07.8.2009 | 7:39 am
You know you’re living a different sort of life than most people when you stop checking to see what bone your wife has just broken.
But that’s where we are.
Last week — just a couple of weeks since her left collarbone broke — when I was helping Susan sit up, planning to transfer her to the wheelchair, something gave. It was probably a rib (or might have been a vertebrae), but we don’t know which one.
We do know that this establishes a pattern: the narrow structural bones — the ones that get lots of stress on a daily basis — are the ones that are going first.
And since Susan’s right collarbone is starting to ache, I’m officially terrified to move her. Not that she’d let me anyway: any position but flat on her back triggers the pain that only a freshly-broken bone can bring.
Which means that I’m currently totally stymied. Every day, several times per day, I ask Susan, “Is there anything I can do for you?” And she knows I don’t mean get her something to eat, or read her a book, or massage her scalp. I mean, “Is there some way I can fix you? Or at least rig something together to make your life more comfortable or convenient?”
But nothing comes to mind.
The Story So Far
To understand my frustration, you need to see that doing something to help has been my coping mechanism through this whole process. Back in Christmastime of 2003, when Susan first found a lump in one of her breasts, my reaction — odd as it might seem — was to start looking in earnest for a better-paying job with better benefits. With better insurance, I’d be able to get Susan better treatment. I did what I could to fix what I could.
And that worked. I found a good job at a company with a great health plan. But we’d have to move.
Of course, that meant that while Susan was recovering from a mastectomy, we were also putting the house up for sale and packing and moving across the country…while taking care of twin toddler girls and two young boys who did not want to move.
Then there were a couple of temporary houses and the house we finally bought — all while Susan endured chemo.
The chemo, though, had a surprisingly common side effect afterward: depression. Think about it: your body’s weak from enduring weekly poison. You’ve been through a huge emotional and physical experience but will have to wait for resolution. You’re bald and probably puffy from steroids. Most oncologists, I understand, plan on depression as an after-effect of chemo.
So again, I tried to fix things. I found a new job, closer to friends and family, and in the sun. We moved again, back to Utah.
Susan loved the house, loved the neighborhood, and felt better in general. She started working out, getting her strength back.
And then her hip started hurting.
Neither of us wanted to even acknowledge the possibility of what that might mean, so for weeks she just treated it like a sports injury.
Finally though, she went to the family doctor, who did some X-rays. And then he immediately called the oncologist.
And that’s where the news got bad. Susan’s cancer had metastasized, and was in her bones, lungs, liver, lymph nodes, and spine.
Honestly, I now can’t even remember the order of some of the treatment from that point forward. Did we do radiation and then chemo? Or was it the other way around? It almost doesn’t matter, because before too long, Susan couldn’t walk any more without crippling, crushing pain in her hip.
A tumor had destroyed it.
An excellent surgeon at the Huntsman Cancer Institute did a partial hip replacement, while I scrambled, fixing things around the house as well as I could. A stair elevator. Rails in the bathroom and shower. Furniture rearrangement galore.
Then there was more chemo, and for a while things were looking pretty good. Susan could walk using nothing but a cane (and even short distances without the cane), and she even had the mental energy to start writing a novel.
And then, a little over a year ago, Susan lost the ability to sleep. Three nights went by, with her getting no sleep whatsoever. I tried to help with soothing music, back rubs, sleeping aids and reading obsolete technical documentation I had written years ago out loud to her.
And then she had an MRI. Brain tumors. Too many to count. We did the radiation, and then chemo for a while, and that’s been about as much as we can do.
So now, as Susan’s become weaker, I’ve been adapting and solving. When she couldn’t sit up, I learned to swing her into position and move her into a wheelchair.
When she was uncomfortable being in one position in a chair all day, I bought an easy chair that can change positions with the touch of a remote control.
When one of her collarbones broke, I learned to do everything I had done before, but without pulling on that arm or shoulder when I lifted her.
Which brings me back to where I started this post. Stuff’s breaking faster and worse than I know how to adapt to now. Susan’s on her back, and when I tried to lift her into a sitting position a couple of days ago, I may as well have jabbed her with a knife.
Susan doesn’t complain, at least not very much. Nowhere near as much as I would. I would complain all the time. I would find new ways to complain. I would make it my primary function.
Susan, on the other hand, just wishes she could make jewelry again. Or get back to work on writing her novel (she’s working on the final chapter). Or drawing with the twins, who seem to have inherited their mom’s creative ability, and go through reams of paper per week.
