Odds & Ends

Bec here to fill in while hubby takes his hiatus from all things active while the knee heals. Here is my conquering hero sporting the latest fashion in knee braces.

I will spare you the up-close shot of his lovely colored knee. The good news is that the docs don't seem to think that cycling or running need to end permanently, but I'll let Scott give you all of the gory details when he wishes.

Soooo. . . to entertain his faithful readers (our mothers, that is), I am including some randomness. Look closely now, and keep in mind that this is from an instruction booklet for a hair straightener I recently purchased. . . .

Yes, folks, that says "Never use while sleeping." While I am an advocate of multitasking, I must admit that I am not the world's greatest multitask-er. However, the thought of straightening my hair while I watch those cute, little sheepies jump over the fence appeals to me. In fact, doing a great number of things while I sleep appeals to me. Shall I start a list? Eating, reading, washing the dishes, grading, dusting. . .you name it! Oh, the things I could get done while I sleep! If only. . . .*sigh* The real question, though, is what kind of idi. . . er, umm. . .*ahem* person caused the author to have to include this warning against the use of a heated appliance while sleeping? Interesting, eh?

Okay, now for the real entertainment--the small, noisy one and her latest exploit. . .

Pendulum Swing.

The dad pushing a little dark skinned beauty on the swing next to Gianna wondered why we came to Walnut Creek for the kids to play at the park. We had been chatting and I mentioned we live in Martinez. I told him my wife wanted to ride her bike on the canal trails and this was a good place for her to start from; where also I could hang out and watch the kids. He nodded, accepting that answer as completely logical and kept pushing.

Ah the irony. There I stood trying to track Ella's laps around the park on her bike, and keep a squealing giggling pendulum in motion, while my wife pedaled alone through Walnut Creek.

It's my knee again. I followed up my Mt. Diablo Almost Marathon on Saturday with a 5 mile hike through the emerald green hills in Briones on Monday. Wanting to "loosen up" some stiff muscles, and anticipating an easy hike, I brought Gianna in the jogging stroller. I did loosen up, but it didn't end up being easy. Tuesday I felt great - except for a twinge of pain in the left knee.

By Wednesday the pain was predominant, and Friday morning at 8:01 I called Kaiser Orthopedics to see if there were any openings. Around 2:00 pm the doctor and I were chatting about the infection in the bursa wreaking havoc on my swollen burgundy colored left knee. Antibiotics 4 times a day, ice, and no running for at least a week till I met her again. "Go to the Emergency Room if you come down with a fever." Stink.

The antibiotics go down with food, so that's OK.

I'm not fond of the ice, because that means I have to sit still at least 3-4 times a day.

But not running or cycling for a whole week? - Not as hard as I thought. 3 days into my abstinence I'm certain I could run if I had to, but frankly have no desire. Walking is a chore. Cycling is out of the question. Yet absence does make the legs grow twitchy - or something like that.

So Saturday I watched my wife ride away on her bike while I sat on the park curb with an ice pack on my knee. When she returned I was spooning banana chunks into a 14 month old and chatting politely with the other domestics. Textbook role reversal.

At church last night a fellow deacon asked me - "so what are you learning from this?" (Referring to my halting gate, and segmented transitions from sitting to standing) "I'm not sure that I want to learn anything from it," was the gist of my reply.
But he knows me better than that.

"I want to learn that I can be content in all things, and that in spite of pain, loss and disappointment I can still face life with alacrity and maintain joy. I want to learn to live like God is enough for me."

Apathy vs Alacrity.

And somewhere in the middle is me.

Tough Mudder

http://toughmudder.com/events/norcal2011/

The website pretty much says it all.

We have a team created - "MudSharks" - and have approx. 6 or 7 members going.
Anyone interested can join, and the more there are on your team the better. Let me know if you're interested and I'll get you the link to join our team.

Bec can't make it this year, but she said "maybe some year." I'm not making that up...

