2025 isn’t sucking.

 

Just so you know….

Show time

Let’s go

Here we go!

As I get bombarded from all sides with offers to save money; I can say that nothing saves me more money than just skipping all the sales and going for a walk, run or ride.  Today Hottie and I took the Kona for a walk on the beach. 

Summer, you are just a memory

Leaving summer behind and barreling into fall!

We squeezed all we could out of summer.  Then summer just kept going all though September and we squeezed some more.  

The air has gone from crisp to cold and instead of warm afternoons, there are fleeting moments of sunshine when you don't feel the bite of the colder days. 

The road ahead

I love starting a bike ride.

You swing your leg over and head out.  You have an idea of what the ride will be like.  Sometimes you are right, and other times it evolves into something else.  The ride takes on a character of its own.  You take it all in at the speed you choose.

I love being on a ride.

You are free to go or stop or go elsewhere.  If you have enough food and drink you can go almost forever.  Some hills are easier than you expected, others take it out of you.  

If something goes wrong, there is a satisfaction in being able to make a repair and continue. Now and again you find yourself in a different place than you had planned. The uncertainty of what is ahead always adds a little mystery.  

I love finishing a ride.

Approaching the end of the ride I relish the satisfaction of completing the ride.  Fulfilling the mission as it were.  The ride was somewhere between training and fun I find no need to divide the two. 

Wintertime is over

 

Green is fresh.  Other colors, not so much.

We aren't looking backwards.  The future is all that we can affect. Looking ahead.

Moving on

Whatever. Move on.

The story of my right eye didn't end the way i hoped and expected.  I thought I would share a story about how it took twenty months of patience to get my vision back.  Instead it took twenty months to end up with bad vision in my right eye.  Yeah it sucks; but it is what it is and I'm just not going to whine about it any more. I have one good eye and that is better than none.   HTFU!

Let's turn the page

 

The forecast said it would snow overnight.  In the meantime, the inch or two from yesterday morning had mostly melted. I put on more layers than I had in worn in the past seven months. 

My earbuds stayed home as I wanted to savor this ride.  Tomorrow there would be no more trail riding for the rest of the year.  The impending storm likely would not bring skiing, but I will be skiing on these trails before I am riding on them next spring.

The sound of snow crunching under my tires is the only thing I hear. Other than the sound of my tires the forest is silent as I make my way up the trail.  The smell of rotting leaves and wet dirt will soon be lost, buried under snow.  A wind from the northwest cuts through my clothes to my chest.  My hands are warm and hidden inside giant gloves.  This is the kind of cold I hadn't felt in months.

I wasn't going hard and I wasn't going easy.  The objective here was to soak in the ride and not crash. At times the snow was slippery, in other places the dirt was soft and my rear wheel slid more than I would have liked.  I just tried to ride smart and look around so I could recall this ride when I can't ride.

NOAA says we would be getting ten to twelve inches of snow tonight.  This ride was going to be it.  

My eye doctor says I get a lens next week.  After more than five hundred days, that ordeal could be coming to an end.  After that surgery I'll be on the sidelined for another month, so my return may be on skis. 

Here is the warming hut.  All it needs is some snow.

This is me.  Ready to turn the page?  Hell yes!

Time rolls on

It is between ninety and one hundred degrees as I climb steadily, the sun overhead shines down through my bike helmet and jersey and into my soul.  The shadows from the trees on either side of the road fail to reach to the pavement.  Everything about this moment says heat, yet I recognize this open stretch of road as a spot where, in springtime when the snow is retreating, I have had to turn around as the snow on the road becomes solid just around the corner. 

The oddity of thinking of snow in the burning heat of summer reminds me of my own seasonality. Only a month ago I was lamenting my complete lack of fitness and now just between yesterday and today I will have nearly six hours of saddle time. 

At times my physical setbacks seem unending, yet if I step back wisdom tells me this too will pass.  After a spring that refused to come to an end, summer is here; dry, dusty and hot. Seeing the mountains now one would never imagine that in six months they will be blanketed with snow, subject to the long, cold dark nights of winter. 

