, and erythromycin — co-trimoxazole, a combination of sulfa drugs sold under the name 'Bactrim,' if you actually feel like paying a brand-name price for a medication that's been around since the 1960s — has one very unpleasant side effect: oral thrush.

So now I no longer have bacterial squatters livin' it up in my sinuses and bronchii, but I do have flesh-eating fungi going to town in my mouth. Jeez.

I guess I'm actually kind of happy that the thrush isn't terribly bad. The last time I had this, it was violently unpleasant, and I couldn't eat for a week. Switching to another antibiotic and direct treatment with liquid Nystatin saved my bacon that time; this time, I don't think I'll need to go that far.

Rather oddly, it appears that artificial sweeteners help keep this stuff in check. I got a bunch of those sugar-free flavoring tubes to put in my water, since my sense of taste had gone all screwy and I couldn't bring myself to drink plain water, and it seems that whenever I drink some of the stuff from the little tubes, my mouth feels a little better.

It also seems to kill off some of the fungi, though not all of them. At least, however, I don't have furry white plaques all over the inside of my mouth. It just kind of looks like I got punched in corner of my lip right now, which is okay. It's also nowhere near as painful as previous episodes I've had.

Now, I suppose I could see this as solid evidence that the little drink tubes are, you know, basically poisonous (and, in fact, since they contain aspartame — whose metabolites contain formaldehyde, among other things — I would have to agree that's true). However, the same argument can be made in favor of most medications. Sulfa drugs will kill you if you take too much (and not just because you will slowly be turned into a giant yeast mold); even caffeine will kill you if you ingest too much.

I, for one, think it's fascinating, and once I figure out how to plan a formal experiment that does not involve my mouth or anyone else's (petri dishes and agar jelly should work, right?), I think I would like to conduct a study to see which substances other than Nystatin actually do help control this stuff (because my connection could be erroneous, and it could just be that my immune system is working better than before, largely thanks, I would hazard, to all the time I spend on the bike).

Thus far, artificial sweeteners look promising (sorbitol-sweetened mints also seem to help, which doesn't surprise me, since both sorbitol and xylitol have antiseptic qualities), and I suspect honey may help as well (honey is semi-famous for its anti-whatever properties).

In other news, I'm planning on starting a big ol' retrofit on the Swift some time soon, and as of the 23rd DD and I will have been seeing each-other for six months officially. Huzzah!






P.S. If I was Jens Voigt, candida spores would fear me too much to try to infest my mouth.

Sadly, I'm not.

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...

Stay Hungry? Heck, I Can't Stay Full.

I've noticed that when I spend a week or two off the bike, once I start riding again, my appetite loses its 'off' setting.

The night before last, after arriving home, I threw back a glass of chocolate milk (world's greatest — or, at any rate, tastiest — recovery drink!), then got dinner started. While making dinner, I ate something like four or five cookies and a granola bar. Then I ate dinner — a bowl (normal-person-sized, not super-sized) of beef stroganoff (this was followed lunch that consisted of an Arby's beef-n-cheddar, two mozzarella sticks, and a tiny Jamocha shake [the $1 menu variety] — all things considered, it was a very beefy day). That kept things under control for a while, but around nine PM I started feeling hungry again. I decided that I would use the technique Jens Voigt uses on his legs when they're being recalcitrant: I said to my stomach, "SHUT UP, STOMACH!"

Yesterday I wasn't quite as ravenous. After my super-scientific recovery drink (LOL), I ate only one cookie while making dinner (Korean short ribs with yellow squash and wild rice blend). I did, however, eat several slices of raw squash (it was gooooood). I actually left part of a rib on my plate (OMG!).

This morning, I ate a double-serving of oatmeal before I realized I had bought a scone yesterday afternoon that I meant to eat for breakfast this morning. Scones only last so long before they turn into stones, so I decided to eat that, too, though I was actually feeling pretty full after eating all that oatmeal. I am now quite comfortably full, which tells me my appetite is down-regulating to its normal state. A few days ago, I would have killed off the oatmeal and the scone, then rummaged through my desk 'til I found enough change for some animal crackers, or gone hunting for a bagel, or something.

I'm curious — does this happen to other cyclists, or is it just me? When you take a short break or a vacation or whatever, do you find yourself eating more than usual when you get back on the bike?



P.S. If I have learned one thing this year, it's the value of recovery periods. I don't think I want to take two weeks off in a row again any time soon, but I do feel pretty darned good on the bike right now.

It didn't listen, but I did manage to get to sleep without eating anything else.

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.