For the past two weeks, I’ve been off work. This is made possible by a really wonderful program Jamie Lewis, CEO of where I work — Burton Group — put into place: employees have the ability to donate their vacation days to another employee. When I put out a request for donations to the company, my fellow employees responded with more days off than I could have ever expected.
Knowing that I have several weeks of time at my disposal has removed a huge mental burden.
I tell you what: Susan’s ordeal with cancer has taught me that given the opportunity, people love to do something good for other people.
And hey, if your organization in the market for in-depth, IT research and advisory services to executives and technologists, now you know that in addition to being stuffed to the gills with tech geniuses (me excluded), Burton Group is also a company with its heart in exactly the right spot. And that counts for a lot, I think.
Time Off
Anyway, after Susan’s collarbone broke, I decided I needed to take three weeks off work, just to spend time with Susan. Mostly, this was because I was panicked that this was the start of a cascade of new problems, and that I needed to take care of her and be with her before the inevitable ramping up of pain medications made it hard for her to focus on the present.
It’s been a terrific two weeks. We haven’t done anything major: just hang out, talk, watch MythBusters (our whole family’s favorite show), and take afternoon naps.
Yesterday, though, things go rotten.
Over the past couple weeks I’ve been perfecting a technique of moving Susan into a sitting position without exerting any strain on her arms at all. I do this by putting one hand under her back, another cradled under her knees, and then swiveling and lifting her in one smooth motion. As I did it yesterday, I actually felt a little rush of pride because I had handled it very fluidly; I assumed it would have made the painful transfer as comfortable as possible.
Instead, Susan started gasping and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t breathe and felt like her ribs were being squeezed.
I got her oxygen machine back on and to her to let her recover before I moved her to the wheelchair. But she wasn’t recovering. She still hurt, bad.
We had to decide: was it better to just lay back down in bed, or finish the transfers out to the family room so she could be with the family? We agreed it would be better to go to bed, but that’s not what she wanted to do.
So I moved her, and she tried to act like it wasn’t that bad. But we both knew it was.
All yesterday, then, I loaded Susan up with morphine from an eyedropper. Even at four times the amount I usually give her, it wasn’t making a dent in her pain. It was, however, making her nauseous, probably because she simply could not eat.
So I sat with her and tried to distract her by reading aloud The Graveyard Book, a Neil Gaiman novel we both started a while back as an audio book, but never finished because we got too busy.
It is so frustrating / enraging to watch your wife suffer and be at a loss as to any way to help.
We always knew things would get worse. We thought that the time of relative ease and stability (I sometimes think of what an odd yardstick we’ve developed for “ease” and “stability”) would make us readier for the bad times.
But they don’t. I don’t think anything really gets you ready. I don’t think that if there were something that got you ready for this that I’d want any part of it.
Help Me Fight
People are of course always asking how they can help, and to tell the truth I often have no idea what kind of help I need. But here’s something some of you may be able to do, if you want.
As you know, one of the ways I’m coping with all this is by trying to convert it into something good: raising money to fight cancer. I’ve got ideas and plans for some really great new giveaways, but a lot of them involve travel, and that’s one nut I have not been able to crack.
So. If you have a lot of frequent flier points, or are sitting on a free flight coupon or otherwise have ways of making it possible to give someone else a round trip ticket, and you’re willing to use your power of flight for good, email me.
I’ll have more updates soon. Meanwhile, thanks for your support. I owe all of you a lot.
Mark — SkiBikeJunkie in the comments here and in his own blog — is one of the people I met on the blog before I met him in real life. And when I met him for the first time in real life, I was not exactly lucid — I had in fact just finished riding my bike for 20 hours and was on the well-charred side of cooked.
But still, I appreciated the fact that he had waited around in the parking lot all that time, and had brought me some ice cream. And I appreciated even more the fact that he somehow knew how much I love ice cream after an epic ride. Soft-serve is the best recovery food ever. Or an ice cream sandwich. Or a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Or a chocolate milkshake.
I think you get my drift.
Anyway, a few days later, Mark was visiting the area, looking for a job and a house, and I took him on a ride. He was slow — even beat from a huge ride, I still had to take it easy for him to stay close.
But things have changed a bit since then.
For one thing, he’s moved to Utah, buying a house in the cyclist commune known as Suncrest. And for another thing, he’s gone from being a slowpoke to being able to drop me at will.
Which means, naturally, that whenever I see Mark, I see nothing but a giant target (which is not to imply that Mark suffers from gigantism. He does not.). A guy who used to be much slower than me who is now faster than me? Man, that’s a slap in the face.