Yes, today shows no hint of any other day, but those days will come.  I welcome today and I will welcome the changes when they happen.  For now, I will pause, breathe deep and be grateful.  

Can I please have my body back?

Marty, where did I leave the Flux Capaciter?

After months of living my pirate life I had a chance to take a step toward normal vision.  The hope lasted only a few days and then it was a step backward and an unplanned surgery.  I'll spare you the sad story and get to the subject of this post.

After this eye surgery my physical activity was more strictly limited than in the past.  By the time I was given the green light it had been just over six solid weeks of nothing.  Don't even bend over to tie your shoes nothing.  Have your son carry your luggage nothing.  Walk, but not too briskly, nothing.

When I got back on the bike I had nothing.  It was like I was trapped in someone else's body.  That someone else was not a lifetime athlete, it was a fat slob who had puny lungs and weak legs. 

On my rides my HR zones were  a full 1.5 zones above where they should have been.  It seemed wrong, but then afterwards the way my body felt was consistent with the actual heart rates. 

I had only six days before my team was coming to the Methow for a handful of days riding gravel.  I tried to cram in some training with predictable results.  I bet it all on the one big day and managed to avoid cramping until I was past the flame rouge.  I finished the ride pedaling with one leg.  I was blown.  

My usual training ploy after a setback is to load up on zone two miles.  The problem this time was that to go zone two speed, I had to tickle zone four.  I slept like a pile of dirty laundry. This was hard.  Getting back in shape is a young man's game and I am not a young man.

After a couple weeks of trying to build up some fitness I went on a nice Saturday ride with Hottie.  The next day was our team's Coffee and Lies ride.  The fast guys went slower and the rest of us were compelled to keep up with them as a thank you for their kindness.  

I was due for a hard day and I actually felt like I had some power.  I had resumed running for the first time since my forced rest period.  That may have given my legs some power.  Maybe. It wasn't impressive, or fast, but it was what I had on this day and I was happy with it.

It is rare that my legs hurt even before the ride is over, but the climb up to the cafe was a mix of twitches and simply sore legs.  It felt good to be strong enough to have tired legs. 

To distract my mind from the hurt I tried to plan my afternoon ahead so as to minimize the number of trips I would have to make up and down our stairs.  

When I got home I felt I had earned the right to what had been forced on me for all of the month of May; nothingness.  I relaxed and spent some time chillin with Hottie.

Loaded for bear

The road, like a slender finger of spring, splits winter and reaches into the backcountry. Spring is here with the promise of long days of sunshine.  Under a blue sky dotted with clouds ranging from white to grey three souls rolled out of Mazama and follow that road into the mountains where winter remains steadfast.

As the miles ticked by we climb and the snow on either side of the road grows deeper. Wild flowers are starting to bloom on the valley floor, yet the mountains are still cloaked under a deep blanket of snow. Spring is a time of contrasts.

As we ride, we look lumpy, our pockets bulging as we make our way deeper into the hills.  

The road isn't ready for cars and, on weekends, the snow plows are idle. We ride three abreast.  The first hour was warm, but now the clouds are thicker and a wind is bringing the chill of the snow through our jerseys.  Patches of ice on the pavement become larger and more frequent.  Finally we round a corner and can see the road goes into a wall of snow. 

There is no doubt we are at the end.  Often in spring I ride a road to where the snow takes over and there is a "Should I, or shouldn't I?" moment as I consider if I should turn around or keep going.  No debate here.  This is it.

We look around and realize it has begun to spit snow.  We are emptying our pockets like we are contestants in a game show.  We pull out jackets, vests, gloves, tights, and neck warmers. I sit on the pavement to put on wind pants. I am amazed that the road isn't cold.  We dress as fast as we can and then begin what we know will be a long, cold descent.  We are no longer lumpy, we are dressed to stay warm.  We have all done this multiple times over the years and we came prepared.

Time to get going.  

