06.27.2007 | 10:57 am
I’ve been trying to keep this blog as non-mopey as possible lately, figuring that acting normal is a reasonable way to start feeling normal. Lots of you continue to send cards, email and comments, though, so I figure it’s time for an update on how things are going for Susan.
Susan’s on a three weeks on, one week off rotation for her chemo, which means that last Tuesday she didn’t have chemo. The chemo, in addition to making her tired, tends to give Susan an upset stomach, so this week off has meant that food is interesting to Susan for the first time in about a month.
Of course, yesterday was a chemo day again, so I’m guessing food is going to once again become a chore for her.
Getting Around
What sent Susan into the doctor in the first place a couple months ago was that her hip was hurting badly. And of course it turned out there was a tumor there, big enough that it was in danger of fracturing her hip. Since then, it’s become increasingly painful for Susan to get around.
Until recently.
We’ve both noticed lately that Susan’s getting around a little more easily. Her limp doesn’t slow her down as much, she lifts things without as much pain, and she gets up and down stairs more quickly. We’re both incredibly encouraged by this, and choose to think this means that the chemo’s doing its job. Susan told her doctor she’s getting around better, and the Doctor agreed it’s a good sign.
What is Susan doing right this second? She’s taking the girls to their swimming lessons.
Hair
One of the things chemo does is kill hair follicles — moreso for some people than others. Susan’s hair started going pretty fast about a week ago. Rather, though, than let it get increasingly patchy (and have the nuisance of having hair all over her clothes constantly), Susan had me shave it all off with the electric razor.
I volunteered to take the razor to her head afterward, reasoning that I am getting pretty good at this now. Susan declined.
The boys took all this in stride — they’ve seen Mom without hair before. The twin girls — each of which firmly believes she is a Disney princess — freaked out when they first saw her. That lasted about fifteen minutes, though, and now they like to kiss mom on the head, just like they do for me.
Susan has a wig from when she went through chemo the first time a few years ago, and I’ve told her we could get her as high-end of a new wig as she likes, but — at least for now — Susan’s not wearing a wig at all, instead going with bandanas (we bought about a dozen at e4hats.com). For one thing, it’s hot outside and the thought of a wig is just awful. More importantly, wearing a wig feels like you’re trying to hide something you’re ashamed of, and Susan has nothing at all to be ashamed of.
I’ve never liked long hair. Susan looks great now.
Circle this Date and Pray Like Crazy
So here’s where things stand right now. On July 20, Susan will be getting a CT scan. A week later, the doctor will tell us whether the cancer is shrinking, staying the same, or growing. If you’re the praying sort, we’d appreciate your prayers that the chemo will do its job and the tumors — especially the ones in her lungs – will shrink. If you’re the meditative sort, we’ll be grateful for any positive thoughts/energy/karma you can send our way.
And again, thanks very much for your kind thoughts, comments, email, cards, and other messages. They mean a lot to Susan and me.
PS: I talked to the Twin Six guys yesterday, asking if they’ve heard anything about when the special pink edition of the jerseys will be arriving. They told me that the manufacturer sent them Monday, so they’ll be arriving at Twin Six later this week, and then shipping out. T-shirts have already arrived and are starting to ship out, and socks will be arriving any day now. As soon as I get my order, you can be sure I’ll be posting pictures. Big thanks to everyone who’s ordered anything at all.
Comments (77)
06.26.2007 | 3:22 am
“Mountain Biking” is too big a term.
Consider this. Last Saturday, a small group of friends — Dug, Kenny, Dan, Racer — and I went mountain biking. It was a seven-hour epic circumnavigation of Mount Timpanogos: thirty seven miles, the first 22 of which took almost six hours (yes, we averaged about four miles per hour) because it was so brutally steep.
Dug and Racer had their cameraphones with them, and so got a few pictures.
The ride starts with a ride along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, which connects to Grove — a narrow, steep, shale-strewn trail with a clff going up to your left and, often, a cliff going down to your right. Here’s Racer riding up:
After about 2000 feet of climbing (which means you’re a third of the way up), there’s a stream crossing. Here’s Kenny, looking sassy.
And here’s Dug, putting the stream to more practical use.
After about four hours, you get a brief break from climbing as you descend from the top of Timpooneke to the Timpooneke trailhead (watch out for bears!). During this descent, I took a hairpin too tight and augured in, briefly dislocating my shoulder. This happens so often that by the time Dug got out his camera to take a picture, I was composed and smiling again.
