virtual buck's blog

Summer time come and gone my oh my

2010-08-07T19:03:00.000-07:00

August 7 and I now catch my breath. Been travelin' Did not spend a Friday night in July in my own bed, and three of those Friday nights I was sleeping in my tent--West Virginia, Pine Ridge and Rent One. Last Friday I luxuriated in a hotel room in Milwaukee-- after nine hours on my motorcycle riding there from Carbondale. The ride to SSR, my first, but I've been trying to ride to the meeting since SSR was in Madison in 2000-- but then it was the Norton and Chicago to Madison was way out of the comfort zone. But this jaunt, on the BMW was just plain easy, 420 miles in 9 hours. Such a splendid ride up US 51 to Decatur then I 39 to I 43 to Milwaukee; 42 mpg, 125 miles comfort zone. I made it 250 on 6 gallons and was a bit tense as I cruised north past Alpine Valley, the site of so many great shows, but not a gas station in sight. I cruised into with a half a gallon to spare. Hard on the ass to ride that far without stopping. But nothing like the ride home-- on the hottest day ever-- 107 degrees! Detour via Chicago, I94 in traffic- yikes-- but once I57 stretched on south of I80 it was smooth sailing. I let the wind fill my chest and leaned forward, suspended, relaxed-- hot as hell, even going 80 the sweat was streaming into my eyes. boots and jeans burning in the sun, no indoors when your on your bike. It was OK though, like an athletic event, a seated marathon. I wanted to ditch my jacket it was so hot through the mesh, but I felt like a fireman, their jackets are warm too, but they sure wouldn't take them off. The punishing sun would have seared me and darkened my tan black after burning me red-- been there, done that many times, but now I am rather enjoying my skin not being burned in the relentless sun. When I made it to the rest are north of Effingham I crawled onto a bench and took a little nap. I drank three liters of water and ate three protein bars which had melted to pudding. The day had started to cool as the sun slanted west and after I stopped at Mt Vernon for gas I packed my lovely silver mesh jacket into a pouch, tied it to the luggage rack and flew on down the road in my t-shirt. Much cooler but that ragged wind was still hot. Interstates are where the semis scream and push, blotting out the music and rocking the bike-- its good to get past them, and Silver Cloud delivers. I got of the interstate at Benton and followed 37 all they way to Marion. Slow, scenic, peaceful, cool in the shade of the Shawnee forest-- much more pleasant than that old interstate.

The ride to SSR added to the huge wonderful experience. My 24th SSR, an annual pilgrimage to the Society for the Study of Reproduction, my scientific home. This year I had the honor of presenting a tribute to Anita Payne -- my first plenary lecture at SSR. Sally Kemper, Phyllis Wise, Marco Conti and I collaborated for the Historical Perspectives session starting out with biography then we gave talks for each of her eras-- early Phyllis, middle me and late Marco. Phyllis focused on her personal relationship with Anita. My talk described my journey from Leydig cells to Ovarian cancer in chickens and how Anita influenced me at many steps along the way-- such as introducing me to Janice Bahr who enables the chicken research-- to the cyp17 antibody I made in her lab that I am still distributing to labs all over the world. It was a lot of fun preparing and giving the talk. I introduced the entire society to the chicken model and espoused its virtuous recapitulation of the human disease-- convincingly so judging from the buzz I heard during the coffee breaks. The model really speaks to many people especially those who have been personally touched by the disease. Perhaps the new best hope for finding the cure. At the NAKED party, minutes after I walked into that Milwaukee bar and queued up for a beer, I was almost accosted by an enthusiastic trainee who threw herself at me excited to talk about chicken research. She collected herself while I nodded at her silently, and explained that she was a reproductive physiologist at the National zoo and had a keen interest in bird models of disease. Pretty fun ice breaker, who would've figured ovarian cancer would spawn so many conversations. NAKED was a dance frenzy with may students new and old and friends I've danced with since my first NAKED. A non sanctioned core function at SSR meetings.

The high point of my year, as I have been heard saying,comes on the last night of the meeting when I get to play with the band at the annual dance and barbecue. This year there was a great cover band, Counting Crows and Rusted Root, and the bass player played the harp. We negotiated for 1st song second set, Sweet Home Chicago in E. I leapt onto the stage and as soon as I blew a few notes into the mike, the crowd went wild, surging to the stage, arms raised chanting Buck Buck... I feel like a rock star! Those guys were great and we played a stellar version of sweet home, right in sync, perfect tune and three big solos! Fabulous, what a trip. Twice in that meeting, the lights all shining on me, two memorable performances. Kristine delivered the final act, her last presentation from her graduate work, now her post doc in prostate cancer takes her away. And my excitement seeing Sean, Sara, Erfan, Sheree with Kristine the whole meeting, the new guard, the charter members of the Hales lab, SIU edition.

A great end to a frenetic summer, though August stretches out before us like the desert sand, with the cooler weather of autum a mirage on the horizon.

For the health of it...

2010-01-10T19:31:00.000-08:00

Ta da, this is the 100th episode of virtual buck's blog.

The death of my old pal really got me thinking and prompted this blog enter. I was thinking about my health today as I was soaking in the hot tub in the beautiful clear 15 degree sunny morn, when I noticed the band aids still on my knees, each with a dime sized spot of dried blood, from the sites of the cortisol injections. Cortisol shots into inflamed joints are famous, it seems pitchers are always getting shot up in the shoulders to enable them to finish the season, and I certainly have heard about getting the shots in the knees-- and on Friday I found out first hand what it was like. Ten cc's into each knee, with a big long needle. It did not hurt at all, but it was very weird. The pressure of the injection as the fluid engulfed the space between the knee bones was an odd sensation. But the effects of the cortisol were unexpected. At midnight I was so wide-awake I felt wired out of my mind! I lay in bed reading until 2 AM finishing the last 100 pages of John Irving's "Last Night at Twisted River" and then with the lights out, lay under my eye pillow with my ear phones in, completely awake, refractory to all attempts to lure my surging thoughts to a sleepy place. Instead I designed the patio, the koi pond, the terraced garden, the rose bed-- and then began to harvest the downed wood in the forest figuring out where to stack it, deciding to rent a splitter then stack and split.... wow, that stuff was great!

When I got up on Saturday it was as though I had new knees. I am encouraged to begin rehab. Queue Amy Winehouse-- "they tried to get me to go to rehab but I said, no, no,no.... he's tried to make me go to rehab, but I won't go, go, go..." until now. I successfully rehabbed in fall 2004 after I suffered a stress fracture in my left knee and managed to run the Denver Marathon. But last spring after skiing for four days in BC, I just haven't been the same. Now not being able to run marathons is one thing, but not being able to ski? Forget that. So, now that we've moved, and have settled into our new life in Carbondale, I decided to see if I could get some help for my arthritic meniscus eroded old knees. I had to find a doc to get my eye med Rx refilled, so I visited the Family Practice clinic at SIU med and had an all purpose visit. Nice young Doctor, first year Resident took care of my Rx and then gave me the once over. I asked about collagen injections when he observed the crepitation in my knee-- so he gave me a referral to SI orthopedic clinic. I mentioned the new mole on my shoulder and when the resident consulted with attending physician they were almost giddy to see the perfect example of basal cell carcinoma had had sprouted. Oh, nothing to worry about, the most common form of bening skin cancer, completely treatable and easily removed. So a second referal, to the SI Derm Clinic.

I was actually feeling rather poorly when I visited the doctor, as though I was coming down with a cold--which progressed to a dose of the flu over the last week of the 2009-- what a way to end a sick decade-- sick. We stayed close to home for the holidays and in the time off I was able to recuperate from the flu, and visit the Derm. Dr. Burke a recent graduate from the Derm residency at SIU and an MD from UIC, we established a great rapport and he agreed with the diagnosis-- but took a biopsy to satisfy the insurance requirement. Diagnosis confirmed so a few days after Christmas I had the growth surgically removed. I was surprised to find out how much the minor surgery took out of me, I was in a bit of pain, but more so, I felt spent by the procedure. I recovered in a day or so except for the itching stitches. So, finally, Friday, the day of my visit to the orthopedic clinic, I also got to get my stitches removed.

My visit to the orthopod started with Xrays of my knees. I had a detailed discussion with Dr Wood who then probed my knees. When I told him I had run 21 marathons he congratulated me while he cranked my clicking knee around. We looked at the Xrays and he showed me the osteo-athritic ostiophytes and how little space remained between the plates. We discussed treatment plans. His goal is to avoid or delay knee replacement. So I am scheduled for Supartz or Synvisc injections of hyaluronan-- one injection should last for about 6 months, and it is expected to prevent knee pain and give me some mobility back. But to be sure that the insurance will pay for this, first I had to have the cortisol injections, 3 months of physical therapy 3 times per week, and I have to take high dose NSAID to reduce the inflammation. Wow, they are going for it. Let's get your knees better. I had not anticipated getting injected with cortisol or the resulting phsychoactivation. Also, I hadn't expected to be plunged into a vigorous new physical therapy routine.

Perfect timing actually. As I ponder the death of my friend, who was precisely my age, my thoughts turn to my own health and longevity. The last time I saw Matt in 2002, he picked me up at the airport in KC and drove me to Lawrence for a visit. I was shocked to see the bloated 300 pound man who looked like death warmed over-- his booming voice greeted me as he remarked that I looked like a marathon runner. This when I felt fat and was in a lull in my running, but my 230 was slim by comparison,though I was approaching my all time high weight. While I was gaining control and losing weight, he continued to gain. By the time he died on New Year's Eve 2009, under the blue moon, the last full moon of the decade, he weighed over 400 pounds. Death no longer warmed over. The control I lost in the last year during the transition and then the move to Carbondale I now regain. The regimentation and time I will have to devote to rehab under the guidance of the PT at the orthopedic clinic will necessarily help me to establish a new routine. I told the doc I really missed running-- a lot, but I was enjoying bicycling and rowing. He told me that "if it was my passion, I could probably run, but it would hasten my time to knee replacement." Yikes. OK, how about walking? The Synvisc will really help with that. How about skiing? OK, I will do the rehab, limit my running and save my knees for skiing once I build myself backup to it. I guess I better be sure to wear sun screen. Losing a few pounds will help the old knees too. OK, rehab, just for the health of it.

He's Gone

2010-01-06T07:30:00.000-08:00

All that's left to do is smile, smile, smile.... Heard the news late last night that my old buddy Matthew Thomas Moore passed away on New Year's Eve, under the bright light of the blue moon, that last full moon of the first decade of the 21st Century. I queued the song in my mind, He's Gone, from Europe 72, that seminal Grateful Dead album of the same year-- the year I heard the Grateful Dead live for the first time, and 5 years before I met the old Hip-eye, as he was affectionately known. The lyrics of that song ring true:

Going where the wind don't blow so strange
Maybe on some high cold mountain range
Lost one round but the price wasn't anything
Knife in a back and more of the same
Same old rat in a drain ditch
Out on a limb
You know better but I know him

Now he's gone
Lord he's gone
Like a steam locomotive rolling down the track
He's gone
He's gone
and nothin's gonna bring him back
He's gone....

http://artsites.ucsc.edu/GDead/agdl/gone.html

The same song I sang when my father died, when my dogs Don Diego and Leon died, or when my brother Scott died-- when they all die-- tragic early deaths of lives cut short, or lives lived fully until old age or disease robs them from us. Death always puts our own fragile lives in crystal clear perspective. Life is the most precious thing but often death is a blessing. Matthew was a unique man, the deepest most booming voice who could be heard above the sound of a jet airplane taking off. A larger than life character who was there for the journey, not where it was suppose to take him. It brings back many memories of our time together when we were in our twenties, the most formative time of one's life. Our live's have taken very different trajectories, and his lead him to his untimely death. 56 years old is way too young do die. We were the same age, yet I feel like I am in my prime and my biggest and most important work is still ahead of me. I do not believe that Matthew felt like he had "his work" no Dharma to guide him, he just was. He lived for the moment and the moment has passed. Rest in peace my old friend. You have gone where the winds don't blow so strange.

Matthew Thomas Moore, 11/12/1953-12/31-2009.

2010

2010-01-04T09:09:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year and Happy New Decade. 2009 and the first decade of the 21st century are now history and most would say good riddance! Last year was a very challenging one as we watched the economy worsen. But it was absolutely a wonderful year for the Hales. We packed up and moved from Oak Park to Carbondale into a great new house and actually finally managed to sell our old house-- over 80 showings and 3 contracts in the six months it was on the market. The intensity of the whole house sale business is a now a fading memory. I spent nearly six months working on the house getting it ready to sell and then watched the sale price erode as the housing market crashed. But the story had a happy ending. The previous owners of our Carbondale home had also gone to great lengths to get the house ready to sell and it was in perfect shape-- nothing needed to be done, except landscaping, and that we GET to do and at our own pace. There were a lot of improvements in houses built in 1994 compared to 1913, like closets, bathrooms, insulation, etc. We just love our new home, perched on the edge of the woods, secluded but just 4 miles from work. Ryder misses his old neighborhood, living in crowded old Oak Park with 200 kids within 1/2 mile of the house, but he likes his school so much more than the public school in Oak Park. Even though the resources at the New School are scant compared to Lincoln school, it is such a richer environment in so many ways, especially the wonderful teachers and like minded group of parents. So the big move was a very positive development in 2009.

Starting our new jobs has been really great too-- though demanding, challenging, and nearly overwhelming at times, I am really enjoying my new job as Chairman. Talk about on the job learning-- hoo-yah! And the opportunity for Karen in her new job on the tenure track faculty, her own lab and now in a position to make her mark in science. SIU is a like a big family and seemingly we are among the elite. It is a very easy place to work and while not insulated from the politics of academia, the feeling here is so much better than UIC. The longer I was there the worse it got to the point it was toxic, hostile and stifling. Not my colleagues, not my students, but the departmental and administrative politics were awful. I am so happy to be free of that now, and feel equal to the challenge of facing the same challenges that my Chair at UIC faced. I think my honeymoon has officially ended as the school year came to a crashing end. These are tough times and Illinois is in dire straits. I was never involved in state level politics and only worried about whether the CTA would keep running. Now I am acutely aware of what goes on in Springfield, how the State is reluctantly releasing only the minimal amount of funds to barely keep SIU going-- all political posturing and brinkmanship. It is rather daunting to be put in the position that SIU is in because the state comptroller Dan Hynes is running for Governor and trying to make the current Govenor look bad. Quinn still gets my vote, he is trying to do the right thing but is held hostage, as are we, by the looming election and politicos trying to gain advantage. Taxes have to be raised! But that is off subject here-- yes, 2009 was a challenging year for the economy, for the job and housing sectors, but we came through in a much better position than we were in at the end of 2008 by far! It is humbling to consider, in fact, how well we are doing as many around us are not faring so well. But all agree that 2010 is going to be a much better year and this new decade has to be better than the last. We have a president with vision, integrity, and the will to make things better. He inherited one hell of a mess, the full brunt of which now being realized under his watch, but not by his doing. The party of NOPE is doing all that it can to prevent us from moving forward-- but I have not lost faith in Obama, and time will tell. Bush will not only emerge as the worst president of the 21st century, but as the worst of all time. And I predict, Obama will emerge as the most important, on a par with FDR and JFK.

As the new year dawns bright and cold in Carbondale, I join the ranks of the neo-resolutionists. I found it very difficult to get my real work done as I adjusted to the challenges of being Chair and teaching for one of my faculty who was on sabbatical. The teaching was an excellent experience and it really helped me learn my way around the curriculum and our department's teaching mission. Now I turn the full force of my attention to my research-- grants and papers, and of course--data. I have a great new crew in the Cardondale edition of the Hales lab, but really need a post-doc to propel the research effort back to where I was at this time last year. So the resolve to move the research forward is not new, but reinvigorated with the change of the year. I absolutely believe my best and most important work is still ahead of me.

Another challenge that my new job has brought is figuring out how to get my workout in. I was making good progress getting to the gym and rowing on the erg and riding my bicycle to work. When the teaching and frenetic administrative work overwhelmed me in early October I struggled to keep up the effort, and was thwarted by the rain. Wimp! Coward! yeah, right. My bicycle buddies in Chicago are riding still, if not on their ride to work , but on their trainers in spin class. This is my new resolve-- get off my butt and get to the gym, get on my bike and ride, take a vinyasa yoga class-- fight the battle of bulge. I've regained half of the big weight I lost and it stops now! Yeah, there is that resolve. So I join the other 350 million neo-resoutionists whom I always scoffed at when they flooded into the January gym. I have no choice, I have to begin again.

One last thought about how great 2009 was and what we look forward to in 2010 and the 2nd decade of the 21st century. Zelda. The new Weimaranar, the next generation. Cooper is with us still and though he is in his decline, Zelda has breathed new life into the old guy. These grays are wonderful dogs, and so alike in so many ways. They are particularly huggable and very loving. Mirabel loves having a new friend and is a puppy again. She is so sweet and lovable, but her body language is so different from the gray dogs. A coiled coil vs the languorous love dog. We are blessed to have these wonderful dogs in our life and though we know Cooper is near his end, we are so happy to have his imprint on Zelda, who just loves that big old boy so much. Ah, yes, life is good and its going to be even better this year and this decade for sure.

This way or that?

2009-09-03T19:40:00.000-07:00

When Ryder and I mounted Silver Cloud for the ride home from SIU, I asked him which way he wanted to go--this way (through town) or that (skirting town on the south)? He said "the long way." And so we headed east on old 13, south on Spillway over to Grassy Road and back to Giant City Road. A 25 mile detour. And it was splendid. The late afternoon sun filtering through the dense trees creating a tapestry on the tarmac. Nice twisty turns, shifting down then accelerating , wrapping around the curve. Crab Orchard on the right, glowing in the late rays blue sky puff cloud green and vast, serene, no cars on the road, just me and my boy. Big boy that he is too, wearing him mom's jean jacket, as tall as her shoulder now. Today I dropped him at school too, much to his delight. He keeps threatening to blow up my bicycle so I can ride him to the Carbondale New School (CNS) every day. CNS is turning out to be even better than we hoped. The combined 2-3 grades are just 15 kids for Ms. Laurie. She is a very talented, creative and involved teacher. Our school experience so far this year is so much more favorable than Lincoln school last year-- and it is one of the best of its kind-- public school with 22 kids per teacher and an assessment based curriculum, teaching to the lowest common denominator. I have nothing but respect and appreciation for how truly good Lincoln school is and how good the teachers are. But there is really no fair comparison to CNS. A play ground in the woods, a funky looking big old ranch style house converted into two levels with the common areas in the 1/2 basement, and the class rooms upstairs. Ryder's class room is filled with animals, books, legos, and all the usual teaching materials. Ryder is doing math next door in the 4-5 classroom and after a two week trial, he has been permanently recruited to the next grade up for math. His new best buddy at CNS is in the fourth grade, so it works out well. The best evidence is how much Ryder is liking school this year.

Last night we attended the corporation meeting for the school. Every parent and family is part of the CNS corporation. The meeting was efficiently run and as all the parents, some 30 or so of us sat hunkered down on child sized benches surrounding the room. Quite an interesting group of folks. Most parents older than average, but a good range, and some very cool looking people. After the meeting we went to the class room and while talking with Laurie met one of Ryder's classmates folks. They too just moved here and he took a professorship in finance at SIU. I asked the mom what she did and she said "I have a PhD in Biochemistry. After I did my post-doc I worked for a company that sells stem cell products, and now I am consulting." Wow! What was amazing to me was that they bought the house that was on our short list-- a saltbox on Upper Brush which we really liked because of the beautiful lot. The house was in need of a lot of renovation but it was a bargain. After spending the better part of the year renovating the house in Oak Park, we wanted nothing to do with a fixer-upper and are so happy with what we got. The also fell under the spell of the Victorian Legend, the 1895 Victorian farm on Springer Ridge. They too made an offer that fell through. The owners of that farm just don't want to sell it. So, it is a small world after all.

We also started cub scouts this week, which will be another great way to meet new people. The scout families range across the socio-economic spectrum which I am very excited about so that we can meet people who live in our community, but are not just university folks. All the the 2-3 graders in Carbondale go to Thomas. Pre-K, K and 1st go to Parrish, 4-5 go to Lewis, then Middle school and then the High School. This arrangements removes inter-school rivalry or inequitable distribution of students and incomes. Nine kids in Ryder's scout troop. The scout master's son and Ryder really hit it off well. Alan Benson, the scout master is the retired chair of the theater department at Kent State. My first impression of him was that he was too old and doddering to be a cub scout leader-- he seemed to barely be able to get around. But when all the parents gathered around him while the scouts ran wild in his back yard, he gave a very lucid, thoughtful and engaging narrative about the scouts, what the plans on for this year, and all the organizational details. He discussed the achievements and belt loops and patches outlining the various activities. He talked of pushing the boys to get through all this and I got the impression he was rather stern, and completely in control, opposite from what I first thought. As it turns out he is 68 married to a much younger woman with whom they have their 8 year old son, his second marriage. His wife is a professor at SIU in the theater dept teaching voice and movement in the McLeod theater--where we saw the production of Into the Woods. She was a stage and screen actress and then joined the faculty. Quite an erudite couple and their son is Ryder's new pal. Ryder really is excited about scouting here because of all the outdoors. I was a bit worried when Alan got to the Religious Embel patch and how you earn this working with your pastor, priest, minister, rabbi or what ever. And that you didn't have to be in an organized religion but you had to have some kind of faith, a belief system-- or some other manifestation of spirituality that you honor and participate in. It was a lovely way out for us, and though he is in charge of the Presbyterian faction of scouting, he is neither evangelical or demanding. So my one great fear, other than too much camouflage, was being proselytized. Lots to look forward to with twice monthly den and once monthly pack meetings, whew. And soccer starts on the 12th also! Ah, no shortage of stuff to do around here, that's for sure.

Mister Chairman I presume?

2009-08-28T12:54:00.000-07:00

Holy cats! I'm freaking out here. All of a sudden this new job has become rather daunting. Late Friday afternoon and this is the first time I've had a chance to catch my breath all day. I had 30 hours of face time this week! Meetings with the Dean of School of Medicine (my boss), with the Dean of College of Science (my co-conspirator), emails from vice-chancellor *asking* for favors, faculty issues, students swarming around everywhere, dealing new funding policies for intramural grants which have been the life blood of some of my faculty, and of course, the hardest part of the Chairman's job-- space. We need more. Secret deals, a handshake and a wink, and I am faced with trying to figure out who said what to whom when and what was agreed upon and if these deals are set in stone etc. It makes me weak in my knees! Meanwhile I have two manuscripts burning a hole in my desk, yearning to be edited, tuned up, and submitted. No wait, there's more... always more. Adjusting to Ryder's school schedule, us both working full time everyday-- not only didn't I get any work done this week because I was so busy with my job, the only exercise I got was riding my bicycle to and from work Monday and today. That and walking all over the campus going from appointment to appointment. Ah, but it is such a lovely campus filled with eager young minds enjoying this late summer warmth and clear skies. Oh to be in college again. Forget that! Do overs are not allowed in reality.

Despite how freaked out I am feeling about now, I have the subtle inner voice speaking calmly in my ear to me, reminding me that I am equal to these challenges and that if I rely on my instincts I will make the right decisions and do the right thing. I am really enjoying owning a motorcylce as is my son, who would really rather ride to work than be driven in the car. He hated that I rode my bicycle today instead of dropping him off at school. He is wearing his mother's old jean jacket now and is comfortable on the back of Silver Cloud. He is born to be a biker, just like his dad. And I really enjoyed my bicycle ride this morning. The hills on my ride in were huge mountains to me at first, now I barely need to gear down at all to peddle over them. The hill on the way home is much bigger, so I still need to drop a few gears to keep up my cadence and make it over the hill, and my heart rate is up for the whole ride. Though my ride is 1/2 as long as it was in Chicago, my cardiac output is probably equal or greater because I ride much harder/faster. All the stop signs and traffic and riding with other bike commuters made for much more casual rides. When I rode alone off hours I could hit stretches of 20 mph until I had to stop at the next light. I travel at 25-27 mph for much of the ride now, except on the way up, and then I drop to 12 mph or so. I should take the long way to work and get a few extra miles, or get up even earlier and hit the pool before work. Can't do that an be taking my boy to school though. OK, it was just the first week of the fall semester. Next week should set the tone for the rest of the year. I have to be in control of my time more than I was this week and figure out a way to protect time for my work-- not to be confused with my job.

Silver Cloud and living in Egypt

2009-08-10T07:10:00.000-07:00

It took until my 3rd real ride on the beast until the ride not the motorcycle defined the experience. It is going to take a while until I get over the constant diligent fear that the motorcycle is suddenly going to fail, and instead, just enjoy the ride. After having ridden or mostly just owned a Norton since 1978, a bike you work on and sometimes ride, or don't work on and can't ride-- buying a BMW is quite a change. Silver Cloud-- 2002 BMW R1150RT with 18K miles, purchase from Grass Roads BMW in Cape Girardeau. I was so pleased with this dealership on many levels, it made the transaction and all my interactions a pleasure. Not to mention the bike. I am new to the BMW experience. Know for their jugs and shaft, the twin boxer engine and drive shaft make it a very distinct ride. Twin ABS disk brakes front and rear it has taken me several stops to learn to feather the front brake on. The rear brake a much more gradual arrest. And 1st gear is "pretty tall" as Brian the bike dealer informed me, so you have to rev it up to get it going. And it likes 4000 rpms or above, but with the high torque big twin 1150 cc motor, its easy to put along at 2800. Wind it up and it responds. It is a much different ride than the old Norton, to be sure. With the motor encased its a wider bike, and with the hard cases, it's even wider. But underneath the case is a rocket-- sporty, quick, nimble and ready to ride. GPS, electronic adjustable windshield, heated grips, gas gauge, fuel injectors (no petcocks to turn) all the modern features of an automobile compared to the sparse old Norton. Now that Silver Cloud (every sliver linning's got a touch of gray, and 1955-1964 Rolls Royce) has come home, I am oddly inspired to get the Norton back on the road. Last time I fired it up was 2.5 years ago, and it ran like a top. But riding in Chicago and the failure prone nature of the beast somehow deterred me-- not to mention that I was busy beyond belief and really devoted to spending my time with my family..... but now! yesterday I took Ryder for his first ride and we crested the hill leaving the driveway I heard him hoot "woo-hoo". And again, when I passed a car and accelerated around it, he shouted "alright!". He loves it. Of course he does! And the three of us are going to really enjoy riding around Egypt, two up is our only limitation.

We have so enjoyed our first two months in Carbondale, it is just wonderful. We love the house and living on the edge of the woods, and being just 4 miles from work. I am riding most days and the big hills seem to have flattened out already. On Friday Ryder and I rode in together, taking the back roads, down Neal Lane, past the high school, through the super fields where all the ball parks are, down College past the police station, coming out on Wall Street, right at the University. Neal lane is gravel so that makes it less than an ideal place to ride my road bike, but it slices out the big hills on Hunt Road, so it makes it easier in that way. This morning I took the Neal lane short cut, and it was nice being in the soybeans and corn on a country lane, instead of on Old 13, but the gravel, well, not great. I will take the pavement home so as to not deny myself the pleasure of riding up those hills on Hunt Road. I've only logged a 100 miles on my bicycle so far. The commute is pretty short and I've only been on one long ride-- to Makanda, and experienced the excitement and then pain of riding on big hills. As I zipped down Springer Ridge Road, I topped 40 mph and it scared the heck out of me, causing me to brake before I hit the big turn as Springer morphs into Makanda Road. Then I turned around and rode back up that hill, managing 4 mph on the steepest stretch, but not getting off and walking, so though it was slow, it was my triumph to make it to the top on my own. Riding up and down hills in the humidity and heat, is taking a bit to get used to.

And now we face the onslaught of the students-- the population of Carbondale will increase by 20,000 nearly doubling, and all at once. The locals are bracing themselves , the city is getting ready, and we wait, wondering how its going to be. Stay away from Walmart one of my colleagues warned-- and the grocery store shelves will by cleared off after the cloud of new student locusts picks them clean. Well, not going to Walmart will be no problem, and I figure that we mostly shop around the edges of the grocery store, and all the students are going to be shopping in the middle isles where all the prepared foods are shelved, so that shouldn't be so bad. And parking shouldn't bee too bad riding my bicycle or motorcycle. But still, they are our customers and they are why we are here, so bring 'em on!

And now, also, I face the truth of my lack of riding and indulgent eating-- lo all those pounds I have gained back. Enough! now it's time to get back into the groove and starting burning more calories than I consume. I spent all last week preparing a grant application post hosting the Held family reunion. Now, all that's left to do is work, so getting into the groove should be a pleasure. Working out with the students in the rec center, well one thing for sure, it is definitely going to be more crowded. That 6 AM Saluki master's swim club is starting to make more sense as does the p-diet revisited. No CHO, here we go.

Facebook | Home

2009-06-28T19:58:00.001-07:00

Quoted from http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=278580&id=1578267305#/home.php?ref=home:

Facebook | Home
facebook.com/buck.hales.

Carbon-Dale

2009-06-21T10:48:00.000-07:00

There's an old joke on me, that if I were a (fill in the blank) I would be (fill in the blank)-Dale. Basketball player-- Airedale, wooddale, springdale etc. So, if I were an element I would be, you guessed it, Carbon-Dale. And so, here I am, in my element. And it really does seem to be so. It's not that I can't tell that I am here, its just hard to believe! Pinch me I must be dreaming. Ouch, no, that's not me pinching myself, its one of the innumerable flying, stinging biting insects that thrive in this sultry climate. With in my first 24 hours of living here my legs were covered with bites, and I have been lathering my legs with Bendryl lotion prior to liberal application of DEET. I have a new fondness for Backwoods Off.