As we begin the descent the sweat on the front of my beanie turns cold and I have an ice cream headache.  The wind blows in our faces, then from the side, then for a moment behind us as we ride down the mountain we spent the last two hours riding up.  I realize that while I am not quite warm, I am not cold.  After several minutes we see two cyclists heading up and they are not lumpy.  They will be cold.  They will be very, very cold.

We trade pulls and can't help but have fun on the never ending descent.  The road grade fluctuates as we drop thousand of feet. 

As we near the valley floor we see a cyclist with bare arms and legs.  He appears to be out for a short ride and will turn around soon (we hope).  We finish our ride and welcome some hot lentil soup into our bellies.  We express gratitude for the day, the ride and each other's company. 

Yeah - I'm off plan

Pirate for a year

This shouldn't be forever, but after eight months, it feels like it has already been forever.  Yes, you adapt; but everything is harder. I said everything, and I mean everything.  I am grateful to be where I am and am glad I have been able to adapt as well as I have.  I have learned that I need those around me.  Hottie and TQ have been essential to my success and happiness.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

More later.  Just wanted to let my fans know I'm not dead, just laying low and getting ready to attack!

Road bikes are finished

In a recent conversation, someone said, “Road bikes are about as good as they are ever going to get.”  That was a bold statement, but the more I listened and thought about it. I had to agree.  Road bikes are about as light as they can be, as stiff as one wants then to be, about as aero as they can be and between tubeless, discs and the evolution of modern shifting, those are pretty close to optimal as well.  

I recall the stiffness journey as frames, cranksets, shoes, and wheels all got stiffer and stiffer, before getting more compliant.  The frame shapes that once traded aerodynamics for weight now manage to tick both boxes.  The axle standards have settled in at 12mm TA. Disc brakes are now standard and we are never going back.

There isn’t any frontier that has much to give up for road bikes.  

Mountain bikes and gravel bikes are still changing and changing rapidly.  AS amazing as those bikes are, there is more to come.  

Privacy isn't what it used to be

 

Apparently, I'm dead.

As a kid when we would get a new phone book I would open it and find our name and phone number.   As an adult I went to the trouble to get an unlisted phone number.  Today I'm on the FCC do not call list.   

When the internet was fresh, it was interesting to type in your name and see what came up.   Now it is scary.  Name, birthdate, address, phone number, spouse and employers past and present all pop up.  Also showing up are former spouses, their spouses, kids, parents, former addresses.... all connected to me! Too much for my liking. 

It turns out that even when your data is taken from legal sources (tax records, public filings, etc.) it is still YOUR data and you have a say in how it can be shared.  But it takes action.

A tech savvy friend told me what it would take to get my info removed from the websites that collect and offer up our personal data.  I spent about an hour starting the process myself and was overwhelmed. I realized it would take me hours of effort spread out over weeks, no, months, no.... years!  

There were three things that struck me; first it would take a ton of one time effort to remove my personal information, second, I would need to learn how to do it as the rules keep changing and third, as new services pop up, or my data resurfaces I would have to search out my info and repeat the process again and again and again.

Knowledge, expertise and sophisticated tools, that is what makes something a business opportunity.  There must be a company that does this.

My Data Removal does this.  You confirm who you are and what data is yours (they can't remove incorrect data, only real data) and they remove your data from the sites that mine your data.  On an ongoing basis they use software to constantly look for your data to pop up again and if it does, they remove it again.  I'm at a point in my life where I have enough assets that I am someone who can be targeted and also someone who does not mind paying less than my coffee budget to keep my data safe.  No brainer.  I would strongly recommend you consider this.  

Mortality

                   You don't know what you've got 'til you lose it all, again.

                                                                 - Bruce Hornsby 

It is like each day I was issues a hundred points to use as I saw fit.  Work took sixty or seventy points, then a few for a workout, some more for making dinner, etc.  Finally, the last few to balance the books and pay bills.   Now it is like I only get 70 points and work takes more than it used to and I'm pretty much out of points by two or three in the afternoon and my head hurts. 

I have tried to tell myself that it will pass, but the outlook now is that it will be well into 2022 before I have a chance to get back to the old normal. I'm all about positivity, but man, this is a challenge.