For those who have been wondering, that helmet’s a black Giro Atmos, by the way.
Next up is a climb to Julie Andrews Meadow. Yes, it’s really named that. The urge to spin around, arms flung wide, and sing “The Hills Are Alive” is nearly irresistable. Here’s Dan — doesn’t he look like he’s about to break into song?
Once you get to the Summit, your six hours of climbing earn you about twenty minutes of descending, at which point you’re at the Sundance Ski Resort having a giant macadamia nut cookie (me) or a beer (Kenny):
Rocky’s Ride
Also last Saturday — 250 miles away — my brother-in-law Rocky went mountain biking.
Kellene sent me some pictures, though I’ll have to improvise the story. Here’s Rocky, riding down an impossibly steep, boulder-strewn pitch toward certain death.
And here’s Rocky, again. This time he’s riding down an impossibly steep, boulder-strewn pitch toward certain death.
And here’s Rocky, now with his bike so impossibly positioned that I can confidently say he is one single moment from his demise.
And finally, here’s Rocky, evidently committing suicide:
So here’s the thing. If someone tells you they went out road biking, you have a good idea of what went on. You may not have an idea of how far, how fast, or how steep, but you know what road biking looks like.
If someone tells you they went mountain biking, on the other hand, you still don’t know anything.
PS: In these photos, Rocky is wearing the exact same kind of Camelbak I wore when racing the Kokopelli Trail (i.e., a ginormous one). The primary differences are:
- His Camelbak is fuller than mine was for a 20-hour ride
- He’s out on a two-hour ride
This leads to an interesting question: What is Rocky carrying? My current theories include:
- A picnic lunch for 12
- A parachute
- 6 gallons of water (Rocky sweats at a rate of 1 pint / minute)
- A large tub of Whupass Jam
- A very extensive first aid kit
By all means, you should feel free to speculate too.
Comments (65)
06.24.2007 | 9:01 pm
Many people have noticed, lately, that I am an excellent climber. Fast. Focused. Featherweight. Also, I am very, very handsome, but that is the subject for another post on another day.
It is not uncommon, truth be known, for me to receive requests for climbing guidance from professional cyclists, though I am contractually obligated to not mention these cyclists by name. Considering the remarkable sums of money these people are paying me, I am more than happy to respect their need for privacy.
Because I value you, dear reader, above all my (very, very) high-paying clientele — and because I know that the only reason you do not gladly pay a $49.95 monthly subscription to this site is that I do not ask it of you — I shall today offer you the same guidance. At no charge whatsoever.
Today, I shall tell you how to fly up the hills. Today, my friend, you shall be transformed.
The Easy Parts
There are three crucial components to being a magnificent climber. No, of course you cannot expect to be as magnificent as I am, but you can become at least relatively magnificent, and you should be satisfied with that.
The first two parts are simple, but the basics must not be ignored.
First, you must pedal. Some fools believe that they can simply coast uphill, through the medium of offering promissory notes to gravity against future descents. And while I have patented this idea and have built a prototype drivetrain that successfully implements this theory, it is not yet available for production or sale. The reasons are technical, but basically boil down to a problem with the elastic bands breaking.
It is not enough to pedal, though. You must pedal in sine waves. Yes, I know: conventional cycling wisdom would have you pedal circles. But conventional cycling wisdom doesn’t get paid ridiculously large sums of money by the top pro cyclists in the world, now, does it? Consider the motion of a pedal as it goes by you. Is that pedal going in a circle? No. It’s oscillating up and down as the bike moves forward. A sine wave. How will this help you pedal better? It won’t, but it’s still true.
Second, you’ve got to stop braking as you climb. It just slows you down.
How to Be Light
Once you’ve got the basics — do pedal (in sine waves), don’t brake — down, you’re ready for the vital third step in becoming a climbing powerhouse.
You must become light.
Many cycling pundits think they understand this vital technique for being a world-class climber, but they don’t. Not really. All they know are the crude basics: lose weight, ride a light bike. Sure, that’s fine as far as it goes, but the details — how do you lose weight? How do you make your bike light? — are where traditional givers of advice will fail you.
I, dear reader, will not fail you. The following strategies will help you become the climber you have always dreamed of becoming. (Unless, of course, you have been dreaming of becoming as good a climber as I, because that would be laughable. Set your sites on something attainable, you charlatan!)
Techniques for Making Yourself Light
Most cyclists believe they already know how to make themselves light — diet and exercise — and that the only variables are time and willpower.