And then there’s the fact that while Mark’s faster than me, he’s not radically faster than me. See, Brad is now so much faster than I am that if he’s riding with me, I know it’s because he’s taking a rest day. If Brad decides to ride away at speed, the gap between us expands so quickly that there’s an observable Doppler redshift.
That redshift gag was awesome, by the way. Trust me on that. Try it on your friends. They’ll think it’s hilarious.
Anyway, my point was that while Mark’s faster than I am, he’s not so much faster that I just give up hope. He’s attainable.
Mark is, in short, now a human rabbit, as far as I am concerned.
Evidence
Last Friday, a good-sized group of us rode to the summit of the Alpine Loop and back. I wore the helmetcam — I love seeing how people wince as I join a ride and they see me wearing this big ol’ skate helmet with a lens and cable hanging off the side.
Oh, and I remembered to make sure the lens cap was off, the batteries were fresh, and to lock the keypad once I had started recording. I’m learning.
And so now I have video of the group ride, and of me trying desperately to catch — or simply keep in sight — Mark. As a word of warning, the soundtrack is “Gypsy Road,” performed by the Hair Metal band “Cinderella.” This is due to the fact that Rick Sunderlage (not his real name) was talking about what a great riding song it was, shortly before he rode away off the front, never to be seen again (at least, not until the summit).
Well, what do you know. “Gypsy Road” is a great song for that video. And I apparently look straight down when I’m sprinting, which does not necessarily make great video.
PS: Seven more pounds, and I will catch that wabbit.
PPS: There seems to be an ongoing debate on whether the road on this ride was “wet” or merely “damp.” Please feel free to weigh in with your assessment, based on what you see here.
Suppose your house is on fire. Everyone’s out safe and you’ve got time to run inside and grab one or two things (yeah, I know, in a real fire it’s a bad idea to go back inside for anything, but this is hypothetical, so cut me some slack). What do you go get?
For me, the answer’s both easy and obvious: I grab the two originals my sister Lori has painted for my family (the half-dozen or so prints we have of her work can be replaced).
First, there’s the painting Lori gave to Susan and me when the twins were born:
And next would be the painting she made especially for Susan upon finding Susan has cancer:
These (cameraphone) pictures don’t even come close to doing Lori’s work justice, but I wanted to show them off anyway. These are — absolutely literally — our two most-prized family possessions.
Lori painted these years and years ago, and her style has evolved quite a bit since then. Take a moment and check out the gallery on her site. Here’s one of my favorites of hers, titled “Fun Mom:”
Lori lives in Brooklyn right now, but occasionally she’ll still come to Salt Lake and do a show. When she does, all of her art sells out. Immediately.
Yeah, you can tell I’m kind of a proud brother, huh?
Why I’m Going On About Lori Right Now
The reason I want to talk about Lori’s paintings right now, though, is because my sister Jodi has persuaded Lori to paint a portrait as one of the prizes in the giveaway Jodi’s doing as part of her LiveStrong Challenge. This giveaway ends Monday night.
Lori’s paintings routinely sell for $5000 – $15,000, so — when combined with the fact that this prize will be intensely personal for whoever wins it — I don’t think I’m at all going out on a limb when I say this is definitely the best prize that’s ever been part of the Team Fatty LiveStrong Challenge. Go to Jodi’s blog right now to learn how to win.
Additional Awesomeness
Jodi’s giveaway goes way, way broader and deeper than the possibility of winning a commissioned painting by my sister Lori. As part of the same giveaway — in other words, when you donate to Jodi’s LiveStrong Challenge Page — you could win any of the following prizes:
Tickets to theColbert Report?. These are otherwise impossible to get without spending some serious quality time with a scalper.
Tickets to the New York Red Carpet premier of Martin Scorsese-directed movie“Shutter Island“, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Michelle Williams. Watch this preview video and get freaked out a little bit.
Tickets to Friday, Saturday and Sunday shows atAll Points West, featuring Beastie Boys, Tool, Coldplay, My Bloody Valentine and about 80 other bands?.
And there are a whole bunch of additional cool prizes, too. Seriously, Jodi has put together a phenomenal giveaway. Click here to learn how to enter.
Well. It’ nice to see that Lance Armstrong and Johan Bruyneel evidently read my blog, from which they have learned that they are bringing four toppity-top GC guys to the Tour de France (which I choose to abbreviate as TdF).
“It’s hard to find a better stage race rider than Alberto,” said team manager Johan Bruyneel of the 2007 Tour winner.
“He has worked very hard, earning the right to represent our team as the leader in July.”
So. There you have it. Everything’s settled. Thanks to me. I am so glad there are people like me in the world to identify and solve the world’s problems
Which means it’s time for us to start obsessing over something else TdF-related. Specifically, it’s time for us to start making predictions of what’s going to happen at this year.