Susan is fighting, in other words, with grace, courage and strength I could never hope to match.
At the time I married her, I would never have suspected it of her, but Susan has inner reserves I can only call heroic.
Team Fat Cyclist: Fighting For Susan
At the beginning of this year, I put together Team Fat Cyclist: Fighting for Susan for the LiveStrong Challenge in all four event cities (Seattle, San Jose, Philly and Austin), because — as is my way — I wanted to feel like I was doing something. Helping somehow.
Most of you don’t know how much time and thought I put into the “Fighting for Susan” phrase, though. I considered it pretty carefully. “Fighting for Susan” could mean that we’re fighting to help Susan. Or that we’re fighting because Susan can’t. Or that we are fighting in her place. Or as a tribute to her. I meant — and mean — all of those things.
But when I look back at what Susan’s gone through and how she is — in spite of everything that has happened and is happening to her — the same wife, mother, friend, and creative force she has always been — I realize something.
We can all fight for Susan, but there are very few of us — not me, certainly — who could ever fight like Susan.
Still, it’s definitely worth fighting. And if enough of us fight with even a fraction of the tenacity my wife has shown, someday maybe we’ll get to pick a different battle. Hopefully, before our twins are old enough to worry about this disease.
Thanks for fighting with us. And for us.
Comments (273)
07.7.2009 | 7:11 am
A Note from Fatty: If you missed yesterday’s post about how you can win a cycling vacation in Italy or a pair of top-of-the-line Sidi shoes, you should go back and read it, then enter before it’s too late. Both contests end tomorrow (Wednesday). And you really, really, really want to win these. Really.
As a very popular, handsome, respected, and award-winning blogger, I am frequently asked questions regarding bicycles. Here are some I’ve received recently:
- What kind of bike should I buy?
- What are good foods to eat before, during, and after a ride?
- Is it important that I stretch before riding?
- How should I select the right saddle for my anatomy?
At first glance, these questions do not seem to have anything in common. However, if you will dig a little deeper, you will realize that these questions do in fact share a characteristic. To wit: they are all stupid and uninteresting.
Let us dismiss them from our thoughts.
Recently, however, I encountered a question that caught my attention, primarily because I am the one who conceived it:
Why does cycling hurt?
The answer is not obvious. Consider other activities, for example. Driving an automobile does not hurt. Watching television does not hurt. Eating nachos does not hurt.
But cycling — in particular, certain aspects of cycling — does hurt.
Why?
I am pleased, after considerable research which I suspect will garner me still more awards and accolades, to provide the answer.
Introducing…The Pain Pellet
As most of you know, there are four commonly-known elements, from which all substances on Earth are made. These elements are Earth, Wind, Fire, and Cheddar. The more cheddar the better, but that is the subject for another paper.
What most of you do not know is that there is a fifth element, and it is not the one starring Bruce Willis.
No indeed.
The fifth element is Pain.
Unlike other elements, which can be combined to form other substances (nachos, for example, are a combination of Earth, Fire, and Cheddar), Pain keeps to itself, clumping into small balloon-like spheres called Pain Pellets.
While difficult to see, Pain Pellets are nevertheless easy to detect, for when touched by a human, they (i.e., the Pain Pellets, not the human) burst, splattering you with a certain amount of pain. The larger the pellet, the larger the pain blast radius.
And if one encounters several Pain Pellets while traveling in a certain direction, one will experience sustained pain.
Pain Pellets: Properties and Proclivities
The reason, then, cycling hurts is because cyclists — due to some cosmic accident — tend to frequent places where Pain Pellets generally congregate. Specifically:
- Pain Pellets adhere to slopes. As everyone knows, an upward slope is in tension with the magnetic forces that some call “gravity” (I will discuss the folly of the theory of gravity another time, but for our purposes today, we can pretend that such a force does exist). A byproduct of this tension is friction, which in turn creates static electricity. Pain Pellets, being very much like balloons in both size and texture, are drawn to this static electricity on upward slopes, and cling to it. The steeper the slope, the greater the density and size of Pain Pellets collected.
- Pain Pellets settle at the bottoms of treacherous places. Pain Pellets are subject, to a degree, to the normal forces of “gravity,” and will settle where you might expect them to: just below slippery roots, at the base of a three-foot ledge, and just beyond a surprise hairpin are three good examples. Mountain cyclists are particularly adept at discovering these Pain Pellets.