After the movers had departed and we were alone in our new house, Ryder and I put on our gym shoes and socks and headed out in to the woods with Mirabel leading the charge. The woods behind our house and extending for 100s of acres beyond our property are dense with oak, hickory, sweet gum, dogwood-- all very tall and straight, reaching well over 75 feet by my estimation. We went as far as we could working our way around the fallen trees and soon found ourselves lost and disoriented. It took about 30 minutes bashing through the stinging nettles, wild roses, raspberries and fallen trees to catch sight of the house. We found the old fence lines that mark the property and navigated our way back to the house, our legs scratched and bitten. Fortunately we did not encounter poison ivy which is reported to be prevalent in these parts.

The terrible inland hurricane, now referred to as the derecho, causes huge damage to the woods and hundreds of these old tall trees were felled. The ground had been saturated by the very wet spring and when the straight line 100+ mph winds blew through here on May 8, the ground was not able to hold the roots and the trees toppled, one onto the other, literally like dominoes, and the line of fallen trees cut a narrow swath tens of miles long through the woods, bisecting Carbondale, causing millions of dollars of damage. Power was out for nearly a week and many homes suffered extensive damage. Our house was sparred any direct hits, though our immediate neighbors took a tree to the garage. One of our colleagues lost their rear deck to a fallen tree. The lovely path around Campus Lake is still impassable due to the carnage, if you could call it that. Huge oaks lay on their sides with only the limbs that blocked roads or knocked down power lines having been cut off and dragged out of the way. An inadvertent stimulus to the local economy, providing more work to laborers than has been available in these parts in years. The cleanup will go on for months, if not years. Until I go into the woods on Hales Acres with a chain saw, the fallen trees and tangle of broken limbs will remain. We will have enough firewood forever by the looks of it.

We left our empty Oak Park home at 2 PM on June 11th with Karen and Ryder in the Subaru with three cats and me driving the Mazda with two dogs. The cars were packed to the windows with all the stuff that didn't make it onto the moving van. Our caravan pulled into the drive way on Hunt Road at about 9 PM, in the gathering darkness. Our first delightful discovery was that we could pull both cars into the garage even with the Thule rack on top of Mister House. We closed the garage and opened the car doors and came into our new empty, clean house. Like a dream, only this time, this trip to Carbondale is the big move. We now live here. Really? Can it be true? Do we now really live in this fantastic house on this secluded beautiful wooded lot? Zowee.

We pitched out air mattresses and sleeping bags in the rose room and slept well until 7 the next morning when the movers called to say they were here but couldn't figure out how to get the truck to the house. The neighbors and the sellers both had expressed their doubts about a 54 foot tractor-trailer being able to make it to the house. When they had moved they had to shuttle between the house and the van parked in the Walmart lot. But our movers were determined and also talented and backed the moving truck over a half mile all the way down Hunt Road from old hiway 13. These guys were great. It took them all day, and half the next to unload the truck and move our vast possessions into the house-- and then move the stuff around to where we thought it should go. Then we went to SIU and they moved all the stuff into the lab. It only took a few hours to unload the lab, having a loading dock and elevators made short work of my 20 year collection of labware. The big New Brunswick environmental shaker was that last to come off the truck. So far only one causality was the nice Ikea floor lamp we bought to stage our OP house for showing (argggg) which was snapped in half. We did find one beer mug that was cracked when we unpacked the glasses, but who knows if it was that way before we packed it. Insurance will replace the lamp, but first we have to unpack the lab and the rest of our stuff to see if there is anything else that didn't make it. Considering that our stuff completely filled the van, all 31,000 pounds of it, one broken lamp is pretty insignificant.

We spent the better part of the time since we've lived here unpacking. The movers packed all our glassware and after we took it all out of the boxes we had a pile of paper up to the ceiling and a pile of flattened boxes 1/4 as high. Our new trash service is happy to haul all these recycleables away in stages. We rolled the paper and bundled the boxes and will feed them to the trash men over the next few weeks. The move gave us the opportunity to collect our various things into one collection of each. It is quite the collection of glasses we have. Some from my father's bar, some from Karen's mom, many from different purchases we've made through the years. Gads, we have enough glasses to equip a tavern! I suppose one of our near future purchases will be a dinning room set with table, hutch and buffet. This house has a formal dining room in addition to the kitchen dining area where the "distressed" old table I made over 30 years now resides. We were tempted to get a new dining room table to stage our house for sale, but our real estate agent convinced us that this old thing I built is tres chic, distressed is in. And this is the trusty and very firm surface this computer rests on while I type this. Glad to be inside on this Father's Day enjoying the A/C. Its well over 90 already and rather humid. This part of being in my element is questionable. I grew up in the dry Colorado air and living in the tropics is going to be the biggest adjustment to living here, as far as I can tell so far. We just love the pace of life of a college town in the summer, and sure don't miss the traffic and crush of people in far off Chicago. We all miss our friends but are so happy to be together, all us here in this paradise. As we took possession of the house, the night of our closing, our new neighbor, also the head of department at SIU, greeted us with "welcome to paradise." I am beginning to appreciate what he meant.

One last ride through the Big Ugly

2009-05-27T14:04:00.000-07:00

At long last its come to this. My last day at UIC, my last bike ride commuting through the west side, one last look at the Big Ugly. We had a great group ride in this morning-- the Oak Park Bike Gang, missing only Cliff, the originator of the phrase "Big Ugly", and of course Moe Sullivan, who was with us in spirit, as he always is on these rides. As I rode slowly across Oak Park I was nearly overwhelmed with emotion, missing this amazing town I've lived in for 20 years, even before we've finished packing and moved away. The quiet streets at 6:20 AM, the air thick with moisture from the big rains last night, it was a wonderful glimpse of Oak Park at its best, early morning in the late spring. Eight of us gathered at the west end of Columbus park, and as we prepared to ride, the early morning walkers came by and we got them to shoot a group photo. I think we've seen them nearly every morning for the last several years. As we posed for the photo instead of saying cheese, we were instructed to say "Je-sus!" Blessed be. We rounded the park avoiding Lake Columbus and made our way down Harrison to Laramie where we were greeted by the paper vendors "where everybody at" and "my favorite Caucasians" their standard greetings. After we breezed through the deserted streets of K town, not a gansta in sight, or good old Lucky, we crossed I290 at Kostner and found Mr. Icecream selling his papers, waiting to greet us. Only this time all 8 of us stopped in the median, shook his hand, bid him farewell, and Paul gave him the gift card to Baskin Robins. Years ago he started calling us "ice cream" because of Bob Hake's bike bell. Lately he's been wearing a bike bell around his neck to greet us. He calls Elissa "Lady Icecream" and her son when he rode with us "Junior Icecream". Today we learned that his name is Gregory Pierre and he is a musician. Maybe we've heard him at the Monroe stop on the blue line? Photos were taken and we bid him farewell. One last stop along the way-- the welder at Latham Industries. He has given us the fist in the air salute for the last several years. He is as constant as the morning dew, all these sentinels along the way are-- this time we stopped and chatted with Travis, learning his name for the first time. I told him that I admired his work ethic, and he said, everyday for 21 years. Salt of the earth. People who think of the west side as some great abyss, the dark unknown on either side of the express way just don't know- these good honest hard working folks who have looked out for us as we ride through their neighborhood. It has been a humbling and enlightening experience, one I will cherish. But not miss. Not the glass on the road, the traffic, having to touch down at 40 intersections on the way in. The few gansta teens who terrorized me last fall. I am off to greener rides, in the hills of southern Illinois. The Big Ugly is a beautiful thing, not the land, not the decrepit abandoned buildings, not the concertina wire-- but the people. Thank you for watching over us. And thank you Paul, Elissa, Bob, Bob, Bill, Sue and Scott for giving me such a memorable last ride through the Big Ugly, and a great breakfast too. Now if I make it home safe, I got it made.....

Listen to the thunder shout I am I am

2009-05-11T05:23:00.000-07:00

What shall we say, shall we call it by a name
As well to count the angels dancing on a pin
Water bright as the sky from which it came
And the name is on the earth that takes it in
We will not speak but stand inside the rain
And listen to the thunder shout
I am, I am, I am, I am

Weather Report Suite, May 5, 2009, Allstate Arena, last song, first set. Resonating, vibrating, the music sings in me still. I was transported through the time-space continuim, 1983, Red Rocks, the Grateful Dead, the storm gathering over the eastern Colorado plains.... Phil Lesh's booming bass crashing off the rocks encompassing the amphitheater, the thunder gathering, the lightening, the looming rain-- and listen to the thunder shout-- I am, I am, I am, I am..... Fist clenched, jumping up and down, arms raised exultantly into the air, the whole crowd throbbing, jumping, shouting in unison.... I am, I am.... May 2009. Sitting in the banker's corner office, Carbondale, completing the mortgage application. Fish bowl view of the storm... "we will not speak but stand inside the rain....." thunder crahses, the wind howls, the power goes off. Like the scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy's house is spinning and trees are flying by.... I saw a guy on a bicycle trying to ride into the wind, telephone poles snapping off and blowing by like tooth picks. We watch the storm, then the banker completes the computations on his hand held calculator. Everyone else in the bank is hunkered down, ready to retreat to the bank vault. The rain and wind stop and the sun comes out. I shake hands, excited about the purchase of our new home, pleased to be so well treated and highly regarded as a new Carbondale resident. Out side the extent of the damage from the 100 mph straight line winds is barely comprehensible. Branches broken and trees strewn everywhere. Power lines dangling across every street. Everyone out looking around, amazed. Grateful. Just the power out, just some wind damage, no death, no injury. No movement of traffic. As I attempted to drive my rental car back to the Ford dealer, I became increasingly aware of just what a mess the storm had made of my soon to be new home town. It took an hour to drive 1.5 miles. The poor little Focus sustained cracked windshield and it looked like someone pounded it with a hammer. The night before at the Holiday Inn over 20 cars in the parking lot had their windshields broken from the hail and wind. Two storms in 12 hours, the first golf ball size hail and winds. The second, like a tornado with out the rotation. I was really worried about being able to leave Carbondale to get back to Oak Park. Due to track work, amazingly poorly timed by the rail road to coincide with graduation weekend at Southern the biggest egress of people all year, the train stopped in Effingham and finished the last 100 miles via motorcoach, a.k.a. bus. It was a deluxe bus with DVD players, but a bus none the less. The buses had just arrived when the Ford rental guy dropped me at the station. They were caught in the storm, navigating their way around the downed limbs and power lines. I noticed the drivers head to Boobies, so I got my first meal in 8 hours sitting next to them in the ambient light, now well recognized by Joy, the shift manager who makes a mean sandwich. I knew I wouldn't be left behind, sitting at the bar eating next to the drivers. We boarded the bus and headed straight up 51, avoiding the disaster on highway 13. The drive through southern Illinois' back roads all the way north to I64 was beautiful, bucolic, pastoral-- not like the terrain around Chicago. In fact, north of I-70/Effingham is when the topography changes, from flat to hills. It is going to be quite a nice change, being in a more natural world. No longer in the flight path of Ohare. We won't hear the traffic on the Eisenhower or the El thundering past. Or helicopters hovering over the highway reporting on the 20 mile long traffic jams. In stead, we will hear the thunder shouting-- I am, I am.... I am.....

Dead bookends: Tennessee Jed

2009-05-06T09:43:00.000-07:00

It was November 1978 and I had flown to Chicago, my first visit to the Windy City, to see the Grateful Dead for a 3 night stand at the Uptown Theater with my old pal Casey. Due to rather unfortunate events and harrowing circumstances, we did not make it to the first show, and recovering from the *events* caused us to miss the 2nd show. Determined to see at least one show, I ventured on my own via the CTA from 85th and Kedzie to the Uptown-- which unto itself for a Colorado boy was quite an adventure. I scored a ticket outside the the theater and found my seat in the cavernous old movie palace. It was a tremendous show, especially enjoyable after all the trouble we'd endured in the past few days. The first set ended with a rousing version of Tennessee Jed, the first time I'd heard it performed in concert. I remember queuing up for the bathroom and talking with a Chicago dead head who had a very different look from the out west heads. A white shirt, black pants and wild long curly black hair. He had an edge to him relative to the mellow fellow deads I knew in Boulder. We agreed enthusiastically about how stellar the rendition of Jed was that we had just experienced. That was my first Chicago Dead show, probably one of the first 20 or so shows I'd seen. Quite an amazing venue. It was so amazingly hot in the Uptown despite being November in Chicago. All that took place during that fateful visit to Chicago is another story.

Flash forward 30 years and 6 months later to May 5, 2009 to the Allstate Arena in Rosemont the Chicago suburb that surrounds Ohare. We have yet one more thing to thank Barack Obama for-- the Dead reunited to support his campaign, and had such a good experience this time around, they decided to go on tour. All four of the originals, plust Waren Haynes and Jeff Kimeti, and they go deep into their song book for this tour. This was my last Dead show in Chicago as a resident of Chicagoland. Now my shows number into the 150s. Grateful Dead shows stopped at #83, but int he 14 years since Jerry died, I have continued to go to Dead, Phil and Friends, Rat Dog, Further festivals to catch any reincarnation of the good old Grateful Dead. And the show was splendid! Ironically, this my *last* show, just like that first show at the Uptown, Casey was supposed to go and couldn't. The parking lot was spectacular, with several rows of tents and booths with the commerce of the dead heads thriving like the Marakesh market place. Food and tie-dye, beers and bongs, liquor and fajitas, hugs and kisses all around. No fear of swine flu here. In places the crowd was intense, in other islands where the flow ebbed, we could pause and soak it all in. Being among our tribe and thriving on the vibe, the prelude to the show that set the tone. I had Casey's ticket and wandered around looking for a potential buyer, but all of the ticket seekers, many of them rasta clad hairy underarmed young hippie girls were looking for a miracle. A delightful sight, and fun to consider gifting them, but watching for a few minutes revealed that these miracle seekers were lurking with their boy friends or clan mates, and were hawking the tickets they scored. So Zech and Mars and I wandered through the throng, enjoy the vibe and taking in the sights, while I awaited inspiration. And then she appeared. Alone, truly and genuinely seeking a ticket, despearately hoping for a miracle. I gave her the ticket and she was moved beyond words by her great fortune. She threw her arms around me and gave me a big lingering hug, then kissed me, and kept thanking me. It was gratifying to have found such a grateful and worthy recipient of the ticket, and it was not unpleasant to have been rewarded by her warm embrace. My two compadres enjoyed watching her response, and we all three sighed as she went skipping off ecstatic with her miracle.

We navigated our way into the venue, surviving search and seirzure with good humor and amusement. Zech's complicated concert approach garnered some additional scrutiny, and his painted face was smiling and beaming the whole while the Rosemont cop tossed his fanny pack. Many concert goers seemed to suffer through discovery at the hands of the cops, but we had nothing to hide and sailed to our seats. And outstanding seats they were! Getting tickets by mail order from GDTSTOO is a very good idea, and it seats you adjacent other knowing folks. And everyone was happy to be there. From teenagers to old farts like us, we were all there for the show. And what a show it was. As the boys starting tooling around, getting set for the opener, I thought I caught a hint of Tennessee Jed, but was surprised by Dancin' in the Streets-- dancing in Chicago! what a great way to open the show. And then--the 2nd song, Tennessee Jed. And a rousing rendition. Warren Haynes covering Jerry's vocals and guitar, quite admirably, but he has made it his own. I was transported to that show back through the years, and reminisced fondly about all the wonderful concert expereiences I've had since I've lived in Chicago. The band was great, the sound excellent and crowd enthused. Some real gems-- Unbroken Chain, a song I have only heard live 2 or 3 times and Phil was in good voice. Truckin! yes, what a long strange trip its been! And the closer was Know You Rider one of those special songs for me. The encore was perfect-- Broke Down Palace and the crowd sang along turning the Allstate Arena into a cathedral, a church filled with 10,000 voices in the choir. And there can be no other song after that one-- fare thee well as we are going home, gonna rest my bones, listen to the river sing this song. yes, mama, many roads I've known since I first left home. Thank you, I will be forever grateful.

Hales Acres

2009-05-04T06:21:00.000-07:00

For a year now we have been considering housing in Carbondale, certainly one of the recruiting devices employed by SIU was showing us the favorable housing options in the Carbondale area. It was just a year ago, for the second interview, when Karen and Ryder and I drove down, that we got our first tour of real estate with Marcia. I believe it was that very trip when we saw what became known as the Victorian Legend, and the focus of much thought and planning as the year unfolded. We even made an offer on the 40 acre farm with the grand old Victorian house. Meanwhile, we saw the housing market take a nose dive as the Bush fueld economic disaster dashed our hopes of cashing in on our prime real estate in Oak Park. Despite not having a clear prospect for selling our house, we threw our hat into the ring and offered the appraised amount for the farm. I think its safe to safe we never really felt completely comfortable with the prospect. The main problem being the house. Magnificent Victorian built in 1895 and "completely restored" with new wiring, heat/AC, kitchen etc. It was truly impressive, but it was still so very much like the house we own in Oak Park, a 1913 mini-Victorian, small rooms, no closets, in adequate bathrooms. When the sellers of Victorian wouldn't budge and we couldn't come closer that $70,000 on the deal, we just let it slide and recommenced our serious house hunting venture. This time with refined criteria: as new of a house as possible, with as much land as close to work as we could find. This actually revealed dozens of new options. We spent the last weekend of April in Carbondale, staying at the ever so quaint Pin Oak Motel on the out skirts of town, and toured 12 properties. We had our hopes on the 7 acre place in Blackhawk but it was a real disappointment. Great if we wanted to go into the horse business, but it was a tiny house. The second house we saw, on South Hunt Road, seemed to have just what we were looking for, it was built 1994, 4200 square feet, 5 bedrooms, 3 full baths on 1.5 acres on a secluded lot. As we continued to tour other properties, ranging from rustic to McMansion, we narrowed down our search to three properties. After visiting all three for the second time the house on South Hunt Road, not only emerged as our top choice for this trip, but in fact, was just exactly what we were looking for. I had hoped for more acreage, but this property backs up onto the woods and is just 2 miles west of Crab Orchard National Wildlife area, and though it has just 1.5 acres, the wooded lot goes on forever. It is secluded, but in an 8 property subdivision with lots of 1.5 to 18 acres. It is just 3.8 miles from SIU, so it is secluded, but not remote. We drove back to Oak Park and as soon as we got home called Marcia and made an offer. In marked contrast to the owners of the Victorian farm, the owners of the Hunt Road property do want to sell. We offered, they countered, meeting us half way, and accepted all of the contigencies. Having been preapproved for the loan for the Victorian and having navigated our way through the sales contract with the failed deal, makes doing this deal smooth as silk. I am returning to Carbondale this week for the home inpsection and mortgage application and on the 29th the three of us return for the closing. I think we will camp out in the house after the closing-- an empty nest, soon to be filled with all our stuff that has been stored away for these last months, and our pets who will love the new wilderness they will inhabit. Hales Acres, 724 South Hunt Road. Now, if we can only sell our *other* house....

The Last Lab Meeting

2009-05-04T05:28:00.000-07:00

February 14, 1990, I did the first experiment in my new laboratory, the newly founded Hales Lab. On April 30, 2009, the last experiment was performed in this incarnation of the Hales Lab. Ironically, neither experiment worked. The first experiment, I recall clearly, was interuppted by some faculty business, a committee meeting I believe. The last was done amidst the chaos of closing down the lab. And so, it was a very poignent moment for me, when we sat at our weekly lab group meeting and discussed the real-time PCR analysis of the effect of flax diet on E-cadherin expression in the chicken ovary, an experiment done in tandem by Kristine and Amanda, and it was clear, that in order to get this asaay to work, we would have to purchase more sybr green, trouble shoot the primers, possibly make fresh cDNA from the chicken ovarian cancer samples.... meanwhile Cassie is busy packing up the lab. So, I called finis and said "let's pull the plug" and choked up, tears welling in my eyes. Now is the time of innumerable farewells, the going away parties, the last luncheons, the big college of medicine reception and it will be hard not to get emotional. But this moment, of stopping the active experimentation in my laboratory really hit me. It will be a few months before we have the new lab unpacked and ready to go. Fortunately Kristine's work will continue here in Joanne's lab, and we are working on the two manuscripts, with Yan's data now complete, the figure's made and the methods written. But no more experiments. It is rather unnerving. Not to say I am not busy. I am preparing a grant for the Department of Defense Ovarian Cancer Idea award, due June 2nd, submitted at SIU from here. And of course, packing up the lab and my office. I have jetisoned vast amounts of reprints and academic records which I have so fastidiously retained. Getting rid of all this stuff now should remind me not to save so much crap in the future. eh?

Turn this beast into the wind

2009-04-23T08:37:00.000-07:00

That Steve Earle song, The Other Kind, really struck a note with me while I was working out this morning. "Here of late all this real estate don't seem all that real to me sometimes/ I'm back out on that road again/ gonna turn this beast into the wind..." Of course any song which pays homage to Jack Kerouac has to be a good song. I have been turning my beast into the wind all spring long. The relentless wind off Lake Michigan. Spring is winter fighting with summer, and this year winter is waging a relentless battle. The promise of warmer days is like the sun shining through my back door. Ah the bike, the road, the ride to work, the glass the gangstas and the traffic-- its all wonderful, its all out doors and its where I'd really rather be.

As I mounted the Concept 2 rowing machine this morning, the sun was shining in to the corner of the gym where the rowers live, and I felt this strange elation. The tunes on my music player were just right and I cranked out 5000 meters in 23:28. The bike, the rowing machine both let me go full out, 110% effort with NO PAIN. None of the bad kind of pain anyway, plenty of screaming quads and pounding heart, sweat stinging my eyes-- you know the good kind of pain. Not the case with running. Triumphant though I was, to finish a 5K in 33:33, running the whole way, and I really enjoyed just loping along, having long ago given up any time goals. But the pain was real and it was not the good kind. My damn knees are shot. Meniscus erosion causing bone on bone shooting pain down my outside lower legs. The pain is not in the knee, its in my anterior tibialis and peronius longorus. The race was on Sunday, I was pretty sore all day, but by Monday felt OK. But testing my legs doing squats the last two days revealed the extent of the pathology. Two legged squats are fine, I can go well below 90 degrees, but the one legged squats really exacerbate the pain. As I bend my knee I cross a certain point and the pain shoots down my leg. I can pass through this threshold several times with successive one legged squats, but then I begin to collapse, unable to hold my weight on one bent leg. Yikes. Not a good feeling.

What really freaked me out this year was discovering that same pain when skiing. No say it ain't so! My week in Vancouver, two days at Grouse and one day at Blackcomb in the heavy pacific northwest snow and I was trashed. I could survive as a slow and intermittant runner, but I refuse to ceed skiing to the unfair gods of aging. Despite the difficulty with my one-legged squats, as usual I did a handstand against the wall and then attacked the rowing machine. It was a bit challenging at first, the deep knee compression, but the tunes, the sunlight, the endorphins soon transported me into a 34 stroke per minute rythm, with a deep breath on each stroke. I could see my reflection in the sun lit window and watched my form, feeling the core muscles carve out each pull on the drive, the slight back bend and chest thrust on the finish, and the C-shape in my back as I reached through the recovery for the catch. Rowing is wonderful exercise. It is interesting that my 5K times for rowing are comparable to my 5K times running when I was at my peak, in my mid 40s. 21:30 PR but any 5K under 23 was fast for me. My average rowing times for 5K are 22:38 PR to sub 24 on a good day. Today's 23:28 felt great. The online rowing log at Concept2 allows me to compare my 5K times with other men in my age and weight group. The fastest times are in the 16's-- an admirable time if that were to be a 5K road race for sure. And I have about as much chance of hitting 16 rowing as I did running back in the day.

March winds and April fools

2009-04-01T06:02:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining more strongly every day and at last the cruel mantle of winter is being lifted from weather weary Chicago. Not lifted, actually, but blown away. March was a very rainy wet month with 6.26 inches of rain, the most ever in March (as recorded since 1928 at Midway Airport). Not a very good month for bike commuting. Now as the sun warms the earth and summer fights with winter for spring, the winds are howling. My rides home in the last two weeks have been brutal. The wind was blowing so hard and steady straight out of the west, that it was all I could do to stay on my peddles. I went through an underpass and up into the wind and the current of air was so strong I actually felt like I was being stood still, even pushed backwards and over, when actually, I just slowed to 9 mph. It took an hour to ride home through those big blows, and I felt completely whacked when I finally made it to Oak Park. But the west wind is bringing the warmth, and the thermometer is easing up, ever closer to 50, lifting out of the 40s-- and the sun is shining oh so brightly. I always claim that a sunny day is a nice day, regardless of the temperature. In Chicago that means it probably -20, but sunny and clear. I suspect that my feelings about the sun will change as we head south to Egypt. Hot and humid? bring it on!

My rides have also been punctuated by a series of flat tires. Last week I was riding home and was right in the heart of K-town, ground zero for bike commuter-gangsta interactions, when my front tire went flat. I was hard pressed for time, struggling through the wind, but anxious to get home to take over Ryder duty so Karen could go to work. I stopped and reached for my cell phone-- dead! Yikes. I knew with my hand held pump it would take me too long to change and inflate my tire, so I was calling to seek rescue. I was too far between El stops and it was rush hour so no bikes allowed on the train anyway. And the #7 would only get me to the east side of Columbus park, still too far to walk my bike home in time for Karen to make it to work. I saw three guys sitting in the cab of a moving truck and rolled my bike over and asked to use their phone. Kindly the guy in the passenger side handed me his phone-- it was in Spanish, but the buttons still did the same thing and soon I was in contact with Karen and we agreed to meet at Harrison and Cicero about 3 blocks west of where I landed. The gents in the truck were kind and helpful and I am so grateful to them. I rolled my bike down the sidewalk which gave me the *opportunity* to interact with the denizens of the west side. Mostly friendly, some cajoling, but none too threatening. I waited in front of the liquor store and many folks headed in to pick up their 44s in brown paper bags made comments to me as they came and went. It only took Karen 15 minutes to fetch me, and she dropped me and Ryder and my bike at home and drove off to work.

My bike work area has been dislocated and disassembled for the house showings, but it didn't take long to get everything together and repair the tire. I did not have a replacement tube as it turned out, so I wouldn't have been able to fix the flat on the road anyway. This discovery was a bit unnerving. So I attempted to patch and repair the tube and found all the cement in the ancient repair kits was dried up. I put on glueless patches, inflated the tire to test, and the patches came right off. Useless! So, I somehow managed to find a tube which I tested underwater and found no leaks, but was a little concerned about as it went flat on me once standing overnight. Loose valve or something? I installed it and pumped it up and then figured out that I had over inflated the tires-- only 70 psi for these fat boys (37s) and I had them pumped up to 85 or 90. So I deflated both tires to the right pressure and when I checked them in the morning, they were still just as hard. So far, so good.

Until this morning that is. It seems to me that 70 psi is just too soft and the tires noticeably flatten out under my massive weight. I didn't notice that the front tire was in fact just a little too flat, and when I jumped on the bike and took off, I got to the first corner and the tire gave out and I went crashing to the sidewalk. I lay there on my back, still clipped in like a turtle on its back not able to get up. Now usually at 6:25 AM there is no one on our street, but this morning there happened to be people walking to work and cars driving by. I was unscathed, just a bit embarrassed, and also concerned about the flat. Undeterred, I rolled back home, pumped up the tire and hit the road. The whole ride I kept hoping the tire would remain inflated. I felt like I was in a Viagra commercial and kept chanting "stay hard, stay hard." The tire did manage to stay hard all the way in. Fingers crossed for the return trip. I missed my buddies at the meeting place, but they rode the long way around the park to avoid Lake Columbus, which did not deter me. So when I emerged from the path at the east end of the park, Elissa and Paul were just riding up. It was lovely riding in with them this morning. A gorgeous but still chilly morning. The sun glinting of the shattered glass strewn over the road (I had picked a half dozen shards out of my flatted tire last week) and the strong smell of the 24 hour Maxwell Street hot dog stand permeated the cool morning air-- features of the ride I savor, but so look forward to leaving behind. Only a few more weeks of surviving the ride through the Big Ugly and my bike commutes through the west side will be over.

When a house is not a home

2009-03-31T14:16:00.001-07:00

At long last 939 Wisconsin is on the market (MLS #: 07174364). Wow, what a long strange trip this has been. More than six months of intense activity and work while we watched the realestate market plummet. Like Ryder said, we don't need to buy a new house, we have a new house. This is what we did.

new construction, porch conversion to office/vestibule with crawlspace, upgrade electric to 200 AMP service.
remove stairwell wall paper and new paint
pack up all the stuff (part one) and move 30 boxes of books to new crawlspace
finish molding/baseboard trim projects (in progress for >15 years)
living room paint and sand and refinish hardwood floors
master bedroom, carpet removal, wall repair and new paint
load up POD with 1/2 our belongings
donate 1/4 of our belongings to charity
bathroom paint
3rd bedroom clear out, repair and repaint
sunroom stain and finish baseboard, repair veneer on paneling, paint ceiling
kitchen repair plaster and repaint
clear out and clean out basement
hire Olga to do deep cleaning including blinds
hire McMahon to clean windows in and out
rearrange furniture, put down new rugs
trim yews and paint front steps, clean flower beds
pack up even more stuff
clear out pantry
throw out even more stuff

Now, all that we need to do is find a new place to park my commuter bike and make the vestibule into a room, instead of a bike garage (grudgingly).