Nothing, I am happy to say, could be further from the truth.
This is all you need to do:
- Shave. This has been considered good practice among cyclists for years, but the full extent and reasoning behind shaving has never been fully explained. Shave everything. Head to toe. This includes your eyebrows and eyelashes. No decorative facial hair (this goes for you too, ladies). Not only is hair non-aerodynamic; every single little hair has weight. In fact, don’t just shave. Wax. That way you can get the hair beneath the surface of the skin. Special note to Tinker Juarez: You could be fourteen pounds lighter if you got rid of all that hair.
- Exfoliate: I’m not talking here about using a mildly abrasive skin cleanser here. I’m prescribing a twenty minute session, top to bottom, with 80 grit sandpaper. Some people might call this torture. I call it the cost of greatness.
- Avoid Sunscreen: This one’s easy. You know all that sunscreen you rub onto your skin? Yeah, you think it doesn’t weigh anything? Well it does. Stop using it; it’s weighing you down.
- Fingernails and Toenails: I know, you already trim your fingernails and toenails nice and tight. That’s a good first baby step. Now finish the job. All the way to the cuticles, champ.
- Liposuction: Some people call this unnecessary surgery with no demonstrable long-term benefit. I call it the shortest route from point Fat to point Fast.
- Remove unnecessary body parts: Do you know what your tonsils are good for? How about your appendix? Nothing, that’s what. So what are you carrying them around for? And while we’re having this discussion, answer me this: do you really think you’d walk any worse if you removed your pinky toes? And don’t even get me started on the dead weight everyone dangles around by virtue of keeping their earlobes.
- Remove unnecessary decoration: Got a tattoo? You think that ink doesn’t have mass? Ha.
- Dehydrate: Many cycling authorities encourage you to stay hydrated if you want to ride well. I’ll let you in on a little secret: they tell you that because they’re coaching someone else they want to beat you. The truth is, water is incredibly heavy. And while I recognize it as a necessary evil (my kidneys sometimes fail when I let my water mass dip below 40%), I’m not going to lug any more up the hill than I have to. You shouldn’t either. I recommend going without fluids for at least 36 hours before a ride of any significance. Then, during the ride, spit. A lot. And don’t drink anything.
- Bloodletting: This got a bad rap because it was invented back in the medieval ages, but just because something was invented a long time ago doesn’t mean it was a bad idea. I mean, wheels were invented a long time ago too and I don’t see you rushing to eliminate those from your cycling rig.
Techniques for Making Your Bike Light
Many people spend thousands upon thousands of dollars to make their bikes light. I heartily endorse this behavior. In addition to purchasing lighter parts, though, you should also consider making your bike lighter through the medium of removing bike parts. For example:
- Remove the rear brake: Everyone knows that most of your stopping power is in the front brake. So why incur the expense and weight of that redundant rear brake? A good modern front brake has enough stopping power and then some. You know how much weight you’ll save by getting rid of the rear brake, cabling, and levers? Fourteen pounds, that’s how much. Most people don’t realize how heavy rear brakes are.
- Remove the bottle cages: Since you aren’t going to be drinking when you ride anymore (see “Dehydrate,” above), you won’t be needing those bottle cages anymore, will you? Nor the bottle cage bolts.
- Sand the paint job off: I’ve heard that some bike manufacturers put between 2-5 coats of paint on their bikes, and then seal the job with a high-gloss finish. For those manufacturers, I have a question: Do you you also insert lead weights into the tubes? Because you may as well.
- Never carry a saddlebag: You know, I have ridden hundreds of times without any tools or flat-fixing supplies without ever missing them. In fact, the only time I have ever missed not carrying stuff to do bike field repairs is when my bike breaks or flats. And that’s hardly ever.
- Never let your sweat drip onto your bike: You’re going to sweat when riding (although if you’ve done your dehydrating properly, you won’t sweat much). Just don’t sweat on your bike. That leaves a salty residue, and salt has mass.
- Helium: Fill your tires with helium. Fill your bike tubes with helium. Before rides, breathe a helium/oxygen mix, which is 30% lighter than conventional air. I do not understand why so few people understand this.
Techniques for Making Your Clothing Light
Over the centuries, cycle clothing manufacturers have refined their wares to the point where cyclists can be comfortable in the saddle all day.
