Warning Signs

We're in a deep chill here, most likely just like you. I just got done stumbling around the backyard making sure that the heated birdbath is full of fresh water and the feeders are topped off. I frequently get eye rolling at the 'heated' birdbath like its some sort spa and we're handing out bathrobes and blow dryers after our feathered friends hop out of their bath. I use to have the same what's the point? attitude until I read a bit about them. It's currently 16 degrees here, that bath will be rock solid ice inside of three hours if it wasn't heated. The birds tend not to bathe in the thing at this point, they drink from it. Unfrozen water is a concern for them right now.

Before I leave you with some impression that I'm some sort of hopey-changey tree hugging environmentalist I'd like to mention that a nearer truth is I'm a basket case of self-contradictions. Yes I love riding a bike but that's because of some recently discovered pleasure I get from it. I've babbled about that before and will babble about it again. The fact that I may be reducing carbon emissions is secondary, a happy side effect from my point of view. I get from all the reading I do on this 'hobby' from others that some hold the reverse perspective. I'm good with that as long as you don't rub my nose in it.

I enjoy watching the birds and the well behaved squirrel from my kitchen window. I even enjoy a local red tail falcon that will occasionally swoop in for a drink of water or a hapless bird snack selected from the bird feeder buffet I've laid out for him. But chipmunks? I'm a remorseless death camp commandant when it comes to those cute little rodents. They are far too destructive for my tastes, burrowing under everything. Spring through fall, we are at war. I yearn for the day my red tailed hawk buddy nails one. I hold similar feelings for rabbits.

I've grown to loathe deer. Yes, yes there's something majestic about those creatures but when I stare into the deep dark truthful mirror I must confess they are far more majestic nibbling on your trees than mine. They've become giant squirrels to me and I've already been out in the yard shoving a lawn chair at them like some lion tamer trying to convince them that the 'eats' are better in your yard. They seemed surprised by my attitude, one even trying to tentatively approach me to pet it I presume, or maybe get in one good kick.

I've decided to take the day off at the gym, I'm still feeling yesterdays workout - I may play with the Wii fit some, try and get a feel for that thing. When I woke up this morning I thought it would be a super idea to have some raisin bran smothered in yogurt. I'm paying more attention to my calcium intake since I started taking that book seriously. It grossed my wife out.

What's not to love?

So I'm strolling around the kitchen munching this concoction and trying to figure out what I want to do that's pleasant. Feeding the birds was fun but it is too cold for this pansy for an extended stay outside. Since I can't ride a bike at the moment maybe I can go to the library and read about it.

I'm wondering about the depth of my depravity, like I noted last week I'm a piker next to others but the signs are there. However, I want to RIDE and I'm feeling a mounting tension on my inability to do so. It's kinda funny in a junky needing a fix sort of way. Probably by this time next year I'll have full cold weather gear so I can scratch that itch.

I glance at the bikes in the garage while taking out the garbage. They look forlorn and I'm chomping at the bit to prep them for the upcoming season, stupid cold weather! We have four out there, my commuter and ones for the rest of the family. Precious, er my newest acquisition is in the basement, safe and warm.

I check on it frequently. My wife, whom I loveth, comes back from the library full of books about cycling. Some look pretty darned interesting. I plop down on a chair and start reading...

LSD huh? I'll have to try it but that's another story for a different day.

One Thirty by One Three Ohhhhh

Steely resolve, that should be my motto if I'm going to get through today and the century I'm now facing. I had a buddy on facebook ask me to post an image of myself, "change your profile picture to someone you look like. I am dying to see what you come up with."

Unfortunately for her I appear to be in something of a mood, why so serious? I don't know. I decided to interpret her request as a 'self image' sort of thing and went with it. I could feel the onset of it last night when I pulled the mental trigger of attempting 1:30 by 1:30 on the bike today. It was time to try...

What it means (1:30 by 1:30) is a minute thirty seconds of work followed by a minute thirty of rest. This is a step up from my one minute of work, two minutes of rest interval workout I had been doing.

I knew I had to build reserves and started the night before, eating fistfuls of chocolate covered blueberries. That should cover it on the needed calories. yeah...

So I'm warming up on a upright bike, shooting the breeze with IronMan a couple of bikes down from me. He's just returned from a hiatus of sorts having won (I think) some sort of month trial at a swanky gym near his home. I've missed him. He's telling me about the bikes there and how neat they are. They have a display in front of them where you can do various courses (road or BMX) and what not, along with some screen on your route and shifters.