And then we can start to work on the yard and garden, which we would naturally do now anyway.

Now we have to walk on eggshells, don't make messes, keep the house spotless and free of clutter, and hope that someone likes the house as much as we do and will turn it back into a home.

though I must say, last night cooking dinner in my own kitchen was an act of great and restorative normalcy.

ok, deep breath. I guess I better get some real work done. Med lectures, grant and paper writing, and oh yeah, packing up the lab. At least no one is going to come to my office tosee if they want to buy this place. My office and lab are now my refuge.

on thin ice

2009-02-13T09:12:00.000-08:00

It is a metaphor for being in a precarious position, but this morning the old adage "being on thin ice" was literally where I found myself-- shortly before I crashed with a thud and skidded on my back across said ice. This tome could be entitled "ode to lake Columbus" and anyone whose made the ride from Oak Park to Chicago via the Harrison street route knows about the low side of the park, just east of the woods and south of the golf course. It was impassable just a few weeks ago with nearly two feet of accumulated and crusted snow. Now it looks like it often does during the wet season, a path covered with just a few inches of water at the most, with a high point in the middle. the isthmus which provides a nearly dry passage to the other side. Emboldened by my fenders and fat tires, I tempted fate this morning and thought I could ride through. I had not counted on the ice, that it was just thick enough to get me several yards out before I broke through, and that when I got past the deep part it was frozen hard again. So, the wheels sunk and I had to use my foot to push along, lucky to find a narrow strip of frozen grass to gain enough of a purchase to propel myself. The my wheels came out of the water, onto the frozen solid eastern edge of the "lake" and I clipped back on and began to peddle. I crossed an island of dry asphalt and I gained some momentum and hit the next frozen spot, which was just about 10 feet wide and as soon as my rear wheel hit the ice it shot out from under me and I found myself hitting the frozen ground hard and my bike sliding away. I was on my back and skidded around trying to gain my feet. I stood up, walked to my bike and the found the chain had come off the ring, but that was the only damage. One foot was soaked with ice water and my elbow, shoulder and butt were singing, but once I got back on the road, I was OK. The saddle bags got scraped and I got road rash on my pants, not my legs, so no big deal. I feel a bit creaky and sore, but my clothes did not tear and the bike was unscathed. Like the song says "just a little shaken from the fall." but I am not a china cat sunflower, just a sun dawg, and survived my trip acrross the thin ice just fine. I decided I better pick an alternative way home, however.

Friday the 13th-- and if that is the only bad thing that happens, then I have nothing to worry about. I feel like a man divided as the duties downstate begin to have their demands on me while I am still up to my eyeballs in work at this place. Planning the move, transfering the inventory and equipment from UIC to SIU, finishing up my teaching, while planning the start up for my lab, interveiw new hires to staff my lab and supervising the rennovations for the department is all nearly too much. All of this on top of my real work-- writing the papers, reviewing the grants and manuscripts, desiinging the experiments and interpreting the data-- the good stuff you know. It is no wonder I feel like I am on thin ice. The ice flow UIC is cracking and breaking away from behind me as I scrambled moving forward trying not to be sucked into the abyss, yet slipping and sliding as I grapple to get across to the other side SIU. Three months and two days the Hales Lab at UIC officially closes it doors. Ok breathe.

teaser

2009-02-09T05:57:00.000-08:00

Lady Spring

It is amazing just how warm 32 degrees can feel. That was what the thermometer read this morning at 6:22 as I made my way to Columbus Park to meet my commuting buddies. It was foggy and there were patches of ice here and there, but the warm weather over the weekend did a good job at melting most of the snow pack away. I rode without my neoprene shoe covers and my feet stayed mostly warm, and when I got to work I could still feel my thumbs. Yes sir! On Saturday it was the first really nice day we've had since late November, and we really enjoyed it. Ryder and I walked to the Lincoln school carnival and he was so excited about the warmth of the sun beaming down on us. "too nice of a day to be inside playing the Wii" he declared. The carnival was jammed and throbbing and every single person had a big smile. The beautiful spring-like weather permeated the place, everyone was in a good mood. Even Republicans were smiling. Ryder told me "you know what I call this Dad? Spring!" We agreed to enjoy the lovliness of the day for we know this is only a tease. We have a lot of winter yet to endure, but we have made it through the worst of it. And what a beast its been! A suitable final winter for us in Chicago, the worst one we've had yet. Not as cold as some, and not as much snow as others, but the coldest snowiest and earliest that we can recall. One does blot out the memory of pain.

My heart goes out to the people of Victoria, Australia who are enduing catastrophic fires and ambient temperatures of 47 degrees C which is 117 degrees F. talk about global warming. Yet here in the other hemisphere its been unusually cold. wow. The horror stories of people burning in their cars, trying to flee and getting trapped, then burned as they attempted to drive away-- just awful. Such tragedies really put things into perspective. Angst and worry about stuff we are dealing with pale by comparison. Good luck you Ausies! Please be safe.

anniversaries

2009-02-03T14:38:00.000-08:00

Here we are headlong into the 2nd month of 2009 and we pause briefly to consider some of the momentous anniversaries of this year. 20 years ago we moved to Oak Park from Ann Arbor; the same year that the Berlin Wall came down and Exxon Valdez spilled a billion gallons of crude oil in the Alaskan Wilderness, and the earth quake in San Francisco interrupted the World Series. 40 years ago-- Woodstock, man on the moon, Altmont (Give Me Shelter) and the passing of my mother. 50 years ago-- the day the music died. Each of these events elicits a cascade of memories. Well, Buddy Holly dieing did not evoke much in me at the time (I was 5 years old), but the 1971 Don MacLean song sure did make an imprint. I remember so clearly 1969 and what a tumultuous time it was. As I sat on my mother's bed in the hospital watching the news cast of "one small step for mankind..." the cameras panned over the US soldiers in Viet Nam, sitting on their tanks and in their bunkers listening to the radio broadcast of those generation defining words. The Woodstock-- watching the Tonight Show with Crosby, Stills and Nash visiting Johnny Carson, talking about going to Woodstock and what it was all about. I suppose had my mother not just died I might well have been among the multitude in the mud in upstate New York, but then again, maybe not. I was, after all, working on my candidacy to the US Naval Academy... but that is another story. And Altmont. The horror of the Hells Angels beating hapless hippies to death while the Rolling Stones rocked on. I had no affection for the Grateful Dead, yet at the time, but remember hearing that they decided the vibe was just too awful there and they left. And then it was 1989... Maggie Thatcher was the Prime Minister and George H Bush was President. The wall fell and a piece was delivered to Ronnie at his California home. The Exxon Valdez crashed and spilled all that oil because the captain was drunk. Then we moved to Oak Park and we sat watching the World Series listening to Al Michaels make the call when he suddenly had to become a news anchor instead of a sports announcer. Many years hence we will think back on 2009 as the cruel harsh last winter in Chicago, the beginning of the Obama era, the year Blagojavich was impeached, the year I became Chair of the department at SIU and we moved to our new palatial estate.....

other anniversaries of note: 1959 Kind of Blue, Miles Davis the quintessential Jazz album; 1979 Shaw of Iran exiled and the Ayatollah Kohmeni takes over as the US hostages are taken into captivity. And I moved from Boulder to Denver.....

fat tires and cold thumbs

2009-02-02T08:47:00.001-08:00

Ground Hog's Day, a national holiday following in the wake of Super Sunday when the whole world tunes their TV's in to the Super Bowl to watch the commercials. Being fond of Clydesdales as I am, I found the horse ads to be my favorites. Proud workhorse with a great tradition, and a girl friend too. Nice! Of course Phil saw his shadow this morning and thus we will have to wait six weeks until March 21st, when the vernal equinox brings us astronomical spring. If Phil hadn't seen his shadow, well, I guess it would still be six weeks until the equinox. It was a lovely morning for a ride to work, a balmy 25 degrees with blue skies, light winds and clear roads. I had my new Conti2000 37s on the bike and this made navigating through the occassional patches of ice and snow a lot easier than on my skinny treadless 25s. The fat tires are a cushier ride too. But not so great for spinning on the trainer. I've been in a spin training class now for two months, every Sunday morning from 8 to 10:30, tuning our cadence to our heart rates, doing drills in unison as we follow Coach Guillia's instruction. This is not your average spin class. The Wednesday night class was featured in a recent article in the Oak Park Wednesday Journal. Most of the class are hard core bikers, members of the infamous "Lake-Harlem" group, famous for their 30 mph sprints and notorious for dropping anyone who can't keep up-- or doesn't make the light, or has a flat. We haul our gear into the cafeteria of the elementary school, set up our bikes on their trainers, put on bike clothes, warm up for 20 minutes and then do drills. We do one legged spinning, with the unused leg tucked behind the stand-- scraping the mud off on each revolution, one minute each, 5 minutes rest, repeat 5 times. Then 2 x 1 minute at 105% to get the heart engaged. And then the drills-- "performance" yesterday, 3-2-1 minutes at >100 rpms on the big gears, with the heart at 95%, 3 minute rest, then 2 minute rest etc. We did this 4 times. After 55 minutes of spinning with rest included my heart rate averaged 135. During the intervals it averaged 152. Intense! I could smell rubber burning. When I got off my bike to roll out my yoga matt, I saw a plume of shreaded rubber behind the rear wheel where the roller rubbed the wheel. The 130 rmp intervals really had that rubber flying.

This prompted me to visit eBay and look for some wheels. I scored a set of three, two front, one rear, Mavics with new tires, for a steal! The vendor goes to estate sales and sells the stuff he buys on eBay for cheap. New wheels will arrive this week and I can lace up the rear Mavic Dura ace "corn cob" with a gummy blue trainer wheel, and should be good to go. I was astounded, when I began shopping for wheels to discover how much they cost. These Mavics each, new list for $599, but can be purchased for $299 for some vendors. I got the three set for less than $45 each. I rather like the idea of having a spare set of wheels, fat and skinny, depending on the conditions. Soon there will be "conditions" again to deal with. The weather inside is always the same and the trainer is just as smooth. Six weeks to the official start of spring. For the past few years St Patty's day was the start of my commuting season. I try and ride as much as I can but 15 degrees in the snow and ice dampens my enthusiasm for my 8 mile commute. At least those gang bangers are smart enough to stay indoors when its cold and leave the roads to us loonies.

quiet mind

2009-01-30T07:24:00.000-08:00

And the Buddha said: "This most subtle awakening comes about through moment-to-moment attentiveness. By way of attentiveness, there is attunement to the ways in which things manifest, such as form and consciousness. The practitioner awakens to perfect wisdom by becoming blissfully free of dread and all the despair that goes with it..." (adapted from Prajnaparamita).

"I laid down and I tried to take my rest/ but my mind was wandering like some wild beast in the west " (Know you Rider, traditional)

Radio comes on at 5 AM, weather report reminds me that its 5 degrees with wind chill taking it down to -20. Cold, dark, the winter goes on and on, yet its Friday and time to face the day. The news about Blagojavich being ousted and Pat Quinn being installed as the new Governor of Illinois brings another jolt, now the waiting is over. The dire news of the economy, the anticipated budget rescission for the University will no longer be delayed into the vague future, we will know within 60 days. And then as I take the helm of the department I will be faced with some very hard decisions. Seeing what is happening at UIC is rather unnerving. Seminar series canceled and all the out of town speakers now uninvited; all hiring on freeze, so the 4 faculty who've left the department will not be replaced-- what will I face at SIUC? Similar draconian measures? It is what it is and worrying about it never changes anything. The radio drones on while I still hunker down under the covers-- the worst economic news since the Great Depression, new home sales at an all time low, prices of existing house down by 34%, 6.5 million unemployed people filing for relief, Starbucks, Walmart, Allstate all cutting thousands of jobs... yet there is good news. If you are an executive for one of the failing banks you will still be sure to get your multibillion dollar payoff, surely you are entitled. And of course you can still buy that new corporate jet, right Citibank? And the oil companies have new record windfall profits-- exceeding the entire budget of the NIH, NSF and DOE-- ah, yes, we have our priorities..... And the radio reports the terrible traffic snarl and problems with the commuter trains. Ugh. I get up, rather disconcerted. What a day to face.

"See here how everything, lead up to this day
It's just like any other day, that's ever been.... sun going to come up, and sun going down.
shine through my window and my friends they come around--- come around...."

somehow "Black Peter" really speaks to me today. Quiet my mind and listen to the good old Grateful Dead. Sure beats worrying about the cold, the budget rescission, selling the house.... The sun is shining and the day is a bright as a day can be. Think of this and be free.

Baby, it's cold out there!

2009-01-15T09:41:00.000-08:00

Here it is, a REAL Chicago winter. Yah baby, this is what its all about. With a high of minus 8 F today, and the wind howling out of the north, I get to experience the full force of winter here in Chicago, one last time. I checked the weather in Carbondale and its unusually cold there--a frigid 19 F. By comparison, that is down right balmy! As I trudged to the El and stood waiting for the train, I could feel actual pain in my fingers and cheeks from the arctic chill. Nothing like it! I stood in the shelter with the sun beaming on my face and felt warm in the core, but frozen on the edges. There are few experiences comparable to waiting for the El on an exposed platform in the Chicago winter. It always amazes me how people stand huddled, immobile, staring down the track trying to will the train to appear. I indulge in platform placing. I stride up and down the platform, always moving, listening to music, maybe dancing a little, making the other immobile riders nervous while I make my passes. Today, however, I did huddle under the lights warming my face in the sun. By my criteria, today is a "nice" day-- the sun is shining. Brilliantly so, reflecting all the sun's warmth off the 18 inches of snow pack we've accummulated in the last week, the pale blue sky with nary a cloud to be seen. Gorgeous.

All my biking these days is on the training stand. My running brother and I have enrolled in a spin conditioning class on Sunday mornings-- 2 1/2 hours every Sunday. It is a new experience for me, to be in a spin class like this where all the other participants are accomplished bike riders. We are training using heart rate tuned to cadence. It is intense and challenging, but quite doable. Class one we spun at max cadence until we were bouncing in our seats, then backed off just enough to stay seated and measured our max heart rates. From this measurement our training ranges were determined. At different ranges of heart rate, different cadences are used. It is so cool to gear up or down to keep the heart rate and cadence in the prescribed range. I hardly notice the pain! Our coach suggests that we do two workouts like this per week and spin on off days. I, however, am determined as ever to cross train and mix indoor rowing, treadmill run/walking and AMT in to get my cardio, combined with matt work for the core, and some resistance training. I could spend two hours a day in the gym if I had the time.

I am intrigued and really enjoying using the indoor rowing machine. I visit the Concept2 website for training tips and to log my results. I consistently crank out 5000 meters in ~24 minutes and am amazed that some of the top rowers in my age and weight range can do 5K in 16 to 18 minutes. It is interesting that my running 5K used to be in that range prior to trashing my knees, and I always marveled at my fellow Clydes who could break 20 minutes in the 5K. With the spin heart rate-cadence work, I was interested in heart rate training on the rower and learned about drag factor. Being the way I am, I of course dial the rower up to 10 for maximum drag so I have to pull harder on each stroke. The Concept2 website advises, however, to use a much lower drag factor, 3-4 which enables one to achieve a much higher heart rate. So low drag, higher heart for the cardio work. I still haven't dialed the drag factor and stroke interval to heart rate, analogous to heart rate-cadence training, but it seems to improve the quality of the workout.

Bike commuting is on hold. I did not ride in December because of all the snow, ice, slush, freezing rain etc. On Jan 5, my first official day at work this year, I rode my bike braving the 16 degree cold. It was dry, not too windy, and the roads were clear and clean. I really liked the ride too. My new neoprene shoe covers that Santa brought me for Christmas were great, keeping my toes warm and dry. And I wore enough layers so I was plenty warm. Fingers and thumbs a bit cold, but tolerable. It was a day like today, clear, cold and sunny. But it was 20 degrees warmer and the roads were clear. Today it is almost impassable on foot, let alone on skinny road tires. I really miss bike commuting. The only solace for riding the El is being plugged into my MP3 player. Riding the El beats driving hands down. Looking at the cars jammed on the Eisenhower while the El flies by makes up for the sardine city experience packed into the El on the ride home. Platform pacing is no replacement for the bike commute, but it is something.

Egypt

2008-12-12T12:34:00.001-08:00

It's a curious thing, but Southern Illinois is referred to as "Egypt" and there are at least three cities south of I64 with Egyptian names--Cairo, Thebes, Karnac (and others see http://www.illinoishistory.com/egypt.htm). The land between the rivers, where northern Illinoisans came to get corn when drought devastated their crops etc-- there are many versions of the origin of the Egyptian moniker. One reason the occured to me as I ventured there this week was that it might as well be Egypt since it is so different from Chicago. We went from sub 20s and snow to the mid 40's and rain, in just 330 miles. Then back again. Today here in Chicago its 12 degrees and very dry. Not enduring another winter in Chicago will be one of the adjustments I don't think we'll mind making.

The Amtrak Saluki 391/2 is a very good way to get to Carbondale, and it ran nearly on time both ways this trip. It was a lot of fun having Ryder and Karen along this time too. Ryder and I sat in the dining car and played chess for part of the journey both ways. His chess prowess is developing nicely and he seems to enjoy the game. I waited for many years to find a chess partner and now I have one! I remember fondly playing chess with my dad, so playing with Ryder connects my son to my father in a special way, though Wayne passed away long before Ryder was born. Five hours on a train is so much more tolerable than being stuck on an airplane. And the whole of the train experience is very low stress. No search or intrusion. You can bring food and you can plug your computer in. If only the trains were equipped with WiFi...

We are keeping our options open and looked at a new property. From the listing and photos this place sounded great. As soon as we drove up Apple Ridge Lane off of old Hiway 51 just north of Makanda, we were disappointed by the looks of the place. We went inside and the smell of mothballs was very strong and though it had been carefully staged, the rooms were so small it was easy to cross this one off the list. The Victorian Legend goes right back to the top and we are close to putting some earnest money down. Having some land many turn out to be a really good idea the way the economy is looking these days. Now the task of readying our house is our major occupation. It is gratifying to get the place ready to sell because it is forcing me to finish all the incomplete projects I've been sitting on for years. The technical difficulties with the moulding and installing the trim can no longer stall my efforts. One way or another these jobs will be done. Our house is not a fixer upper, by any stretch, but of course there is always work that can be done. We remodeled the kitchen so long ago that it could be done again. Regardless of all the work that is done, it will still be a 1913 vintage mini-Victorian. Knowing this makes us cringe as we consider buying an 1890 true Victorian, fully restored or not. The house on Springer Ridge Road will still be nearly 120 years old, new wires, plumbing, HVAC, kitchen and all. Bring it on! I do hope to avoid installing all new baseboard this time. One thing for sure, I have learned a lot about working on old houses and no know that the work is never done.

The visit to SIU was very productive as I make further preparations for taking over as head of the department. The Blagojevich scandal has everyone all a buzz. Both at the U of I and at SIU all bets about the recission are now off. It looked like Rod was going to cut the University budgets by 8%-- now who knows. These are very exciting times we are living in. The hope for change has morphed into excited anticipation as our junior Senator prepares for the Presidency yet we have to live through this pay-to-play nightmare while the Governor trys to sell Mr. Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder. I heard the analogy, comparing Blago's blatant crookery to a shop lifer at Walmart who sees the security guard watching him and then procedes to stuff merchandise into his pants apparently not caring that he is going to get caught. Is he crazy, deluded or just a megalomaniac ? Apparently he is all three.....

looking back at 20 years at UIC-- the Dharma of Science

2008-11-19T07:30:00.000-08:00

I thought I would start with a confession—I have my PhD in Biochemistry and I have actually never taken a course in Physiology. One of my mottoes has been “pose as an expert and soon become one” and I used this to my advantage in 1989 when I was hired in my first professional position, Assistant Professor at UIC. I was recruited from Michigan in the guise of a reproductive physiologist because of the work I’d done in Anita Payne’s lab in steroid hormone biochemistry. If I had to describe myself then, I would have said I was a steroid biochemist. The physiology of gonadal steroidogenesis is reproductive endocrinology. And so, I morphed into my new role as a reproductive biologist. I spent 8 hours per lecture that first year preparing to teach in the Pharmacy course about the menstrual cycle and I stayed just enough ahead of the material to make it through the first year—teaching all of endocrine physiology in the Allied Health course. I continued to give the same lectures for 18 years until PHYB341 was replaced by the new GEMS Physiology course.

Through that time I became an endocrinologist, a reproductive biologist, and a physiologist. All of our work was in vitro in primary cultures of Leydig cells, a craft I’d helped to develop and perfect in Michigan. Very few labs had the expertise in Leydig cells or molecular biology that my lab had, and this served us well. Based on the observation that Leydig cells and testicular interstitial macrophages are closely associated, I postulated that since these cells were physically associated, they must be functionally associated, and proposed that macrophage elaborated factors must affect Leydig cell function and this hypothesis guided the next 15 years of work in my lab. We identified a new role for pro-inflammatory cytokines, as regulators of steroidogenesis, and helped to foster a burgeoning interest in immune-endocrine interactions. But the question which emerged as I taught my lectures in endocrine physiology, was does what we see in vitro happen in vivo? And so, I embarked on a series of studies in systems physiology. To activate macrophages in vivo we used LPS, bacterial endotoxin derived from the cell walls of gram negative bacteria, reasoning that LPS would activate the immune system without having to make the animals septic with bacteria. We showed in vivo what happened in vitro—only more so (to paraphrase Jacob Manot what is true for elephants is true for bacteria, only more so). We observed what I still believe is an astounding effect. Within minutes, literally, after injecting a single sub-letal dose of LPS into mice, serum testosterone levels begin to fall. It becomes significant after 15 minutes and at 2 hours serum testosterone is reduced by over 85%! This is a highly reproducible finding which we observed in 100s of mice. The problem was we couldn’t reproduce this in vitro. We determined that the decrease is due to the inhibition of StAR. Karen Hales expressed the full length StAR protein and bacteria and made a superb antibody which works in all species from teleost to human and spawned many fruitful collaborations for us. It made sense that shutting off steroid biosynthesis by preventing the substrate cholesterol to get into the mitochondria where the first enzymatic step in steroid hormone synthesis takes place would account for the rapid shut off. But how did LPS cause this? We could not cause this to happen in vitro with cytokines and were stumped for quite some time. And then our friend Jossey Orly came to visit from Israel and using our antibody he demonstrated that if you treat Leydig cells in vitro with CCCP, a protonphore that disrupts the mitochondria, you can replicate the in vivo effect. We quickly repeated this and realized that LPS somehow causes Leydig cell mitochondria perturbation! Now we could model this in vitro and explored the role of the mitochondria itself in the process of steroidogenesis. We still did not know what mediated the effect in vivo, but soon determined that it was reactive oxygen elaborated by the testicular macrophages that affected the adjacent Leydig cells. I was fortunate to have John Allen and Thorsten Diemer in my lab at the time and we published a series of seminal papers which changed the way people think about steroid hormone production—that it is the mitochondria which is the key regulator, not StAR or the enzymes; and established the importance of oxidative stress and inflammation as key mediators of immune-endocrine interactions.

Despite the number of highly cited papers in high impact journals coming from these studies, the NIH did not deem this line of work fundable, .and I knew I was going to have to do something other than study immune-endocrine regulation of Leydig cell steroidogenesis. One of the reviewers said “Dr. Hales has found another bad thing that LPS does to Leydig cells,” dismissing the whole body of work which demonstrated the role of oxidative stress and the mitochondria in regulating steroidogenesis. So, I tried alcohol vs. Leydig cells, diabetes vs. Leydig cells, Dioxin vs. Leydig cells and aging vs. Leydig cells—which all have as a central theme perturbation of mitochondrial function via cumulative oxidative insult. 5 or 6 more grants attempts later, I was still unfunded and facing extinction. This became a real test of faith and I seriously pondered changing professions, but to what, I was not sure. I had been on the same path for my whole career.

Soon after the birth of my son I found my way back to the path. Desperation breeds contemplation and sitting into the late hours rocking baby Ryder gave me lots of time to think. I had envisioned years of studies which explored the mechanisms through which reactive oxygen species controlled basic biological processes—mitochondrial energetics, gene expression, serving as signaling molecules as well as electrophiles. My grandiose visions however, did not get me funded. The sentiment in the NICHD for funding the male was characterized by a cynicism- statement s coming from NIH staffers like “you can cut somebody’s balls off and they won’t die, so why study them;” and “since we have Viagra and ICSI we don’t need to study the male;” and “honestly, Buck, outside of Andrology no one really cares about Leydig cells.” So much for being one of the world experts on Leydig cells, a lot of good that was doing me. Indeed, a true test of faith. Racked by insomnia I started reading books about how to sleep. They offered practical advice about coffee consumption late in the day, and regular habits, etc. but one thing each of these texts had in common was the suggestion of meditation. I was in Borders one evening and I picked up a book by Rob Nairn entitled “What is Meditation?” which turned out to be a primmer in Buddhism. The book really spoke to me, I realized I’d been searching for this path for my entire adult life and had oft been exposed to “eastern “ philosophy during my years in Boulder—and beyond. For years I had been practicing yoga and was ever more interested in the esoteric aspects of the practice and the interaction between Yoga and Buddhism. I began to read more and more books about Buddhism and discovered the Buddha within. The power of mediation and the tenets of The Dharma were concepts so familiar to me that I felt like I’d found my way. The Way. Buddhism is not a religion as much as it is a process and I had a new tool in my psychological toolkit to help me find my way back to the path. My own understanding of Dharma was well stated in the January 19, 2007 edition of "dailyIinsight" from Yoga Journal:

"Your personal Dharma is the path you follow toward the highest expression of your own nature and toward the fulfillment of your responsibilities to yourself, to others, to your society, and to the planet. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna often speaks of dharma as something inborn, a life calling that each of us has been given and from which we depart at our peril. But he also uses the word to mean right action, and for most of us, personal dharma comes down to that most basic question: What is the right thing for me to do now? Or, Given my nature, my skills, and my personal preferences, what actions should I take to support the greater good?"

What actions could I take to support The Greater Good? What path do I follow toward fulfillment? I kept the faith, I believed in what I do and what I am and was lucky to be nimble enough to adapt my research efforts into a more sustainable effort.

If you were to ask me now how I define myself, I would say that I am a cancer biologist. How I went from steroid biochemist to cancer biologist is not as much of a leap as it might sound. Reasoning that in response to immune insult, potent oxidants and inflammatory mediators combine to perturb, and shut down hormone production—but in steroid target tissues, oxidative stress and inflammation work in concert with hormones and the result in carcinogenesis. So instead of looking at the testis, which evidently no one cares about, I looked at the prostate, which a lot of people care about. With Gail Prins help we looked at oxidative stress in a rat model of prostate cancer, and I was able to get funded by the local American Cancer Society who have a grant mechanism to attract new investigators into cancer research. That one year of ACS funding was what helped me turn the corner. I never was able to get NIH funding for the prostate cancer project, but one day, I heard a Gyn Onc Jean Hurteau here at UIC say that ox stress and inflammation are thought to be important to the pathogenesis of OvCa which caught my attention. He then said that the only good model for OvCa is the chicken. I immediately thought of my old friend, with whom I collaborated since I was in Anita’s lab, Janice Bahr, who is a world expert on the reproductive biology of chickens. All of our antibodies worked in the chicken so I had followed her work and decided to see if she would like to collaborate. We were successful in getting a pilot grant from the DOD testing the inflammation hypothesis in the hen model and this funding really got me going again. One of Hurteau’s interests was in omega-3 therapy for OvCa. So I was keen on the literature but couldn’t imagine gavaging hundreds of chickens every day with fish oil. Then I was in Whole Foods one day and noticed the omega eggs in the cooler and wondered how they were able to get omega into chicken eggs. Well they feed them flaxseed, the richest vegetable source of omega-3 fatty acids. I proposed using the hen model as a pre-clinical test for chemoprevention of OvCa with flaxseed and got funded by the AICR, and then the NCCAM. Using the hen as a model for dietary intervention to prevent or treat cancer turned out to be a very tractable idea, and we have also been funded by the NCI to determine if broccoli can prevent OvCa in hens. And yes, chickens do eat broccoli.

These functional foods work by interacting with specific molecular targets do decrease oxidative stress and inflammation. We are able to draw upon the expertise we developed looking at these forces in Leydig cells and have expanded this to the study of a very important and deadly disease. I remain steadfast in my belief that if you do good science and let biology lead the way, you will answer important questions, whose answers raise more questions which guide you further down the path. It is true that you have to be nimble as you find your way along the path and be able to surmount the obstacles you encounter along the way. My Dharma is science and biology guides the way. All of the work we did in Leydig cells is still important and has helped create significant interest in the role of immune and endocrine interactions in the maintenance of homeostasis, as well as mediating pathologies. But our current work in ovarian cancer is more important because it holds the promise of discovering early detection for ovarian cancer, prevention and treatment of the disease, and most important, it provides hope for women who have the disease, hope that their daughters, sisters and friends may not have to suffer what they are dying from.

There is a lot of public interest in cancer biology, antioxidants, dietary intervtion, natural, and alternative medicine-- so I have decided to launch a new blog which I will call CancerChix, so that I can share my thoughts and observations on these topics without diluting these posts with my rambling narratives about bicycle commuting, diet and exercise and politics.