- Pain Pellets are attracted to heavier people. A surprising fact is that if two people — let’s call them “Brad” and “Fatty” for no particular reason — ride up a given hill, the heavier one (“Fatty”) will encounter more Pain Pellets than the lighter one (“Brad”). Indeed, the Pain Pellets will actually move out of Brad’s way and wind their way toward Fatty. It is almost as if the Pain Pellets are sentient and find heavy people especially attractive. Some of my less-credible colleagues assert that the Pain Pellets find me because I have a greater gravitational mass, but this (of course) relies on the convoluted — and thoroughly debunked — theory of gravitational pull to work. For now, let us say that Pain Pellets like heaviness, and leave it at that.
- Pain Pellets grow back quickly. Cyclists often attribute the “drafting” effect of riding to the thoroughly debunked notion that the cyclist in front of them creates a slipstream. In reality, the rider in front is hitting a disproportionate number of Pain Pellets, allowing the rider behind to ride the route relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, Pain Pellets reform in their original location in a mere matter of moments.
How to Avoid Pain
Of course, some cyclists find the near-incessant encounters with Pain Pellets sub-optimal, even to the point that the Pain Pellets may impede the cyclist’s progress. “How,” the cyclist may reasonably wonder, “might I avoid the Pain Pellets?”
There are multiple strategies.
- Slow down. When riding up a hill, one notices a surprising amount of pain. Further, the faster one rides up that hill, the more it seems to hurt. It is therefore worth noting, then, that one generally will encounter the same number of Pain Pellets, regardless of whether one is going up the hill very fast or very slow. However, since when going slow one encounters the Pain Pellets at a slower rate, the perceived pain may be decreased.
- Weave. When climbing a hill, one may reduce the frequency of Pain Pellet encounters by “paperboying” up the hill. Some theorize that Pain Pellets grow in long uphill strands and that by weaving one’s way up the hill, one may avoid at least some of these strands of Pain Pellets. In reality, though, one is actually encountering perhaps more Pain Pellets over the course of the climb, but since one is hitting them at a slower rate the perceived pain is again reduced.
- Don’t fall. One universal truth about Pain Pellets is that they remain on the ground. When one remains upright on one’s bicycle, one is merely splattered by the exploding Pain Pellets as one’s bicycle wheels burst aforementioned Pellets. However, when one crashes off one’s bicycle, one is almost certain to land directly on several Pain Pellets, soaking the cyclist in pain. It should be further noted that Pain Pellets do very little to cushion the cyclist’s fall.
In summary, Pain Pellets and the cyclist seem to have a strange mutual attraction. Cyclists are drawn to inclines and treacherous locations, which are the natural habitat of Pain Pellets.
And in short, the question “Why does cycling hurt” has a sensible answer based on pure physics. Cycling hurts because cyclists are drawn to pain.
Comments (55)
07.6.2009 | 9:57 am
A Note to Team Fatty-San Jose Members: One of you is about to win a pair of Sidi shoes. Which kind? Any kind you want. That includes the $500 Ergo 2 road shoes or the Dragon 2 MTB shoes (a pair of which I both own and love). Mmmm. Handmade Italian cycling shoes. Smells like love.
How do you win, might you ask? Well, you have to be a member of Team Fatty San Jose, first of all. (If you want to join as a virtual team member and start getting people to donate right now, that’s totally cool with me.)
Second, you’ve got to raise money in your personal LiveStrong Challenge between now and this Wednesday at Midnight.
The more you raise between now and Wednesday, the better your chances of winning shoes that will make all of your riding friends’ jaws drop with a combination of lust and envy. And the best part is, you’ll have won these shoes by doing something really, really good.
That’s all there is to it. Now get out there and hit up your friends, family, neighbors, and coworkers. Tell them you want an early (late?) birthday present, and that present is a donation to your LiveStrong Challenge page. You don’t have to tell them what’s in it for you. That can be our secret.
Huge thanks goes out to Veltec Sports and Sidi for providing this very sexy prize.
Win a Dream Cycling Vacation to Italy
Dorothy Gibson takes the fight against cancer very personally. She should. She lost her mother and her father to it. Her two brothers are both survivors.
She also loves riding her bike.
And so, after coming home from a once-in-a-lifetime self-guided cycling tour through the heart of Tuscany, Italy with her friends, Dorothy didn’t just put the memories away. She looked for a way to share the experience, while helping Team Fatty with our LiveStrong Challenge.