God put us together for a reason. She's the best woman a man could want - and yes, for more reasons than just that : )

Mt. Diablo Marathon - Almost

Me and Vince (Who's camera is responsible for all of these pictures.)

It took all week to plan for this insanity.

Matt took receipt of my bike on Friday night and it spent the night in the back of his Tundra. Also part of his cargo were my trail running shoes, helmet and gloves, 2 water bottles, 2 oranges, a banana, Power Bars, and a quart size bag of mixed nuts and dried fruit.

My conveyance to the start of a Mt. Diablo summit hike, was my white and orange Reeboks. 5:15 am I hit the road on the run and 13.4 miles and exactly 1 hour 45 minutes later I jogged up to the culdesac of Regency Dr. in Clayton. 7:00 am, I crested the last hill, as Pastor and Vince drove up. Sarah was already there, and Matt showed up 5 minutes late.

Matt brought me coffee and a protein type shake, both of which were gone in less than 5 minutes.
I changed shoes, reloaded my CamelBack with a new supply of PowerBars and the nut / fruit mix and we hit the trail at a trot. There had been some uncertainty as to whether we would summit the mountain, or just take the Falls Trail loop. So we did both.

Sarah was interested most in the Falls Trail, so whether in a show of chivalry or just a chance to add some miles, we took the loop with her until it intersected the Middle Trail and our route to the top.

Sarah, Me, Pastor, and Matt

Parting ways, Sarah jogged back down to her car, while the 4 men headed uphill.
10:04am, I climbed over the rail into the summit parking lot. (We rarely take the trail the whole distance to the top, choosing rather to cut straight up the last 900 vertical feet in a 1/2 mile death march.) This was approximately mile 18 for me with an accumulated elevation gain of well over 4000 feet.

Wow, he looks awful!

An obligatory walk through the Nature Center and a brief sit down out of the 40 mph gusts was heaven - while waiting for Pastor and Matt to reach the top. As soon as they climbed into the parking lot, Vince and I bid them good day and began the jog back down. Ouch. I had to walk / trot the majority of the steep 1/2 mile drop off the top. Unlike my typical haphazard rocksliding, I was acutely aware of my fatigued legs and sore feet, and took my time through the sharp rocks and drops.

Once off the top it was a full run to the bottom, but alone, since Vince was nowhere to be found. Cramps came and went as my legs transitioned muscle groups once more. Vince made it down in the best time I've seen yet - less than an hour. I met him back at the trucks 7 minutes adrift.

There the bike waited to take me on the final leg of my journey down the valley back to my house. The 2 oranges vaporized. I managed to stuff the running shoes and balance of the paraphernalia into the CamelBack and started turning the pedals. An hour later I was emptying cabinets at home in search of carbohydrates and protein.

My total miles for the day were approx. 23 on foot (18 running, and 5 hike/jog up the mountain) and 13.5 on the bike. Total time was 7 hours.

I am actually beginning to think I will be ready for my Marathon in April.

Just Another Great Ride

As recorded herein, I've been running a lot lately. For some reason it's easier on my left knee than is cycling right now. My sore knee after Wednesday's ride reminds me of this fact.

Wednesday I came home early to get a ride in while the sun was shining. I chose the road bike, bib shorts, Santa Cruz Mts Challenge jersey, sleeveless windbreaker, and arm warmers. Before I had even finished inflating the tires the arm warmers were already stashed in my jersey pocket.

Some days are meant for riding and this was one of them. I was soon asking myself why it had been so long since I had been out for a ride. Sliding the arm warmers back on at the end of the ride I remembered why.

The northern California February afternoon sun was already steeply angling shadows across the road, but the air was tenuously clinging to the mid day warmth and before long produced a few trickles of sweat below my windbreaker.