In the wake of the flood

2008-11-19T05:44:00.000-08:00

It has been an incredible two weeks since the election. We just heard that Alaska's felonious and the longest serving Republican Senator, Ted Stevens lost his bid for re-election to Mark Begich. Now even Alaska has a different hue. The Purple Haze of the new America-- not red, not blue anymore. Just America. With 58 seats in the Senate and two still up for grabs, the Democratic party is teetering on the brink of a filibusterer proof majority. No more obstructionist anti-majority legislation tying the hands of the party in power. The accusation that the Democrats have done nothing since resting the majority from the GOP in 2006 overlooks the fact that all of the progressive legislative initiatives were vetoed by Dubya. Now true change can begin in Washington DC. Change that came from the heartland, from main street USA, from rural and urban communities, from the east coast, west coast, third coast and deep in the desert southwest. Yes, change we can believe in and it is exciting to see how the country is embracing the Obamas. It is so refreshing to hear the soon to be leader of the free world speak with eloquence and vision. People whose criteria for voting for president was that they could have a beer with him is ridiculous. Not to say it wouldn't be a pleasure to have a beer with Mr. Obama-- but I want to be in awe of his brilliance, not placaded by his mediocrity. Sixty some days to go.

A time of great upheveal, of great uncertainty and of great opportunity. As the world embraces the new America, we look forward to our move to Carbondale and the next phase in our careers. I visited Carbondale last week with two goals in mind. First was to establish a relationship with a local banker in preparation for making an offer on the Victorian Legend. Second was to meet with the administration at SIU in preparation for moving my scientific enterprise to Carbondale. The only thing that won't change is what is most important-- my family and pets, all of us relishing the change that is just around the corner.

After I concluded my visit with the department I dialed the Garmin for Springer Ridge Road and made the first drive from the parking lot at Life Science III to the Victorian Legend-- 7.4 miles, just three turns. A straight shot south from campus to the very edge of the state and national forests. I parked my rented Ford in the driveway, skirted the house and buildings and took a walk on the property. 40 acres is huge. I headed straight east from the barn and stayed to the north of the pond and creek that bisect the property. The north pasture is rolling, generally downhill, and planted in hay that had been mowed this season. I walked all the way to the east edge of the property to the fence line and found a path to Club Road, which separates the property from the farm on the north. I walked down the road, which appeared not to have had any vehicular traffic in recent months. Down the road went, down hill with the creek and woods from the property on my right and the confluene of two creeks in the woods on my left. I followed the road for 15 minutes going deeper and deeper in to the woods, alert and cautious, not knowing what lay ahead. Soon I came to an opening and found a very old house. Judging from the weathered wood and style of building, the house looked to be 100 years old. No sign of habitation, and I wondered who owned this place and what its story might be. I found a camoflouged glove, no doubt dropped by a hunter, oddly near an old sign posted "no hunting." I followed the road back toward the property, climbing the steep lane through the tall trees, which looked to be a hundred feet tall. An old forest with limestone craigs covered in moss. Silence. Not a hint of the sound of man. The wind in the trees and the call of the birds, the trickle of the creek. It was a spiritual awakening as I was dumbstruck with the notion-- oh my goodness, this could soon be my property.

I have grown accustomed to living among people. The density of population in Oak Park took a lot of getting used to. Living within feet of our neighbors, hearing their conversation on a warm night when everyone's windows are open. Smelling their cigarette smoke as they stand on their porch smoking. Seeing through their windows in the morning's early light when the light from their bathroom illumnates them. A mutual resepect for privacy causes us to look away, ignore the sounds of their chatter, and try to ignore their smoke. As we walk to school in the morning and pass through the neighborhood, looking at the gardens and Cubs or Sox flags hanging from the houses, seeing the kids trooping down the street to join our parade to Lincoln school, I am aware of the not too distant sound of the El screaming by and the traffic on I290, Harlem and Roosevelt. The holy silence beckons. We sure are going to miss Trick-or-Treating in our neighborhood though.

Proud, American

2008-11-07T21:19:00.000-08:00

So much has changed in America, in the world, since last Tuesday night. We waited with excrutiating anticiaption as the polls closed and the vote tally began to come in. The first tally gave McCain a 16 to 3 lead, Kentucky, South Carolina vs. Vermont. As it turned out, that was the only lead McCain enjoyed all night long. But it seemed to take forever for the polls to close and votes to be counted. But when Pennsylvania went into Obama's column, a sense of expectation began to replace the trepidation. The McPalin campaign had devoted much of its final effort to the Keystone State, and a keystone it turned out to be. Obama carried the state by 2 to 1. But it wasn't until Ohio went to Obama that we really started to get excited. One of the classic moments in election coverage was when Karl Rove was explaining how Ohio was critical to McCain's chances, slim though they be-- when we was interrupted "uh, Karl, Ohio just went to Obama." Hooting and hollering and a mounting sense that our dream was about to come true.

It was exciting to be in Chicago for the election, though I did not go to the rally, opting instead to watch the returns at home with my family and best fiends. After Ohio went for OBama and we were waiting for the polls on the west coast to close, we bet at how many minutes past ten they would call it. I guessed 10:03 and other guesses ranged up to 10:15. Instead it was 10:00:03 CDT. And the celebration began. My friends were from Ohio, Minnesota, Iowa, and Virginia, and me from Colorado and they all went blue. And our work in Indiana last Sunday is most gratifying now knowing the we delivered Lake county. We were so pleased Indiana went blue, though we didn't know until well past midnight when the vote tally from came in. We were on our feet, hugging, kissing, cheering, stomping our feet, celebrating this most important moment in American history. We watched our friends, neighbors and colleagues en mass in Grant Park, as the camera panned the crowd for minutes with no commentary from the talking heads. The scene from around the country, from around the world was incredible-- a beautiful thing to behold. Seeing the tears stream down Jesse Jackson's face, the tears of joy from the students at Spelman College in Atlanta-- my own tears of joy! Words fail to express the magnitude of this moment.

Tuesday morning had dawned bright but chilly, a perfect autumn morn. The first thing I did that morning before I went to vote was hang the American flag in front of my house as I recalled Howard Dean's words from the summer of 2003-- "its time to take the American Flag back from the right wing extremists." And now we have. We watched McCain's speech from Phoenix, it was very nice and reminded us of the John McCain we had respected and admired before he sold out to the Karl Rove machine-- but true to form, his faithful followers booed and heckled when he mentioned Obama. He tried to hush the gaggle of ardent neocons, though they chanted "Sarah, Sarah." Yes, that is what is left of the Republican Party, and they got what they deserved. And so did we! A president we can be proud of. A man with intelligence and vision, and a rare eloquence. YES WE CAN!

When I rode my bike to work on Wednesday, riding through the fog of the champagne hangover, the whole world seemed to have changed. It was eerily warm for November, sunny and all the leaves were shimmering in their autumnal glory. As I rode through the west side, just as desperate as Gary, I was on Flournoy just east of Kostner, and there were three guys lurking mid block. Spontaneously we all raised our fists triumphantly in the air and hooted, one yelled "black power" and another yelled "OBAMAAAAAAAAAA". I felt so excited and honored to share this with my homies, as we all united in our jubilant celebration. It felt like a festival all week at UIC. people stopping people on the street to shake their hands or give them hugs. Tears of joy and much discussion flowed freely-- it seems that everyone is engaged, excited and HAPPY!

Everyone is happy, except perhaps, the die-hard Palin supporters. The infighting in the McCain camp and blame game that is going on is a delicious thing to savor. The McCain campaign staff who announced that Sarah didn't know that Africa was a continent or what countries were in North America was greeted by the Governor of Alaska with the comment-- they were a bunch of jerks! But the true endorsement of Palin by the McCain campaign,"Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast" pretty much sums it up. All that remains of the republican party are the 30-40 year old white men heckling McCain at this concession speech. We suspect Condy Rice secretly voted for Barack, based on her heartfelt and tearful congratulations. And we know Colin Powell did.

The sound track in my mind, through out this amazing ride has added to my goose flesh and teary eyed joy. On Thursday as I waited for the El, opting out of riding through the sleet, I heard Uncle John's Band on my MP3 player and I swelled up with pride and determination. Each of those lyrics rang true-- "he's come to play to the rising tide!" as the tide of humanity rises as one, a wave of positivity and determination! "Well the first days are the hardest days, Don't you worry any more, 'Cause when life looks like easy street, there is danger at your door. Think this through with me, let me know your mind. Woh - oh, what I want to know, is are you kind?" YES! no one said it was going to be easy. But thank goodness we have a leader who has the vision, and the kind gentle spirit to lead us home. Obama's campaign stayed on message the whole time and his equanimity was the guiding light. Well he might ask you-- are you kind? I do not believe those dedicated followers of McPalin can be considered as kind. All they inspire is anger, hate and disgust. It is heartening to hear some of the most ardent of them now sing the praises of the new day that has come to America. But like Mr. Obama said-- there is only one president at a time, and he does not become president until Jan 20th. Just under 70 days of W left to endure.

Other of the songs in this sound track-- triumphant, US Blues-- wave that flag wide and high! Yes! seeing the gathered multitude waving Old Glory at Grant Park brings more tears to my eyes and more geese to my flesh! "Red and white, blue suede shoes, I'm Uncle Sam, how do you do? Gimme five, I'm still alive, ain't no luck, I learned to duck. Check my pulse, it don't change. Stay seventy-two come shine or rain....Wave that flag, wave it wide and high. Summertime done, come and gone, my, oh, my" Such a fitting ode-- and indeed Summertime has come and gone. And-- Scarlet Begonias "Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand, Everybody's playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band..." The whole world is celebrating. From Paris to Berlin to Istanbul, from the villages in Kenya and the outback of Australia-- yes, we are the eyes of the world....

countdown to history

2008-11-04T13:50:00.001-08:00

With just hours to go until the first results of the election are known, I find myself nervously waiting as though I was an expectant father in the waiting room enduring a 22 month long labor. Oh my gawd, it is almost here. The moment of truth. The crowd is already massing in downtown Chicago for the Obama election night rally. The excitement around town, in anticipation of the outcome is electric. Yet the outcome is as yet not known. We have donated several times to the Obama campaign, more money than we've given to all other campaigns combined. And it appears that all of our donations are being wisely used.

I spent Sunday in Gary Indiana walking door to door to help get out the vote. It was an extraordinary experience. As I walked through one of the poorest neighborhoods in America, I was touched by so many people's enthusiasm for Obama, and gratitude that a suburban white from Chicago would come to their neighborhood for this cause. I was invited in for dinner, embraced, celebrated as we shared the same hope for a better day for our country, and excitement that their vote really counts this time. Indiana is poised to be a state no longer considered as a Republican stronghold. Not a red state, not a blue state, but truly apart of these United States. Mary, Ryder's godmother, and I drove to the Gary office of the Obama campaign and arrived to find 100s of volunteers fanning out to canvass the city. We were dispatched to the south Broadway office on the very southern edge of the city and arrived with dozens of other volunteers, most of whom had come from the Chicago area for the day to help. We were given instructions and told that our goal was to get out the vote. Early voting in Indiana doesn't end until noon today (Monday) and most folks didn't know they could still vote early. The lines for early voting were pretty long in downtown Gary, so folks were being shuttled to other sites with shorter waits. When we went door to door, if we talked with people who needed a ride to vote, we took their names and numbers and the campaign was going to dispatch volunteers to take them to vote. Mary and I covered about a 10 block area in 4 hours probably knocking on over 300 doors. A dozen or so folks were pleased to know they could vote early and we gave them instructions. Many folks had already voted and the majority said they were going to vote on Tuesday. They said they were going to school at the end of the block first thing Tuesday to vote. They were grateful and receptive. As our tour continued we ended up in the projects and it was rather dicey. I covered one side of the street while Mary covered the other, and I kept her in eye contact the whole time. The further north we got on Pierce street the worse it got, until finally we began to feel vulnerable and conspicuously not from that neighborhood. I went down a few steps to a basement apartment and just as I was about to knock the door burst open and a cloud of pot smoke came billowing out. Three African Americans came staggering out and were very surprised to see me standing there. I said "I'm with the Obama campaign" and I sensed their relief. I retreated up the stairs as they all said yah yah yah we are going to vote. Voting was the last things on their mind's right then so I beat a hasty retreat. I never felt threatened, but understood the precariousness of the situation. Across the street a few doors up I was greeted warmly by person after person who was carrying covered dishes into one house. One gent invited me in for dinner and Christian fellowship. he said they all get together every Sunday to share a meal, that way everyone gets to eat. He was such a lovely guy, I was tempted to accept his invite just to share in their community. He assured me they had all voted our would vote on Tuesday. And he blessed me for the effort I was making that day on their behalf.

I heard one pundit say that Jesus Christ was a community organizer. As was Mahatma Gandhi-- and this community was organized. It was impressive, I mean really impressive to see grass roots politics at work. And this was just one precinct in one city. All across the county tens of thousands of folks are on the sidewalk going door to door in support of the Obama campaign. Who ever doubted his executive experience should think twice. For the Obama organization to have mobilized over 3 million supporters each reaching out to every corner of the country, is an astounding act of administration. We crossed paths with the steel workers union and the SEIU who had also deployed their members to get out the vote. People in Indiana are so excited, it was very encouraging. I have heard so much vitriol and hate from the McCain campaign, all they inspired is negativity. Obama has remained above the fray, unflappable, steady.

I was just talking with my lab manager who was an avowed non-voter with no interest in politics for the 04 election. She is totally engaged and was making arrangements to be late tomorrow because she has to vote where she was registered when she lived at home, not at her current address. All of my students, generation Y, the 20-30 year olds are all wildly enthusiastic and are going to vote-- and are doing all they can do to get out the vote. The youth vote has not appeared in the polling and has been dismissed because though they are registered, they are not considered as likely to vote. Not this time. I am so excited that I am having a hard time working today!

it will be quite a historic , to be sure-- regardless of the outcome. But only in my darkest fears do I still worry that those Republicans are going to pull something off. But we are going to let them steal this election, no way.

It was such a shame that Obama's grandmother died yesterday, on the very eve of the election. Obama said that the biggest mistake he ever made was not going to see his mother to say goodbye before she died of ovarian cancer. He was not going to make the same mistake with his grandmother. Knowing how deeply affected Mr. Obama is by ovarian cancer, having lost his mother to it makes me feel so proud that I have now devoted my work to this dreaded disease. Funding and support for biomedical research will surely be much improved in the Obama administration. The whole world will sigh a huge collective exhalation of relief once Barack is elected. For surely there are hundreds of millions of people the world around who are holding their breath right now, waiting for the election results.

Hope dawns anew tonight when Barack Obama wins the election. I can not even begin to wrap my mind around the other outcome. Hope, not fear will carry the day.

Wildly enthusiastic, cautiously optimistic

2008-10-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

May the Force be with us.

Change We Need. Ryder read the bold message on the thousands of signs being waved by the nearly delerious crowd of believers at the live Obama event at the conclusion of his 30 minute "infomercial" broadcast on all the networks in prime time (except ABC). He said that Obama is Yoda, speaks he like him. Yes, Ryder, right you are-- the knight of the good force, and may this force be with us all. When I think about what he evokes in me, I get goose bumps and tear of joy in my eyes. Change we need, indeed we do! My Goodness, there is so much tumult building to this incredible conclusion, the economy crashing, feeling for the bottom, the markets waiting to rebound with the affirmation of a new progressive administration. The desperate millions of Americans with out healthcare, facing eviction after foreclosure, in worse straights than any of us have faced since the Great Depression. It took a leader with great vision, tremendous resolve, and comforting equanimity to guide the country back and once again, we will call upon a man with the same qualities as FDR to help us help ourselves. The darkness must end. The failed policies of the last 8 years that have plunged us into a war with no end in sight and into economic catastrophe. We are no longer the trusted and most admired country in the world, instead, we are now regarded with disdain, disbelief and disgust. But it is not anti-Americanism, it is anti-Bushism. If the whole world could vote, Obama would be elected by a unamamous landslide. Unless the Republicans steal the election by preventing the majority of Americans from casting their vote or having their votes count-- Barack Obama will be elected as the next President of the United States.

The contrast between Obama and McCain is so stark it is hard to understand how anyone could be undecided. All that McCain inspires is anger. He inspires his supporters with hate and vitrol. Nothing positive, all hate. And Carabou Barbie whips her crowds of admiring supportores into a lynch mob hysteria. Their racism is barely concealed-- refering to Obama as "that one" or shushing his supporter who yelled that Obama was an Arab--no, no, he's not an Arab, "he's a decent family man." In other words-- Arabs and by extension, Muslims are not decent family men. And Barbie was celebrating the pro-America parts of the country. Hello? Isn't Illinois a part of America too? Nothing positive. All devicive, angry desperate attempts to sway the masses. But it is not going to work.

They are now replaying parts of the 30 minute Obama commericial. It was so impressive! Masterfully done hitting every of the issues straight on, with never mentioning his opponent or saying a single negative thing. And how does McCain respond-- a bolus of negative hateful attack ads. True to each of their forms. All McCain can say is bad things about Obama. Obama instead speaks of his vision with a true eloquence that inspires and lets us cling to our belief that we deserve the change he can bring. Change we need, yes! Change we can believe in, yes! Change we will deliver on November 4th-- please! I shudder to think of the response of the angry millions if somehow they perpertrate the greatest act of fraud in history-- it is the only way McCain could win because it is clear that the vast majority of Americans are hungry for the change that only Obama can bring. The skies would darken with the toxic smoke as the disinfanchised multitude strikes back. Riots worse than Watts 65, or Chicago in 68. No Way. We can't let them win. Come on, bring it on! I am heading to Indiana this weekend to help our hoosier allies deliver their state to Obama. They are so excited to sense that they can make a difference, that for once, their vote in Indiana will count.

Last weekend Ryder and I were camping in the heart of Indiana at Camp Tecumseh with the Y Indian Guides. As we drove through the tiny town of Brokston 10 miles off of I65 not far from Lafayette, we saw several houses boldy displaying Obama yard signs. There it was, a clear sign that Indianan is not the Republican stronghold the McCain campaign has been counting on. And maybe we can help the campaign deliver the state to the good guys. Indiana, Ohio, Florida, North Carolina, Colorado-- true blue afterall?

Just a little trouble in the Big Ugly

2008-10-01T09:31:00.000-07:00

No doubt about it, we are living in troubled times. With the economy on the skids, and great uncertainty in the looming Presidential election, it seems people are just a little bit more on edge than usual. Tough times bring out the worst in people, and also the best. I have a sense that people are banding together to fend off the wolf at the door and the feeling of community is stronger than ever. At the same time, the disconsolate are angry and their emotions sometimes get the better of them. And then again, maybe things are just they way they are and some folks are just folks and others are just kids-- looking to cause trouble.

It was a very tough week riding to work last week, traveling through the heart of the hood on my bike route from Oak Park to UIC. Unusually warm for late September and I was hard pressed to make a deadline so I was working later than usual and riding through The Big Ugly when lots of people were out on the streets. The term Big Ugly was coined by "Da Editor" and I took exception to my bike route being referred to this way. I contended that you can find beauty everywhere, even if its the glinting of the sun's first rays on the broken glass that litters the way. I blogged about this last year: http://virtualbuck.blogspot.com/2007/06/beauty-in-big-ugly.html, and have continued to see more of the beauty than the ugly in the Big Ugly. Its not the physical world where the beauty lies (at least not on this bike route), but its the beauty we experiece in the people we meet along the way. The sentinels of the west side are so familiar to us that we have formed bonds with them. The newspaper sellers who greet us early in the morning--the meliflulous voiced guy on Kostner and Harrison who yells "icecream!!!!" giving us high fives as we ride by. Just west of Kostner, in the crook of the big bend, the very heart of K-town, ground zero, we see Lucky, who sits on his bucket on the corner of Kilbourne and Harrison, clicking his imaginary stop watch as we ride by, and saying "yes sir, yessir...".

Just opposite Lucky's corner is the Holy Temple of the Community of God Worship Center, a white clapboard storefront church and community food pantry, Reverand L Carter's ministry. This summer in front of Reverand Carter's church, a very friendly and outgoing gent has been selling water, two bottles for a dollar. I've started stopping, giving him a dollar and he'll slide the water into my paniers for me after he makes sure I get some cold ones. On one of these recent, very warm afternoons, I stopped and bought some water, and chatted for a few minutes. He asked if I did triathalons and suggested I must be in pretty good shape riding all the time. I told him, jokingly, that just riding through this neighborhood got my heart rate up. He laughed, and his companion who was sitting at the table on the sidewalk laughed uproariously. Then he said "you don't know the half of it, I don't want to get you alarmed, but you know that viaduct right there? There was two murders in the last two weeks right there. And you should hear it around here at night." He held his finger in the shape of a gun pointing into the air and said, "bang, bang, bang...." I told him that I really appreciated that he was looking out for us when we rode by. To which he replide "Oh no, its not me who's looking out for you, " then, in a perfect preacher's voice pointing to the sky, he sang out "its the Lord above who is looking out for you". I bid him adieu and rode on home, struck by the thought that while I ride through there everyday, he lives there 24/7-- ground zero. The folks who live there hate gun violence and gangs even more than we do-- it affects their daily lives all the time. I really enjoyed my interaction with the good Reverand, and believed this gent to be the Reverand Carter himself.

Then came the trouble. It was a Wednesday evening, approaching 5:30. I was sitting at the corner of Kedzie and Congress waiting for my riding partner, Paul who'd had to change his plans at the last minute and had called, but I didn't hear my phone ring. So I just sat on my bike, waiting. A group of 4 or 5 teenagers ambled on by. One of the kids was dressed like a gangsta, and was carrying a 3 foot long crowbar, smacking his palm, play- fighting with his friends, pretending to hit them. Innocent fun, it seemed, but I avoid looking at them too closely so as to not attract their attention, though they did make me a bit nervous. They wandered away, and I dutifully sat waiting. When the group with the crowbar wielding gagnst wannabe turned and headed back towards me, I decided it was time to go and rode on west, hoping Paul was OK.

I dismissed the incident and contined on my merry way. I sometimes feel like a jolly yahoo, waving to all the folks who sit on the porches and watch me ride by day after day. They are always there and we recognize each other-- I'm the white guy riding his bike waving at them-- no doubt not what they usually see from their porch perch. Reveling in a way, and feeling rather insular, protected in my cacoon of good intention and warm feelings for my fellow beings, I had become unwary. Riding along after picking up some water from the good Reverand, west of Cicero and cruising, I saw three youths standing on the corner, of LaVergne and Harrison in front of the school. As I gathered speed, riding through the stop sign I saw the tallest of the three step out into the street and face me down. He could have been stepping out to look for his bus, or perhaps he was going to give me high fives as folks along the way often do. I stayed the course and bore down directly towards him, not even thinking about evading him, and as I got near him he took a swing at me and slapped me hard on the arm with his open palm. It stung like hell and shocked me. I thought about stopping and going back to tell him my opinion of his affrontery, but instead, picked up the pace and rode away from his as quickly as possible, never looking back. Suddenly I was made AWARE again. My unwariness was vanquished and the hostile envinroment surrounding me frightened me. I was both angry and had my feelings hurt-- how dare he do that to me? Doesn't he know I'm just like him? Becuase I reach out to his homies I deserve to be treated with respect.... no, I am just an easy mark. Some white dude riding alone in his neighborhood, daring to stay the course and challenge him instead of swerving out of the way into passing traffic to avoid his "greeting." Had he been alone he wouldn't have had friends to show off for. If I'd been riding two up, he'd likely not have done it either. It really gave me second thoughts about how safe I've come to believe I am riding through the wilds of west Chicago.

The next day, riding home, alone again, I stopped to visit the Reverand and buy some water. We had a nice chat and I told him about this incident. He gave me some advice--"this is what you do, " he said "you stop here, get some water, rest up for a few minutes, then get on your bike and ride like hell just as fast as you can past there!" Ah, some great advice. I learned also, in this conversation, that his name is Howard, his companion is Rosie, he is the Reverand Carter's nephew and caretaker of the church. And that our long time bucket sitting friend who lives on the corner is named Lucky. And he said that Lucky may not "be there" but he sure isn't stupid. I continue on my way, reminded to be aware, but not to fear. These are just folks and I can tell they appreciate that I am open and friendly. And I can also tell that gangs of teenagers do not appreciate my karma quest but see me as yet another target for their angst and an easy distraction from their boredom.

Number Twenty

2008-09-03T08:05:00.000-07:00

This last weekend was our 20th Labor Day in Oak Park. And it will be our last. We moved into our house on Wisconsin Ave on August 26, 1989, just days before I started work at UIC. Of course, around here, 20 years of service as a faculty member, is not recognized-- I guess its typical of how faculty are generally treated at UIC. But that is another diatribe. It was a long and eventful Labor Day holiday, starting off in style with the Rat Dog and Allman Brothers concert at Northerly Island on Chicago's lakefront-- a very nice concert venue on the site of old Meig's Field where Da Mayor famously bulldozed in the middle of the night. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meigs_Field.

It was a perfect night and both bands delivered. I felt at home with my contemporaries and happy to celebrate the music with so many young folk too. Seeing several rasta skate girls in dreads and all their natural glory added to festive feeling of the show. The Allman brothers reprised Jessica with Waren Haynes and Duane Trucks playing the dual guitar lead, so reminiscent of Duane Allman and Dicky Betts-- an electric lyric quality to the guitar line. A real crowd favorite. And crowded it was. While its fun and exciting to have the communal music experience, it is also challenging to be among so many revelers.

I took Friday off to work at home, and had a very productive day mitering trim and fitting moldings to match the original circa 1913 trim that needed replacing. One good thing about getting the house ready to sell is I am now forced to finish all the projects left undone for so many years. The end result of this carpentry task was immensely satisfying. It is gratifying to see work in equal finished project out. Quite a contrast to my work-a-day world. I labored away in the house all day until 4 PM when I picked up Ryder at school-- and then it was off to the pool; the last weekend for the pool for the year and it was hot enough to really enjoy it. And it was crowded too! We went to the pool Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and though it was open on Monday, we managed not to go that day too. And so, the pool closes for the season, our last summer in Oak Park. To cap it off, we visited the carnival at the Cermack Plaza in Berwyn, the site of the famous Berwyn Spike, immortalized in Wayne's World. Alas, the spike is now gone and they are building a new Walgreens in its place. Talk about classing up the joint. We rode our bikes to the carnival and arrived in the late afternoon when it was none to crowded and very hot, sunny and exposed. We rode the Pharoah's Slipper, the Tilt-a-Whirl and the Ferris Wheel. From the top of the wheel there was a great view of the Chicago skyline, and to the the south, you could imagine seeing the first Ferris wheel at the Colombian Exposition of 1893. I felt nostalgic for the view and just a bit of melancholy knowing how much different my horizon will be next Labor Day. It was the hottest Labor Day weekend since we've been in Chicago, not a cloud in the sky all weekend long.

The political theater taking place in the presidential campaign offered some amusement, the unexpected announcement that Sarah Barracuda would be McCain's running mate and then all the RNC attendees who took of their Republican hats and put on their American hats to help the poor people of New Orleans who were about to be washed away by Gustav. So much compassion! This time they were going to be there and also avoid having Bush and Cheney speak at their convention. They are having their convention in the Twin Cities for a reason, to celebrate the twins-- McCain and Bush. And the chicanery-- the thoroughly vetted, or so they say, Sarah Pilan as Veep-- like my friend said, if they get elected, they can park her trailer right there on the White House lawn.

Summer time come and gone my oh my....

2008-08-27T06:33:00.000-07:00

It was Labor Day weekend 1977, Red Rocks Amphitheater, Morrison, Colorado, the third night of a three day Grateful Dead concert experience. The days were bright and sunny, as clear and blue as only the skies of Colorado can be, and the Dead were rockin'! We had been treated to an incredible range of favorites and new songs as well, this being the in the era of Mars Hotel, Blues for Allah and the newly released Terrapin Station, some of the Dead's finest efforts. At the close of the first set, a rollicksome US Blues was greeted by a swirling wind. As Donna G0dchaux stood at the microphone, wailing the lyrics "summer time, come and gone, my oh my..." the chilly wind whipped her long hair across her face, and fall was in the air.

This vision came to mind yesterday as we walked Ryder to his first day of school-- 2nd grade at Lincoln School. I was beset with a melancholy, the realization that the summer is over, the school year has begun. As I rode my bike to work early this morning, into the rising sun, my bare arms were chilled in the cool morning air. A brilliant day found us wheeling through the west side, not a cloud in the sky, the big orange sun rising in the east and exceptionally low humidity. Summer time, come and gone, my oh my.

This song, the US Blues is so very appropriate this week as we watch the Democratic Convention in Denver, city of my birth. The media seem surprised to discover what a lovely, vibrant and clean city Denver is. The shots of the 16th street mall with that brilliant blue sky make me so homesick. Uncle Sam has been hiding out in a rock and roll band. And now he is coming out of hiding! Truly stunning speeches by Michelle Obama on Tuesday night and last night Hillary Clinton gave the best and most important speech of her life! Democrats unite! No more Bush, No McCain! hope not fear, health care for every one, government for the people, not the select few! She beat the Democrat Drum brilliantly and I am so encouraged, so excited, and yes, so hopeful, that we can all come together and end the tyranny of bigoted old white men running this country into the ground for too many years! Look at the audience Hillary and Michelle are igniting with passion and excitement-- a broad cross section of Americans. Look who McCain is appealing too-- old white men! No country for old white men, no more. Now its time that fair representation for all of America, not just the privileged few. The Grand Oil Party's days are numbered. If only we can make it to January with out Bush and Cheney starting another war, with Iran-- or Russia? How dare Bush chastise Putin for attacking a sovereign country. Five long years ago Bush did what no American president has ever done-- invaded a sovereign country and waged war under false pretenses-- a conspiracy built on lies and deception to serve big oil and corporate enterprise. Enough! Democrats unite and lets get these fiends out of office!

