Wheels and fortunes

Just about 10 days ago I was riding my bike home from work when I got run over, literally, by a car. The only damage to the bike was my front wheel, which got bent like a taco. I was determined to ride the North Shore Century just a few days later so my bike guys hooked me up with a temporary replacement wheel so I could do the ride. And do the ride I did, the metric 100 was 95% a good experience and the bike did well. Last week my new wheel came in and Dan laced up the Mavic and swapped it for the loaner wheel. What a difference! Like they say you get what you pay for and the difference in a $50 rim vs. a $150 rim is rather dramatic. Suffering through the NSC on the other wheel will prove to be a good training experience for the Apple Cider Century this weekend when I will ride 100 miles through the hills of south western Michigan and northern Indiana. I am feeling good about this ride. My 24 mile run this weekend was an excellent experience with virtually no pain, despite the difficulties I'd experienced in the week preceding my long run. I feared I might leave my marathon on the streets of Oak Park, but instead, I am infused with new confidence. I am sure that as much as biking crosses over to train for running, that running crosses over to build strength and endurance for the bike. I will put this theory to the test this weekend when I face the big hills between miles 60 and 80 of the century.

As I sat meditating before bed last night I rejoiced in all that I am thankful for. This was a conscious effort to drive the demons away, those work related worries, the angst of the work-a-day world. I celebrated my great fortune. Here I sat, comfortably, in baddha konasana (the cobbler's pose) with the soles of my feet pressed together, legs splayed open, and as I probed my body with my mental radar, I could find no pain, not even a hint of it. As I rolled the mala beads through my fingers and watched my breath, all that I am grateful for washed over me like a delicious cool crisp bed sheet. Each time the jagged edged thought attempted to rip through, I acknowledged the thought and watched it vanish away, all the while rolling the beads. Two trips around the mala and I slipped under the covers, snugged my eye pillow onto my face and listened to BBC on the radio while I descended into sleep. Awake again at 3:00 AM, unable to defend myself from the insomniacal thoughts, I emerged from my slumber and listened to my heart beat instead of my mind scream. Morning came too soon, but I defied my inclination to catch another 15 minutes, and faced the day. In my more lucid state standing in the kitchen drinking that first cup of coffee, looking out into the dark pre-dawn, I felt fortunate, once again. to be alive and savoring this excellent cup of joe.

The long road and Fire

Fearing that I might leave my marathon on the streets of Oak Park, and considering the pain I'd experienced in my knee all week long, I set out, none the less, on my longest run since the 2003 Marine Corps Marathon. There is a very nice run from my house in south Oak Park, all the way through the heart of the village to the northwest corner to Lindberg park, about 6 miles round trip if you include the Kenilworth parkway in the return. I left the house just after 7 accompanied by Mirabel and my MP3 player. The eclectic mix and early morning cool made for a very pleasant first loop. Joni Mitchell, Gershwin, Charlie Parker, Soul Asylum, Chet Baker, Ani DeFranco, The Clash-- I would listen to that radio station! It was very clear and blue sky day with low humidity. I ran almost the whole first loop, mixing in very little walking, feeling quite good in fact. As I crossed Madison on the way back home I saw a familiar figure heading away from me-- Steve! He turned and ran back to me and we took it on home. Mirabel was so good the whole loop-- spotting squirrels and going into jogging stealth squat mode, but not bolting. She did not bolt until she saw Steve, it was just too much for her. Loop one, 1:09.