And that, combined with the generosity of several Fat Cyclist readers who have volunteered their frequent flier miles, is how we have arrived at this contest.
Win the Terre di Siena Self-Guided Bike Tour With Cicloposse.
I’ll get to Dorothy’s story of her tour in a moment, but first, here are the details of how to enter:
- Go to Dorothy’s LiveStrong Challenge page and donate any multiple of $5.00. You’ll automatically be assigned a random number for every $5 you donate.
- Deadline for donations is Wednesday, July 8, at Midnight Mountain Daylight Time. That’s just three days, folks. Don’t put off your donation.
- Cross your fingers and hope you win, because this looks pretty darned incredible.
What You Get
If you win, you get the Cicloposse Terre di Siene Self-Guided Bike Tour for two, plus roundtrip airfare for two to Italy. Of course, you’re going to need to bring some money for handling buying stuff along the way.
Cicloposse supplies the bikes, pedals, and helmets, as well as pumps, spare tube, patch kits. You could also ship or take your own bike if you prefer. Dorothy and her crew went with a compromise route of bringing their own pedals, saddles, and helmets. Which seems like a good call.
Now, you may wonder, what does “self-guided” mean? Here’s how Dorothy describes it, at least in context of this trip. Self-Guided means you:
- have your luggage in the lobby at the appointed time for transport to the next location
- enjoy a leisurely breakfast at the hotel
- carry your raingear, money, passports, snacks, tubes, tools, etc, to take care of yourself on the way (no sag wagon)–just like your regular road rides
- follow the detailed map and route descriptions, odometer, and road signs (good map reading skills a plus, but Cicloposse makes this very easy)
- ride as fast, or slow, as you’d like
- stop when you’d like, eat when and where you’d (they have fabulous suggestions)
- call the hot line number if in need of emergency support
- arrive at your next hotel with your bags already there
I don’t know about you, but this sounds pretty much perfect to me. And from the way Dorothy describes them, Marco and Guilianna Mulas — the owners of Cicloposse — take great care of you and are excited to help out with the fight against cancer, too.
And now, to whet your appetite for this trip, here’s Dorothy’s story, along with a few photos.
Dorothy’s Terre di Siene Trip
We are tough, independent women…and are passionate cyclists. We’d also like to think that we ride too fast to be with an organized group, but, truth be told, we really just wanted to stop for gelato, pastries, or chocolate anytime we wanted. Terre di Siene was perfect for us!
We met Marco and Guilianna Mulas in the courtyard of our hotel, Relais il Chiostro (The Cloister), for our bike fitting and orientation on Day 1. This fabulous hotel is a renovated 15th century convent, adjacent to the church in the town square in the heart of Pienza.
A few streets away is “Via del Bacio,” or “Street of the Kiss” (just one street up from the “Via dell Amore”). We were only slightly disappointed to find neither there, and loved exploring this Renaissance town.
After and unbelievable breakfast the next morning, we started out into the Tuscan countryside, a patchwork of vineyards, fields, and orchards, punctuated by cypress trees. We circled back to Pienza the first day… our destination the summit in the distance.
Joy is reaching the town limits of Pienza.
They actually like cyclists here! We found the hospitality of motorists strangely refreshing.
That evening we dined in what is now one of my most favorite restaurant in the Northern Hemisphere. We were delighted we listened to Marco and Guinliana’s recommendations here–this is their hometown; they know what they are talking about.
The climb into Montepulchiano burned most of those calories…
Montalchino’s medieval fortress is impressive. We loved exploring the many castles along the way.
The ride into Siena was one of our favorites of this trip. We encountered some wet conditions that day, but loved the climb through quiet olive groves to Monte Oliveto Maggiore (Mount of Olives) to the Benedictine Abbey there. Here Joy and I were dropped hard, and were grateful to each have our own sets of maps and detailed instructions! It was blissful to arrive at our Siena hotel (another cloister/convent) to have our luggage ready and awaiting us, and to be clean and dry for our evenings out.
Siena was amazing. The heart of Tuscany.
We fell in love with this town, and came back again after our cycling was finished…one day here is just not enough! The Duomo is one of the most magnificent cathedrals in all of Italy, and not to be missed.
The Chianti wine region offers more splendid landscapes. Those that imbibe in the fine wines of the region may take a little more time on this leg than others.
Last, but certainly not least, was San Gimignano. Castles, towers, fountains, vineyards, art. How soon can I go back?