I’ll go first.
There will be an (attempted) official baton passing. During the first regular (non TT) stage, Armstrong will pull a wooden dowel, wrapped in yellow electrical tape, out of his jersey pocket and offer it to Contador. It will be a highly symbolic gesture, and Phil will swoon as Paul tries to do the moment justice. Meanwhile, Contador will have no idea whatsoever Armstrong is trying to convey and will wave away the baton. Armstrong will shrug and put the baton back in his pocket. Misreading this combination of actions, Phil and Paul will endlessly discuss whether Contador refused the talisman out of humility or contempt. Versus will show the attempted handoff ten thousand times.
Versus will completely ignore that Armstrong is riding in a support role. They will make each and every single one of their promos about him, heavily featuring a count from 1 through 7, then ending with an explosive 8. Casual viewers will not be aware that there is anyone else riding in this Tour de France, and will have the impression that Armstrong is doing it solo.
Bob Roll will have grown back his hair. To the degree it’s possible for him to have grown back his hair, that is. Seriously, man, either keep it buzz-cut or shave it entirely.
The Team Time Trial will be one of the very best stages. I say this without irony or (attempted) comedy. I love watching Team Time Trials on their own, and I think that Astana is set for a very fast time. I think, however, that Garmin-Slipstream will beat them, and there will be pandemonium in my family room. And possibly elsewhere.
Exactly two people will be caught doping. I do not know which two. They will not, however, be from the same team.
Two people from Astana will end up on the podium in Paris. Those two people will be Contador and Armstrong. Contador will win, Armstrong will take third. I do not know who will take second, but have a hunch it will be Cadel Evans. I have to say, though, it would be pretty extraordinary if Astana swept the podium. Has a team ever done that before? Would you or would you not flip your wig if it happened this year?
I’ll get all nostalgic. The moment Armstrong drops back to get water bottles for Contador, I’ll get all misty and will suddenly and deeply feel deep in my heart that we are all mortal. Except Cipollini, of course.
I will not watch any of the flat stages live. I intend to liveblog some of the stages, but I will Tivo the flat stages, and will spend on average half an hour fast forwarding through the whole stage, scanning just slowly enough that I’ll be able to recognize when there’s been a crash. I will probably not even mention these stages in my blog, because really, what’s to say?
My fitness will falter. The TdF happens at the same time of day I have carved out for riding my bike. If, during this time, I am instead sitting on the couch eating bowl after bowl of cereal, do you think I’ll gain weight? No, that’s just silly!
My children will ask if they can watch something else,please. And I will say “no.”
Feel free to agree with me and provide supporting evidence in the comments section. Thank you.
PS: More importantly than all of the above, I have browbeaten Joe Lindsey into adding me to his blogroll. Now all I need to do is get Bike Snob NYC to add me to his blogroll (yes, he has a blogroll, but it’s very well hidden; this renders its usefulness questionable at best), and my quest for world domination will be complete
The Tour de France (TdF) is approaching, more and more rapidly. Seriously, it’s approaching increasingly rapidly. The Doppler effect is as undeniable as it is distressing. And as the TdF approaches (at a very alarming rate), I am resuming my annual tradition of getting wound up about the Tour.
And I would like you to now get wound up with me.
Today’s topic for wound-uppedness is General Classification riders (GC), the guys in the race who hope to stand on the podium at the end of the Tour. GC racers are protected by their teammates, given assistance at critical stages of the race so that they can finish the Tour in the least time possible. In order for a GC racer to do well, the rest of the team must often be willing to sacrifice personal glory — the winning of a stage or improving their time by joining a breakaway, for example.
A cohesive team is crucial to the success of a GC rider in the Tour. With that in mind, here are some GC racers you’ll want to keep your eye on this year:
Lance Armstrong
Andreas Kloden
Alberto Contador
Levi Leipheimer
There is, alas, something very peculiar about this list I would like to point out to you: all four of these riders are on the same team!
Yes, I know. It made me do a double-take too. Frankly, I was so freaked out yesterday when I noticed this for the first time that I quickly Twittered a note to Johan Bruyneel, the full text of which I hereby relay to you:
Hey, just noticed you have four top GC guys in your TdF lineup. D’oh!!!1ONE!!
I’m expecting his tweeted reply, but wouldn’t be surprised if it takes him a while, because now that he knows, I’ll bet anything that he is scrambling for a solution.
Disharmony On the Postal Discovery Astana Bus
Thinking I’d better take my discovery all the way to the top, I started composing a tweet to Lance himself, the thrust of which was the fact that there were three other guys on the same team as him, each likely with TdF aspirations of his own.