It sounds pretty sweet, or fun anyway if you can't do the real thing since it's freezing outside! sigh (stupid mood). He's also yakking about their version of a StairClimber which doesn't look like it was purchased from some Soviet warehouse like ours does. Don't get me wrong on that, what I mean is when you glance at our StairClimbers you immediately discern their soulless, evil intent. This one apparently tries to hide behind good, modern looks like some hot vampire chick or something. A mental image of it formed in my mind...

IronMan was all into the technical aspects of the thing, how you could adjust the length of your stride and the height of the stairs and what not.

I glance down the row of bikes at him, "So, are you going to join this place?"

"Well I love that it's only two miles from my home but the showers leave something to be desired."

"What's up with the showers?" I can see that I only have four minutes left of warm up and I'm starting to get tense in that way you get when you're about to try something for the first time and you're pretty sure you wont like it, like boiled spinach.

"There's only one so you have to wait for whoever is ahead of you to finish. If they didn't have that problem I'd probably join."

This will sound selfish but I'm secretly relieved that this place doesn't understand basic traffic flow through a gym keeping IronMan off of fancy bikes and stair climbers. I know, I'm selfish but I already know that the gym is a better place with IronMan in it.

Sighing with resignation I see my warm up is done (this is another thing I've taken from Bike Life, warm up so that you can get those joints lubricated), "Time to get to it."

I reset the bike for thirty minutes, plug in my ear buds, jack the level up to 12 and go. Right around the third 'sprint' the extra thirty seconds begins to noticeably take its toll. Towards the end I 'break' on two of the sprints. Breaking is an interesting experience, I'm dying on the bike, gasping, lost in it and suddenly my legs just slow way down and stop. After a few gasps I notice this and trying to grind back up to my over 100 cadence at level 12 is a problem. I keep the level but I'm frantically looking at the clock seeing how much time is left.

It's awful!

Either I mistimed it or I messed something up in my delirium but my last sprint was only thirty seconds. I was good with that.

And now I'm in a mood. Oh if you're wondering what my facebook profile picture was:

Why so serious?

My Inner Hypochondriac

So I can bike in comfort AND lose weight huh? I'll TAKE IT! 
Bill (babe magnet, center) checks out the 2010 Fiasco Systems Spring Fashion Biking Line

It started out full of hope and innocence and ended like Michael Rasmussen at the penultimate 2005 Tour de France time trial. The concept of the book, Bike for Life was intriguing: ride when you're 100. I got it for Christmas from, um, someone who cares deeply about me. I'm sure about that, well pretty sure on the whole 'cares deeply' thing - my wife I think. I know she cares deeply about me when I'm not endlessly trying to recruit her to go on my century and that was the point of the book I'll have you know! To help prepare me to actually ride 100 miles on a bike.

Steely Resolve - that's what I need. How do I get me some of that huh?! I'll bet this book is just chock full of steely resolve!

I tear into the book looking for wisdom. It's a good book full of knowledge and things that you intuitively know but tune out like a Peanuts teacher, your mom or your manager (eat right, train more and harder, lose weight, blah blah blah) and then I noticed that there were entire chapters devoted to problems and spinning (for the off season), problems like erectile dysfunction from the stupid hard as a rock (which you soon wont be apparently) bike saddle since you stupidly turned the nose up past level, and getting your bike sized so that you don't get chondromalacia because it's all over once that happens, a life sentence of horrifying pain. Let's not gloss over the back pain either since you probably have your handlebars set too low so that you at least look like you're a road racer as you whip by at twelve miles per hour. Osteoporosis? Why not? I'm certain to crack a collarbone the first time (and it will happen, oh yes indeedy!) I can't unclip from the pedals because I forgot that I was clipped in due to oxygen deprivation.

Why there's just a smorgasbord of worry here!

I lock in on chondromalacia first, since it appears to be the most tragic of the disabling pains and can lead to a lifetime of arthritis. They say in the book that your knee will sound like Rice Krispies when climbing or descending stairs. My knees sound like that! I was already sadden that my dream of being a Ninja assassin evaporated at the first appearance of Snap, Crackle and Pop but this chondo thing? My mind immediately fast forwards one month and I'm in the gym.

goodMood is whispering to IronMan, "Why is Bill over by the StairClimber sobbing, eating a box of Ho-Hos, injecting heroin and chain smoking? It seems counter intuitive to the whole athletic ideal."

Saddened, IronMan replies, "He's got the CMP!"

Face hardening and picking up a large dumbbell goodMood heads towards Ahab Bill who's gamely trying to limp away in a vain effort to avoid his fate with Moby Dumbbell.