But being comfortable isn’t the point, is it? Being light is the point. Here is how to customize your bike clothing to get rid of that ungainly bulk:
- Get rid of the pockets: You’re not carrying anything in your jersey pockets, are you? Of course you’re not, because anything in those pockets is going to weigh something. And since you aren’t using those pockets, you may as well get rid of them.
- Get rid of the armpit fabric: Cutting a gaping hole in your jersey directly beneath the armpit serves dual purposes. First, it makes the jersey lighter. Second, it has a cooling effect, which is useful since you won’t be sweating much anymore and will be more susceptible to heat stroke.
- Get rid of the collar: Are you going to wear a tie with that jersey? No? Well then, what’s the collar for? I mean, besides to weigh you down?
- Shorten your shorts: When you get right down to it, the primary function of the bike short is to hold the chamois in place. So why do they go all the way down onto your thigh, sometimes almost to the knee? Chop them off higher and you’ll get rid of several unsightly tenths of an ounce. And you’ll get a nice tan on more of the tops of your quads.
Final Analysis
Do I expect many cyclists to follow my advice? No, no I do not. And why will most of you snigger and ignore me? Because most of you are not truly committed climbers.
Just you wait, though. In a few short days the Tour de France will be on TV and — as you see cyclists with the healthy glow of freshly sanded skin, the dull gaze of people who have not had a drink in two days, brakeless (and paintless) bikes and sheared short shorts, that not everyone has been laughing off my (very, very) wise (and, frankly, expensive) counsel.
And then you too will do what it takes to be light.
Comments (64)
06.22.2007 | 12:02 pm
Last night, my wife asked me if I was getting excited for the Tour de France. I’m sad to say that I am not. I’ll still watch it, but I’m not clearing the decks and planning my life around it the way I have for the last ten years or so.
It’s not so much that I’m disgusted with the organization or the racers. It’s more that the race has kinda lost its validity. Are the racers who will be starting really the fastest cyclists alive? Or are they just the fastest clean cyclists alive? Or are they just luckier than the guys who got caught?
For the record, I’m rooting for Vinokourov, because he makes me laugh. But that’s not exactly a prescription for a riveting race, is it?
You want to know what multi-day race is holding my attention? The Great Divide Race – a self-supported mountain bike race from Canada to Mexico that can last close to a month – is, that’s what.
Allure of the Nearly Possible
I have no illusions about whether I could ride in the Tour de France. My genetics aren’t even close. Even if I had trained perfectly my entire life, I couldn’t be one of those guys.
I cry every time I admit that fact.
I also have no illusions about whether I could do the Great Divide Race (GDR). I don’t have the time, and I don’t like camping. And I’m in nothing close to good enough shape
But if I decided to make it my life’s mission, well, maybe I could do the GDR.
Maybe.
If I didn’t have any mechanicals, the weather was good, and the bears left me alone. Then maybe.
I think that “maybe” is what makes the difference between admiring a race and getting sucked into it heart and soul.
Go Dave!
Another part of what’s got me obsessively tracking this race is the fact that Dave Nice – the guy Fat Cyclist readers raised $1200 for — is racing wearing the Fat Cyclist jersey (Photo by Aaron Teasdale of Adventure Cycling Association (ACA). Used with permission, believe it or not).
And while there’s no such thing as an “easy way” to do this ride, Dave’s about as hardcore as they come. His bike’s a rigid, fixed 29er. His pedals do not have clips. His shorts do not have a chamois.
And to top it all off, Dave has vowed to not eat anything he does not personally either harvest or kill during the entire ride.
OK, I made that last part up. But still.
Meet the Riders
If you want to get sucked into a real-life, month-long drama like I am, a good place to start is with this first day photo essay Aaron Teasdale of ACA put together. You’ll meet the riders, learn what they look like and what they’re hoping to accomplish.
Then, once you’ve done that, just head on over to these places to follow the adventure:
- Updates from the riders’ mouths: This is what makes the race so compelling, if you ask me. Racers are given a toll-free phone number to call whenever they get into a town. They give updates, which are transcribed into this running report.
- Get background and summary info: ACA has a great portal to the route and information about the riders and past editions of the races. Definitely worth boning up on.
What Makes the GDR Great
I love hearing how the race is going, unedited and unfiltered, right from the racers’ mouths. For example, as of last night, Dave was spending a second day in Butte, exhausted from his fixed-gear trek so far. From the way it’s transcribed, Dave is so tired he had to pause to remember his last name.