Row Jimmy, Row

2008-08-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

Last week when we were down south, Ryder and I went canoing on Little Grassy Lake for about 2 hours and I found it to be a great upper body workout. I perfected my J stroke and could paddle vigorously, pulling at a good clip, and more or less keep the canoe straight. It was a lot of fun and I really liked the sore muscles I experienced, evidence of a bit of exercise. This week as perused my email, I found a message from the Livestrong.com touting the virtues of rowing. I didn't know I was subscribed to email bulletins from this site, but I was subscribed to the Daily Plate and it seems as though Livestrong consumed them. It is actually quite a nice site with lots of different type of exercise, health, fitness and diet related content. The bit on rowing caught my eye and I recalled how I would row a few years back after I suffered an injury and couldn't run. I really liked it but when I returned to my feet, I abandoned rowing. Well, now that I have to meter out running carefully due to my knees, I was receptive to rowing again, and gave it a try. The Concept 2 machines are positioned so that they look out over the courtyard adjacent to the student union, so its better than television, watching the student body walk by. Especially now that all the students are starting to return for the fall semester and are fit, tanned and aren't wearing winter coats. So I jumped on and rowed 2000 meters in about 14 minutes. It felt great, so I did another 1000 meters and really started to feel it. The next two days I felt tight and trim-- good core, lower back, upper body and leg work.

Today I warmed up and then did 5000 meters, which was just a bit of a challenge. At about 2500 meters my butt started to burn, the gluteus and piriformis. The compression of my knees on the "catch" concerned me and bothered me a bit, but I didn't feel any real pain, just an awareness. I had a whole body experience as I felt my trapezius, lats, pectoralis, deltoids, biceps, triceps, abs, quads and calves, all involved. I breathed into each pull and kept my heart rate up. I really humped to break 30 minutes for the 5000, and when I got off I felt like I had a very good workout. I did a 1/2 mile on the treadmill to stretch out my hamstrings and feel if my knees were ok, which they were. After my matt work I felt really good and quite well exercised. I plan on including a few rowing sessions into my regimen now. I have been dropping weight with 4 workouts a week and watching the carbs. One of these days I will step on the scale at the gym and the beam won't tilt with the 200 lb notch engaged. I haven't been below 200 since I was in my 20s and then before that in my teens. I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Little Grassy Lake (SIU part 2)

2008-08-08T20:30:00.000-07:00

We left Oak Park at 2 in the afternoon, Friday afternoon, and it took us an hour to make it to I57. I57 connects the north with the south. Not just northern and southern Illinois, but the geographic north/south of the continental United States and the cultural north and south. This great American road, connecting Chicago to Memphis and points south provides smooth sailing with little traffic. I usually drive 137 miles south to the Champagne-Urbana exit to go to the chicken lab. This trip, our second drive to Carbondale, we sailed on by the birds on towards Arcola, Effingham, Mt Vernon, all the way to Marion, and into the Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge to Little Grassy Lake, adjacent to Giant City State park, just on the outskirts of Carbondale. We arrived at campground after the marina had closed so we picked a prime tenter's spot on the tip of a finger of land, jutting into the lake. We were alone in this section of the campground, well removed from the legion of camping trailers and RVs arrayed in bunches along the road to the marina. Long term campers were well entrenched and decorated with Christmas lights, bird feeders, boat trailers, grills, coolers, bug tents, TVs/radios, A/C blaring in the trailers, little gray wheelies connected to the toilet-- every trailer had the same model poop cart. We felt like Spartans just car camping, exiled to the tenter's cove. Kentucky was in the air. Heat, humidity and that drawl. No one was moving very fast-- except in their jon boats on the water. Life is on a different scale at Little Grassy Lake campground.

After we pitched our camp, we cooked a simple dinner of turkey cheese burgers and baked beans. Cooper settled right in but Mirabel would never rest. She chased dragonflies for hours, pointing at them then snapping at them, occasionally inhaling one. Then she discovered that the lake was filled with life, and she spent hours standing in the deep grass in the shallow water, pointing and snapping. Cooper sat like a lion surveying his domain with a pleased countenance. As the darkness gathered around us the sky grew light with stars. Even in the intense humidity the stars shone brightly, not obscured by city lights-- one could forget that there are more than a few dozen stars if you only see the sky in Chicago. The ambient sound intensified in the darkness. Croaking, clacking, cricketing, splashing and rustling-- no sirens, screaming Yamahas, rumbling Els-- or east coast bound 737 shattering the din. Dark and quiet-- what a relief. We could have used a bit of a breeze though-- it was suffer some in the heat. As we lay in the tent on top of our sleeping bags, I could feel my heart racing with the effort of pumping blood to my periphery to cool me off. I could not take my rest, my mind was roaming like a wild beast in the west.... I was profoundly taken with the realization that this was the world we would soon be living in, back to nature. In my more rational mind I knew that on most early August nights in Carbondale will find me comfortable under air, and not camping at Little Grassy-- but just outside my door, just a few miles from Little Grassy, my new back yard will stretch out into the dark and silent. A wonderfully comforting thought that scared the hell out of me. Oh my gawd! what in the world are we doing, moving to the south. We are going to have to learn how to saunter for sure. Adapt to the new sensibility, talk slow and be very polite. I57 carried us to the deep south of Illinois, 30 miles from the Ohio river to the south and 30 miles to the Mississippi to the west. Quiet and dark, heart racing, 5 of us in our spacious tent, even the gentle sounds of two dogs and two other people sleeping couldn't lull me to slumber. All I could think about was that I would soon be living here-- next summer would find us living in Carbondale-- but where we do not know.

We enjoyed exploring Carbondale on our own this time. Nothing scheduled until Monday's house hunting. We visited the farmer's market and were delighted with the locally grown veggies and fruit-- blueberries, peaches, melons, tomatoes, squash, onions-- we provisioned ourselves for camping, and enjoyed the ambiance of what will become our new weekly farmer's market pilgrimage. It was mighty hot, that's for sure. We shared the shade with two women who had moved to Carbondale from San Antonio last year-- they agreed it was hot but liked that it cooled off at night here. yeah, right I thought. We are so accustomed to camping at altitude when it does cool off at night. But I suppose, compared to San Antonio, this was mild. The best thing to do in the heat is to get in the water. So we drove west through Murphysboro to "the spillway" at the southern tip of Lake Kinkaid. It took a bit of navigating and some visitors had turned back when they discovered the pond at the foot of the spillway was flooded. This didn't slow us up. Ryder, Mirabel and I jumped in and swam across the pond, then clamored up the rocks to the cascading water. A family with three young children were enjoying the water, sitting with the water crashing over them. Ryder and I joined them in the warm shower, such a delight. We climbed all over the rocks, then swam back to Cooper and Cookie. I swam with Cooper who was reluctant at first to swim, but with some maneuvering joined the fun. What a relief to get into the water. We will be spending a lot of time being wet once we move to C'dale.

On the way back to Little Grassy Lake we visited Makanda for an ice cream cone. It was nearly 5 PM and the locals had gathered on the porch to share some joy, and were a very welcoming crew. We visited with the old hippies for a while, and I felt right at home, though not quite as grizzled as some of these gents. A very different air to this place than at Little Grassy, though the atmospherics were much the same. I have a feeling that I am really going to like living among these folks who are organic, artistic, erudite and real easy going. Ryder scored a beautiful tie-dye a the Smelly Hippie-- a candle and tie-dye shop with a bigger name than inventory.

The days remained hot but the humidity lessened and indeed, it did cool off nicely at night. And the less humid it got, the brighter the stars shone. As the dusk gathered we went fishing and as soon as we cast our lines, we caught fish. Ryder was so excited with the two small crappies he caught, he really wanted to clean and eat them. I felt guilty about keeping 5 inchers, but he would have been so disappointed had I thrown them back, so we took them back to camp. He proudly showed them to his mom. I cleaned them and we threw them into a skillet with some butter. And bless his little heart, Ryder ate both fish, working his way around the bones, fins and skin. He agreed that next time we would throw the little ones back, and wait until we caught a bigger fish to eat. The whole time I was bleeding inside, lamenting the bad Karma of killing something to eat it-- and I know that the Buddha would not kill the fish. But he would eat it if I caught it and gave it to him. A thin line to cross-- or is it? I even hate threading the squirming worm onto the hook perhaps even as much as gutting the wiggling fish. None the less, I am planning on going fishing again.

Monday we spent the whole day looking at houses with Marcia. By the 6th hour it was 96 degrees and we were exhausted. Karen and Ryder drove with Marcia and I drove the Subaru with the dogs, who endured the long hot day mostly from inside the car. Our first stop was a 1908 brick plantation with 45 acres just a few miles from town. the house was awful, simply dreadfully kept up and decorated. It was dank and dark, with 1950's era everything. Less that 400K for this monstrosity on all that land. We could parcel the property off, tear down and rebuild a nice modern house.... ugh. Then we visited the "Victorian legend" again, a property we'd seen in May and really liked. 1895 Victorian completely restored with new wiring and plumbing, a modern kitchen-- it is a real beauty. And on 40 acres with a working barn and pond. The more we thought about this place, the more I was sure this was the one we wanted. We looked at our options for trying to secure this place now for future purchase-- we have to sell our Oak Park house before we can buy one in Carbondale. But what if this IS the one? Well, we had to be sure. It is indeed spectacular. But it only has two bathrooms and three bedrooms. A nice formal parlor and dinning room, much bigger than our current place. It is a bit of a drive from SIU, about 8 miles, and the nearest neighbor is 1/4 a mile a way. Quite a change from Oak Park.

We took a much more extensive look this time, exploring the basement, the out buildings and we all walked down to the pond. Ryder was so excited to see the doc and pond. We could see dozens of fish in the water-- Mirabel saw them too and jumped into get them! Ryder hung on to her leash, but didn't follow her in. Cooper and Karen ambled to the pond, pausing to flick the tics off the dog. Yup, tic country. And chiggers too we've now discovered.... OK, so maybe the Victorian Legend is not ideal, but wow, what an amazing place. So much land and such a beautiful house. Not unlike the devil we know, our 1913 mini-Victorian in Oak Park. Renovated or not, this house would be a perpetual project-- and 40 acres?

We then visited houses in the Unity Point district, reported to be the best school district in the area. The house we visited on May Apple lane was like a cabin, rather small, decorated with vast numbers of hunting trophies and chicken wall paper and kitsch. The wife was a quilter and the husband was a hunter. Oddly similar to a house we'd seen in May in Cobden, deep in the woods, filled with trophies and camoflogue clothing, only at this place the wife was a scrap booker. The thing we like best about the May Apple place was the kennel with German Shorthaired Pointers in the back and the awesome fishing pole rack in the garage. It was rather small, dark and the lot was entirely wooded.

Next we saw "the house". Still under construction, on Lake Lenore, a beautiful, modern house on 5 acres, with a lake a few hundred feet from the walk out basement. We were very attracted to the idea of living in a newly constructed, fully modern house-- 4 full baths, 4 bedrooms, granite and Corian counters, slate tile, beautiful hardwood floors-- every detail well executed and conceived. We met the developer/contractor who was working on the master bath when we arrived. Wow, this place just blew us away. The lot seemed too small as a good portion of it contained a part of the lake, and we had to travel a newly built and rather primative gravl road to access the place. But it was only 4 miles from SIU, and did I mention-- brand new? It was a lot of fun looking at this place and we have moved it to the top of our list-- in a tie with the Victorian Legend. We hope that these places will be availalbe when we have earnest money in hand. The way the housing market is moving now, this is a real possibility. If only we can sell our current home when its time. By the time we saw the next two properties we were pretty burned out from house hunting, over heated and hungry. The two we liked the most made the others pale by comparison. We do anticipate that there are other very attractive properties to consider, and know that each place will have its pluses and minuses.

We enjoyed one more night at Little Grassy Lake then rolled up the camp and drove on home to Oak Park. Not a bad drive at all-- until you get to the outskirts of Chicago when the traffic snarls and the tempers flare. What a different world it is in southern Illinois. We can hardly wait to move there. We spent the rest of the week-- my summer vacation, painting the stairwell and entry way. Gorgeous. Our house is looking really good! The irony of making it so beautiful for someone else. Looking at houses instucts us in how to prepare ours for sale. I must take all my hunting trophies down and put them away. Yeah, right.

We finished the week with our annual gala block party. We love our neighborhood and are so fond of all our neighbors. This will be what we miss the most when we move. Not the traffic, the light and sound pollution, the cost of living, the crime etc, but all of our dear friends and neighbors. Such is the price of moving.

White Sox Win!

2008-07-25T05:37:00.000-07:00

It couldn't have been a nicer day for a game-- sunny and warm but not too hot. The whole lab went to the Cell to see the White Sox play the Texas Rangers, taking the afternoon off to enjoy the splendor of MLB on a mid-summer's day. Kristine organized the outing, bought the tickets and made all the arrangements for the 12 of us. We massed in the lab at 11:30 and took the El en masse to 35th and the Dan Ryan, to the home of the Chicago White Sox. Ryder had two pals along, Sam and Tiger so we had great hope that the fireworks would not perturb him. We found our seats on the 5th level-- nose bleed seats, down the 1st base line near the foul pole- great seats with a perfect view of all the action. Truly, there isn't a bad seat in the house. Our first test came just after the singing of the national anthem when the sky exploded with sky rockets-- and Ryder stood cheering and clapping his hands wildly over his head! It almost brought tears to my eyes seeing his enjoyment, instead of seeing him with his hands pressed over his ears and that look of abject terror. His near pathological fear of loud noises, especially fireworks has plagued him-- and us. You never know when you might encounter fireworks, at most major league sporting events is one place for sure. And there were plenty of fireworks at the game. Especially in the 8th inning when the Sox came from behind to score six runs. It was Carlos Quentin's 3 run homer that set off the fireworks. Thome had a solo homer in the first inning too, and during all of these displays Ryder soldiered through, barely affected by the booming explosions which were very near our end of the stadium. A huge breakthrough. And for the girls in the lab too-- die hard Cubs fans, they all seemed to enjoy going to the south side and seeing the Chi-Sox kick some Texas booty. The big gun, Josh Hamilton struck out 4 times and popped up to end the game. It is always a pleasure to see a team from Texas get their butts kicked, especially one formerly owned by the worst president in the history of world, one whose days are numbered-- thank goodness! I do not believe he will return to his failed career as an owner after his failure as president. In fact, other than getting elected, he's failed at every thing. Notice the price of gas recently?

and the road goes on forever...

2008-07-23T05:50:00.000-07:00

A glorious mid-summer day with perfect sunshine, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky. The wind is blowing off the lake bringing the temperature down to the mid-seventies in the afternoon, still quite brisk this morning. I had a great ride in. I was about two minutes behind my riding buddy so I chained up to the big sprocket on front and cranked. By the time I caught her 2 miles later I had been cruising along at over 20 mph and huffing. It was good to catch my breath when we joined up. The rest of the ride was very pleasant, always nice to have company, especially if you can still cruise along at a decent pace. The group dynamic suffers from slow riders pulling back the pack, but we are tuned into a very nice 16-18 mph pace, getting me to work before the electronic lock opens the door. Just as I clicked out of my peddle the door clicked open, 27 minutes from Austin to the College of Medicine West. My homies let me know how close I was getting to my partner. At Laramie, the newspaper man told me that the lady said I would be trying to catch her, sure enough, he was right. At Kostner the euphonious one chimed out "ice-screammmmm" then let me know "lady ice-cream" was just ahead. As I rounded the corner back on to Harrison south of the Ike, there she was, 2 blocks ahead. It was a good sprint to catch up before the light at Pulaski changed.

As I ride through the hood on my way to and from work, I alway see the same folks, always in the same place, doing the same thing-- year after year. We all seem to disappear in the winter, but during the warmer months, there they are. The constant welder, the guy with the world's best work ethic at Latham industries, always at work always giving us the fist up salute as we cruise past. And the folks sitting on their front stoop in the evening as I ride home. I was struck by the realization that those 6 or 8 people, ranging in age from small children playing in the postage stamp front yard, to the old woman sitting on steps-- possibly 5 generations of the same family, all must live in that brownstone two story home. What struck me was knowing that this is what they have to look forward to. Nice and cool on the porch, watching the world go by. Day after day, year after year, this is their neighborhood, their world, their reality-- their future. No plans for leaving, just dreams of it. As their path stretches out forever before them, I rejoice in the certain knowledge that my path is about to change. Not the path of my life or my beliefs, this is THE PATH, the way, but my surroundings, my environment, my reality. My new bike ride to work will be on country roads up and down the hills of southern Illinois. Evenings spent on the wrap around porch looking out on the the fields and ponds and forests of my own property. Taking dog walks on my own land. Our neighbors not feet from our door, but hundreds of yards away. We'll hear birds singing, not the neighbor singing in the shower in the morning. The sirens screaming by will be the mythical creatures of Odysseus, not the cops on Harlem running down speeders. As I look to the future, I can only use my imagination to see what my surroundings offer, instead of knowing that just past Cicero heading west on Harrison there is a pot hole just past the bus shelter that I have to go around every day.

Bastille Daze

2008-07-14T09:38:00.000-07:00

My favorite month is July and today is the perfect July day, low humidity, bright sun and clear blue sky. Alas, I am at work enjoying this lovely day from the other side of the computer screen. Today the French celebrate the revolution and I celebrate my birthday. Double-nickles, half way to 110. I was starting to feel old, promoted to professor and having reached the top rung of the academic ladder all I could envision was no prospects other than more of the same. Then the incredible opportunity came along and my path changed course, now leading me to a new academic challenge-- chairman. Now I feel young! A young chair with many fruitful years in my career ahead of me to devote to building the department. Now my efforts won't be micromanaged and unappreciated, and I can give my heart and soul to the job and it will be my department I am doing this for. I am energized and excited. I can hardly wait to assume the helm and take the reins. And move to Carbondale. So much to do to get ready yet it seems like such a long time to wait.

When I was on the treadmill last week, preparing for my OCCAM lecture at the NCI, I was in a bit of a funk not happy with the few pounds I've gained during the course of all my travels, and all the distraction of travel and pending moves, have gotten me off track with my day to day work. As if an electric current suddenly was connected to the treadmill, I felt this buzz begin in my feet and the vibrations traveled like a jolt of lightening through my body and out of my head-- with goose bumps and chills the epiphany came to me--BEGIN WHERE YOU ARE.

yes, of course, it always takes work, we are never there-- the journey not the destination-- yes and I have lost sight of the path. Begin now, start here, at this moment and go forward. Forget about self deprecating recriminations. Forgive yourself and go on. Having rediscovered this bit of wisdom reminds me of the story of the two monks traveling through the country side. They encountered a divan carrying a wealthy noble, stuck in the middle of a muddy road-- the rich woman demanded that the monks carry her across the muddy road so she wouldn't get soiled. The old monk slogged through the mud, picked her up and carried her across, depositing her on the dry side of the road. The rich woman said nothing, not a word of thanks, and turned and walked on her way. The monks continued down the road. After several hours the younger monk said to the older one-- "how could you do that for her? she demanded that you carry her and then didn't even thank you! Are you not angry?" The old monk said "I carried her and left her back there, yet you are still carrying her with you. Who now has the greater burden?"

yes, leave it behind, go forward, start now, begin where you are. do the work, mind the calories, get the papers written the grants submitted, get the garden weeded and house cleaned-- forget that you have lagged behind on all these things, don't carry that burden, instead, get the work done, start now, do it.

takin' off those sailin' shoes

2008-07-11T09:07:00.000-07:00

At least for a while I will be staying around town. In the past 12 months I've traveled ~15 times, including 4 trips to DC, Yellowstone, Hawaii, Colorado 3 times, Carbondale twice, San Francisco, Ann Arbor, camping with the Indian Guides in Wisconsin twice.... now for the so called "road warrior" who travels regularly for business, this number of trips would be laughable, but for me it is the most I've ever traveled in a year. Just this week made a very quick trip to Washington DC , Bethesda actually, to visit the NIH. I was invited to give the monthly lecture at the OCCAM, a division of the NCI. Office of Cancer Complementary Alternative Medicine in the National Cancer Institute. This was one of my finest moments, I must say, going to the temple of science and presenting our work on dietary intervention in ovarian cancer. I could tell I delivered a good talk that was well received and garnered many good questions and lots of positive feedback. The cancer community was impressed with the chicken model and our results on suppression of late stage ovarian cancer with flaxseed created quite the buzz. I am working feverishly now to get these data into publishable form. I struggle with how much to say in how many papers. A good problem to have. The OCCAM is a great niche to find myself in. In a few weeks my talk will be published on the NIH website: http://www.cancer.gov/CAM/ under the monthly lecture tab. One of my new colleagues at SIU, Laura Murphy gave the previous talk. We will have the foundation of a critical mass of CAM research at SIU, which is one of the strengths I plan on building my vision of the department around. I felt like a dignitary visiting the NIH in this capacity. My previous trips to the DC area for study section have been much more work than this, reviewing all those grants and assigning scores knowing full and well that only one of two, if that many will get funded. The state of funding for biomedical research is in a terrible crisis. We have an unfunded war costing the US $500,000 a minute, yet the whole of the NIH budget is less than $28 billion for the year-- about a month of funding for the war. And what good is all that spending doing us? NOT ONE SINGLE THING! I must always remind myself of what Werner Herz told me when I graduated from UCHSC with my PhD in Biochemistry-- 25 years ago (!!!) "there will always be a shortage of good people" and so, the answer to the crisis is to do the best you can do, and as I've found in my incarnation as a cancer biologist, its important to be nimble.

Oddly enough when I was googling OCCAM to find the link to the monthly lecture videocast, the first search term that came up was for Occam's Razor, the postulate that simply states: "All other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best." Rather a cosmic coincidence. I believe I have found my niche in CAM as we embark on our 2nd funded study, this one to see if broccoli prevents ovarian cancer. And yes, chickens do eat broccoli. Consider Pliny the Elder who wrote Naturalis Historia (AD 79). He is known for his saying "True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read". Relevant to my work, he described the anticancer properties of the calabrese a Mediterranean cultivar of broccoli. This made us question, when was cancer as a disease first recognize? The word cancer came from the father of medicine, Hippocrates, a Greek physician. Hippocrates used the Greek words, carcinos and carcinoma to describe tumors, thus calling cancer "karkinos". The Greek terms actually were words to describe a crab, which Hippocrates thought a tumor resembled. Although Hippocrates may have named "Cancer", he was certainly not the first to discover the disease. The history of cancer actually begins much earlier. The world's oldest documented case of cancer hails from ancient Egypt, in 1500 b.c. The details were recorded on a papyrus, documenting 8 cases of tumors occurring on the breast. It was treated by cauterization, a method to destroy tissue with a hot instrument called "the fire drill". It was also recorded that there was no treatment for the disease, only palliative treatment. There is evidence that the ancient Egyptians were able to tell the difference between malignant and benign tumors. According to inscriptions, surface tumors were surgically removed in a similar manner as they are removed today. (from http://cancer.about.com/od/historyofcancer/a/cancerhistory.htm)

So, its good to be staying put for a while, so I can get back to work.... speaking of which....

Cancer is a really bad disease

2008-07-02T06:03:00.000-07:00

Cancer is a deadly disease that has taken many of my friends in the past couple of years-- men in the primes of their lives. Most recently our good buddy and bicycle riding companion, Moe Sullivan lost his battle to melanoma. Two years ago my neighbor, friend and colleague at UIC, Rob Costa lost his battle to pancreatic cancer. Pat Quinn who came from the same lab as me at Michigan lost his battle with lung cancer. The loss of these vital people comes at a great cost- medical expenses not the least of the burden. Their potentials had yet to be realized and then they were gone. Cancer is a really bad disease and now that I am a cancer biologist, my sense of altruism is well satisfied knowing I am working on this important disease.

As we prepare our presentations, either posters for meetings or various talks either me or one o my students might give, we say in a light-hearted way "Ovarian cancer is a really bad disease." This of course is the the devastating truth, but our statement is a synopsis, a short hand way of doling out the facts about this deadly disease. More than 24,000 women in the USA are diagnosed with ovarian cancer every year, and more than half of these women will die from their disease. Stage I ovarian cancer is curable in 95% of cases, but due to inadequate screening tools, ovarian cancer is usually detected at a late stage when the prognosis is poor. Most patients who present with ovarian cancer complain of GI problems, abdominal discomfort, feelings of being bloated an irregular-- not symptoms they would suspect were caused by ovarian cancer. Upon examination the distended abdomen is found to be due to a large accumulation of ascites fluid from the ovarian tumor. The cancer has progressed and metastasized throughout the abdominal cavity and the cancer cells are producing large volumes of the ascites fluid. After draining the fluid and surgical removal of the primary tumor and chemotherapy with taxol and carboplatin drugs, the disease will go into remission. about chemotherapy Sadly though, in more than 60% of the cases, the disease will return in a more aggressive and now chemoresistant way-- the growing tumors are no longer sensitive to the chemicals and continue to grow and spread until the women succumbs to the disease. It is indeed a very bad disease.

While there has been significant progress in curing other forms of cancer, ovarian cancer lags behind. The key to the cure is early detection-- for breast, prostate and colon cancers, early detection and treatment provide the patient with an excellent prognosis for long term cancer free survival. And certain other cancers are entirely preventable-- lung cancer is the single most preventable disease correlated to not smoking or quiting cigarette smoking. Cervical cancer is caused by human papalloma virus and vaccination against HPV is very successful in preventing the disease. Cancer biologists have exploited animal models to understand the etiology or cause of these diseases, and have been able to test therapies and perfect therapies while gaining further insight into these cancers. But ovarian cancer research has been hampered by a lack of suitable animal models. In the past ten years several important rodent models for ovarian cancer have been developed in which a tumor suppressor is knocked out and an oncogene is targeted to the ovary-- but these transgenic models are by their nature blind to the cause of the cancer. Ovarian cancer is of epithelial origin, arising from the specialized tissue that covers the ovary, the so called ovarian surface epithelium. Certain of the transgenic models have successfully targeted the surface epithelium by injection of oncogenes under the ovarian bursa, and the resulting disease closely mimics the human disease. These models provide a testing ground for therapies and enable investigation into the progression of later stage disease-- where all of the therapies are targeted. But the cause of the disease can not be determined from this approach.

With the exception of the laying hen, no other accessible animal model recapitulates the human disease. Laying hens get ovarian cancer spontaneously and it is of epithelial origin, just like in humans. The prevailing theory about the cause of ovarian cancer is the so called "incessant ovulation theory" set forth by Fathalla in 1971. The theory postulates that continuous "tear and repair" of the ovarian surface epithelium, which happens every time an egg is ovulated, provides a rich environment for the initiation of the cancer. Ovulation has long been considered to be an inflammatory process, analogous to wound healing. The mature follicle ruptures, bursting through the surface epithelium releasing the egg which is swept into the oviduct. The process is the same in chickens as in humans. In chickens, though, this happens every day-- yes every time a chicken lays an egg it was necessarily preceded by ovulation. Of course what happens to the ovulated oocyte is remarkably different in the chicken. In the oviduct the yolk is surrounded by albumin and then in the shell gland, analogous to the uterus, the hard shell is formed. The post ovulatory ovary is different too-- in the mammal a corpus luteum is formed, and if the egg gets fertilized, the corpus luteum will provide estrogen and progesterone to prepare the uterus for implantation and maintain the early embryo. Fertilized or not, the chicken's egg gets laid, or in the parlance of the poultry scientist, undergoes oviposition.

Despite the differences between the hen and women, the process at the surface of the ovary are essentially identical. Since hen's ovulate every day, by the time they've completed their second year of lay, they have approximately the same reproductive age as a menopausal woman, each having ovulated 450 to 500 times. That is a lot of tear and repair and it is a this time that both women and hens are usually afflicted with ovarian cancer. The incidence in a 2 year old hen is 4%, but in a 6 year old hen, the incidence of ovarian cancer approaches 50%. This provides a relatively short period of time in which the entire disease can be studied. We've made substantial progress already in defining the earlies steps in ovarian cancer in the hen, and them after examining surgical specimens from women, have observed very similar events. Our long term goal to is characterize these events, determine what factors and mediators are involved in driving these first early steps, and then devise a screening strategy based on our understanding of the mechanism through which normal surface epithelial cells become transformed into malignant ovarian cancer cells.

Another advantage of working with the hen, is the opportunity to do large scale interventions are relatively little cost-- compared to doing similar studies in rodents. Stay tuned for a subsequent post in where I will describe these intervention strategies based on functional food enriched diets.