I pushed up the first series of hills getting through my side of town, and was pleasantly surprised at my performance. Attacking the final rise to look over Alhambra Valley the reason came to me in that pleasant and warm way that good things that should have been obvious do. I've been running. My lungs were taking this exertion in stride - so as to say. All of the heart pounding lung burning work I've been doing in running shoes has made a difference.

Having been off the bike for a while, I mediated between my mutually exclusive aggressive and conservative personas, and decided to favor conservatim over aggression. This would be a tempo ride rather than a test. I started the Crocket loop still feeling remarkably strong. The whole of the ride was far under capacity yet I still managed to finish in an hour - not much slower than my best.

The real joy came while climbing McEwen Rd. I overtook another cyclist with a slick kit, and sweet full carbon bike about 1/4 of the way up. I saw him as I turned right up the hill, though didn't rush to overtake him. We chatted briefly, and then I beat him to the top by half a minute. I sat up rolling down the other side, and let him catch me at the bottom where we both made the left turn back toward town.

This was exactly what I had hoped, and we were soon swapping turns on the front and pushing 30 miles an hour for the long gentle descent of Franklin Canyon. My fun soon turned to determination, as I decided to push for a sprint finish.

Coming into the last mile I was pulling and was fading so he came around for a turn on the front. I sat in for a while resting just off the left side of his wheel, but soon came back around again not wanting to be accused of taking advantage. With only 3 corners left I saw him off my left elbow as if he would come around me, and still seated, I added pressure to the pedals and ducked my head a little lower. He stayed back. Rounding the last corner and looking up toward the top of the road I jammed the balance of my powder and shot down the barrel and came off my saddle. I touched the fuse and went straight up the center of the road forgetting that this stretch was strewn with potholes and crumbling asphalt. There was not help for it - I had committed. I went right through barely feeling them, partly from some deft hops and nudges, and partly because I was flying.

He sat off my left elbow and no dark thing from the Abyss could have driven me faster toward the top of that hill. He had sucked my draft up the hill and adroitly stayed up with me. I'll never know if he could have beat me to the top without the draft or not, but he did kindly allow me to crest first. He came up beside and tapped me on the back laughing. We both rolled over the hump to Alhambra Valley Road where he turned to the right, and I to the left. Briefly shouted salutes were the end of our adventure.

I was reminded why I love this sport. The people. The wind. The speed. The ability to invest your whole being into a few moments of pure excitement and roll to a stop and smile at the end.

Mt. St. Helena

(Note: Not Mt. St. Helens. No volcanoes on this trip.)

This is not what we climbed.

Mt. St. Helena is in the North Bay about an hour and 20 minute drive from Martinez. The write up online set this hike up as an epic hike. 10 miles is a long hike, but we were all suspicious about the "epicness" of only climbing 2000'. Rightly so.

A mile on single track winding through Robert Louis Stevenson State Park led us up onto a fire road, which we followed for the balance of the climb. We all agreed that had the single track wound through 5 miles of forest on the way to the top, then we could forgive the meager 2000'.
Alas, fire roads are not worth driving nearly 3 hours round trip for.

Nevertheless, we did manage some great photos of the rising fog merging with the clouds and rain that would settle in the second half of the day.

The near fog was moving like a glacier down the canyon



Vince, so where are your pictures?



Dianne, and Matt





Mt. Diablo on the horizon, just to the right of the bushes.



A Sea of Fog

Golden Gate Headlands Marathon

It's official. I'm signed up for the Golden Gate Headlands Marathon - April 2, 2011.

My Sunday morning training runs are getting painful.

But I'm doing myself no favors either. Saturday morning Matt and I hiked / ran nearly 10 miles having renewed the Saturday morning hikes after a month or so off.

From my phone...


A few minutes later, from Matt's phone...

5:30 am Saturday I was on my bike heading for the park for our unalterable 6:00 am start time. We have pondered pushing the start time back a little to grow our group, but determined that 7 or 8 would likely exclude as many hikers as 6, so 6am it stays.