And why not? I should probably be put down for a condition I haven't even developed yet before I infect the rest of the gym with my debauched Ho-Ho eating ways. Why shouldn't I just return to my couch potato lifestyle?

HUH?! Yeah, I'm looking at youuuuuuuu!

Returning to a life of turpitude might be just the ticket here. I recall those days fondly, particularly when I'm in some hellish HEAT class or doing the dreaded intervals. I could lay on the couch with a bag of Doritos happily munching away with nary a thought in my pretty little pinhead only subconsciously feeling my life

just

slipping

away

laying on my deathbed with a broken spirit filled with what ifs and might have beens if I

had

only

tried

::glares at the 'Big Help' reader::

So I pondered the bad knees, destroyed backs, limp penises (I didn't dwell on this one, honest!), broken collar bones and evaporating skeletal mass weighing them against The Tao of the Couch Potato and have decided to press on with this biking madness.

Color me weird but I enjoy it. I prefer it to doing nothing. My son is right, I have lost my ever loving mind. So I tear into the book again noticing or paying attention to their strategies. Their number one thing appears to be:

Getting a 'proper fit' for your bike.

So I'll be setting a meeting with the Trek store (where they have bike fitters, something of an arcane art apparently) to get my bike fit to my body. Those poor fools have no idea how crazed I'll be about this since I plan to spend a fair amount of time on the goofy thing.

Then they have various 'steps' for whatever is troubling you at the time. There aren't enough hours in the day to get through all the steps in my opinion (I haven't tried it but just on a glance...) so I'll probably have to address the osteoporosis problem when my arm breaks after picking up a pencil, although I am now drinking more milk. Little things ya know.

I'm googling the vast knowledge of THE INTERNET looking for the proper way to train for this century and I'm kinda digging having a goal more specific than ride more miles for this upcoming spring/summer. Yes, like the great minds of our past I'm starting to scheme and...

form a plan, God save our souls!

A Taste of Humiliation Followed by a Winter Ride

I suffered yesterday getting to the bike ride. I was quite the Goldielocks, "It's too cold, it's too wet" blah, blah, blah. I also locked in on getting my new helmet which my loving wife threw up a mess-o honey do-s as roadblocks.

If you wish to purchase your worthless helmet you must first slay the Kraken!!!

Well Kraken slaying takes some time but around 2pm I was strolling into the magnificent Trek store with my son in tow. Who should I see walking in? Why intoIt of course!

Watching intoIt walk into the store reminded me a lot of Norm entering Cheers, everyone knew his name and I mean everyone! As I was opening the door I was bemoaning how cold the weather was and I get a flat stare from intoIt who mentions, "I did fifty-five this morning."

Oh. Well what do you say to that?! I'd still be on the bike if I was doing fifty five miles. Chagrined my son and I follow intoIt in the store where I'm greeted by the guy who sold me my Madone (after he said 'Hi' to intoIt of course, one must maintain protocol here). The first thing out of his mouth was, "Don't you love this weather? This is perfect weather for a ride! I'd be out all day on a day like today. How's that bike of yours?"

"Um, well I've put 11.5 miles on it. I don't plan on riding it today, you know the weather and all... don't want to get it salty..." I trail off lamely, "I plan on taking the 720 out later today if the weather improves," accidentally misnaming my commuter bike (a 520) for a recumbent exercise bike, I'm so flustered with the whole gotta ride today thing. I'm beginning to realize that next to these guys I'm a PIKER when it comes to unnatural bike love.

The sales guy looks at me piteously and with growing excitement takes me over to a bike on a trainer and starts showing me this Madone with electric shifters. I'm not real sure what the big deal is on the whole electric shifter thing, I guess it's like having an automatic vs manual in a car. He motions towards the bike, "Hop on and try it out!"

Naturally I never pass on an opportunity to humiliate myself and the guy who sold me my bike was happy to oblige. I'm not a flexible dude, particularly in jeans. My first attempt mounting the bike failed miserably causing my son to burst out in uncontrolled giggles before engaging in open taunts. I'm now eying the bike figuring it probably wont fall over and manage with a lot of prayer and grunting to get my leg over the saddle. I start pedaling and clicking shifters, it's OK I guess but I'm not a racer, I'm a dude who likes to pedal about. I'm also wondering what happens if the batteries go out on some eight hour biking nightmare.

I execute a 1.7 (out of 10) dismount without ripping my pants or falling over and wander off towards the helmets. I'm overhearing the bike sales dude and intoIt discuss the electric shifters, something about how the big ring shifter is really fast and the other regular gears they can't really tell the difference.