•

you gotta be kidding--bang bang

2008-07-01T11:37:00.000-07:00

The conservatives in the Supreme Court have had their day and voted 5-4 to overturn the DC ban on handguns, ruling it unconstitutional based on 2nd amendment rights. Within seconds the NRA began to sue every city in the country with handgun bans. The NRA will not be happy until the world we live in is the OK corral and any cross word or lost temper could be rewarded by a slug to the brain. Or until thousands, not just hundreds of innocents are killed by incidental gun fire. Or more little children get their daddy's gun from his bedside table and blow their heads off-- accidently. It's their right to do so, eh? 75% of the homicides in Chicago were committed with handguns despite the ban on handguns. Does that mean that the ban should be repealed? should we do nothing, just stand by and watch the senseless murder of all these people? Do you really think that arming everyone is going to decrease the numbers of people killed with guns? What an absurd notion. Its like pouring gasoline on the fire. Yeah, right, if guns are illegal, then only criminals will have guns, and you're gonna have to pry my cold dead finger of the trigger of my gun to get it away from me, and this house is protected by 357 magnum, and guns don't kill people, people kill people. and on and on. So does all of this mean we should do nothing? Handguns and assault weapons the necessary complement to every hunter's aresenal. Guns were made for one purpose and one purpose only. To kill. People have guns so they can kill people with them. sure, they may say they have them for protection. But that means they will kill someone with their gun to protect themselves. Oops, I didn't mean to kill him, I thought it was a burglar robbing my house, I didn't know it was my teenage son stealing a snack from the fridge late at night. But then maybe these gun nuts would think it OK to kill someone for such a serious crime.

To Do, Be

2008-06-30T05:59:00.000-07:00

More than 30 years ago I was a big fan of the TV series "Kung Fu" with David Carradine as Kwai Chang Caine who travels the American west in the 1870s, fugitive from Chinese assassins who are trying to revenge the murder of the emperor's nephew, who Caine killed after the nephew shot and killed Master Po. I loved this show back in the day. It planted the seeds which have blossomed into my own Buddhism. This year I started watching Kung Fu again via NetFlix and its even better this time around! The Buddhist philosophy which the series presents is packaged in a 1970s western and each show is predictably formulaic, yet the nuggets of wisdom which Master Po and Master Kan impart to young Grasshopper, and the adult Caine's application of these instructions in his western drama, are just priceless. After reading extensively in the Buddhist lore, the words of the Shaolin priest ring so true to me. And when we are watching the show, usually on Friday evenings, and the scene transitions from the American west to China, Ryder and I both yell "its Grasshopper time!". One of the last episodes we watched when Caine was at an impasse, not knowing how to deal with a particularly onry bandito, he flashed back to Grasshopper time and Master Po instructed him "To do--be." A poignant message, which embodies the essence of The Way. I call upon this message often in my journey through this life as a scientist and mentor. Faced with constant conflict and relentless struggle for funding, instead of getting caught up in the worry about how to do science, instead, I just do it. I never thought about it before, but Nike must be a Buddhist to. I am not alone in finding the philosophy of Caine applicable 30 years after its release. http://www.kungfu-guide.com/overview.html
has s a very nice compendium

Tis the season. Post traveling for nearly 6 weeks, I am now settling back into the work a day world and bicycle commuting. So I gave my Cannondale a bath yesterday, cleaned and lubed the chain, and swapped my fat tires for some skinnies. I put nearly 600 miles on my 37's this season, but now that distance riding calls, I switched to 25's. What a difference! A little stiffer and less forgiving on the ragged pavement, but they roll like a dream. Instead of gearing up for a marathon this fall, I am going to get as many long rides in as I can. Ryder and I are having a great time riding together and he is keeping up at 10-12 mph pretty well. I don't think he's quite up for a century, but he certainly could do a quarter century now. We've ridden 10-12 miles many times. He really wants to do the Apple Cider Century this fall. We will have to work up to that distance for sure. My goal is to do the century in under 6 hours-- but not with Ryder.

Aloha and Mahalo!

2008-06-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

We have returned from our blissful 11 night stay in beautiful Keauhou Bay on the Kona coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. We celebrated our 25th anniversary, attended the SSR meeting, and enjoyed the sub-tropical paradise. The pace of life is a contrast to the cost of living in Hawaii. I was shocked to see gas at $4.25 a gallon, only to return to Chicago to see the same price here. $5 a gallon is coming to a gas station near you soon.

We arrived at the Kona airport on Thursday and it took a bit of adjustment to see the stark lava landscape and all outdoor nature of the airport. After we fetched our luggage and rental car, we fired up the Garmond Nuvi and voila, it directed us from the airport to the Shearaton Resort at Keauhou-- ah technology! By the time we found the hotel, it was pouring rain. Warm rain, it was like taking a shower. We were very tired and out of sync with the time, so we retired early. The next morning after a fabulous breakfast in the hotel we spent the morning at the pool, and immediately sunburned our pallid flesh. Multiple applications of sun screen and tanning oil saved us from getting badly burned and we all three had a nice glow within a few hours. After the clouds rolled in we headed off to explore Honalo and Kahalu'u forest in search of coffee. We found the Blue Sky Kona coffee farm and enjoying tasting the coffee-- traditional Kona and the richer Peaberry varieties, and went on a guided tour of the farm with an introduction to the local vegetation-- calabash, bread fruit, banana trees surrounding the coffee trees, the coffee fruit still green this time of the year. We bought roasted coffee beans and some green Kona coffee to take home. At $20 a pound it seemed exorbitantly expensive, but a fun indulgence. After we left we crossed paths with a flock of wild turkeys walking across the road. we headed into the village of Kailua-Kona on Alii Drive. We blended right in with the rest of the tourists and enjoyed the busy resort village atmosphere-- seeking ice cream. We found several coffee shops, all selling 100% pure Kona coffee for $45 per pound. Our purchase at the coffee farm then seemed like a wise one. There were several barkers trying to get us to bundle our "activities" with a time-share presentation at a big discount. One gent described a combination deep sea fishing, volcano helicopter tour bundle for only $930 per person! What a bargain but we passed. We watched the outriggers and waves while Ryder enjoyed his ice cream. After we strolled to the doc, we learned that the outriggers with their six person crews were racing on the Ironman swim course. I couldn't imagine swimming in that surf. Wow.

The next morning we practiced snorkeling in the pool and then headed off to Kahulu'u to go snorkeling. The tide was out and the walk across the lava rocks to the water was really tough on our feet. But once we made it into the water, amazing! Within a few feet we could see dozens of different kinds of brightly colored fish and the corral creatures. Ryder is a strong swimmer, but it took him a while to get used to snorkeling. Salt water takes getting used to. Like baby's tears we kept saying. I stayed near his side and he would occasionally thrash around and use me as a float while he adjusted his gear. Even though it was cloudy our backs got sunburned floating on the water, looking down. We saw many big sea turtles near the shore.

On Sunday old family friends wholive in Hilo, and who happened to be celebrating their 35th anniversarythe next day, picked us up a the hotel and drove us north to Kona Village Resort at Ka'upulehu near Kihola bay. This was a real treat-- old Hawaii with thatched roof huts which were modern bungalows, but a fabulous feast of Asian and American breakfast foods. We ate and ate and enjoyed the seaside serenity. We saw seas turtles when we strolled on the secluded white and black sand beach. Then in marked contrast they drove us up to Wiakialoa where the

huge Hilton resort is-- Las Vegas style "grandeur" with a gondola, a monorail, 100s of acres of lawns, pools, cliffs, waterfalls, thousands of hotel rooms, a dolphin show, and on and on. Of course Ryder thought this was great but Karen and I were repulsed by the over-the-top ostentatiousness of the place. It was fun though, the parrot in the lobbyand sheer splendor, but mostly Don and Dina's excellent company made for a most enjoyable day.

On Monday we indulged in our only paid "activity"-- a submarine excursion in to Kailua bay. I've never been on a submarine before (except at the museum) so this was really exciting for us all. Seeing the ship wrecks and sea life was great though not at all colorful. Not a lot of light penetrates 100 feet of ocean. We did see a shark which was very cool. That evening we attended the Luau at the hotel, and that too was a lot of fun. A pig roast, poi, hulu dancers, fire dancers, a reenactment of the Hawaii myth of Pele, goddess of fire. It was a lot of fun. Those hulu dancers were ripped!

On Tuesday we visited the state park at the Pu'uhonua o Honaunau historical site, the city of refuge adjacent to the lovely deep clear water of "two step" not a beach, but lava flow into the water. It was easy to get in and we had an excellent time snorkeling. The water was absolutely clear and got very deep quickly. We had invested a few dollars in reef shoes, and this made our experience on the lava much more pleasant. Alas, the meeting started Tuesday afternoon, and continued through Friday, so we mostly stayed at the resort. Ryder really enjoyed the waterslide and the vast pool, and Karen had a wonderful time relaxing while I worked the meeting. Word started to get out about SIU as the SIU, UIUC and UIC colleagues all commingled at the meeting. I had been very circumspect about my interviews and potential for moving to Carbondale as Chairman of Physiology, but within a day at the meeting, all my UIC cronies had heard. It was a relief actually, to have the word out. As is usual at SSR we drank and talked a lot, and enjoyed the state of the art in reproductive sciences in a bucolic setting. This meeting will set the standard for splendor, if not science and amenities, that is for sure. The traditional bar-b-queue followed by the big dance was also a treat-- I played two songs with the band as per usual, the high point of my year!

We had wanted to go sea kayaking but didn't have a full day to spend, so we returned to the beach at Kahulu'u to snorkel and found that the tide was in and we could walk across the sand and step into the water with out shredding our feet. After Ryder and I snorkeled and shot up all the film in our underwater camera, he returned to the shore and I swam out towards the break water. The current carried me out and as I neared the wall, the abundance of sea life was so incredible that I barely noticed how shallow the water was. As the waves crashed over the wall I was nearly swept into the reef and I noticed how cold the current was. Yikes! I oriented myself relative to shore and swam in strong fast strokes back to the beach. I had traveled nearly a half mile out into the water with out knowing it! exciting! Especially for Karen who watched me disappear into the waves.

On Saturday we drove up to Monoa Kea to the observators which was spectacular. At 14,000 feet it was clear, sunny, and rather cool. While the park service made such a big deal of the altitutde, it really didn't affect us adversely. We could see Maui and the distant steam plume coming from Kilauea. And we were treated to a home cooked meal at Don and Dina's house! Sunday we visited Volcano national park. I had just finished reading Chasing Lava by We spent the weekend on the Hilo side of the island with our friends, touring the volcano park and the Kilauea caldera. The lushness of Hilo was quite a contrast to the stark landscape of Kona.Wendell Duffield, the story of a geologist's tour of duty at Hawaii Volcano Observatory, so it was very interesting to see the Jagger museum and the caldera in person. We drove all the way to the sea following the lava flow and then hiked to see the waves crashing into the cliffs and the steam where the lava met the water. Next trip we will hike in at night to see the glowing lava.

On Monday we enjoyed one last morning at the hotel finishing off our Hawaiian tans, then checked out, drove to Captain Cook for one last meal at Senor Willies, and then made it to the airport. It was so relaxed at the airport it was almost a pleasure to go through TSA and the USDA inspections. Even though My bag was 51 pounds but they didn't charge extra. We had a direct flight from Kona to O'Hare. It took a few days to get over the travel and time lag, but we returned to much nicer weather in Chicago than when we left. Alas, our tans are fading quick-- we must get to the pool soon. Good to be back but it was so nice being there. Mahalo to Hawaii!

Change we can believe in

2008-06-04T06:10:00.001-07:00

Last night as I was gathering my wits about me, still buzzing from 12 days on the Big Island, I listened to Barack Obama's passionate speech as he acknowledged that he had cinched the nomination for the Democratic candidate for president. Not just a historic moment, but a defining moment in our lives, as though a big light had just been turned on and we can now see. We are emerging from the darkness of the Bush years. Years of death, destruction, failure, despair, desperation, indignity, embarrassment, frustration, anger and pain. To think John McCain is championing all these failed policies of an unjust war and government for the corporate rich, not for the people. Enough! I admire Hillary and her determined campaign. The final nail came with her speech in which she referenced Bobby Kennedy's assassination as a reason to stay in the campaign, in the wake of the news of Ted Kennedy's brain cancer. That aside, her run was a milestone and a harbinger of things to come. No country for old white men is the theme of this election season. Yet we shall not be over confident or complacent. There are a whole lot of red neck bigoted conservative war mongering misogynists out there who will vote for McCain just to vote against a black man. And surely they would have voted against Hillary because she is a woman. Enough! Change we can believe in is on our doorstep. I am so excited for the future that awaits my son. As SUVs vanish from the landscape and oil is no longer the universal currency, when food is grown to eat not to fuel ego machines-- yes a better day is coming.

Change we can believe in takes on even more significance in our lives as I consider that one year from now we will be living in Carbondale and I will have assumed the mantel of the Chair of Physiology of SIU. We will have left the traffic, the population density, the pollution, the noise, and high cost of living in Chicago behind as we set up our new home in the country. So much will happen in this year of transition, this blog will be a useful device for me to help keep this in perspective. I have much to say but have traveled nearly continuously since April. Washington DC for NASA reviews of sperm in space, then the BIG trip to Carbondale and Springfield for the second interview, and then 12 blissful days in Hawaii. And now I return just two weeks before I head off to San Fransico to the Endocrine meetings with two months of work to catch up on before I go. Well, somethings never change.

Hawaii was incredible and despite the proximity to the site of the Kona Ironman, I barely worked out the whole trip, instead enjoyed the wonderful food as we indulged in tourism. We did go snorkeling, but most of my execrcise consisted of trips to the bountiful buffets. Inevitably I gained a few pounds, yes, well, somethings never change. But I have confidence, and a mechanism to not let them stick. Induction phase commencing now, P-diet and exercise. I started by riding my bike to work today, and will rejoin Pilates at noon. Having a tool to help deal with my propensity for weight gain really helps. I have relied on running for so many years, but just can't run enough now-- calories in must be less than calories out and it is the quality of the calories that count. Yes, change I can believe in.

inverted

2008-04-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

There is something very invigorating about going upside down. It was one of my personal triumphs, some years ago, when I finally managed to kick up into a handstand. Even so, for years I relied on belting my arms to help me push my arms straight. This year I weened myself from the belt and try to do a handstand every day. Not just inverted, but the back bend you achieve in the handstand really energize. I found that post Pilates, when we do a lot of deep forward bends at the end of the session, it has a depressive effect. I learned from yoga that forward bends cause you to go inward and quiet you, while back bends cause you to go outside and energize you. So post Pilates I go against the wall and kick up into a handstand. I was struggling recently post workouts to get up and realized that doing handstands on the soft mat makes it much harder, as my palms sink below the arch of my hand. On the hard or carpeted floor, voila, right up. My break through in being able to get into a handstand came after a weekend workshop with Francoise Raul, who made the comment that elephants can do handstands and they are not strong enough to lift their bodies with their "hands". It is a matter of stacking yourself up and bearing your weight on your skeleton, not muscling your way up. The final extension, when I lift out of my shoulders to straighten my arms does require strength, but getting up into the position is just a matter of balance. I drop my head as I kick up and my body goes straight over my arms. A handstand a day keeps the doctor at bay. Handstands and pushups seem to be my weight lifting regimen these days. I heard that pushups are nearly the perfect exercise-- cardiovascular and upperbody, core and lower back all in one and they are easy to fit in, any where, any time in any clothes. As we drive cross country I do pushups at every rest area. Handstands though make all my change fall out of my pockets.

wind and knees

2008-04-21T06:17:00.000-07:00

Finally, spring has arrived in Chicago, and we made our second trip to lake front for a long run. Ryder joined Saint Stephen and me on his bike and we arrived at Belmont Harbor before 8 on a blustery, clear blue, sunny Sunday morning. We were excited by the prospects of the run, but surprised by how cool the lake breeze made us feel. We headed north onto the path the east of the bird sanctuary and as we joined the path, we were knocked back by the strong north wind. And it was cold! Ryder was particularly unhappy with the conditions, so before we got to Waveland golf course we headed back in to run on the path, instead of along the water. The northward trek to Hollywood was a struggle and Ryder was very unhappy, yet we insisted that we make the trip all the way across the beach to Buck's Block, Ryder's Rock and Stephen's Stone. And so we did. The beach was sheltered and Ryder did not want to resume the journey, but much to his delight, he found the southward trek quite pleasant. It was like running on a different day, warm, sunny, the wind at our backs, we sailed south all the way to the North Avenue overpass, then headed back north on the zoo trail. As soon as we turned north we were back in the wind, and struggled for the last 5 miles. Ryder and Steve found a groove and motored on while it was my turn to struggle. My calves were so tight and my knees were screaming, it was all I could do to motor along at 11+ minute pace. I felt strong, but just very slow. After we were done my knees felt like giant water balloons. As the day progressed my knees ached and I got stiffer and stiffer. Combined with the previous day's yard work, pounding in 12 inch spikes with a 5 pound hammer, my back and arms were sore, and now my legs, a complete body abuse workout. This morning when I got up in the predawn gloom, I creaked and moaned my way down the stairs. I expected I would be sore. But then I mounted my trusty steed and peddled to work. All the pain and stiffness vanished. The miracle of the wheel. My regimen of using the AMT, doing Pilates, and riding my bike to work everyday seems to be helping my fitness and weight control, but it is not doing much for my running. I think if it weren't for Steve I wouldn't be running at all. Of course running once a week or every two weeks and going 10 or more miles makes it hard to get used to. I think you have to endure the pounding to be able to stand it. I love to run. When I ran track workouts, I would dig deep and kick, cranking out sub-80 quarters, flying, gaining speed as I rounded the turns, sprinting to the finish, often passing speedy smaller runners. The Bucky Burst. Ah, but now, my sprinting is limited to short jaunts across the park, chasing my dog. I just don't feel the juice in the legs now. I could tap into that below the belt energy and crank, now, I feel stiff and tied up. Plodding along mile after mile at a pleasant conversational pace is now what my running career brings me. The bike is where I get my jollies. I can ride my heart out, crank as hard and as fast and as long as I have the conditioning for, and not feel any pain. No that's not right, its pain, the burning lactic acid exploding quad blood in my mouth sweat stinging my eyes kind of pain, not that wounded crippling pain that all out running delivers.

Where ever body at?

2008-04-04T05:26:00.000-07:00

A bit of a drizzle this morning in the pre-dawn as I rode alone through the streets of Chicago, while my fair weather fellow cyclists were riding their trains and sipping their lattes. I was energized and excited by the raw earliness of the day. I was greeted by a chorus from the Laramie newspaper crew-- "where ever body at?" but our friend at Kostner only gave me one weak "icecream?" I saw the Lanan Welder, deep in the shadows of the building, his welding torch glowing in the dim. The barrels were blazing and I thought about what it must have been like 40 years ago tomorrow when the west side went up in flames. It was 40 years ago today when Martin Luther King, Jr was assassinated. I made up a song-- ode to the NRA-- guns are fun, watching our children kill each other, thinking about the anti-gun rally and the NRA spokesman who declared gun laws aren't working, everyone needs a gun to defend themselves-- yes and soon there would be no problem, everyone would be dead. Gun violence is at an all time high, yes the gun laws aren't working, they are useless, I say take away the guns! OK, go ahead shoot me you gun toting zealots, how dare I say such a thing. You have a gun, go ahead, that's what guns are for, to kill people. Or animals. No other purpose. Just to have them to oil them and rub their phallic shafts to gleaming blued perfection, dreaming about the sound, feeling the recoil, smelling the gunsmoke, watching your victim fall, that's what they are all about, that's what guns are for. The NRA is quick to say, guns don't kill people, people kill people. Yes, people with guns. More than 20 Chicago school children have been gunned down this year already. But who's counting? Who counts? They do. The kid with a gun, didn't mean to kill, just pointed it, and it went off, just meant to thrill, and now, he pays the bill. He joins the incarcerated masses and helps contribute to our national glory, the highest percentage of people in prison in the world. If the NRA had their way, this problem would also be solved. It would be great for business.

Ironically, the west side went up in flames, 29 blocks of west Madison were burned to the ground. K-town, Lawndale, Austin, still suffer the blight, but the gun violence is not happening here. Instead, the ghetto was preserved on the south side. The community banded together and prevented the burning and looting. Every day we hear about more violence, gang activity, death on the streets, and it always seems to be on the southside. People fear for me when I report my daily ride through the west side. I have nothing to fear, the sentinels look out for me as I dodge the glass and bricks and traffic. Riding has given me a great perspective and helped me see the citizens of the westside for who they are. Just folks. Rest in Peace Martin, we are sorry it is taking so long.

The Dream (SIU part one)

2008-04-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

Without telling any of my colleagues or members of my lab, I had responded to an invitation to apply for Chairman of Physiology at Southern Illinois University. I was a bit surprised when I was invited to come to Carbondale to interview. I hadn't really thought about being the Chair of a department until last year when friends of mine at the Vet School at U of I suggested that I apply for chair of Vet Biosciences. I thought about it but that was about all. As it turned out they hired a DVM which was what they were really looking for. But it got me thinking about what my vision for a department would be. At the time I was going through the process and had filed all my papers for promotion to Full Professor some months before. The rather tepid support I got from my own department during that process left a bad taste in my mouth, and reminded me of what it is about this department that I don't like and what I would change if I could. And if I was the Chair, I could. This helped me form my vision for how a Physiology department should be-- not one divided between the haves and have-nots where a caste system renders those between grants as 2nd class citizens, where teaching is not incentivized, but is the inevitable role that you get pushed ever further into as your research founders. And I would never take grad students away from faculty when they lose their funding, an act which would perpetuate their difficulties in getting funded again. Funding rules and those who choose to devote themselves to service and teaching are not rewarded but punished. The salary disparity is obscene. Another part of my vision does not differ from what my current Chair has done, to build the department around a critical mass of science. Only the critical mass he built did not include my expertise or recognize my contributions to reproductive biology. Because this is Physiology it is necessary that there be token representation of the other physiological disciplines. I am fortunate to have the reproductive physiology colleagues I have here and in Ob/Gyn, and especially fortunate to have established strong interdepartmental connections via the cancer center. So when SIU solicited my application, I looked at their department and found that I really liked what I saw. The three areas of concentration are reproduction, cancer and neuroscience. Much of my work has embraced neuroendocrinolgy-- so it was indeed a good critical mass to start with. The other thing that attracted me to SIU was Carbondale. SIU is on the edge of the Shawnee National Forest and it is reported to be an incredibly scenic are with abundant access to nature. Not to mention the cost of living and the pace of life are much more appealing than Chicago. Having 11 million neighbors in the 5 county area and northwest Indian makes this amongst the biggest concentrations of people in the world, and this does exact a toll.

Which sets up The Dream. The night before I was scheduled to travel to Carbondale by train, I had this dream, one of those dreams that sticks with you all day, that you keep dreaming after you are awake. I arrived in the place where I was interviewing and it appeared to be in the Himalayas or other vast mountain region, one of incredible beauty with breath taking vistas and pristine natural beauty. The facility I was visiting was geographically dispersed, scattered in several small buildings some many miles distant from the main campus. Inside the buildings they had state of the art facilities with every kind of modern molecular biological equipment you could imagine, and the buildings were modern on the inside, just small. Outside, I was transported to the other buildings by faculty wearing work clothes, cowboy boots and tractor caps. We would stand outside with the incredible vista at our feet as we discussed the institute I was being recruited to. Everything seemed wonderful. Then I asked about the graduate program, the number and quality of students-- and my host and tour guide would answer "this is an incredibly beautiful place to live...." Each time the conversation came back around to the grad program, I would get the same answer, this was a beautiful place to live. I woke up but was still in a dreamspace as I finished packing, showered, put on my traveling clothes and headed off to catch the train. On the way to Carbondale I worked on my seminar, then grew sleepy. As I dozed off, I was back in the dream and as I looked out the window of the Amtrak at central Illinois I was a little worried by what I saw. Shantis and tar paper shacks along the rail road tracks. trailers and cars on blocks. A bleak, barren, late winter landscape of brown and gray. The closer we got to Carbondale, the worse it looked. I was beginning to wonder, what in the heck was I getting myself into.

As the train entered the outskirts of Carbondale the scenery improved dramatically and I felt encouraged. When I disembarked, I was greeted by the current and out going Chair of the department-- bushy white beard, cowboy boots and blue jeans. We got into his pickup truck and he drove me off for a tour of the nearby Giant City State Park. We stopped at Little Grassy Lake and I marveled at the dense, endless forest of dogwoods not yet budding out and the huge placid lake. The park was magnificent and the terrain very hilly. Indeed, it was a natural marvel. Rick explained how SIU medical school was divided between Carbondale and Springfield and when we arrived on campus I saw the low laying brick buildings that housed the department, adjacent to Campus Lake. This was just too eerily similar to my dream! I had the best experience of my career at the interview during which time I met with some 30 different people in 2.5 days and had 7 business meals out. The only time I was alone was in my hotel room at night. It was intense. My seminar was a big hit and I was told that I had the reproduction people convinved I was in reproudctin and the cancer folks sure I was a cancer biologist. When I met with the Dean he told me that he'd heard I was selling well in the department. They did have state of the art facilities and modern well equipped labs. I was pleased that the department would support two grad students per faculty regardless of funding. But when I really pressed them it turned out the single biggest problem is with the number of grad students in their PhD program. My dream was prescient. My charge will be to take this problem on. A problem which many physiology departments have these days. Recruitment.

I guess I did a good job at my interview. I was contacted today by the head of the search committee and I was selected as their top candidate, and that they would be making me an offer. Holy cats! This is all happening so fast. Surely it is meant to be.

spring, dare we err?

2008-03-14T05:37:00.000-07:00

Just 100 yards from the Eisenhower is a world that the vast majority of the single person per car commuters never even think about-- except in their worst nightmares. Heaven forbid they might have to exit the safety of I290 and enter the adjacent neighborhoods. Its the "west side", after all. The sentinels along the way were all there to greet us this morning as three of us rode into the rising sun. The newspaper sellers, the couple at Laramie and Harrison always sitting by their burning barrel, who often yells to me "where every body at?" We next encountered the mellifluous one on Kostner as Harrison dives south of I290, who always yells "ice-screammmmm" even though Bob is not with us to ring his bell. Next we see the vendor on "da boulevards" a more taciturn fellow who waves to us and only occasionally has something to say. Finally we saw the most mobile of the newspaper sellers, now usually positioned in the middle of Sacramento, just south of I290--he always has something to say. I've seen him at Laramie and also in Oak Park on a bicycle. As I rode by him once I asked if he lived in Oak Park and he said "nooooooooooooo" which meant-- as if! While I have now returned to the daily commute, these hardy souls have remained at their stations through the whole winter, arriving to work at 3 AM and making pennies per paper. What a life. The homeless folks at the shelter on Harrison just east of California are equally hardy, but not working-- just surviving. In the few rides I had in January and February, their numbers had dwindled to less than 10-- always the same ones. Now as the weather warms there are 20 or more, and many of them very familiar figures to me. One guy yelled to Cliff on Wednesday-- "hey, we haven't seen you for three months!" Which of course meant that they haven't gone anywhere to winter over. Kind it may not be, but I think of these folks as feral humans-- once tame, now wild. Living on the streets of Chicago through the winter requires the skills and instincts of a wild animal, and by that I mean no disrespect.

I rode to work all four days I came in this week-- and it was wonderful. I feel in near mid-season shape already. The spin sessions on my trainer at home, riding in place while looking out at the falling snow have paid off. I didn't do much else though this week. I am working my way back up. An hour a day on the bike has taken its toll, and takes some getting used to. But today I managed to also get a good 30 minutes on the AMT while reading a grant I had to review. The temperature is not an issue with the ride and the road is clear. The most significant feature of riding in March is the wind! Tuesday and Thursday I rode home into 30 + mph head winds. Who needs hills, we have Da Hawk. Today the winds were from the west in the morning, blowing the lake chill east of here and speeding us along the way. Now the winds have shifted and the temperature is easing back down from the mid-50s. This will be to our advantage as we head home, riding back to Oak Paradise.

Fat tires and ski helmets

2008-03-05T10:59:00.000-08:00

We made an informal pact, to ride every month of the winter-- at least one day. February was a very tough month for bike commuting, at least for me. Its not the temperature but the road conditions and precipitation that thwarted my effort. But as the month drew to a close, I decided to give it a go I actually rode my bike to work on February 28th. That means I rode my bike to work each of the last 12 months! 3 1/2 days in January and 1 day in Feb. It was quite a challenge though. Ice and snow are not compatible with two wheels. Columbus park which I go through as soon as I leave Oak Park was my biggest barrier. The path was plowed and generally clear up the hill and around the bend-- but then on the descent I hit a large expanse of trail, ~1/4 mile, that was unplowed and barely tracked. I had to dismount and push my bike through the calf-deep snow. By time I remounted I was overheated but had frozen ice blocks for feet. The cold-- 15 degrees was not a problem, except when I stopped at intersections, my glasses steamed over. My hands got a bit cold, but my feet were painfully cold. By the time I rode home it was 22 degrees. I made it to the park and took the path around the other way, which was 90% clear. I skidded and slipped a bit on some of the hard pack snow and ice, but remained up-right. I was whipped when I got home-- but pleased to have ridden in February.

This Monday was a day off school for Ryder so we drove up to Wisconsin to Cascade mountatin for a day of skiing. His third season and he is really doing well. We skiied until noon then connected with our old buddy Bob Bell, runner and resident ski instructor. Ryder and Bob spent the afternoon together, Ryder getting a private lesson. I joined them for a few runs now and again, and was pleased to see how well Ryder was doing. Fearlessly heading straight down the mountain, then turning into the hill to slow down or stop. He even graduated to using poles which afford him some more independence. It was a great day, cold but sunny. I skiied on the "blacks" which of course by Wisconsin standards means something entirely different than in Colorado . A bit steep, some soft snow on the edges and a few bumps, but very short. I averaged 5 minutes a run and managed about 10 every 45 minutes. I did get a bit of a workout and had a lot of fun. At day's end we visited the ski shop where they were having a big sale and I scored a ski helmet for 50% discount. A helmet? I succumbed to the mounting pressure to wear one, which now seems to be the norm. The nice thing about this helmet is the that it is much like a bike helmet with vented top and a visor-- and built in ear flaps.