We dropped Mirabel off, had a drink and Ryder joined us. He carried the water in his backpack and rode along. This loop we ran 8 and walked 2. Ryder babbled loudly the whole time keeping us quite amused. We made it to Lindberg park and convinced Ryder not to play in the park this loop. We made it back home in 1:17, 12 miles down. Next loop Steve and I went alone. I felt remarkably well, no pain, but it was starting to get warm, and our water carrier was not with us this loop. We also did 8:2 for this loop, and finished in 1:15., 18 miles down. The grand finale loop, we were accompanied by both Ryder on his bike and Karen running. We planned on doing the Wendy Walk-- with whom I am going to do Denver-- who said she did her 18 mile run walking 5 and running 5 the whole way. impressive. Walking for 5 minutes seemed like it would make it very easy to do. Our traveling entourage covered the distance to Lindberg park pretty easily, though the last 1/2 mile found Karen struggling. This was the longest she'd run in years. She opted to go straight back while us boys took the Kenilworth loop. We met up at StarBucks and enjoyed iced coffees and cold water, all the while basking in the sun. The perennial Louie was guarding the trash can, so we gave him some $ and he collected our cups so he could have some water. Oak Park's resident homeless guy. We opted to walk the 1+ last mile from StarBucks home, but once I crossed the Home avenue bridge, I ran it on in-- and felt just fine. loop #4, 1:25. Total run time, 5:15, 24 miles. Zowee. My longest non-marathon run. And I never encountered much pain. Loop two was the toughest, sore knees and screaming ilialposas, but these subsided. I changed into a singlette for the fourth loop and the sun was very intense.

Almost as soon as we got home Ryder and I had to hit the road for the Chicago Fire game. Major League Soccer in the Toyota park stadium. We made it just after the game had started and as we were making our way in the Fire scored and of course they shot off fireworks. Immediately freaking Ryder out, causing him to stuff his fingers in his ears-- and he kept them that way the whole game. I asked him if he wanted food, yes, but I wouldn't buy it for him if he wouldn't take his fingers out of his ears. no matter, his fingers stayed. I enjoyed the game but we sat in the bright open sun and got fried. I am so sun burned today. Poor Ryder, I am sorry to have been impatient with his ears in fingers. He even complained that his arms were getting tired from holding them up, but he was freaked. How fun was that? Well, when the game was over, he removed his fingers and claimed to be having fun. Well, I did. Watching the skill and stamina of the players was quite something. Those guys are awesome. I would definitely like to return to see more games but will have to devise some strategy for Ryder to be able to cope with it.

Nothin' but the flax, mamm....

Seven days, its hard to believe all that has transpired since last Thursday when I was run over on my bicycle by a car. Riding 64 miles on Sunday in the North Shore Century, limping around on a very sore knee for the next several days, driving to Champaign-Urbana on Tuesday and getting a flat tire 20 miles north of Rantoul on I57 and having to change the tire using a screw driver to wind the jack up not being able to locate the jack handle (DOH!), sacrificing 189 3.5 year old hens, half of which had been on flaxseed diet for a year, sleeping overnight, but not two nights in Champaign, driving back to Chicago and arriving in the Gold Coast at 10 PM to deliver my workmate to his apartment in the midst of the throbbing al fresco crowds at State, Clark and Division, waking up in my own bed and able to walk my son to school, take the dogs for a walk and then drive the car to UIC to deliver the samples, leave early to get the tire repaired, a nice walk to pick Ryder up from school, and then a fitful night of sleep dissecting chickens in my dreams, then hours ago, up before dawn to ride my bike to work with the Oak Park Bike gang, all of whom were so very interested to hear the results of the flaxseed study. Me too. Lot's of numbers to crunch and analysis to conduct. Whew. The build up for the big chicken harvest lasted for months and months, and then in 20 hours of necropsy we were done. The tough thing about dissecting chickens is the feathers. The ones with really gross metastatic cancer and bellies full of ascites definitely challenge the senses. Slashing fingers with scalpels with fingers immersed in metastatic soup is not a good thing either. Standing head bent dissecting for hour after hour certainly a physically demanding thing to do as well. The camaraderie unsurpassed, the gathering together of the troops to do the big project was really extraordinary. Now, the analysis. Our first take on the data looks very promising. Flaxseed appears to have a definite preventative and suppressive effect. We won't know about the suppression until we do the histology and processing 500 samples is going to take a lot of time. But we are sitting on a treasure of data. Nothing left to do but write the papers. Yeah, right.....