I've seen some windows closing, but I never had any idea some could close this FAST.  

I know I need to start from scratch and build some base fitness in anticipation of getting my vision working again. Sadly I'm an all or nothing kind of guy and not being able to mountain bike or put something challenging on the calendar is making my mind hurt. 

I've had to build from zero before, but I'm not even at zero yet. 

Back on the trail....

 

           I feel like I'm always coming back from something. Today is no different...

I crashed a friend's party and went for a quick overnight backpack in our Cascade mountains.  The bad news was I needed to use two hiking poles, the good news is neither was white with a red tip. It felt good to be moving on the trail and the poles helped for sure.  

                                             This hat makes my eye look green.

Two weeks ago California sent us their triple digit heat and for this trip it seems Alaska sent us their mosquito population.  We had headnets and we knew how to use them. We sprayed anything exposed with cancer to keep the buzzing menaces from biting.

I awoke to find a small creature had chewed a large hold in one of my stuff sacks, but no damage to the tent, so I called that a win.

A relaxed breakfast and casual roll out brought our adventure to a fine conclusion.

                                  This is Turbine leading Evo back to the car!

Snapshots in a box

 

It happens so fast.  I close my eyes and remember learning to ride my red Royce Union bike and my first day of school. I remember the first day a child of mine went to school.  After decades of reliance on my body as a tool to get me out of tricky situations, I am resigned to accept my age as a real number. 

The doctor cites my age as a risk factor.  My VO2 Max or Garmin Fitness age don't seem to matter to him. I can go on a five hour bike ride and come home and make dinner, but my fitness now has a fragility that it has not had before.  Looking at the ceiling waiting for surgery I recall looking at the ceiling waiting to see the principal in elementary school. I was in trouble then and I'm in trouble now. At my age I don't feel helpless often, but I fear it may be a trend.

I watched my grandson Drew trying so hard and in him I saw my own son who both hated his older brother and wanted more than anything to be his older brother.  Drew's older brother is like his dad and his dad's dad. How could I have been so cruel to my younger brother without giving it a thought?  

After my mother was moved into her new apartment and bags and boxes were dropped at goodwill and the trash place and my daughter took what she could use, there were two large boxes of photographs and keepsakes that summed up my mom's life. Big photos of her parents and others born a hundred or more years ago. The results of a tennis tournament she played in fifty years ago.  Photos of my mother as a young woman ready to take on the world. She asks me a question. Five minutes later she asks again. Two minutes after that she asks a third time. I smile and put my arm around her. She knows she has done something wrong, but doesn't know what it is. My assurance calms her. I am glad I can give her some peace. 

We aren't all astronauts.  I may have finally leaned patience.  Everyone is doing the best they can. Whomever set up the process isn't the person standing in front of you so don't take it out on them.  Smile and say, "Thank you."  People don't hear that enough. It is my secret weapon.  Oops, no longer a secret. 

Hottie loves me.  Ever since I was that kid on my way to school in 1965 I was hoping people would like me. I'm a dick and Hottie still loves me.  I am a lucky man.  I hear the Beach boys songs I heard as a kid. When I heard them I hoped someone would love me, she does. I know she is frustrated beyond words with injuries that we hope will be done soon. I'm feeling helpless again. 

I am lucky.  I get to see (maybe a little blurry right now) people I love and beautiful places.  I get to do fun things.  I find more joy in helping my mom or trying to make Hottie feel special than I ever thought I would.  I find joy in watching Kona play in every way he can.  

That is it for today. 

Old man winter

Wisdom says to live in the moment and enjoy where we are.  I've spent so much of my life trying to fast forward and get to the next thing, at the expense of the present.  Being outside more than most, I am aware the days are now getting ever so slightly longer.  I walk and run and ski and ride, pushing forward, enjoying the now and looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.  

Yet, there are times when the nights seem endless and, rarely, days that I never feel warm.  The draft from an open door chills my soul.  I touch cold metal and an icy shiver pierces me. 