This trip was a dream… incredible cycling, scenery, history, art, food, and friends. It was educational, too.
A few of take home gems:
1. Gelato, enjoyed anywhere in Italy, is the best recovery food. Ever. We kept a commitment to have at least one gelato a day.
2. Climb any turret, tower, or Duomo you may come to in Italy. The views are spectacular, and may burn enough calories to have another gelato. Maybe.
3. You can never have too much memory for your camera.
4. Learning a little Italian can be very helpful.
5. Cinque Terre is a trip extension that is a “must do.” If, I mean when, I return there… I will mountain bike, as well as hike that.
So, Once Again, What’s The URL to Enter this Contest?
With those pictures and that story, I don’t feel like I need to give you a hard sell on entering this contest. You’re fighting cancer. You’re having the vacation of your life. Seriously, what could be better? Nothing comes to mind. Click here to donate and enter now.
Comments (17)
07.4.2009 | 10:16 am
Just a quick level-set here: I don’t actually plan to liveblog any of the stages of this TdF — the time the stages air conflict smack-dab with my riding time. And as excited as I am about this Tour, it’s more important to me to get a daily ride in.
Further, I’ve got a mental energy problem. Liveblogging requires that I be "on," and right now, my mind is elsewhere. So some stages, I won’t post anything at all.
Finally, you’ll want to be sure to be check in on Monday, because I’ll be announcing a very exciting new contest, as well as a giveaway exclusively for Team Fatty San Jose. I guarantee that the prizes for both of these contests are going to make your jaws drop. And I wouldn’t be surprised if a whole bunch of people suddenly join Team Fatty San Jose so they can get a shot at that prize.
10:44 – Please note that the times I’m posting are the times I watch, not the times the events actually occurred. Because, you see, I feel that the time I watch something is more important than when the event happened. I’m sure you agree.
10:45 - Lance is the first person I see begin his stage. I have to say, this is a pretty exciting moment. Honestly, this is bound to be an incredibly dramatic Tour.
10:47 – In the pre-race show, I could have sworn that Team Fatty member Bob Roll pronounced "Tour de France" correctly. Slip of the tongue, or contractual obligation?
10:48 - By the way, Craig Hummer is anchoring. In the interest of blood pressure optimization, I hereby resolve to not get irritated by every little thing he says.
10:51 – In the interview before the Armstrong rides, it’s interesting to hear him say, "Contador’s the leader for now." Clearly, this matter is not settled.
10:55 – I watch these guys and the position they hold during these TTs, and I wonder how it’s possible to ride so flat for so long. I bet the fact that they don’t have their knees pushing into their stomachs helps.
10:57 – Armstrong through the first time check, currently in first.
10:58 – You know what’s fun? Listening to Phil and Paul gush over Armstrong again. Hearing these two go on about him is like coming home after a long trip.
10:59 – "There are no words to describe this magnificent athlete." Except of course the million or so words they’ll dedicate to him over the course of the next few weeks.
11:00 – Since I didn’t mention that I’d be delayed-blogging this, I’m pretty sure nobody is reading this as I write it. That is perfectly fine. I’m using this blog to write the things I’d say out loud if there were anyone in the room watching this with me. Except I won’t ask you to go get me another Diet Coke.
11:03 – Another thing I hadn’t thought of in years: Lance’s most identifiable feature during a TT is his hump. That hump is remarkable.
11:05 – Lance has the current best time: 20:12. With so many people still to begin, though, that time is just an enormous target. No way will it stand.
11:07 – The camera followed Armstrong for the entire TT. I wonder how many other cyclists will get the same kind of attention (hint: either one or none).
11:08 – Wow, Leipheimer’s socks seem especially tall. practically come up to his knees.
11:10 – Tony Martin’s time check is faster than Armstrong by 12 seconds. Phil and Paul commence Lance Armstrong apologetics.
11:12 – Not to be rude or anything, but Tony Martin just handled a downhill hairpin really badly. As in, I could do better. But on the other hand, I’ve never ridden a TT bike.
11:14 – Just zoomed past several commercials. Every commercial break has a Cadillac ad. Each of which features a sultry woman and does not even remotely pretend to mention that they also sponsor a cycling team (which is not at the Tour).
11:17 – David Millar’s on his way. Good for him.
11:18 – Hey, it looks like Versus is partnering with Bicycling Magazine for the TdF.