That old familiar feeling....

Pain. I had been in pain for so long during and after I suffered my stress fracture in my knee in '04, that it took me a while, once I had improved, to realize I was no longer in pain. I was near the threshold and each time I ran (if you could call it that) there it was, the pain. Radiating down my right outer calf, anterior tibialis? peroneus longus? the pain seemed to originate in the outer lower leg-- this preceded my contrlateral stress fracture which resulted, no doubt, from compensation. Fast forward to Saturday September 15, 2007, when for the first time since I *recovered* I experienced the full force of that old familiar pain. OK, rational thinking analyzes the situation and tests various untestable hypotheses. The car accident, glancing blow on my leg caused this? Hard to reconcile considering I was OK Friday, even ran on the dreadmill with out any pain-- testing to see if in fact I did suffer any injury from the accident. Apparently not. I was fine Saturday morning as we strolled the farmer's market. But then, I laced on my new soccer cleats to assume the guise as assistant coach for Ryder's team and as I ran around the field I almost immediately felt IT. So, I reasoned at the time, must be a bit sore from it all. UGH. Pain persisted. All day Saturday I limped around, miserable, in a state of disbelief and denial.

Undetered, and equipped with my trusty Cannodale with the new front wheel (stock wheel on loan while Dan laces up a replacement Mavic for me). I ventured forth to Evanston for the North Shore Century. Tempted though I was to ride 100 miles, I opted to do the metric 100. My longest ride this year being 50 miles, going double that seemed like to be a bit of stretch. So I decided to do the 62 mile route. It was a lovely day, a bit chilly in the morning, but clear and dry. I was on the road before 8:00. A little later than I had planned on, but I was riding alone and just doing the 62, so I took a liesurely approach. I missed the first turn, within 100 yards of starting, but managed to catch myself and get on track. I rode in comfort, cruising 18-20 mph keeping company with similarly paced riders, to the 20 mile rest stop. I ate a peanutbutter and jelly sandwhich and was back on the road, sans jacket. The 62 mile route has a 12 mile loop that takes you back to the same rest stop, then the course follows the same route as the 50 mile tour. Once again I had a PBJ sandwhich (just 1/2 each time), loaded up my water bottles and hit the road again. So far this was an easy ride, relatively flat and little wind. We rode through Lake Forest and passed some giant mansions where a few of the truly richest people in the world live. Though they live in big mansions their roads suck. A very bumpy ride.

I was enjoying the few hills and cruising averaging about 18 mph until about mile 50, then IT started to hurt. Each revolution of the peddle and I felt the pain radiate down my leg. The peroneus, whatever it was, outside right leg just below the knee was really singing. I found that if I pointed my toe down on the peddle swing it didn't hurt. As I lapsed and started peddling flat footed the pain would return. I was very distracted by it, and also very concerned. NO! bicycling CAN NOT HURT ME! I refused to accept the reality of what I was experiencing. NO! But with each revolution, as I tested the angle of my ankle, I could find comfort zones and I could test the limits of the pain as well. It became very clear to me what was going on and I gained new insight into the origin of my initial insult. Bone on bone grinding away, no meniscus, each scrape sending pain down my leg. The trigger point in my peroneus and pain in my lower leg came from the knee, not my feet. Ah ha! Well, this explains a lot of things. My 2003 training season, that one step I took 7 days prior to marine corps marathon which caused THIS SAME PAIN. Yet I trained through all of 2004 with this going on, not recognizing the source, until, stupidly, it caused the stress fracture in my left knee. Which, by the way, is feeling just fine. My right knee is my bete noire. The beast that haunts me. So, does this mean I am screwed? Won't be able to bike either? These troubling thoughts haunted my next four miles until, as if by miracle, the rest stop appeared and I pulled over. No more PBJ sandwiches for me. I stretched to see if I could help myself out and felt ok. I tightened my headset and water bottle cage which were loose-- from the bumpy roads or the accident, hard to say. I was back on the road, just a few miles to go, and struggled, now over the hills and into a 15 mph headwind. I finished in 3:58, 16.1 mph average, having covered 64 miles. Top speed 27.5 on one of the downhills. It was quite festive in Dawes park at the finish. The Honey Bees, a bopping rock billy band were serranading the crowd. I relaxed a bit, and then got on the massage table to get stretched. It was quite pleasant and when I walked my bike to the car I felt OK. I went to bed at 8:30 last night, imagine that.