Oh my, there certainly are a lot of helmets here and they come in three sizes, S-M-L. I have a massively huge head (one of my nicknames in college was 'Bus Head' - sigh) so I select one (large) that matches the color of my bike (this is critical) and try it on. I look stupid, well OK more stupid. It almost looks like I'm wearing a blue mushroom on my head. My son is once again giggling, so I know where he stands on my appearance. I call across the store for an objective opinion. I mean how can you not look like a dork in one of those things?

"Hey, intoIt! Do I look like a dork in this thing?"

intoIt winces (not a good sign), "Well it does look a little small."

Starting to feel like a girl in a shoe store, I sigh and go back to my options. Ultimately I decide on the one I originally picked out (dorkiness be damned!) since it is very well vented, and I do get uncomfortable in my current helmet during the summer. More importantly it matches my bike color. I ponder what those large vents will do when then the sun shines down on my massive bald head. My son assures me I'll look like Darth Maul with large sunburned strips adorning my pate. Super! I can't wait to see folk struggling not to look at my sunburned strips, silently wondering what I'm dying from.

Always a fool when it comes to peer pressure, I get back home and decide I simply must ride. The weather, in my candy butt opinion, is 'tolerable' and I spend the next forty-five minutes frantically finding a leg tie (since I'm wearing sweat pants - for those who don't know it keeps your pants cuff out of the chain), water bottles and the Garmin. I also have to pump up the tires and finally I'm ready for my first winter ride.

bikerBabe had given me a litteny of advice on what to wear, it's in the mid-forties so I follow part of her advice, mainly about wearing regular gloves instead of biking gloves. What I learned was that my hands were fine but my ears got pretty cold. So on getting home I did a quick search and of course they have ear muffs for a bike!

There just comes a point where it no longer matters. Ya know? Take one look at this guy's pic and you can see the humiliation etched upon it BUT his ears are warm, unlike yours. Sacrifice looks for comfort? Honestly I already look like a complete dolt on the bike so what's it matter after you cross that line? This explains the bandanna I purchased during my helmet escapade.

This thing is bright day-glo yellow! I plan to wear it under my well ventilated helmet so that I don't end up with some weird sunburn pattern on my skull that looks like it resulted from a drunken trip to the local tattoo artist "Blind Eddie." When the time comes (Spring) I'm going to find out exactly how that day-glo yellow contrasts with the blue of my helmet. I'm going to look like one of the Matango, a weird, mutant mushroom person or a huge enraged bee. There will be a fine line when that time comes between the car driver steering well clear of that thing or mowing it down for the good of humanity ("I couldn't let such a monstrous aberration live, now could I?").

Yes, yes, I'll post pics of me in full regalia - sheesh.

So I hit the road taking the ole neighborhood route to the bike path I want to make my run on. I'm not ready to mix it up on the real road yet. It's wetter than I thought it would be with all the snow melting so I'm glad I'm on the 520 not quite ready to get my new bike dirty and spend the rest of Sunday sterilizing it. There are people out walking on the path but I only saw one couple on bikes. They looked beautiful together all shiny white teeth and happy smiles. I was headed home at that time so I was covered in road grime, well path grime, and feeling odd in my bright yellow windbreaker and ancient yellow helmet with bright yellow bandanna under it next to these two. I sort of hated them for no real reason except they looked too coordinated, too pretty, too grinny. Maybe it's because they looked like they were enjoying themselves but more likely it was 'pretty envy' on my part. Why do I have to be the dork here? Whatev.

My thighs were burning in that familiar way. I suspect one can get addicted to that. I'm not really pushing it since I'm riding under unfamiliar conditions coupled with the fact that I'm out of 'bike riding' shape. I'm bemused by that, it doesn't matter how much you workout at the gym nothing will get you in shape for riding a bike like actually riding a bike. Go figure.

That's not to say that I'm retiring from the gym here. This was a realization that when the season starts I better be setting my expectations lower and not think I can go out for a, ahem, quick 25 and not feel it. I'm going to have to work my way up to that century baby, I am considering doing a tempo workout on one of the indoors however, you know just hop on an upright bike and pedal for ninety minutes or so, just keep the legs moving.

So I make it home, wetter and more relaxed than when I left. I have to pay much more attention to the road when I'm out during winter. Is that a wet patch or ice? In this case it was too warm for ice. Potholes. Junk in the road (there seems to be more of it in the winter). I hop off the bike and immediately feel that weird body still in motion feeling you get sometimes coming off the treadmill. I consult with goFast about it and he tells me that it's normal, as you get in better shape your leg muscles collect more blood so if you stop the blood pools down in the legs for a bit.