11:20 – And Leipheimer, who got around four seconds worth of video coverage during his ride, moves into top position. Tony Martin evidently overcame his prissy hairpin execution and was faster than Armstrong too. I must have missed that when I was talking about Cadillac. Priorities, you know.
11:22 – I really enjoy fast forwarding past commercials as I watch this. I think that even if I do have a stage I could watch live I’ll wait for forty minutes, just to give myself the pleasure of skipping the endless Cadillac and ED ads.
11:27 – Leipheimer’s being interviewed. Right after Leipheimer said he had a not-great ride, the interviewer asked how he felt about his ride. Nice work, Frankie. Sterling interviewing. Pfff.
11:29 – Wow, Millar locked his bike up in that hairpin, barely missing the barrier in a hairpin. I should probably revise my assertion that I could handle those hairpins better than these guys. Cameras often make slopes look a lot flatter than they are.
11:31 – Millar’s across, doesn’t beat Leipheimer, but is good enough for fifth (for now). I think I’ll fast-forward a bit.
11:34 – Just hopped forward 45 minutes or so, and feel pretty pleased with myself for having done so, because the top 5 has not changed. I believe I’ll zip forward another fifteen minutes.
11:36 – OK, now I’m on Dave Zabriskie. But not literally. Do you suppose he applies DZNuts even for a short ride like this? Because he should. He should make a point of wearing it ALL THE TIME, NO MATTER WHAT. Including when he’s not riding.
11:38 – And there’s Kloden. Evidently I magically fast forwarded right to the correct spot to start watching again. I am so pleased with myself. In fact, I feel downright smug.
11:47 – Susan’s awake now, so I’m putting both this Liveblog and the watching of this stage on hold for a bit.
4:51 – OK, I am back. Aren’t you relieved?
4:52 – I’ve been watching some of this while I made guacamole for the impending family barbecue. During which Kloden moved into first place. I posit, indeed, that Kloden moved into first because I was making guacamole while I watched him race. Even though he had actually raced approximately five hours before I made the guacamole. Such is the power of the avacado.
4:56 – Everyone’s on the road.
4:57 – You know, Contador doesn’t have a lot of excess fat. He also doesn’t have a lot of non-excess fat.
4:58 – It occurs to me that doing these non-live blogs is a bad idea. I don’t read your comments as I write, because they have spoilers. And you can’t follow along the race as I write, so my comments are kind of non-contextual.
5:00 – Contador has the fastest time at the time check.
5:01 – I will never ever ever get used to the crowds getting so close to the cyclists. Cadel Evans hasd a couple of yahoos standing and yelling right where the best line looked to be. I propose that as bikes get lighter and lighter, cyclists should be allowed to mount small cannons on their handlebars, the weight of which would be included in the UCI bike weight.
5:03 – Bradley Wiggins moved in to first place.
5:04 – You know I didn’t really have any expectations for this stage, but from the look of the road, this is really a tricky and interesting course.
5:06 – Cancellara moves into the lead Or rather, he roughly shoulders everyone aside moving into the lead. Twenty seconds, this late in the stage. Wow. Phil and Paul go crazy.
5:08 – Contador takes what would have been first place if it hadn’t been for Cancellara’s incredible performance. Now it’s good for second.
5:09 – Consider how many Astana guys are in the top 10. Is it conceivable that Astana could sweep the Paris podium? That would be incredible.
5:10 – Cadel Evans takes 5th. A solid effort, upon which he could have improved by going faster.
5:11 – Here comes Carlos Sastre. This guy’s one of my favorite perennial TdF contenders, but he seems to be getting a little b5:it of the Rodney Dangerfield treatment. 21st over the line.
5:13 – Naturally, Phil and Paul are obsessing over the "Who leads Astana?" question. They’re treating Contador’s impressive performance as the answer. I assert that’s a little bit simplistic.
5:20 - Cancellara’s come up and got his big collection of leaders’ jerseys, and now I find, to my surprise, that I am hanging around to watch the post-race analysis. Here’s the thing: I really love hearing Phil, Paul, and Bob chat.
5:23 – I’m not the only one who finds the Garmin-Slipstream skinsuits disconcerting, right? The long sleeves are close enough to fleshtone that it looks like the skinsuits are sleeveless.
5:26 – Contador gets the climber’s jersey. Why do I find that funny? I can’t help but imagine Contador feels such a jersey might be beneath him.
5:27 – A shot of Phil and Paul, who evidently have no air conditioning in their booth. They are sweating heavily.