But then, after finishing the third draft of my tweet to Lance (when you tweet Lance, you want to make darn sure you get it just right), I took a break and did a little reading at one of my favorite blogs — Joe Lindsey’s Boulder Report on Bicycling.com. And yes, it really is one of my favorte blogs, and it does not bother me even a little bit that Lindsey blogrolls Bike Snob NYC, but not me. After all, they’re coworkers. And it also does not bother me that Lindsey blogrolls Trust but Verifybut not me, even though Trust But Verify has been inactive for half a year. Why would that bother me?
I’m sorry, I seem to have lost the thread of my post. Give me a moment. OK, there we are.
In his very excellent blog (in spite of the absence of certain very popular and award-winning cycling blogs in his blogroll, as if Bicycling.com were perhaps too good to link to aforementioned very popular and award winning cycling blog), Lindsey dishes a scoop that is as earth-shattering as it is stunning:
Astana is far from a cohesive unit. Although the strongest team in the race on paper, with Armstrong, Contador, Leipheimer and Andreas Kloden all confirmed to start, their internal divisions could fracture the team and cost them the Tour de France.
Internal divisions? Internal divisions?! This must end. Now. Team Astana needs to be functioning like a well-oiled machine (but not too much oil, or the rear derailleur will get all gummed up), not like a bunch of squabbling children. Or — perhaps more accurately — like squabbling professional athletes, one of which is the most accomplished grand tour racer in a generation, another of which is a 3x grand tour winner at the very top of his game, and the other two of which are TdF podium alumni with aspirations of their own.
Not only is it impossible for all four of these guys from the same team win the TdF, these four guys from the same team can’t all even get on the podium.
Gee, why can’t they simply get along?
Well, they’re going to have to. And I’m just the right person to help.
In other words, I am finally getting to the bullet list that was the point of this post in the first place. Given the opportunity, it turns out that I can be incredibly long-winded.
Techniques for Resolving Inter-Team Strife
The two methods currently being entertained by the Astana GC racers to determine who will be The Chosen One during the Tour de France are as follows:
The Sullen Transfer: Lindsey’s (tragically misblogrolled) article notes that Contador was considering making the jump to Garmin-Slipstream. Which I have to admit would be totally awesome, but only if he makes the jump right in the middle of the race. Picture it: he’s riding along as if he’s in support of Lance. Contador’s leading Armstrong up a steep mountain pass. All’s well with the world. And then suddenly — BAM! — Contador rips off his Astana jersey (which has been pre-perforated for easy tearing) to reveal a Garmin-Slipstream jersey! Suddenly, Armstrong’s domestique is his rival! The pandemonium is so complete that Phil Liggett makes up a new quirky metaphor featuring a chameleon and carry-on luggage on the spot.
The Slug It Out At Game Time Method: The racers can simply attack each other over and over during the race itself, letting attrition choose the ultimate winner. While this would make potentially the most awesome television ever, it’s also theoretically possible that some other team might take advantage of the wasted energy from Astana infighting. Naaah.
The problem with both these coping mechanisms is that they both suck.
Instead, to resolve their team conflicts, I would like to suggest using any — or better yet, some combination — of the following:
Jenga Tournament: First guy to knock down the tower’s the bottle carrier. Second guy to knock down the tower gets to wear the yellow jersey, but only for the first half of the Tour. Third guy gets to be the Jenga champ’s lead-out guy (lots of TV time). The Jenga champ gets to be the champ. Unless someone else on a different team is better at Jenga. Or is faster, somehow.
Take it to Court: Do it the American way: put it before a judge. I’m going to have to institute a couple of unorthodox rules, though. First, everyone has to represent themselves. This is to keep those who might happen to be very very very very wealthy from bringing in a whole bevy of lawyers. Second, three-day trial limit, and no appeals. Otherwise, there’s no way this thing will be over before the Tour de France begins. In fact, it probably wouldn’t be over before the 2010 Tour begins.
Ultimate Fighting Deathmatch. Four GCs enter. One GC leaves (and suddenly there are three new spots open in the Astana TdF roster). Let’s find out which of these guys really has the most fight in him.
Pageant: Consisting of eveningwear, bathing suit, congeniality and talent competitions, this pageant will prove once and for all which of these four are just good at riding bikes, and which is truly a contender.
Take it to the Limit: Instead of a team consisting of four GC alpha dogs, how about a team featuring nothing but GC riders? Bring in Vande Velde. Sastre and Evans, too. Ask Ulrich and Landis if they’d like another shot at the title. They’ve got time to train. And then try to tell me this wouldn’t be the most awesomely wacky Tour ever.
It took some time, but I managed to condense all these suggestions into 140 characters, which — just to be safe — I sent as a direct tweet to both Johan and Lance.