Or I have a tumor.

I took a quick peep at the stats from the ride:

520 (my commuter): average 12.8mph 55 minutes
Madone (new bike): average 14.4mph 47 minutes

This was over the same route and admittedly I was pushing a bit harder on the Madone. Doing the century math of 100 miles - if I can maintain an average of 12.8mph then I'll complete the century in seven hours, forty eight minutes. If I can maintain an average of 14.4mph I'll complete the century in six hours fifty four minutes.

Either way, piece of cake.

Fa-fa-fa FASHION!

I'm restless this Saturday morning sitting on a couch in the basement and pounding the temperature widget like a browser refresh button. Of course it's 6:30am and about 37 degrees but come on! Bill needs to putter in the garage and prepare his commuter bike for a jaunt around the neighborhood. I'm just quivering with anticipation, and nooooo it's not the six cups of coffee I've already consumed.

I have so much to do! I need a new helmet, that must coordinate with my new bike so I don't look like some sort of dork. Check out the fashion plate on the left for example. DUDE those shoes are so not working with that road rash suit you're wearing! But I've discovered that helmet choices are endless. I could go with the Alien look and maybe shave a second off my commute to work by getting a time trial helmet but it would make my butt look fat - shudders!

What I'm learning is fashion is so very important in being a better, faster biker, who knew?

Hmmmm, apparently you need special Pearl Izumi Tri shorts just to change a tire! I do want to be comfortable when changing out a tube, I wonder what 'the look' will be for cleaning a chain in comfort? I bet I'll look hot in it though.

Gosh! I have so much to learn about fashion and biking, so let the following be a lesson to you:

1. Bill buys a really nice bike of his dreams
2. Bill discovers that his bike is sooooo good looking that now he must make sure he coordinates with his bike and if you know Bill at all when it comes to fashion you realize he's now waaayyyyy in the deep end of the pool
3. As the temperature refuses to climb Bill comes to the realization that the roads are too salty for his pretty, pretty bike and his 'old' bike will have to do
   
4. Bill's accepting donations for his illness but has no intention of getting 'better' and will check himself into Your Bike is Just a Hobby Not a Shrine clinic but will refuse treatment, much like Tiger Woods

There are all sorts of bike etiquette that I didn't even know about. Take this Boy Scout for example:

So ladies if you suddenly find me in a similar position next to you when you're riding your bike, just know I'm merely being helpful, polite and all. Dudes, as always, you're on your own.

Slow Time

TomS and I are hanging in BW3, I'm wolfing down chicken wings (12 of them) along with a coke that would ultimately cost me about 800 calories. I always get a bit worked up when hanging in the presence of TomS, a dude who inspires me on many levels - go figure. I'm trying to talk him into doing a century with me this summer and he's being coy about it. Having run two marathons he's currently thinking "not likely." He's more of the mindset of The Summer of Long Fat Burns.

Fine! So he's not as demented, stupid, crazed as I am... at the moment. I'll wear him down, like the Tour de France dissolves Cadel Evans's resolve. (My current favorite quote from Bike Snob NYC).

A new high on the ol' maxHR front of 172bpm. This was achieved on my pal the StairClimber after a weekend of doing pretty much nothing. I hate this part of the year, the only folk with time off are the banks and schools - my major achievement was finishing Assassin's Creed 2, I just need to figure out the appropriate place to put it on my resume while trying to airbrush over all the help my son gave me. At the moment I'm hanging out in Tuscany in the 13th century trying to get 100 eagle feathers (look, Assassin's Creed 2 is complicated, I'm not sure you could handle The Truth!). Anyway, after all that game play I have freakish thumbs like Megan Fox, I hope they recover - sigh.

With my usual combined feelings of anticipation and dread (I experience similar ones at every performance review) I manned up for the Tuesday HEAT class. Bubbles hurt me long time. There was me, J-TOSRV, speedyGonzales and racketBall. Once again the combined class handed me my ass but I was hanging in there.

During the class I pulled an Achilles tendon which caused me later in the day to overcompensate on my right leg causing that knee to go making me write run on sentences and bemoan my age. It's Friday now and the knee feels better but I worry about both knees - bad knees are no good for biking. SIGH

I caught sight of IronMan on Wednesday looking all relaxed and tanned from his brief sojourn in FLA. It sounds like he had a great trip. I haven't seen him since even though goodMood and I did rackruns in his honor on Thursday hoping to karmicly bring him in. My biceps feel it today.