5:28 – Another Cadillac ad. Do you suppose they don’t know that Rock Racing isn’t in the Tour? I mean, it’s not a big stretch to imagine Michael Ball implying to the GM brass that they were, without technically lying. "It’s the biggest race in the world. Of course we’ll be there." (Not to race, but we’ve got awesome roadside observation points staked out.)
5:31 – And there’s Roll and Hummer. Bob looks sad. Except whenever Hummer says something stupid, at which time Bob has a very particular smile. Hummer’s clearly learned to recognize that smile, and when he sees Bob use it, he quickly rephrases or starts over.
5:33 – Bob asserts that Astana was dominant today. Good thing we have post-race commentary analysis to help us catch the details that we would otherwise miss.
5:35 – Frankie asks Cancellara what it was like to put on the yellow jersey. Cancellara affirms that he liked it. Seriously, Frankie, you need a new guy to feed you questions.
5:37 – Hummer wraps up, and you know what? He did a good summary. I am hopeful.
Okay, that’s it. I will not be liveblogging stage 2 or 3, though I may possibly liveblog other people’s liveblogs. Just to be ultra-meta.
And now, I’m off to get to work on the burgers and set things on fire. Happy Independence Day, U.S.A.!
Comments (27)
07.2.2009 | 12:54 am
A Note from Fatty: Thanks to everyone who commented yesterday and thanks especially to the dozens of people who sent email volunteering to help out with plane vouchers. Susan took much less pain medication on Tuesday, and the nausea stopped. Susan spent most of the day sleeping. Since the pain is much worse when she moves, we agreed that she should stay in bed yesterday. We’ll take each day as it comes as to what to do next.
Yesterday (Tuesday), for the first time since I was in college, I went to court. Back in college I went because I heard you could get the fine for a speeding ticket reduced just by showing up, and back then I had more time than money.
This time, I went because Dug and I had thrown a rock off Vertigo Void during last RAWROD (and Brandon had captured the moment on video with his Blackberry), and a court appearance was mandatory.
The Part About Throwing Rocks Off Cliffs
Before I got a call from the Park Service on May 18, I had no idea that throwing a rock off a cliff was an illegal act.
Well, it is. And there are good reasons, too.
- You could hit a person
- You could hit an animal
- You could hit something of historical significance, like a rock carving
Now, when Dug and I had thrown that rock off Vertigo void, I had perfect confidence — it’s an overhang, not a cliff, with a clear view of the area where the rock will land — that we would not hit a person or any animal larger than a chipmunk (by the way, a chipmunk has made its home in my garage, and I would appreciate tips on getting it to relocate).
But could there have been rock carvings I hit and ruined without knowing? Yes. And that makes me feel bad. I’m never tossing another rock off Vertigo Void or elsewhere. Because it’s not legal, and because it’s possible to do real damage to something valuable you don’t even know exists.
The Part Before the Hearing
After talking with the ranger the first time, I started thinking about what I had done. I really didn’t like the idea of damaging anyone or anything.
So I called the ranger back.
I told him that I have a blog (it turns out he already knew, even though it didn’t come up in our first conversation, since the rock tossing didn’t appear or ever get mentioned in this blog, and in fact I hadn’t known it was even filmed ’til after the ranger called). And I told him that if his aim was to get the word out that this was a bad idea and that it’s illegal, that I could help. I told him that I’d talk about it in my blog. I told him that this could turn out to be a good thing, that I could be his partner in stopping what he clearly sees as a serious problem.
Perhaps, in return, I said, he could recommend that instead of a court date — which he had strongly hinted was otherwise looming — he could send over whatever stiff fine he felt was warranted, and let me use my time to further his cause instead of going to court.
The ranger told me he appreciated the thought and I’d see something in the mail one way or another within the next couple weeks.
The Part About the Hearing
Of course, we got summoned to court. So yesterday, dressed in our Sunday best, Brandon, Dug and I carpooled over to the court in Salt Lake (the ranger had considerately arranged it to be close to where I live because of Susan’s sickness, and I really appreciate it).
As we drove over, we all wondered aloud the same thing: “What special thing do they want from us that can only be obtained in a court?” All three of us had already admitted our part. All three of us said we’d pay a fine if sent one.
I speculated that they were going to press for some very specific things for me to talk about in this blog. That I would make it a primary focus. That there would be interviews. That there would be so many words, so many installments, so many case studies.