It occured to me that this helmet might indeed be useful for winter bike riding. So this morning when the temps reached a balmy 25 degrees, I mounted my trusty bike wearing my new ski helmet and polypro sock liners, also purchased half-off at Cascade. Warm and toasty toes and ears-- delightful! I avoided the ice-lake on the south side of Columbus park and skirted the lagoon to rejoin the usual route. I had a lovely easy ride and was quite comfortable, luxuriously so.

This was my second ride on fat tires (37). I now better appreciate the difference in these tires compared to the 28s I replaced after 33oo miles and my first flat tire. I bought the same tire, Continental top touring 2000, just fat boys. What a difference going over pot holes, cracks in the road and bumps-- not jarring at all, rather cushy in fact. And the traction is good too on the ice patches I did encounter. But all this comfort at a huge cost-- it is so much harder to push the bike on the fat tires, it was tough to sustain 18-19 mph. Though difficult to gauge due to the winds, my lack of bike conditioning and wearing all those clothes, but it was evident how much more resistance the fat tires offer. I plan on switching to some 25s in a few months when I start riding longer. In the mean time I figure the added energy I will have to expend to push the big rubber down the road will benefit my conditioning-- as well as save me from the jolting of the road. I love my Cannondale and the stiff aluminum frame buy wouldn't mind if it was just a little softer sometimes.

Weight, weight, don't tell me...

2008-02-19T11:51:00.000-08:00

Precor AMT-- Adaptive Motion Trainer http://www.precor.com/comm/en/amt/amt100i/

This is a tough time of year to try and not gain weight, let alone lose any. I haven't ridden my bike to work but 2 or 3 days this year so I am having to rely on exercise in the gym. Thank goodness for the AMT. I am finding my 3 times a week 30-40 minutes on this machine to be a pleasure and not exacting a toll on my knees. I can crank out, get my heart above 160 yet not stress my knees. I can get my heart rate that high on the treadmill with when I have it on a steep incline, but it is not nearly as comfortable of an experience as the AMT and sure enough, when I get excited and crank up the speed, I take it in the knees. I pretty much am now saving my self for running long outside. Of course nothing beats a nice long run in the out of doors, the time passes so quickly and pleasurably. But the day to day exercise routine for me has been compromised by my eroded meniscus and swollen stiff knees really do affect my whole outlook. My current routine is to do Pilates mat class for an hour then 30 min on the AMT twice a week, and on the 3rd day I do a shorter mat workout, some sun salutations, push ups, hand stands and then do 40 min on the AMT. I guess this is working. I have been under 210 since September. I got to my all time low post 20s weight-- 204 as my training peaked for the Denver marathon in October. Post marathon and when I stopped riding every day, the holidays were upon me and I started to gain some weight back. As I started to creep towards 210 I would have a good week and drop down again, hovering about 207. I hit a few days at 211, but managed to keep below 210. Since the new session of Pilates started and I graduated to the intermediate class on Tues-Thursdays, I have rededicated myself to the p-diet and in a matter of two weeks I am now back down to 204. A few days of low-carb induction, then a return to sensible eating, combined with the AMT cardio and I am back on track. I really want to start weight training again, but I decided to see if I can get under 200 first. My experience in the past with lifting weights is that I gain weight from the increase muscle mass. My goal to reach 185 by May 21st will benefit from lifting, but more so, when I attempt my to return to triathlon this summer, I will definitely be aided by improved upper body strength. I discovered that losing 20+ pounds makes doing push ups a lot easier, and I can now do handstands quite easily. I suppose I could get all the upper body toning I need from push ups, but really hate to see my baggy triceps when I hold my arms horizontally during Pilates class.

The AMT routines I've tried recently are 1) intervals and 2) pyramids. For intervals I did 2 minutes for each resistance, and did 1-5-1-10-5-15-10-20-15-20-10-15-5-10-1. For pyramid I did 3 minutes each 1-5-10-15-20-15-10-5-1 then 1 minute each 20-1-20-1, and brought my heart rate back down at 1. I was able to achieve 165 bpm max on the pyramid and sustained 140+ for the whole workout. It made it interesting and I sweat like a pig so I believe it was working. The interval seemed less intense. Both burned 450 calories and covered 2.8 miles.

I bought some new tires for my bike on Sunday-- Continental top touring 2000. I bought some 37's which will help my inclement and adverse commute. When I start riding long I am going to get some road tires- perhaps some 25's. Now, there is nothing stopping me from riding, weather be damned! did I mention it was a high of 7 degrees today and its going to be colder tomorrow? hmmmmm. At least its not snowing.

A better day for America

2008-02-15T07:36:00.000-08:00

Yes we can! Yes, we can bring a better day to America

We were shocked by the news from nearby DeKalb, the senseless shooting of innocent students at Northern Illinois University. This is getting close to home and several friends are directly affected knowing the students who were shot, shot at or at NIU. This could have happened at UIC. Clearly this could happen anywhere. In the last week there have been several such shootings on campuses around the country. Gun violence is at an all time high. The current administration's politics of fear and aggression have to be a major contributing cause to this increase in gun related crime. While Bush is pushing the Congress to enact new legislation to further erode our civil liberties, the one liberty they will defend above all else is the right to bear arms. Right on, if everyone had a gun, the students in the auditorium could have pulled out their Smith and Wessons and blown that shooter off the stage. Oops, that was just tech support coming to adjust the podium. More violence, more guns, the NRA's credo. And Bush is in the pocket of the gun lobby. Take a away the guns!

A better day has got to come to America. Our war budget is breaking the bank. Since Bush has been President the economy has crashed, violence is up, Federal response to natural disasters has dwindled and the USA's standing in the world has gone from one of respect to revulsion. Yet the big important issues to the GOP remain anti-abortion, pro-Iraq war, tax cuts for the wealthy, supporting windfall profits for Big Oil, decreased funding for health and human services, and strong support of the NRA. Anti-environment to support exploitation of domestic resources-- the GOP continues to take a page right out of Ronald Reagan's book. Compassionate conservatism? Where is the compassion? Yet there is surely hope on the horizon. The ground swell of support for Barka Obama is exciting, encouraging and enlivining. Why do I support Barak Obama? When I hear him give those "big speeches" as Hillary calls them, I get goosebumps. No other candidate has ever excited me as much. Bill Clinton came close. In the very heighth of the impeachment debacle, his State of the Union address was absolutely stunning. A true statesman and marvelous orator. I was so dissapointed when Billary rolled out the negative campaign against Obama prior to the South Carolina primary. Since then Bill has been absent or when campaigning for Hillary, much more positive. With the nomination hanging by a thread, it could get ugly. Texas and Ohio may be the deciding states. Let's hope it doesn't come down to the super delegates or a brokered convention-- as exciting as that would be. We need party unity and we must be sure to win back the White House. A better day for America is all we can hope for.

Pals forever

2008-02-12T09:00:00.002-08:00

Oak Park Indian Guides: Potawatomie Tribe at Camp MacLean, Wisconsin Feb 10, 2008

Pals forever, that is the motto of the Indian Guides, and the time we spend together, just us guys, fathers and sons, is so very special. This weekend we braved the snow and cold and did the winter campout with the Prairie federation at Camp MacLean, near Burlington, WI. This particular YMCA camp is very rustic and the only activities avaialable were sledding or crafts. We made several runs and a braved the toboggan chute, but after a few hours of being wet and cold, we opted for the crafts and made several necklaces and bracelet's. Our tribe won first place in sled appearance, though our Klondike like sled did not do very well in the race. Clearly some more engineering is needed. We won second place in the tribal chant but our accumulated tribal property, including the new dream catchers we made in January, still does not amass to the same collection some of the older tribes such as the Saux Fox, Ute and Cherokee have. The whole tribe except for our newest members all made the camp out and are pictured here. The Bones left early and are not in the picture, nor are the Kellys. It was -7 with -45 wind chill when we got up on Sunday morning, so not a lot of folks stayed to play. What a great time was had by all.

My trip to southern Illinois was postponed due to inclement weather. I got a call at 6 AM this morning in time to stop me from getting on the Saluki. The ice storm shut down SIU today and likely tomorrow too. My trip is rescheduled for March 17th. It should be nice weather by then, especially in Carbondale. I have played my cards close to vest and have not discussed my reasons for going to SIU with any but my closest confidants. It will be hard to stay mum for another month. Seeing the schedule they arranged for me it will be a daunting though very exciting venture down yonder. They had me scheduled to meet with no less than 30 folks including the Dean of the College of Sciences, the Vice Chancellor for Research and Dean of the Graduate College, professors from other departments on the search committee, plus all the faculty in the Department of Physiology. Each of the colleagues who agreed to write letters in support of my bid have been most encouraging and supportive. One good thing about even entering into this is the positive effect its had on my own self esteem. Imagine me being a chairman of a department. I can do this, yes I can! I anticipate that this is an exercise at this point and likely the best that will come of it is leveraging me into a better place her at UIC. However the idea of a more bucolic life in a college town nestled in the Shawnee National Forest is most attractive. Realizing that the nearest Trader Joes is 100 miles away in Saint Louis and that there are no Starbucks in Carbondale puts this into perspective. Great places to ride my bike though, no doubt about it. We could buy a farm and raise alpacas. But how are the schools? It's a college town, right? much to consider and this will be on hold for another month.

Yes We Can

2008-01-28T07:13:00.000-08:00

I am reading this book called The Bunion Derby about a cross country race in 1928 .The race started out with 199 men, and now, 33 days into the race they enter the Texas panhandle and all the black competitors are besieged by the Jim Crow Texans. It makes me think how Americans maybe be basically racist to our very roots and our attack on Iraq is just another example. The slaughter of the Native Americans, the saga of Jim Crow etc. Now, seeing Barak Obama gaining such popular support is so exciting, but very scary for Democrats. Will the majority of Americans vote for an African American for President, or will the inherent racist tendenicies dominate their decision, when they go behind the curtain to vote? While Obama excites everyone I know, it seems Hillary has the opposite effect. Trusted rationale people whose opinions I value and whose judgment I have never questioned rank their choices for president as Obama, then McCain, then Romney. Billary is divisive, but I would vote for her before any of the GOP's candidates. All of the Republicans are old white men. How refreshing is the roster of the dems. John Edwards is the only of the traditional mold in contention. Yes We Can! how exciting, how invigorating, how scary. Hearing Barak's victory speech after he won in South Carolina was exciting! Hearing Carolyn Kennedy equate Barak to her father and saying he is the JFK of her children's generation was astounding! Now with Ted Kennedy's endorsement, the old guard of the Democratic party seem to be aligning themselves with Barak. Is it possible that we can see a new day in America? Is it possible that we can have a president for all Americans? can we build it? yes we can! oh, I just realized that Barak is borrowing his catch phrase from Bob The Builder- another old white guy.

just a note on the bike commute. today its going to be 50 yet I did not ride. After my flat tire I realized I have 3300 miles on my tires and they are noticably worn thin, the sidewalls appear a bit cracked, time for new rubber. I would hate to have a second flat as I hurry to or from work. no problem with the old tire on the trainer, but I fear its road worthiness. I have been pondering tires, tire sizes, tread designs etc. I considered buying 32s with some tread for the inclement weather then going back to some road worthy 28s for riding season. Or perhaps I should just get some new road tires? I definitely need some new tires though.

Jurus Prudence and frozen cajones

2008-01-23T07:53:00.001-08:00

Baby its cold out there! -5 this morning with -20 wind chills. No doubt about it, waiting for the EL is the coldest experience available. My last bike ride to work, last Monday, was cold but OK, however, my return ride was not. Immediately I had a flat tire. It was snowing, the wind was howling. I thought about fixing the flat-- I was right in front of the med center, but knowing I had to pick up Ryder ASAP, I did the cowardly thing, returned my bike to my office, locked it up, emptied out my panniers, and rode the EL to Oak Park in my bike clothes. By the time I made it to the Oak Park Avenue El stop it had snowed 2 inches. Bummer! that would have been a great adventure ride. Since then its been snowing and/or bitterly cold (subzero plus the wind). I have resumed my EL riding career, striding vigorously up and down the platform to keep warm and keep my heart beating. I see so many folks standing still huddled in the cold. Moving around generates heat, why stand? And it amazes to see, in this weather, so many idiots with out hats! I guess they get what they deserve-- frostbite. DOH!

Last week I had the pleasure (really) of serving on a jury. I have been summonsed 4 or 5 times, but never picked to serve before. While some of the candidate jurors purposefully made statements to get themselves excluded, much to the scorn of us honest folks, I just went with the flow and sure enough, got picked. A criminal case. High theater.

It was quite interesting indeed, and I gave into it, accepting my role as juror, being pleased not to be in charge or having to run the meeting. DUI. Guy changed seats with his girlfriend after the accident so it would look like he was not driving. eyewitness saw him behind the wheel and pushing down the deployed airbag,but not actually in the collision. it was circumstantial. But the state's attorney gave a compelling argument about the validity of circumstantial evidence, the smoking gun, snow on the ground though you didn't actually see it snowing, you know it did. Jury was 7-5 to convict after the first round. 2 hours of discussion and it was 11-1. It was pleasant, and #12 acquiesced. The defense witness, the woman, was hardly credible, had the story wrong, would not admit they were lovers, just friends but admitted when they were out drinking they were buying lingerie! The defense attorney said of course she acted that way, she was embarrassed, just friends with privileges-- clever, persuasive. But the state's attorneys were better actors and more convincing. After it was over they came into the jury room and talked with us. it was a lot of fun, all and all. The defendant had three prior DUI's but that was not admissible as evidence. The female attorney said that when the defense witness said she was buying underwear, she thought "my goodness, this is going better than I'd hoped" we all felt pretty good knowing we did the right thing and were out of there at 3 PM. Glad it only lasted 2 days.

the harlequin resolutionist

2008-01-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

It must be global warming, right? no, there is a January thaw every year, but 63 degrees on Jan 7th? Made for a nice day to ride, for sure. 4th work day for 2008 and I've ridden half of them (2/4). The clip on the pedal broke off, the side I always click in and out of at all those stops that punctuate my daily ride. I had to replace the pedal set but the bike shop couldn't get the left pedal off of the crank-- likely a latent causality from the bike-car incident I suffered in September. So, Dan the bike man cleverly replaced the whole crank with an OEM exact match-- except it was in carbon black, not chrome silver. So, the harlequin crank set which nicely matches my harlequin wheel set, one black, one silver-- also from the car incident. It gives that Cannondale a certain character now, in keeping with the fenders and big guy that rides it.

I reset my trip meter today. 540 miles since Apple Century. 3290 total. I had about 1100 year one, so that means 2007 I rolled nearly 2200 miles. My goal for 2008-- double that! I have thought that 5000-500-50 would be a good year of bike-run-swim. Man that's a lot of swimming! If I am going to Tri-again, so be it, I better get my fat butt into the pool.

We had our first Pilates class of the year today. Ugh! oh those cookies and ah that lack of exercise. I am lucky I only gained 3 or 4 pounds in the last month and not more. After Pilates I did ball squats, imaging I was still on the slopes in Colorado, carving my way through the moguls-- a near perfect run down Cat's Meow at Loveland! No doubt the Pilates and the ball squats have given me skiing back after I fractured my knees. But only skiing conditions you for skiing. The first wave of resolutionsits hit the gym today. The same 15 or so folks who are always there, and were last week were there today, along with about 30 new folks. Some quite earnest in their approach to the machines. Some quite confused and shy looking. We are fortunate to have such a great facility here on the west campus but it lacks one huge thing-- spin classes! I have a huge energy barrier traveling across campus to take classes. Not such an issue when I can ride to work-- once again, winter is on the way back, rain then sleet, then snow and much, much colder weather is on its way. those poor folks in California, 7 inches of rain in LA and 11 feet of snow in the Sierras. Oh to be stuck in Tahoe. Talk about skiing! No spin classes need.

A new day, another year

2008-01-04T10:25:00.000-08:00

I expected the gym to be filled with "resolutionists" today, but instead, it was nearly empty, only the same old bodies I usually see there were busy with their workouts. There was a big crew working on all the machines, taking them apart for maintanence, still leaving enough avaialble to get a bit of a workout in. My new favorite, the adaptive motion trainer was in pieces, so I tread on the old mill for a meager 20 minutes and 1.6 miles. Bravely, I stepped on the scale-- I feared the worst after a week or more of indulgent eating, but was pleased to see I am right at 206, still down ~25 pounds from where I was at this time last year. Which brings me to New Year's Resolution #1: under 200 pounds and under 20% body fat (I am at about 24% now). I've lost 3 inches around my middle and I've lost 5% body fat, but still feel and look fat. I know the way now to achieve this goal. P-diet and exercise. DOH!

I braved the weather and rode in today. It was a balmy 24 degrees and mostly dry. I was excited to try out my new winter biking garb I received for Christmas, and I was indeed warm and dry-- until I encountered a snow bank I had to traverse, then my toes got cold and my cleats got packed with ice and would not engage my peddles. The bike path around the park was spotty, but navigable. All and all it was just fine riding. The brisk south west wind brings us this warm up so I guess I can't complain about how slow it made the ride.

It is an exciting time in world history. Last week Benizer Bhutto was assassinated in Pakistan and the next day Kenya burst into flames-- reminiscent of Rwanda. The dollar continues its slide against other world currencies, sinking to the level of the Indian Rupee now. And how the world feels about Americans is at an all time low. Troubled times. Exciting times too. Last night Barak Obama won the Iowa primaries, besting both Edwards and Clinton. There were more voters in the caucuses than ever before, young Democrats. The electorate is excited and ready for CHANGE. I really like both Edwards and Hillary, indeed, but neither represent a new day in America. Barak, you da man, you are the one who will excite the youth vote. This time next year we will be looking forward to throwing the pigs out and making way for the new Obama presidency. Glory be.

Which somehow reminds me of my 2nd resolution. To be on time. I read a Tribune columnists reflections on turning 50 and one thing he observed was that promptness is a form of respect. My father oft repeated that if you aren't early, you are late. And of course Karen understands that I am late because I hate to wait and would rather make other people do the waiting for me. Which adds up to disrespect. Not malicious. Just habituation. I can change, sure I can. so, that is #2, be on time. There you have it. I have joined the resolutionists, but I did beat them into the gym.

Sunshine Daydream

2007-12-12T13:57:00.000-08:00

Cold rain and snow describe our days for the last week. I rode my bike to work last Monday and though it was cold, gray and windy, it was dry. That was the last day until today, that its been dry. I should've, could've, ought to have-- but didn't ride today. The glaze of ice on everything was a bit of a deterrent, so I plugged in my MP3 player and walked to the EL. The sun was shinning and for the first time in a week I felt pretty well, the awful cold I got from Ryder now nearly gone. As I sat on the train, the sun beaming through the window, Ripple began to play. "if my words did glow with the gold of sunshine, and my tunes were played on the harp unstrung, would you hear my voice come thru the music, would you hold it near as it were your own?" the sweet voice of Jerry Garcia coursing through my brain as the sunshine played on my eyelids. It was a lovely moment that carried me off the EL, across the park all the way to the door of my lab. I have been in a very good mood all day.

Inspired as I was by this after Pilates class I did 40 minutes on the Precor AMT and burned 525 calories according to the digital output. I love that machine, like a hybrid Nordic Track and elliptical trainer. http://www.precor.com/comm/en/amt/amt100i/I kept my heart rate in the 135 range, maxing out at 152 for the whole workout. Then I did a handstand against the wall for over a minute which really jazzed me up. All and all, a very pleasant day. I don't care if it is cold, just as long as the sun is shinning, its a good day to me.

A winter's day--cold and dark December

2007-12-03T05:32:00.001-08:00

All aboard the Holiday Train!

Clear, invigorating and cold-- but a wonderful ride this morning, 6:30 AM, 19 degrees, with my buddy Elissa. We both struggled through the getting dressed routine which nearly caused us to miss our connection. But we hooked up and breezed in. Easy. Into the not yet rising sun, the wind briskly blowing from the north, neither impeding nor delaying our eastward journey. My trick of putting sandwhich baggies over my toes in my riding shoes really has helped to keep my toes warm. The thumbs seem to suffer the most, regardless of the gloves. The rest of me verily boils under all those layers. Afraid to dress less, I suppose, since it is so cold getting out of bed and heading out the door, but once on the road and peddling , the heat from the core warms the whole being. Its those peripherals hanging out in the chill that let me know I'm alive! December 3rd and still riding. Three days last week in the first true taste of winter-- 20-30 degrees. Easy. The cold, the wind, the darkness-- no deterrent, yet. But the threat of snow and freezing rain, well, I balk at those obstacles. Riding the El, as it turns out has its advantages.

I felt remiss in not riding last Wednesday, believing the weatherman's forecast of snow and rain-- in fact it turned out to be the warmest day of the week, though the sun never did shine-- nor did it rain. I noted this as I trudged up Wood Street to the Medical Center stop, hoping to catch the 4:45 train so I could pick up Ryder at School and then celebrate his birthday. Alas, the 4:45 train never came. But then-- 4:54 and what do I see? The Holiday Train come straight at me. I'd seen the train many times from afar, all lit up and decorated with Santa Clause riding the middle flat car on his sleigh-- but I had never actually been on the holiday train before. Wow! What a delight. As I sat absorbing the totality of the decor, I felt giddy and excited, and couldn't stop smiling. The elves on each car handed out candy canes and a brochure listing the times and lines for the holiday express. The seats were upholstered in holiday themed material. The cars were fully decorated, candy striped poles, each of the advertising placards around the top were for Santa's elves, reindeer games, comet lanes, toy assemblers needed-- immediate openings. It was a trip! I noticed that everyone on the car was smiling and like me, whipping out their cell phones to take pictures. I checked the schedule and saw that 6:21 Friday the Holiday Train ran from Oak Park to the loop and my plan was hatched. So Friday, the three of us waited expectantly at the Harlem platform for the train. We waited as three other trains passed us by-- the first time I've ever skipped a train. Then it arrived in all its splendor and Ryder was as excited as me. We boarded the car and enjoyed the wonderful ambiance. This time, instead of surprised commuters, the train was filled with parents and their kids purposefully catching this ride. There was not a person who wasn't smiling. Everyone was happy! It was great! What a gift the city of Chicago and the CTA gave to us! We rode all the way to the loop to visit the Christkindlemarket at Daly Plaza. Under the Picaso there was a German themed outdoor Holiday market with many vendors selling ornaments or food. We cruised the stalls and bought some nick nacs, a few ornaments and then some food-- but when it came time to eat it was too cold to stand or sit outside and all the enclosures were packed with people, so we went underground to the El platform and ate our dinner while waiting for the train. There was an amazing busker with a fantastic voice serenading platform patrons, so we enjoyed the music and our food, despite the usual subway dour din. It was a most excellent start to the holidaze, and now, here it is December and the madness begins.

25 years later, still looking back

2007-11-14T05:40:00.000-08:00

The Wall

I had occasion to be in Washington DC over the weekend, and finished my work early Sunday morning, so I took a long walk from my hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, all the way past the White House to the Mall. As it turned out, Sunday was not only Veteran's Day, it was the 25th anniversary of The Wall-- the Viet Nam War Memorial. There was a big ceremony planned and the closer I got the Wall, the more Viet Nam vets I saw. By the time I got to the Lincoln Memorial, I saw some 10,000 vets gathered for the festivities. What struck me most was the look of these grizzled vets. We all sport the same fashion-- beard and gray pony tail. Though I was unusually dressed for a tourist expedition, in my Harris tweed and black slacks, not in jeans, vest and fatigue jacket, I felt very much a kin to my generation gathered there. It is a poignant testimonial to the more than 50,000 that died in southeast Asia, each of their names inscribed on the black marble facade. Each time I go to DC I try and visit the Wall, and am always taken back to the days of the war. And here we are, another senseless war in which our young soldiers are being sent to their graves, or are returning home mutilated and traumatized. The impact this war will have on this generation will no doubt be profound. The cost of this war even greater than WWII, when we had a real enemy, not the ephemeral global terrorist threat, that has actually be unleashed by this action. In 25 more years, perhaps I will visit the Iraq war memorial with my son, and we can ponder the idocacy of war. George W Bush's legacy will have scarred America forever, and it will be up to my son's generation, hopefully too young to serve in this arena, to restore America's dignity. We used to be respected in the world, now we are dispised. We had a balanced budget and a surplus 6 years ago, and the economy was surging to all time highs, and now, due to the inept and failed policies of the war mongering Republicans, we are on the brink of finacial ruin. The American Dream-- to own a home-- forget that, just hope to have enough to feed your family, and hope against hope you don't need health care. We know killing Iraqis is far more important than caring for our own people. And forget about funding biomedical research, a.k.a "pork" according to Bush. When his doctors discover his PSA levels are elevated and find that he has early stage prostate cancer that can easily be cured-- he will of course not be thankful for the NIH budget that Clinton passed, when the big break through in prostate cancer happened. No, he will instead think about his own personal wealth, and that of his rich buddies, glad that he had the wisdom to go to war with Iraq. Forget about the poor suffering women who have yet to benefit from early detection of their ovarian cancer. That research was NOT able to be afforded under his watch, it was pork. Paying Blackwater billions of dollars to protect Sheiks so that he could feed America's addiction to oil though, could be afforded.

On another note, the mild weather continues and this morning at 6:30 I rode in with my gal pals down Washington, the first time I'v taken that route, and it was great. A bike lane the whole way and little traffic. None of the denizens of the west side were on the sidewalk, no homeless shelter dwellers to great, no ice cream beckoning. We are being spoiled by this amazing weather. and the darkness for the ride home is not a problem. I know we are living on borrowed time here, surely the weather is going to change.

All that's left to do is smile, smile, smile....

2007-11-07T12:08:00.000-08:00

Matthew P Hardy, 1957-2007

He's gone. Snuffed out in the prime of his life. My dear friend and colleague Matthew P Hardy. Matt died several hours after having completed the NYC marathon. He'd run 11 out of the last 12 NYC marathons and this event was the culmination of his running year. I'd hoped to lure him to Chicago to run the marathon with me here, and he flirted with the idea, but he was dedicated to his annual run in the Big Apple. The ironic tome from the good old Grateful Dead comes to mind with this loss. He's gone. Finis. The finality and completeness of death is never easy to accept. My first thought was about me not running any more marathons. One in a million chance, eh? Wouldn't that just be a terribly selfish thing of me to do, to indulge my passion for running marathons even as a crippled old geezer now-- and cost my family their husband and father? Whose to say Matt wouldn't have been felled by a coronary when he went up the stairs from the subway? There is no way to know. Words are inadequate to describe the loss the world has suffered with the death of Matt. He was kind, gentle, refined, sophisticated and so urbane. He loved living in upper east side and had worked at the Population Council at Rockefeller University since 1991. We have come up through the ranks together, starting our independent careers at about the same time. He was the editor of both volumes of The Leydig Cell in which I contributed a chapter. It was a joy working with him. He was one of the world experts on Leydig cells. There just aren't very many of us around, and now the preeminent one has gone onto the other shore. I am going to miss you Matt. Even though our communications were sporadic, we had an active collaboration and his vision was the guiding light for many of the projects we proposed. A 50 year old man in the prime of his life and at the peak of his career should not be taken from us. We were going to grow old and publish many books and papers together. I promise to dedicate my next publication to Matt, for what ever that's worth. My heart goes out to Diane, his closest friends and students, and all of us who knew him and were touched by his magnificence. His obit.

7-UP and it's over

2007-10-31T05:36:00.000-07:00

The pre-dawn gathering of the Oak Park Bike Gang was a sight to behold. Resplendent with flashers and reflective clothing, our merry band of bikers gathered this morning for the "last ride" of the season. Though a few of us will persist in our commutes, today marks the final official group ride from Columbus Park, 6:30 AM MWF. Darkness at dawn, riding into the gathering light poses no difficulty, but riding home through the westside in the deepening dark is a menacing experience. Undaunted and illuminated though I may be, I too know my every days are numbered. The announcement from Paul that this would be the last ride prompted the whole crew to show up for the ride this morning-- all seven of us. Paul, Bob "ice cream", Cliff "the editor", Moe, Bill, Elissa and me, a.k.a. "the professor." Cliff was so inspired he composed a lovely poem, followed by Moe's limerick. Cliff's remark early on about our ride being the "Big Ugly" caused me to wax prosaic (see http://virtualbuck.blogspot.com/2007_06_01_archive.html "Beauty in the Big Ugly". Here is Cliff's poem, followed by Moe's.

pardon my erudition.

in answer to paul's pathetic sniveling

and Buck's intellectual poem

I am putting this plainly for the rest of us!

Ode to the "Big Ugly"

Screw the darkness

screw the light

I will be there

on my bike!

Guys and gals

in Jackson Park

head out with me

into the dark

Dodging bricks

and dodging glass

adding sore spots

to my ass

Paper vendors

hear Hakes' bell

cheer us on and

wish us well

Right on kostner

looking left

the skyline sometimes

takes our breath

Another vendor

says hello

where's the bellman?

he didn't show!

Thru the traffic

we're soon darting

as cars make way

like the Red Sea parting

Past the homeless

In dire straights

Strangely friendly,

when belled by Hakes

Professor Buck

now leaves the group

to find a cure,

in the chicken coop!

We cross the freeway

Paul's face reddens

a blonde throws kisses

as she beckons

Past Lou Mitchell's

Street Wise vendor

working hard

for legal tender

One more block

in half an hour

Bob says "Paul"

you'll need a shower!