So this morning I was slow to leave the house. I had to reconfigure my ride for commuting instead of riding long, find my clothes in the laundry and hit the road. I immediately could tell I was going to be OK. Riding the bike this morning, spinning in a low gear and not pushing it was completely comfortable. My knee felt stiff and a bit swollen, but NO PAIN. Now as I sit at my desk in my office blogging this instead of working, I have an ice bag on my knee and am encouraged. This weekend I plan on running 24 miles and then next weekend riding 100 miles. After that all that is left to do is run the Denver marathon. And one thing for sure, I am not going to lace those soccer cleats back on my feet.

Blinded by the light, a recipe for disaster

Perhaps it was the angle of sun as it approach the horizon, or maybe I pushed the envelop just a bit too far, but somehow I managed to get run over by a car on my bike. It was surreal, slow motion and certainly could have been avoided, but none the less, as I hovered mid-intersection waiting to turn left, waiting for the oncoming car to clear, the car on my right turned left and ran over me. Holy cats! It happened so quickly, the first thing I knew was that I was laying on the street and his car's front wheel was sitting on my bike's front wheel. He leapt out of the car to ask if I was OK. I stood up and tried to pull my bike up, but it was trapped, crushed under his car. I asked if he could please back up so I could get my bike out, then proceeded to drag it to the side of the road. He pulled around, parked and ran over to talk with me. Another gent ran ride over to see if I was OK. I was OK, not even scraped up, just hit on my knee. Somehow I must have popped out of my peddles. Damage assessment- front rim bent like a banana. No apparent further damage. I was rattled, not exactly sure how I felt, as I stood in the street with my bike leaning against a light pole. Everyone kept asking me if I was OK. I just stood staring in disbelief at my beautiful bike with the bent in half front wheel. "Crap!" was all I could think. The gent who ran me over, understandably, was quite concerned. He kept saying he'd never run any one over before. He offered to drive home and return with his wife's SUV to give me ride home. I was not able to formulate an answer. I thought about walking my bike home-- I was only about 1/2 mile away, but then realized, it wouldn't roll, sure, said, I'll take a ride. He jumped in his car and drove off. He told me his name and address and promised to be right back. I called Karen and told her what happened, and that I was OK. She offered to come get me but I told her to wait. Within a few minutes the driver returned in his same car and explained that his wife was not at home. He attempted to make room in his small sedan for my bike, but his trunk was full and there was no way to easily put the bike in. So I called Karen back to come rescue me. The driver and I chatted and he gave me his contact information and told me to let him know what happened. I didn't think to call the police and guess that is OK, for surely they would've made me ride in an ambulance. We parted ways an Karen drove home. She went inside and I took my bike straight to Dan's bike shop. A quick look and Dan said-- new wheel, fork is OK, that he would lace me up a new one and check the bike out to make sure its OK. I told him I was planning to ride the North Shore Century on Sunday-- he was not sure he had the same wheel in stock but would set me up with something so I could do the ride, while the wheel was on order. I should find out today what the damage is and then will give the driver a call and see if he wants to contribute to the repair. I sense he will. Wow, considering what happened, just having my wheel bent and not getting hurt, I was indeed lucky.