We arrived an hour early, and continued to speculate. We had heard that the prosecuting attorney might want to talk with us prior to the hearing, so we wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to cooperate and hopefully not have to pay the full $500 fine (each!) we had heard they’d be pressing for. And come to consensus on exactly how much and what topics I’d cover in this blog.
When the door opened, we went in and sat down. Then a guy in a suit came in, laughing. Hard. He asked us if we were the guys who threw rocks off cliffs.
I refrained from saying, “you mean allegedly.” My brain-mouth filter was on at 110%.
He then introduced himself as our court-appointed attorney.
Wait. We get an attorney? Awesome. I think.
Anyways, our attorney said he got an email about this case yesterday and ran around the whole office, showing it to everyone. They all thought it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen. He really really really wanted us to go with “not guilty,” so he could take it to trial. But yeah, we’d have to come back for another day in the courtroom. Saying “No Contest” meant we could pay the fine and be done with it.
At that point, the prosecuting attorney and the defense attorney started their pre-hearing negotiating. “We’re going for $200 each, because this was an outrageous offense by these three mature adults,” said the prosecutor.
The defense guy started laughing his head off. “I’m asking for no fine at all. Everyone throws rocks off cliffs. Until I saw this email, I didn’t know it’s illegal.”
And then, the prosecutor said that the ranger had asked for “something about someone writing something in a blog or whatever those Internet things are called, but I’m not going to bother asking for that.”
The prosecutor then made some sort of dig at the defense attorney that I’m still trying to parse: “Is it true that before work every day, defense lawyers go into a dark closet and laugh for an hour?”
It was both cliche and baffling. How is that possible?
I looked over at Dug to see how he was reacting, and noticed he was biting his tongue so hard that blood was coming out of both corners of his mouth.
Then the hearing itself started. The prosecutor asked for $200 from each of us, the defender told a story about how last weekend he and his whole scout troop had been chucking rocks off cliffs.
The judge said he was going to give us the “collateral” fine, which was $50, plus the $10 processing fee. $60 each.
Then the court clerk guy (quite possible that’s not his official title) chimed in, saying there’d be an additional $25 fee having to do with something about this originating from the Canyonlands.
“What?!” said the judge. I may be reading unintended emotion into this, but it seemed to me that he found the idea of $85 per person ridiculous. “They should each pay a total fine of $60,” concluded the judge.
And it was over. The prosecutor vanished quickly, having successfully garnered 1/8 of what he was asking for and 1/10 what I had been prepared to pay if they had just sent a ticket.
Of course, I still started this post by telling the truth: I’m never throwing rocks off cliffs again. But that’s because I really think the ranger was a good guy doing the right things for the right reasons.
But they could have accomplished — and got — a lot more if they had thought about having a penitent partner, instead of what amounted to 15 minutes in court and a tiny fine ($180, total), which the ranger earned with what looks like around 100 hours or so of research, interviews and investigative work.
Miscellaneous Interesting Facts
As our parting court gifts, we were each given a CD with photos of Vertigo Void and a printout of all the ranger’s notes. Which means that all of the following information is now part of an official court document:
- “RAWROD stands for Ride Around the White Rim in One Day.”
- Vertigo Void is named such because “When a person lays down on the overhanging rock surface with his or her head beyond the edge, the person can look straigth down approximately 400 feet to the floor of the box canyon and underneath the overhang into the eroded void. This action often produces a sensation of vertigo.”
- “‘Fatty’ is the nickname of Elden Clyde NELSON of Alpine, UT.”
- “ANDERSON is seen in the video wearing a green bicycling jersey with a white star on the back and plaid shorts.” (Note: am I the only one who thinks that this, too, should have been a misdemeanor? At least?)
- “NELSON was unwilling to disclose the name of the other person who helped him throw the rock over the cliff because it did not feel right to him to do so.”
- “NELSON said he and ANDERSON are best friends.”
- Anderson says “He knows NELSON pretty well.”
- “ANDERSON is a conservationist.”
- “The possibility of archeological site damage makes [ANDERSON] feel a little bit bad.”
- “SMITH inquired as to whether there is any option for SMITH to receive a $50 citation and a warning and denounce the activity on his blog instead of going to court.” (Note: if the ranger had gone along with this, Brandon would have wound up paying $25 more than we did after going to court, once you factor in the $35 worth of fees he would have gotten with that citation.)
PS: Last night Lance Armstrong posted a really thoughtful tweet, which was followed by dozens of retweets. Thanks very much to all of you.
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