Around the block

we take a right

and hardly ever

make a light.

We work our way

to Elston Ave

verbal sparring

With a cab!

Street is under

huge repair,

but no busses

travel there!

Hearing Moe's

sweet exhultations

on our way to

great libations

Starbucks beckons

in Logan Square

beware the preacher

he's always there!

after Starbucks

heading West

philosopher Moe

does not digress

He bequeathoth

his motley crew

a might morsel

on which to chew

before you know it

we're at George's

working through our

seven courses!

Our teeth are stained

and kinda bugly

from constant smiles

on the big ugly !

to which Moe responded:

Boys and girls,

After reading the editor's ode I just have to join the last ride of

the year altho some of us old, retired geezers might continue at a

later hour.

A LIMERICK TO THE EDITOR

The editor did his poema

He'll never be the same-a

He hops on the spokes

And tells a few jokes

To forget that his tush is inflame-a.

As my little grandson would say, "See ya" tomorrow.

Moe

Season's Leaving

2007-10-30T08:50:00.000-07:00

"Ice cream! Ice cream!" the mellifluous voiced paper vendor yelled to me as I cut across Kostner navigating between the lined up cars waiting for the light to change at Harrison. Every morning when we ride by, en mass or me alone, he greats us with this special call, thanks to Bob Hakes' old time bike bell. I am sure he means "vanilla" ice cream as he counts "ice cream one, ice cream two, ice cream three..." as our group passes him by. Dappled light and gusty winds swirl the leaves from the trees. Seeing the west side sentinels on my daily ride makes the bike commute special. I am going to miss seeing them as the 4th season takes us off the streets. Bright sun and blue skies, cold crisp pre-dawn rides give way to warm afternoons. Such a glorious time of year! The last week of Day Light Savings time and then, the dark descent to winter gathers speed. Now equipped with a powerful headlight for my bike, and able to draw from my ample wardrobe the darkness and cold should not be a barrier to my 4th season commute. The need to ride, the joy of the revolutions, getting to work and working out at the same time, not spending $$ on gas or CTA fares, not polluting, not sitting in traffic or stuck waiting on the platform-- so many reasons to ride. Yet I face the inevitability of the 4th season, at some point it takes over and we all just hunker down. I am determined, this year to ride as much as a I can, my saddle bags stuffed with all my clothes-- should I leave a coat at work? shoes? gads, much to consider. For now I am in the moment being aware of the beauty of these days. November is just around the corner.

Apples, oranges, skin and bones

2007-10-25T14:43:00.000-07:00

Now that the Denver marathon has become a warm and fuzzy memory for me, being 10 days in the past, I am still feeling the effects. It is painfully clear to me-- riding your bike 100 miles vs. running 26.2 is like comparing apples with oranges. Though the fabled century is oft equated with a marathon, in fact, it is more like a walk in the park by comparison. If you can live with a little peripheral neuropathy and some deep fatigue, the impact the bike ride has is minimal. But I am finding that this bag of bones I inhabit suffers mightily from the pounding the marathon gave me. Of course I could have been more well prepared and had I not run under adverse conditions I might not have been quite as beat up, but still, the invariant nature of repetitive foot strikes for so many hours exacts a toll.

One of the things I did to prepare for the marathon was lose weight (~25 pounds) over about a six month period. A remarkable outcome from this was that my skin is now baggy! As evidenced in the accompanying photo, my leg is just a loose skin wrapped rag! My chest is sunken, I feel skinny and still fat. It's kinda weird. I may have to lose another 25 pounds to lose the love handles, the last to go. I suppose I need to start hitting the weights, or something! My supreme challenge now that autumn is upon us, the leaves are on the lawn and the days are growing ever shorter. I am determined to commute as far into the winter as I can, but know my days are numbered. I have a new bright light and lots of flashers and reflective visible clothing, but the looming winter bodes ill for the daily ride. Perhaps I could take up spinning. And its not just the decrease in activity, but truly, its the holiday eating that is sure to do me in. no, no, no! say it ain't so. I weighed 204 Wednesday before the marathon. My lowest weight for the last ~30 years. Monday post marathon = 212. Today I weighed in at 205. my goal is to weigh 185 by the time I celebrate my 25th wedding anniversary on May 21st. Make it so!

Denver Marathon-- rain, pain and da plane

2007-10-18T15:54:00.000-07:00

City of my birth, site of my rebirth-- as a marathoner. 5280 feet, 40 degrees and pouring rain. What a fantastic experience, sacrificing two virgins to the marathon gods, and finding that my strategy to return to marathon was succesful. Despite this being my slowest marathon by nearly 45 minutes, this is the one I am the most proud of and the most excited about. 5:27:09, 12:29 pace. Crossing the finish line with Wendy and Herdis was the best experience I've ever had of the 20 other marathons and beyond I've done-- just barely eclipsing my 11:05 finish of the Ownens-Putnam 50 mile ultra with my running brother Saint Stephen. If only Steve would have been there to help with the sacrifice, this would have been perfect. Of course a nice sunny day (what one would expect in Denver where the sun shines >300 days a year) would have been nice too.

The journey to this marathon began one week to the day before my last marathon, Marine Corps Marathon, Oct 26, 2003. It was on that Sunday when Saint Stephen and I were in the last two blocks of my last tune up run before MCM when I took a step that sent shooting pain into my right knee. My knee swelled up and I could barely walk. But by week's end after icing it and taking copious amounts of ibuprofin, by the time we arrived in DC for the marathon, I was pretty much back to normal. The next time I ran was in the marathon, which I ran with my nephew Paul- his first. The marathon was OK for a hot humid day and it wasn't until the very end that my knee started hurting. Paul took off and stormed the Iowa Jima memorial while I just finished-- 4:45. All season long my leg hurt, not my knee as much as my outer lower leg. My base running decreased, I saved myself for the long runs. By the time the Lake Front 1/2 marathon rolled around in May, I was struggling through the pain. Steve noted I was dragging my foot when I ran. My last good run was in Vancouver Island, a seaside hilly run. The next Wednesday at track I took a few steps and felt like I had my legs cut out from under me. Greg Domantay's advice was to run through it, to run faster which was better for my form. I was relieved in a way because now both legs hurt equally. I bought new shoes, Adidas Stabils which were like bricks and felt very hard when I ran. Two more runs and I could barely walk. I went to see Dr. Nicola and came out on crutches. The MRI showed massive bone bruising and multiple stress fractures in the left knee due to the meniscus errosion in my right knee. Ah, that explained the pain-- bone on bone. Prognosis for more running was not good. Take up power walking was the suggestion. It took two years of therapy, strength training and Pilates, gradually building up to a graded run-walk program until I could actually run again. Steve nurtured me the whole time, but it was really not until 2006 that I started to actually do some running. I had to learn the difference between good pain and bad pain, and I stopped taking ibuprofin which evidently masked how much pain I was in. When I started to bike in earnest, commuting to UIC on my bike every day, and doing some distance riding, I started to feel so much better. So much so that I decided to run the 2006 Denver marathon to have a goal for my recovery. But Wendy and Edgar decided to get married on Oct 15, 2006, the date of the 1st annual Denver marathon, so instead of running Denver, Ryder and I enjoyed a lovely weekend in Santa Cruz at the wedding. I made a pact with Wendy at her wedding, that on her first anniversary we would run the Denver marathon together-- her first and in many ways, my fist marathon as well.

Wendy and I trained virtually together as she faced the challenge of ramping up her mileage while being an airline pilot. I had visions of her jogging up and down the concourse between flights. Just after Labor Day we exchanged stories of our longest run to date, each of us doing 18 or more miles. Amazing to me was that I was run/walking 8:2 and she was doing a 5:5 run/walk interval-- and we both did the 18 mile run at 11:00 pace. I had a sudden rush of confidence, I knew we could do this together, and both finish. She barely mentioned that she was doing her training with Herdis, so it was a real pleasure to discover I would have two companions to challenge the Denver marathon come Oct 14.

My sister Ginni who hosted my visit for the marathon, arranged a grand pre-marathon feast for all the extended family. Much to my delight my sister Traci and her husband Pat drove up from their new home in Lamar, and my big brother John and his wife Barb flew in from California to see their daughter Wendy do the marathon. I arrived in Denver a few days early, having arranged to get invited to give a seminar at my alma matter, the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center. I got to visit the beautiful new medical center campus at the old Fitzsimmons Naval Hospital (the site of my pre-induction physical in 1970, before I didn't go to the Naval Academy-- but that's another story). Being in Denver for 3 extra days helped me acclimate to the altitude just a bit more, though truly, the altitude was the least of my worries come race day. At the gala dinner Wendy, Herdis and I strategized about our race, figured out where to meet and negotiated the pace we would run at. I had tried 5:5 on my last long, 24 mile training run and felt that the walk interval was too short-- I was dialed in to 8:2. Wendy and Herdis did not want to run longer than 5, so we settled on 5:3 as our prescribed pace, and Wendy set her watch timer accordingly. I suggested we might run 10:3 for the first two miles and they agreed.

I woke at 5:30 on race day and my sister had coffee ready for me. I was out the door by 6 to catch the light-rail from far south Centennial, all the way to Union Station. The one thing I was not pscyhologically prepared for was rain. And as I stood, with three other runners waiting for the train, it was pouring rain. Pouring rain in Denver? not at all what I expected. Cool, sunny, breezy, maybe even snow-- but not rain. And it was cold too-- 40 degrees. On the train I adjusted my gear accordingly and was glad to have a hat and gloves with me. As soon as the shuttle delivered us from Union Station to the captial/civic center and start area, I went straight to the john, knowing how busy it was going to get. I found Herdis and Wendy on the steps of the capital, near the engraved sign "5280 feet". They were wearing garbage bags. Edgar and Allen, their husbands were there to collect their gear after they waited in long line for the johns, but we made it to the start in plenty of time. Off we went into the rain soaked cold Colorado morning.

The course wound its way around downtown through Lo-Do and past Coors Field. We ran comfortably, nearly forgetting to do the 3 minute interval. But by the time we go to mile 2, Wendy started her timer and I kept track of our splits. We averaged about 12 minute pace for the first 4-5 miles. We dutifully drank at each water station, but because it was so cold, we were not sweating, and kept having to stop to use the johns along the way. The crowd was sparse but supportive and the runners spread out nicely so we could run comfortably at our own pace. The course wound around City Park and the Zoo-- and I noted this was where I began my running career in the early 1980s when I was in grad school and lived near the park. So far it was pretty flat, just one gradual hill up 17th to the park. We stuck to our pace and the three of us were having a comfortable run despite the cold and rain. Once you get wet, it stays about the same. My bare arms were the only place I was cold. Our next destination was Cheesman park, the site of my wedding nearly 25 years ago. When Wendy, Herdis and I ran by the park buildling where we had our reception, we all three of us cheered and waved our arms in the air, giddy with t he fun we were having. We saw John, Barb, Edgar and Allen for the first time about then. As we rounded the parked, Edgar and Allen had run across the grass to cheer us one more time before we headed west and then south onto Downing Blvd. Still running comfortably, but probably drinking too much, on 13th street near Wax Tracks, in the Bohemian disrict, I had to visit and ally, but easily caught back up with my mates on their next walk. It was about then when it started to get more interesting.

There was a very long hill from mile 13 to 14 and I found for the first time that the altitude did affect me a bit on the up hills. I was begining to huff and puff while Herdis and Wendy seemed unaffected. We got to the 1/2 marathon split and it was 2:55, much slower than we expected. Wendy said that we had to pick up the pace and took off up the hill. We saw John and Barb again who waved and cheered for us as we trucked up the hill. I caught Wendy when she walked and we stuck together the whole rest of the race. Our pace dropped from nearly 13 min/mile to 11:30, to 10:00 when we rounded the hairpin and headed back down the big hill. Herdis caught us on the downhill and we stayed together until she started to run/walk at 3:2 intervals. Wendy and I stuck to 5:3, and were staying pretty close to 11:30 pace. As the course neared Washington park it go progressively hillier and I had to suck it up to hump up some of the short steep hills. We made it to Washington park about mile 17 and caught the 5:30 pace group. Marie was the pace group leader carrying a baloon. She had a troup of 6 or so sticking close to her. The were running a mile and walking a minute it seemed as we kept trading places. When we got to mile 18 I heard them chant, in unison "18-17-16-15-14...3-2-1--5:30 rocks!" it was fun and distracting running near them.

When we entered the park, we ran past a one spectator who said "its hard-core today folks, hard-core". Indeed, the crowd had thinned and the runners were very spread out by then. It was now in the high 30s and still raining! The park was very exposed and the wind was gusting. We passed 19 and then 20, Wendy and I keeping pace with Herdis a few hundred yards back. We hooted and hollered at the camera man at mile 20 and he said "too bad we don't have sound!" 20 miles is always a great place to get to in a marathon. As we rounded the park, Wendy started to interview me about my ovarian cancer research. It was a nice distraction telling her about how omega-3 therapy had big effects on the hens and she asked intelligent questions as we plodded along. She had just explained several technical things about flying airplanes, about stalling them, about the Collins point of no return and how these planes were so fast you could make the wings break off if you throttled them up too much. Wendy is a captain flying for Air West, as if Edgar. Allen and Herdis are both pilots, but first officers (co-pilots). I was incredibly in awe of their tremendous accomplishment. Wendy is 33 and Herdis is 31.

As we made our way out of the park at mile 22 I noticed it had stopped raining and the temperature was dropping. The water station volunteer offered a foil blanket to me and said it was getting colder-- about 35 now. The sky had lightened but an ominous dark bank of clouds appeared to be approaching from the north. We ran north on Logan, then took 1st to Santa Fe Blvd, and entered the art district. Not the run down barrio of my youth, but a rapidly gentrifying funky adobe bohemian district now. Not that I could appreciate the architecture. As we hit Santa Fe and traveled north, the wind started blowing hard and rain picked up. It was like needles on my naked arms. I could not even feel my legs. I struggled with the walk as my quads and hips kept tying up in the cold. Herdis caught us about mile 23 and we stayed together the rest of the way. Wendy was excited to be at 23-- she said that her fist run was 3 miles and she knew no matter what she could run that distance. I remembered all the marathons I had done and recalled just how tough those last two or three miles can be-- that is what the marathon experience is all about-- when you are completely fatigued, in pain even, yet muster the umph to drive to the finish. I reached into my marathoner's toolbox and summons up what I needed to finish. I ate two gel blocks and got very nauseated. I hurt, my legs were tight and I was struggling. My buddies carried me through, never waivering. We took our last walk interval as we rounded Santa Fe and could see the Civic Center. We rounded the corner onto Broadway running and Herdis gave the Queen's wave with both hands-- 26 miles and 0.2 for the Queen! Such great spirit. Two blocks to go. We rounded the final corner and I felt my calf cramp on me, I thought I was going to crumple to the ground. No! I pushed through and we finished, the three of us at the same time, cheering and yelling, hooting and hollering, elated, ecstatic and relieved. We hugged and danced about as we were reunited with our family and Bella the wonder dog. 5:27. wow! 1462 out of 1563 finishers. Nearly the back of the pack. I was so happy-- and still am, to have completed a marathon again. This was such a special experience shared with two such wonderful people.

Of course it took us so long to complete the run, that by the time I had returned to Ginni's house, took a shower, had a bite to eat, and drove my rental car to the airport-- I missed my flight! I was faced with the possibility of having to stay in the Denver airport overnight-- there was one last Frontier flight at 8:45. By some freak of luck I got the very last standby seat on that last flight and was back in Chicago by 1 AM. A very long day, but what a totally excellent experience. Wendy, Herdis and I decided that perhaps we would train for a triathlon together for next year-- some place warm and interesting.

The Heat, Apple Cider and Potato Soup

2007-10-03T08:37:00.000-07:00

I am just six days away now from my return to the marathon. My 21st marathon will be run this Sunday in Denver, with my niece Wendy. Much anticipation, a bit of worry, and tremendous excitement. I have been preparing for this mentally for two years, and physically for six months. I've lost 25 pounds, and am nearly down to 204, my target weight-- the lowest I've weighed since I started running-- my lowest sustained weight since I was in my early 30's, and that is a while ago now. The P-diet, distance training, and commuting to work by bike have me more ready for this marathon than I've been for the past several. Despite my low weekly run mileage, I am counting on the cross over from biking to carry me to the finish. I have several quality long runs, including a 24 miler, and the 100 mile ride I did on Sept 30th, the details of which follow. My running brother got me here, and I sure wish that Saint Stephen and I were to be doing Denver together. We will, but just not in the same dimension. Though I trained through the heat-- brutal 95 degree high humidity run at Salt Creek in August, hot, humid long run at Water Fall Glen on Labor day, and then the 80 degree 24 miler on Sept 23. Over 100 miles in September running, and more than 300 miles on the bike. Yesterday Steve, Ryder, Mirbabel and I did a 6 mile matainence run, just one loop up to Lindbergh park (instead of 4 loops) and it was HOT. We thought about all our friends who were running the Chicago marathon, and even more of our friends from UIC and the Oak Park Runners Club who were manning the water station at mile 18. when I read the paper and saw the news, my heart went out to all you brave souls who did the run, and I felt very bad about everyone who had their day cut short when they pulled the plug on the marathon at 11:30. When we ran London in 1996 it was very hot and there was too little water and it was a very scary and dangerous day, but it was nothing like yesterday. Just our little 6 mile run was hot enough. It was a good thing not to have run Chicago also, since I was out late Saturday night, seeing Phil Lesh and Friends at the Riveria theater, uptown, in Chicago. Talk about hot-- it must have been 120 degrees in the show. My goodness, we thought we were going to die. One beautiful religious experience, perhaps heat induced, when they played Uncle John's Band, I closed my eyes and saw the music, and when I heard "come hear Uncle John' Band-- he's come to take his children home" I thought of how lovely it would be to be that child, to be led home, to be swept into the comforting arms of a great protector, to follow instead of having to lead. One of those Grateful Dead moments that keeps me coming back for more after all these years. Indeed, what a long strange trip its been.

And now, the story of Apple Cider Century, my best event in years.

After all the anticipation, finally Sunday Sept 30th, the day of the Apple Cider Century in Three Oaks, MI arrived. I was on the road by 5:30 and rolled into Three Oaks before 8 EDT. There were thousands of bicyclists getting ready to ride, there was quite a buzz in the air as we registered, got our course maps, and then ate breakfast at the fire station. I mounted my trusty steed and was on the road by 9:00 sharp. These events are very relaxed and riders start whenever they are ready and keep track of their own time if interested. I zeroed out my computer and headed out. Within the first half mile someones mirror fell off their beater mountain bike, nearly causing a big accident as everyone swerved to miss the road hazard. One of the truly charming things about the ACC is the wide range of participants, from grocery basket beaters to ultra-light aero tri-bikes, some 5000 riders in all. Of course only a few hundred do the whole 100. There are rides of 25, 50, 62 and 75 miles. All rides intersect at various points on the course, especially at the 2nd sag stop in New Buffalo-- 43 miles into the 100 mile course, half-way for the shorter rides. As I settled in to the first miles of the ride, I found myself in a pack, a club of riders, in matching jerseys, some 20 or more of them. I was swept along, though had to keep braking as they were going along at a liesurely 18 mph. I stayed right with them, keeping to the back of the pack, until we go to the first big hill about mile 8 and the whole group of them rode away from me like I was standing still. Yikes I thought, I really have not ridden on many hills, no way I can hang with this group, though drafting them would have made my ride easier. It was rather hectic though being in the peloton and not knowing anyone. Soon, though, I was alone in my team of one and felt no pressure or urgency, after all I still had 92 miles to go. It was a beautiful day. Starting out in the low 60s and not a cloud in the sky. There was a bit of wind, but so far it was just beautiful. I really enjoyed the bucolic scenery, the corn fields rolling hills small farms with wooden fence lines, cows and goats, pumpkin patches, weather worn farm houses and barns. I rolled happily along, probing my body to see how I felt. A little sore in the ilial psoas, a little tight in my knees, but pretty comfortable. After the first big hill the course was only mildly hilly for several miles and I warmed up nicely, got into my groove and pushed the pace. In a ver short while I made it to the first sag stop at mile 22. There were 100s of bikes there, a psychedelic display of jerseys and riders. The accepted norm, apparently, for these events is too tight of a jersey which reveals the ample guts of many of the men, average age probably 45 years old. I felt nearly svelte in my Grateful Dead bike jersey. I had my first taste of apple cider and a cup of potato soup, yum! a banana, some water and was back on the road in about 10 minutes. So far, so good. The ride to the next sag stop at 43 miles was uneventful, except for the terrible broken pavement in Union Pier. The nicer the homes, the worse the roads. Feeling good, just after 12 pm and it was nice to have a bit of lunch. A cup of potato soup to wash the PBJ sandwhich down. I ran into my old buddy Zeck and his riding mate Denis. They were doing the 50, had started at 7:30 and we converged at this sag stop at the same time. We enjoyed conversation and the food, filled up our waterbottles and they took off. I had to wait in the bathroom queue for a while when they took off.

Just a few miles into the next leg, there was a stretch of dirt road we had to cover, just about 1/2 mile at the most. As soon as I hit the pavement and rounded the corner, I saw Zeck and Denis standing by their bikes. I asked if they were ok, yes, just resting their butts. On ward! I knew from my experience last year, and also from what I'd heard about the course, that all the really big hills were between miles 60 to 80. I dreaded this part of course, fearful of my lack of preparation and hill training. I was a bit surprise when I hit the first really big, and very long hill at about mile 55. I tried to push the pace up the hill, stood on my peddles a bit, but realized it was way too big and long of a hill, so I geared way down and spun my way up and over. At first I was sucking air and my quads were burning, but I crossed the threshold, got my second wind and kept spinning. All I could muster was 6.6 mph. I didn't care, as the panic subsided and the fear was replaced by the surge I felt as I crested the top. I decided at that moment to hammer the downhills and hang on, do what I could to get up the hills. So many riders coast down the hills, or crest the top and stop to rest. I found that I could gear up all the way to the highest gear and crank at 35 mph going down, and catch my breath! My strategy carried me up and over the next several hill. When I got near the top of short steep hills I stood on my peddles and marched right over, keeping my speed and momentum. When I hit a hill that was too tall to climb standing up, I geared down and spun. My friend and bike guru Giulia's words resonated as I pushed on " rpms are your best friend". I kept shifting gears, a lot, to keep my cadence high. I also knew that I should stand and peddle frequently to take the heat and pressure off my butt and crotch. Other than feeling a bit winded and my fingers going numb, especially my right thumb, I felt great. I was greatly relieved, none the less to make it to the 67 mile sag stop at Scio Springs.

By now, only the long distance riders were on the course, and every one was hot and tired by this stop. I knew I needed to eat something, but I felt nauseas and had fierce cotton mouth. The water was from a well and tasted like metal, and the gatoraide was so sweet and thick, tropical fruit punch, it was difficult to get any fluids in. So I lay in the shade amongst the other riders, and relaxed. I stretched, cooled off and enjoyed listening to the conversations around me. Not to mention the enjoying the view of the very fit riders-- the polar gods a group of triathletes, who discussed their 16 mile run the day before, doing a 100 for training for Hawaii. wow. Awesome looking folks. And the family of six on the big ride. Someone asked the dad, who was wearing a skeleton jeresy, what is was like having 4 kids. He said when he only had two it was man-to-man defense, but once you had three kids, you had to shift to zone defense, so having four kids was really no harder than having three. Wow! finally, I had cooled off, ate a bit, drank some of the fluids, and rallied myself. I felt pretty good, but was worried-- after all the hills were the biggest between miles 60 and 80, and it was only 67 miles when we stopped.

I started out with a group of young riders who had some fine wool jersey's and a few tatooed and nose pierced fierce and fit looking women in their group. Immediately we hit a big hill and it was tough getting started. A guy rode past me and he was breathing rhythmically, loudly through his mouth, and it reminded me to breathe. The took off, and three or four of the guys stormed up that first big hill. I decided to pace myself and spun over the hill in a low gear. When I got to the top I saw the fast guys had pulled up to weight for their crew, so I took off. I hammered the downs and hung on for the ups. We got to a huge downhill and I topped out at 35 before hitting the next up. I felt great, very strong and was glad to be doing the ride, but not having to ride with a group. Soon the course turned south. We headed into Indiana and there was a very long straight road that was exposed and seemingly more up hill than down. Into a 20+ mph headwind. It was brutal. All I could do was hunker down and spin. I managed only a 10 mph but kept going. Soon I found myself catching solo riders, hanging with them for a few minutes, then riding by them. I kept hoping we would get to the farthest south point so we could turn back to the north-- wind at our backs! but when we did turn around, the course took us into the woods which blocked the wind. None the less, I was able to pick up the pace and rode for then next 5-6 miles averaging close to 30 mph. I was flying! I continued to pass other riders and really hammered, ups and downs, standing on my peddles over the rail road tracks. I was cranking out. I passed more and more riders, and not a single rider caught me. The longer I rode, the stronger I felt!

It was a brutal stretch-- 28 miles to the final sag stop. I rolled into the 92 mile stop and as I walked to the bathroom I had a huge emotional rush, total body goose flesh and tears in my eyes-- I knew right then I was having the ride of my life! I was nailing this sucker! I didn't stay long, only 8 miles to go. I had one last cup of potato soup and chatted briefly with a pair of fit looking guys on a tandem hauling a 2 year old in a burely. Wow, and they were cranking out too. I hit the road, with one big last hill to climb and I took off in a hurry, riding strong and fast. Half way up the big hill I dumped my chain. Argggg. It only took me a minute to roll it back onto the front gear cluster. The worst part was the grease, which I tried to wipe off on some dirt. Nothing else wrong, so I was back on the road and finished just behind the threesome. 5:00 pm sharp when I rolled into TOES. 8 hours out, 6:21 rolling, 16 mph average, top speed 35 mph, low speed 6.6 mph. I felt great, excited, happy and relieved! That spaghetti dinner was great! I saw the rest of the 67 mile sag stop crew at the end. The polar gods, the tattooers, the threesome. Such camaraderie and a sense of accomplishment. My last long training event before the Denver marathon. The test of my strategy, riding long to save my knees for the marathon. yeah baby. go, go, go!

Wheels and fortunes

2007-09-26T06:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-24T08:15:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-09-21T05:35:00.000-07:00

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....

2007-09-17T06:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-04T16:36:00.000-07:00

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.

the inner life and times of change

2007-08-31T07:41:00.000-07:00

Friday before Labor Day weekend, ceremonial end to summer, the begin of fall's full slate of activities. Tired and feeling rather dull, though I had a nice ride to work into the rising sun, enjoying the cool crisp air, I cleared my Inbox and headed to the gym. I was pleased to remember that I had a new load of music on my MP3 player and began to look forward to my workout. After warming up my knees doing ball squats against the wall, I climbed onto the treadmill and eased into the routine. Two minutes of walking, then 6 mph until I covered one mile, two more minutes of walking, then 6.3 mph until I got to two miles. The last two minutes of each mile I nudged the speed up to the next interval. So I ended the 2nd mile at 6.6. Mile three went by quickly, 6.6 mph, then 6.9, then 7.2 and finally 7.5-- racing to cover 3 miles before the 30 minute limit elapsed. I was at 2.95 miles when "cool down" flashed on the control panel. One of the annoyances of running on the treadmill. Driven by the tunes, Charlie Parker and Joe Strummer I had worked up a tremendous sweat, I felt great, strong, stable, no pain at all even cranking out at the end of the run. I hit the mat for my post run "yogalates" session. As I gathered my breath and my thoughts dissolved into the mat, I felt a body awareness, a sense of my whole being vibrating, humming, shimmering-- as I stretched I felt elegant and composed. Plugged back into the continuum, the flow coursed through me as I lived the inner life. A purely meditative moment, punctuated with scissors, crunches and rollovers. I did some push ups and then inverted progressively closer to the mat-- handstand, pincha mayurasana and then head stand. Drenched with sweat and feeling holy, I faced the day. thoughts of pending colonoscopy (yikes), figuring out how to do the laxative regimen and still get done what is required. Then what really is the turbulence beneath the calm surface of the water-- the looming large Denver marathon. The run on the treadmill today is about as much as I have been running. Not out the door four days a week getting in 40 miles, my training is on the bike with weekly long runs. My panic subsides as I draw upon the old marathoner's toolbox. What I lack in training I will make up for with wisdom and experience. yeah right....

times of change, indeed. Ryder started First Grade this week. Karen started her three jobs. I am now full Professor. The latter having the least impact on our daily life. Ryder woke up early on Tuesday, his first day and said "what a great day for the first day of school!" This is in marked contrast to our neighbor, with whom Ryder has a very antagonistic relationship. His mom reported that Nicky woke up on Tuesday and declared this to be the worst day of his life. While Ryder was at school Tuesday, just until 11 AM, I rode my bike 25 miles, and got back with 15 minutes to spare to walk him home. Wednesday, first full day plus after school program. He woke up and reprised the naked man song, dancing around the bedroom singing "beware, beware, beware of the first grade man!" When I went to gather him at day's end, he was diligently working on a drawing, and though he had been at school and park kids for nearly 10 hours by then, he had to finish his drawing before we could walk home. Then it was boys night out-- Karen at her Triton gig that night. Wow. busy times. Ryder is adjusting to this amazingly well and I am so happy that we have the routine nearly established. He misses his mom being away from her all day, and the dogs are now orphans too. I get to spend more time with him and my duties are increased and I just couldn't be happier about that. Change is good. Happy Labor Day!