This is how it happened. I was having a tough ride home, alone, nearing the 6 o'clock hour, riding into a head wind, and feeling very tired. I was lamenting the cost to one that marathon training exacts, a cumulative fatigue. A good feeling and it makes for sound sleep, but it takes a lot out of you. I was contemplating not riding today, but then decided, no, I must push on through, ride in at 6:30 and hit the treadmill for a 30 minute run. I just have to make sure I get a good night's sleep. I drank some water and pressed on, and finally made it to Oak Park. As I was nearing the home stretch I approached the intersection of Oak Park Avenue and Harrison from the east, heading into the bright sun on the horizon. There was a line of perhaps a dozen cars queued up at the intersection of this narrow street. As I always do, I passed all the cars on the left to get to the front of the line so I could turn left. A car made a right turn from Oak Park Avenue heading north, so I had to squeeze over to my right, getting close to the westbound cars, waiting at the light. The light turned green, I kept my momentum and just as I got to the front of the line, I entered the intersection adjacent to, and slightly in front of the first car in the line, but then paused for the one oncoming car. The driver to my right did not pause, evidently and ran into me. The El had just come, there were people everywhere, and lots of cars waiting to turn, the sun was right in our eyes, a recipe for disaster. Neither the driver nor I really know what happened. But it did. I know I pushed it a little farther than I should have, passing all those cars on the left and then attempting to turn left with them-- but the driver never saw me. A lesson learned? A cautionary note received? Shouldn't I feel angry? I turned over many thoughts about omens and karma and such, and shouted them down-- it was just a freaking accident and I was lucky I didn't get hurt, and my bike is OK and it won't cost all that much to repair and maybe the driver will help with the cost.... but still, I am a bit unsettled about this. Sore, but not hurt? Damage assessment still underway. I still plan on riding that metric hundred on Sunday. I may find myself even more battered feeling tomorrow. Especially when I go pay Dan for fixing my bike.

blur of activity, and its only September

wow, talk about hitting the ground running this fall. We eased into the first week of school, Ryder very excited about being in 1st grade and pleased to be in the after school program with the other kids. He went from 3 hours of kindergarten a day, to 8 hours of school and after school program. He seems to be adjusting quite well to school, but he and I are both having a harder time adjusting to having his mom working so much. We miss her!Her 12 hour Monday and Wednesdays make for even longer days for her. I so admire how she has taken all this on and soldiers through-- teaching at two colleges and working as a consultant at UIC, wow, too much. And of course last week really set me back. The two day ordeal of colonoscopy post longest run of the year was just the start. On Thursday we flew to Charlottesville for a wedding and returned Sunday evening. Then back to the grind, only more ill prepared for everything this week, and tired, too. Our flight out of Chicago was delayed by over three hours stranding us in the waiting area for five hours, making it a very long day by the time we landed in Richmond, got our rental car and drove to C'ville. We rented a mini-van to provide shuttle craft service for the assembled family. It was, in fact, the first time I'd ever driven a mini-van. Pretty nice ride with satellite radio etc. Less than a half tank of gas though cost $40 to refill. ouch. Friday I visited UVA and realized that I will forever be known as an andrologist. Everyone I know in science knows me for my Leydig cell work. I have yet to break into the ovarian cancer world. A whole new cohort for sure. But it is good to be known for something I suppose. And these relationships transcend science-- I have known my friends at UVA for nearly 20 years and truly we are friends. The tour of the grounds and seeing Mister Jefferson's university was very cool. The rotunda is awesome and all the southern bells, well, a fine sight too. C'ville, as the locals call it, is a very nice place indeed, quite a college town, an island of liberality in the heart of the red state. Lots of hippie types intermixed with the Greeks, rastas and sun dresses with high heels, frat boys in khaki shorts long sleeved white shirts and neckties drunk on their butts, and tatoo-pierced dreaklocked hairy underarmed delights, all strolling about the historic downtown mall. Nice hills too. I had a great run on Sunday, up up up and then back down. Feeling pretty good about the running now. The wedding was at Ash-Lawn James Madison's estate, but the big deal there is Monticello, Jefferson's plantation. As Ryder declared on our tour-- "impressive!" indeed it was.