It’s very common for racers to call in and start giving a report, only to realize that they don’t even know what town they’re in. Or to report that they had to spend a day in a sleeping bag, vomiting and exhausted, but now they can walk again and so are heading out.
It’s the very mundaneness of the calls that makes them interesting to me, because I can imagine myself making a similar call. “Hi, uh, I know a lot of stuff happened today, but right now I’m so cooked all I can think about is sleeping. I’m hungry, but I can’t eat. I need to get out my camping stuff now, so I’ve gotta go.”
Food, shelter, sleep. That’s what’s on these guys’ minds. Totally primal.
I love it.
Integrity
You know what else I love about this race? The concern over cheating. In particular, it’s the obsessive aversion to cheating that seems so prevalent. Consider this: the rules say that you can’t accept a ride. But there’s a paved section on the trail right now that is one lane wide and requires cyclists to ride in a pilot car. Pete Basinger tells a story of how he argues with the flag lady for half an hour, finally agrees to ride in the pilot car (downhill) for the three mile stretch, then gets out and continues on his ride.
And it eats at him. And eats at him.
So after thirty miles, Pete turns around and rides back, and rides that construction section after all the workers have gone home.
Call it a hunch, but I’m guessing that Pete’s not sneaking EPO to win this race.
Comments (22)
06.21.2007 | 11:00 am
Last week, I posted a story about how I had won the Sport class in the local weekly race. It was my first win ever, so I was ecstatic. How could I not be?
There’s just one problem: I didn’t actually win.
While official results haven’t yet been posted (don’t really know if they ever will be), I just found out from the race director of the series that Larry Bollschweiler spent the entire race so far off the front of the pack that the pack didn’t even know he existed.
So: I am still winless. Sigh.
One could take a lesson from this. Something like: “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Or possibly: “Don’t say you won a race until the results are posted.”
I choose, however, to take a different lesson. It is, “Claim victory early, and then avoid people who might know better.”
I’m happy to report, by the way, that Larry has moved on up to the Expert category.
I Continue to Not Win
Yesterday was my debut as an actual real-life sponsor of a sporting event. Which means that I gathered up all the cool stuff I could get my incredible Ads-for-Schwag partners and Microsoft to send me (Thanks Twin Six, Banjo Brothers, and Matisse and Jacks!).
I’m pleased to say that these prizes were a huge hit, and thanks to my partners’ generosity — every one of them sent me more than I asked for! — I actually was able to provide enough prizes that pretty much everyone with a raffle ticket walked away with something, and the Utah Chapter of the MS Society raised thousands of dollars.
Very cool.
So let’s talk about the race, very briefly. Soldier Hollow is where the 2002 Winter Olympics Biathlon and Cross Country Ski events happened. And now it’s a fun place to have a rolling, dusty fast-paced race with quick, short climbs, quick descents, tight curves, and plenty of places to pass.
I didn’t ride my singlespeed yesterday; I’m trying to put some hours into the Weapon of Choice so I feel comfortable on it for Leadville.
Right off the bat I got into about second place. By the halfway point of the first lap (Sport did three laps), I had moved to third place. By the end of the first lap, I had moved to fourth.
But then something happened to me. Or rather, something didn’t happen to me. I didn’t fade. I kept my first lap pace up on the second lap, by which time I had moved back into second place.
The guy in first place wasn’t even in the same zip code as the two guys I was mixing it up with.
The third lap began with some embarrassment. The singletrack at the beginning of the course briefly puts you on a paved walkway. I was getting punchy and looked on the wrong side of the sidewalk for the course markers and blew right by it. If the guy behind me hadn’t yelled out, I would probably still be out there, riding off yonder.
By the time I turned around and got back on course, I was back in fourth place. All the singlespeed riding I’ve been doing, though, has given me some high-torque legs and I was able to blast up steep short pitches in a high gear, putting myself back into second, which is where I stayed for the rest of the race.
After which, I went and congratulated the winner on his fast time, and asked him how much he beat me by.
“Oh, I don’t know. A few minutes.”
I politely suggested he might want to consider Expert next time.
Hey, if the only way I’m ever going to win is by pushing the top of the stack into the next stack, so be it.
PS: My Son Cracks Me Up. My thirteen-year-old son kills me with his sense of humor. For my birthday, he made me the below electronic birthday card, using Adobe Flash. It’s his interpretation of the time I saw Bob hit a deer on a bike. Check it out:
I hereby declare that “Plentysix” is my new favorite number, and will be used anytime I do not know what speed I was actually going.
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