I am savoring the winter and squeezing all I can from it. I am blessed. I know that. Now and then, when no one is looking, I close my eyes and imagine running or riding on a summer's day with bare arms, my shirt open, sweat on my chest.  

That day will come.  Just not yet. They refer to winter as an old man.  An old man that doesn't care, that has gotten where he is, just by momentum, by pushing for so long that time finally yielded. Winter is that way, simply the accumulation of so many cold days and nights.  No flash, no bang, just cold and water and time. 

Snow dog

              You mean I can go full speed on this straight trail?   Hell yeah!

Kona has been miss and hit on coming when called.  With a solid layer of snow and temperatures perfect for a thin-skinned greyhound, we decided to see if Kona would enjoy running on one of the dog-friendly trails in the Methow.  Lest we forget, Kona was born and raced in Florida.  His first experience with snow in November was not good. What would happen?

                 Where we going? I'm in. Where we going? I'm in. Where we going?

I had promised myself I would take Tux running on the winter trails, but it just never happened.  I felt grief for that and determined not to let it happen to Kona. I figured Tux would approve of taking his young nephew, Kona, in his place.

At the trailhead I readied the fat bike and then brought out Kona on a leash.  After giving him a treat and making sure he knew I had more, I unclipped his leash and we took off.  

I have taken him trail running a few times keeping him on a leash.  That follows a familiar pattern of him pulling like a sled dog the first mile or so and then me dragging him back home. He was a professional racer, now retired exactly one year to the day, but his races were only seventeen seconds long. He did exceed forty miles an hour on those races, but he has yet to figure out the endurance thing.

He sniffed some other dog's pee in the snow and then launched after me and passed at a full gallop. He loved that I could go fast as I clicked down the cassette flying along. The trail stretched out in front of us and he looked back as if to ask if he could just open up.  I cheered him on and he was so happy to run.  He greeted other dogs and ran with them a bit before continuing on his way.  This was heaven for him. 

We then stopped and I took off his coat as his running had generated plenty of heat.  In Florida they would take them in wading pools to cool them off after races.  Without his coat in the sunshine, bounding in full stride he looked like he was born for this life.  He was panting now and his muscles bulging. A skier with his own dog commented on how beautiful Kona was.  I agreed and he said it again, "He is just so beautiful. His markings, his muscles, his smile!"  Kona looked not just fit, but so happy.

We got Kona in the age of COVID and he loves dogs and people and having everyone and every dog keeping their distance was torture for this social creature.  Being able to greet people and dogs and run free was what this guy has been dreaming about for eight months. 

After less than two kilometers I stopped and told Kona we should start heading back. He looked further down the trail and only reluctantly turned west and followed me. His strides now were bouncy and he was slower as we headed towards the trailhead. The shadows now reached the trail and the distractions of urine and holes in the snow had a greater pull than they had on the way out.  My chain was on the other end of the cassette wrapped around the big cogs. 

I was now coaxing him along with treats and we were no longer passing skiers, but just holding our place among the groups heading back.  He was spent and it was an effort to just go faster than a walk. 

                             In the shadows of Virginia Ridge.  

As we neared the parking lot I clipped his leash back on. When we got to the car he jumped in and flopped down on his bed while I secured the bike.  The day could not have gone any better.  He kind of minded me. The treats gave him a reason to stay close and he played well with other dogs, which I fully expected. He didn't leave the trail chasing a bunny or other small mammal off in the woods. 

Pacing?  We will leave that to another day.

On the drive back we declared success and Kona asked if we could do it again soon.

            We stopped by Methow Trails and got him an annual pass.                                                              Yes Kona, we will do it again!

                        Then we went home and both enjoyed a fine dinner                                                             (Kibble for him, Pizza for Hottie and me)

                         This is what happy looks like a couple hours later.

Castelli Thermal Pro Skully Cap Review

                                             This is what it looks like.

It sucks.  Really.  "How can such a thin cap keep you warm?"  It can't.  There may be some comically narrow temperature range where it is useful, but cycling clothing needs to be versatile and this fails the test.   Don't buy it and if you want mine, let me know and I don't like you, it is yours.