My mind is turning towards spring/summer even though I'm not through the worst of winter yet. My wife caught me down in the basement carefully peeling the myriad warning labels and other stickers off my new bike. This prompted my son to immediately start teasing me about reducing drag. I chuckled along not wanting to admit the real truth that I just want my bike to look awesome even if the dweeb pedaling it doesn't. This slow time is killing me, soon I'll start licking the stupid bike, I just know it!

So this morning (Friday) I decided to just do a session on the bike at a slow pace setting the bike for thirty-five minutes, fat burn level six. That plan lasted about seven seconds until Mr. Brightside came on the iPod. There are certain songs on my 'Workout' playlist that just motivate me. Brightside is one of them, it's the beat of the thing or something, but the opening riff came on, I smiled, closed my eyes and just started jacking my cadence waaayyyyy up to a sprint. I kept the level down at six which is no big shakes for me but I just wanted fly...

It felt great. I got an understanding of what Le Tour riders are doing when you see them on a bike before a race just hammering the pedals. It felt like a warmup - I wasn't exhausted or anything when I was done but felt... great... and uh sweaty. I was relatively happy with my average cadence of 101 for thirty-five minutes.

I have more to say but no time. I need to post more, it's bottling up now.

Have a fantastic weekend and be well!

A Legend Falls - RIP Cloud

Cloud 

9 Oct 2008 - 18 Jan 2010

Feisty, opinionated, loner... feral. These and other words would describe Cloud, my daughter's dwarf Siberian hamster. Cloud was a bundle of aerobic energy that brought a lot of joy into our lives given her diminutive size. I particularly enjoyed listening to Cloud's late night sonatas composed in the key of wheel banging against the cage until exhaustion overtook me and I drifted off to dreamland. There were times when Cloud would become a tad too exuberant and I would have to stagger out and disconnect the wheel during Cloud's rendition of Smoke on the Water.

Cloud despised conformity preferring to run on top of her hamster wheel unlike 'common' dwarf Siberian hamsters and periodically would hone her razor teeth against the cage in hopes that you'd be foolish enough to dangle a morsel (like your finger) a bit too close. She only respected my daughter who fed her, cleaned her cage and took very good care of her.

On Martin Luther King day Cloud indicated that something was amiss. My daughter noticed that the little hamster was dozing on one of her platforms as opposed to in her bedding, "She never does that!" I tried to stay in the camp that Cloud merely had an upset stomach but my daughter was certain this was it and the death watch began. My daughter did everything she could to make Cloud's final hours on this ball comfortable but around 9pm, while packing for the gym, I hear a quiet, "Dad..."

I come out to the den, see my daughter sitting on the couch next to her mom holding a still Cloud in the palm of her hand. She looks up at me, tears welling and with quiet dignity says, "Cloud died." I sit next to her, pat Cloud's soft fur one last time and try to console my very upset daughter over the loss of her pet.

Cloud will be interred this Saturday, January 23. She's currently in the family deep freezer much like Walt Disney until time for the proper ceremony.

Cloud, dwarf legend, hamster wheel maestro, rest in peace and have fun on the big wheel in the sky!

Well Alrighty Then!

I still read your blog dad :( - Son

Was sorry to read you were only going to write Exercise in Futility only once a week, cuz that is how I kept up with you. - Mom

I have truly enjoyed your blog and really “miss” the daily entries, but I certainly understand! - JRock

So you're stopping the blog? - noNeed in the cafeteria line

I think it was my son's comment in facebook that tipped the scales. I'm also feeling a certain amount of jonesing while not writing - I'll pick up the pace of entries. I may even go so far as widening the scope of this blog a bit, I think it's time to relate how all this sturm und drang flows outside the gym. Perhaps I'll even go with the literal definition of sturm und drang, "works containing rousing action and high emotionalism that often deal with the individual's revolt against society."

I've always wanted to revolt against society but shaving my head's out and tattoos and piercings hurt, what to do... it'll come to me. Maybe goth? I'll have to check with the ladies on how to best keep my mascara and black lipstick from running all over my face during some HEAT class. I'll also have to work on my resigned stoicism, a lot, I whine, cry and complain during most workouts and that's not goth... is it? I have a mental image of becoming some sort of Wednesday Addams in the gym, resigned to my fate, accepting the latest Bubbles' indignity... dying... slowly... in great pain while looking nonchalant about it.

The latest Bubbles indignity is The Rope Ladder. Giggling with anticipation, she lays that out on the gym floor and my heart just sinks. Bubbles then performs some Charleston, two-step Foxtrot, Watusi, thingy and then stares at me expectantly with this, "Come ON Bill! What's the hold up here?!" expression on her face. I start out OK on the first rung, by the second I've pretty much forgotten the move and by the third rung I'm flailing about like a spastic Smokey the Bear stomping out a fire while on mescaline.