and now back to work, curriculum night, soccer, gymnastics, riding back and forth to work through the big ugly my sanctimonious escape and simultaneous exercise and commute. Not a bad combination. It was COLD this morning, but we haven't seen anything yet. 44 degrees? a taste of what is right around the corner. it tastes pretty good too after the big heat of August, and the 90s of C'ville. Autumn is the most beautiful season of the year.

walking on the moon

Like the doctor told me this morning, the bad part of this is behind you. And so it was. Now enjoying afternoon alone at the house gathering my wits about me. The flash back hospital scene of nearly 40 years ago, summer of '69, Woodstock, Viet Nam, walking on the moon, and my mother's precipitous decline through those last months. A boy shouldn't have to endure losing his mom when he had just turned 16 years old. The image of the TV in her room the live news report, Neal Armstrong stepping onto terra luna, the camera pans over US soldiers sitting on tanks in the jungle, the voice broadcast through the quiet dusk light. It was eiry I remember it as though it was yesterday. Sitting on my mother's hospital bed, watching this. We heard vague reports of somewhere called Woodstock where something was going to happen. By the time the festival was making head line news, "a whole lot of freaks!" my mother had passed away. I guess this why going to hospitals makes me squirelly. Remembering today will cement my aversion. And now, lunch!

Rites of passaging

T-minus 97 minutes, waiting for the miralax to bolus. I had a dream last night, like the Estee Lauder commercial, a beautiful swimming pool with shimmering blue water and I was suppose to drink the whole thing. And now I have accomplished this and wait the outcome. My doctor told me I would live to be 90 years old it would be stupid to let something so completely preventable get me. Make the appointment. Tomorrow, 8:30 AM. Bombs away. So it was a really weird feeling being restricted to clear liquids today when yesterday I ran 19 miles, twice around Water Fall Glenn, and was strangely not hungry all day. I reckon it was because I consumed two nearly full CamelBacks of Gatoraide. And now I suck more down with a saturating solution of polyethylene glycol. yeow. It was a great day. New Hurricane 9s, I felt positive. I visualized running erect, not dropping my head, pressing forward from my hips-- and as we were 2/3rds around lap one I pictured myself in the same spot on the next loop when I would be close to finishing. Usually where I blow up-- 15-16 miles. Somehow it worked. We ran one mile then walked 2 minutes, all the way to 17. Then steve had to walk it in. His longest previous run was 13, since Grandmas and he wasn't really up for more than 15. But I am programed to have run a 20 miler this weekend, and figure that 2x around WFG is 19miles plus on rolling hills. Fabulous run. The last 1.5 miles when I took it in alone, I picked up the pace, plugged into the visual and pumped my arms with a slight sway in my hips to help me track my feet in single file. No real heel lift, but circularizing my knees felt comfortable, but too fatiguing. The only pain I experienced was in my ilalposas which tightened up around 4 miles on the long uphill. I ran through it and at the 1/2 rest I stretched it and it seemed to help. We ate one Cliff Shot Blocks at each mile or so. the big difference between us was that I was carrying my CamelBack and Steve just carried a single bottle. As I sucked down the Gatoraide today I calculate that I consumed ~750 calories worth of the stuff on my run. No wonder I was not hungry. I had a milkshake and then barbeque salmon for dinner. yum. So maybe the reason it is taking so long to start is because I am empty. Just like when we did Owens Putnam 50 miler, the chicken broth at the half way point, mile 8 of the three loop course. Nothing ever tasted so good and I was a vegetarian! Today the chicken noodle soup sans chicken and noodles is sustaining me. Actually not having to work tomorrow and having such a weird day today will aide in my recovery from the 3:43 minutes it took me to go 19. OK, bombs away, the verdict is being deliverd.