Good times, good times.

I seriously need to work on my balance and coordination which brings me to the Wii Fit Plus. I got two for Christmas which was sort of depressing given all the work I've done over the last year but I tried not to think about that too much and my sister was kind enough to return hers so that I could get other nifty gifts! My biggest issue (currently) with the Wii Fit Plus is actually using it. I have to work it into the Tao of Bill in some manner. It has these nice yoga exercises that I think would actually help with my balance and flexibility if I'd only use the silly thing.

You use the Wii Balance Board™ accessory to measure your center of balance, Body Mass Index (BMI), and body control. Based on these results, you can also determine (meaning you don't have a choice, it will be determined) your Wii Fit Age. My Wii Fit Age is 48, my sister's is 68 (she's seven years younger than I am) and grandma she took the news pretty hard. In all fairness this might have been because we (meaning me) might have mislead her on one of the tests. It was pretty funny, well, from my point of view anyway since my sister is some sort of gym fiend and is in far better shape than I am.

I'm not a fan of the whole BMI thing, I think it was invented by Kate Moss, my BMI informs me that I should weigh 162 pounds (just forty more pounds to go!) for my 'ideal' weight. Then the Wii helpfully plumps up my Mii avatar based on my current weight (202lbs) - nice! ::rolls eyes:: I think the only way I can achieve my 'ideal' BMI is to do what Kate did, eat a leaf of lettuce once a week and hit cocaine pretty hard for the additional cardio workout. Anyone up for funding that project? Me either.

I'll update on the Wii Fit Plus when I start incorporating it into my schedule. I hope it's useful.

While hanging out at my parents I picked up a book my dad said I could read called,
Open: An Autobiography. It's about Andre Agassi and it's a great read. I haven't finished it yet but the thing that caught my eye (so far) is his constant insistence that he hates tennis. That's hard to reconcile with someone who won eight Grand Slam titles, but what ultimately comes across is a human being. Check it out.

I have another book that's on the pile called, Bike for Life: How to Ride to 100 which I've skimmed. I'll have more to say on it later. In fact I currently have quite a pile of books I'm working through.

I've been having more fun at the gym since it's filling up with the regulars and the resolutionPeople. I look at the resolutionPeople and wonder how many will make it. In a way we're all resolutionPeople at the gym, gone at anytime but some disappear faster than others.

Recently awesomeGirl was weighing in for the Holiday Holdout thing the gym was running. This was some 'game' the trainers were playing trying to keep everyone from putting on weight and committing some Jonestown mass suicide during the holidays. She has total focus on the slider, willing it to go further down. There were about five people in the trainer's office waiting their turn to do this official weigh in, along with Bubbles jotting weights down on some clipboard. Muttering conversations, activity, distractions were going on. Enough cover for me to creep in and lay a heavy foot on the scale without awesomeGirl noticing. Her brow furrows while panic etches into her normally happy face. She starts to turn to Bubbles asking, "What's going..." when she notices the one dude sitting on the trainers desk smirking at me. She wheels, notices my foot on her scale, yells, "Why you...!!!" and literally shoves me out into the hallway. I got her pretty good.

That was fun.

I hadn't seen IronMan in what seemed like forever. Every morning I'd say a prayer that he wasn't going through what I went through a few months ago at work and hoping he'd be back in the gym soon. I walked in one morning and he was sitting on a BOSU ball holding a ten pound medicine ball getting ready to do a sit up/get up. I silently approach him from behind at an angle where he couldn't see me in the mirror, bend over at the waist at a right angle and wait. IronMan lays way back until my grinning visage comes into view. NOT something one wants to see at six in the morning! His girly scream was most satisfying.

That was fun too.

intoIt sends me a few emails demanding that UNC Head Basketball Coach Roy Williams be fired. This was after the latest Carolina loss to Clemson. He's, of course, kidding but I wonder in the back of my mind if there might not be overly exuberant fans that might be calling for his scalp. This is obviously a building year for my Tarheels. He then sends me a link to Bike Snob NYC - this guy writes rings around me so I'm a tad reticent to point it out to you but there it is.

Friday morning and I'm suffering on the upright bike. I'm in a total interval coma, emitting unattractive wheezing and just trying to get through this thing. I haven't fully committed to Bubbles latest assault on my dignity but I will. I'm easing into it. I use to be able to pull an all nighter no problem, ya know? Now when I'm required to do something like that it takes days to recover; this is a similar thing, trying to get my rhythm back after vacation.

As I'm gasping, sweating, dying in one minute increments I'm dimly aware of those around me, goodMood humping the StairClimber, awesomeGirl hammering the recumbent next to me, AT Everest wandering about in some post elliptical daze, and IronMan on the treadmill. All of us seem to be in the mood, but I'm bleary, not concerned about other's pain today, at least at the moment. I'm pondering this weird billing battle with Apple's MobileMe and I want, no I need, to hammer my frustration out on the pedals. I plan to reengage their weird customer service structure again later today.

"I'd like to talk with someone at customer support, please."

"You ARE talking with someone at customer support."

"Noooo, I'm 'chatting' with someone at customer support through an IM client, I'd like to speak with someone."

"I can't give you that information."

WHATEVER!

So I'm sincerely HAMMERING the pedals during the work interval, not quite brave enough to take it to Bubbles' next level of a minute thirty work, a minute thirty rest which is starting to feel like unfinished business but the current one minute work, two minutes rest is doing the job.

I come off the bike, stumble about, clean the bike, notice goodMood and awesomeGirl are still on their respective machines and IronMan is killing his ABS. I decide to walk on the treadmill for ten more minutes of cool down, while on it I'm razzing IronMan about his upcoming business trip to FLA telling him he'd better do more cardio and pay that calorie intake forward.

I'm getting a grumpy look back at that. He then grabs this medium sized stability ball (yes Virginia, they come in sizes, who knew?), puts his chest on it, arm walks out into a plank, does a full pushup and then arm walks back. He does this at least ten times fast, shutting me down into a quiet, respectful awe.

He sits on his ankles with this bored expression probably deciding if he should have a stroke or not. Then he comes over to the treadmill and runs on it for a bit.

I hop off my treadmill in shame.

I come back and review my Garmin data noting that over the course of the year I have never gotten my HR above 168bpms. I've gotten it to 168bpms at least three times. I'm starting to wonder if that's my maxHR and why I'm so fixated on it.

Be seeing you :-)

One Year Later...

Hmmmm, how do you turn this thing on? I study the display panel looking for a button marked, "Start your self abasement" but can't find anyway to turn it on.

I feel like a dork.

I feel like my ignorance has cast me right into the spotlight for the three others working out in the gym at the moment. Assessing eyes are on me and I can tell that now I'm everyone's bitch.

Super.

What to do? Nearing panic I decide the best course of action is to pretend I know what I'm doing so I start moving the arm things and working my legs in the pedals, feigning this bored just another work out on the ol' elliptical expression on my face. I'm trying to blend in with the other athletes and pretty much screwing that up.

The control panel lights up, thank God!

I wrote that on December 28, 2008 in this blog, one year ago. Since then I've managed to accomplish the following:

• Made some great new friends! ::waves at pals!::
• Went to the gym 271 times over the year
• Logged 297 hours (12 days) and 566 miles on the Garmin
• Lost around 35 pounds (it is still fluctuating :-( )
• Lowered my resting heart rate to mid 65 (from 84)
  
• My doctor is happy with my blood pressure and is considering taking me off the BP medication I'm on.

In general I feel better except when I get injured (Look I'm an athlete, I hurt myself!).

Where do I go from here? Well I have two, er three goals for this next year:

• Continue to exercise
• Get weight down to 190 and stabilize or keep driving it down until I'm happy with it
  
• Go on at least one century this summer. I'm kind of nervous about that but so what? The worst that can happen is I'll fail miserably. I don't intend to win the thing, just complete it.
  

Hmmmm.... what to do with this blog? I attempted to blog daily and managed 280ish posts in a year (77%) which isn't bad but even though I love to ramble write I feel like this blog has gotten rather boring and I think by now you get the gist of what this is all about, right?

This ain't no disco
It ain't no country club either

This is hard work!

But you can also have a lot of fun if you wanna. I hope this blog will show 'the newbie' who's considering this path what it's all about when you start from scratch, like I did (overweight and out of shape). It's not so scary, you can do it, after you figure out how to turn on the machine.

I think I'll attempt going from daily to weekly entries. I have no idea if you'll follow along or not, I never put a counter on this blog. I hope in that vain way like someone blabbing into a shortwave microphone does that someone is out there listening but I'm no longer sure of it. This blog may have served its purpose. So look for the next post ::frantically grabs a calendar:: on 15 Jan. I'll go for every Friday after that and we'll see where year two of the exercise in futility takes me, huh?

Be well!