Bec needed some odds and ends and a walk, so Saturday evening found us walking (Gianna in the jogging stroller and Ella on her scooter) up to Walmart and Lucky for 4 additional miles. Bec was charging away pushing the stroller with me struggling to keep up.

For Sunday I had mapped out an 18 mile run - my longest yet - following a familiar path down to the Martinez Marina, across the Benicia Bridge, and then nearly to Vallejo and back. A creeping, yet distinct negativity swirled around me like mist at 5:40am as I started out, and I knew something needed to change or I would never meet my goal. For some reason my intended route loomed boring. Boring is fatal for me.

I spontaneously changed course 1.5 miles into the run, turning right at Shell Ave. and ran the balance of the course in the exact reverse of my intentions. Over the bridge, and once on Military West, I ran straight toward Vallejo and Benicia State Park. At the park I made a hard left and began to follow the Carquinez Strait back toward the Benicia Marina - my second course alteration. By now my attitude had shifted from pessimism to a resolved optimism fringed with the realization that I was about to run a really long painful way.

The Benicia Marina was just coming to life as I pounded down 1st street. Elderly women in smiles and sweat suits with miniature dogs greeted me while their male counterparts seemed to begrudge the growing light and nature's call to man's best friend. I wound a course past the sail boats and yachts gently testing their tethers and caught glimpses of tables being set for breakfast on board. Gray haired men seemed the primary cohort among the oscillating masts.

From the waterfront I could clearly see the bridge nearly 2 miles up stream, and the Martinez Marina half way in between on the opposite shore. Wow, they looked a long way off.

Just under an hour later I was on that opposite shore looking back across the water with only 3 miles left. The final miles went far smoother than what I was anticipating, and with the exception of a customary depletion of adrenaline in the last 1/4 mile, I frankly felt like I could have kept running.

2 hours 50 minutes. 19.2 miles.
That averages out to a slower pace than I've been targeting, but, well, that's a long way to run.

...And I have till April 2nd to get my speed up.

Officially Broken In

Well the "new" commuter bike is officially broken in. I've been pedaling her around for a while but haven't really put any quality miles on it.

Saturday, Vince wanted to test ride some bikes in preparation for the summer fun. I offered to go along as did Dianne, so we met in my church parking lot and rode the trails into Walnut Creek. The warm sun in January had crowded the trails, so at Newell and S. Broadway we jumped a curb to follow S. Broadway and Danville Boulevard and joined the throngs of cyclists already breezing the bike lane.

Vince test rode 3 bikes at Pegasus Cycle Works in Danville. Our test route took us west of town and up a 1/4 mile climb, steep enough to make my lungs sit up and take notice.

None of the bikes met his approval, and after perusing 2 more shops in the area we wandered back toward Martinez. I totaled just over 30 miles, and gave my bike a good workout.

My legs got a good workout too. I decided to "pull" our trio in a pace line back along Danville boulevard. We must have looked like quite the mismatch - Me on my, well whatever it would be considered, Vince on his hardtail mountain bike sporting street slicks, and Dianne on her road machine. It was a blast.

My Sunday morning run was slated to be long. My legs hadn't forgotten the 30 miles. 15.5 miles was my longest run - ever - and my quads rebelled on every hill. I was able to maintain my 8 1/2 minute mile pace and am looking optimistically toward a spring marathon.

Sunday afternoon was back on the bike. We had a deacon's meeting mid afternoon at church, which I routinely ride to. I took the commute bike again and finally felt that I was at home on that bike - but my legs were done.

It's great to be back - in pain.

Cold

My Camelback froze at around 4 miles, and my breath had frozen in tiny icicles on my hat brim and eyelashes. I decided it may have been colder than I thought.

It was 26 degrees.

We were long weekending with some of my wife's family recently moved to Nevada - South East of Reno. Suffering from sour weather and a variety of other excuses I haven't made time to run in a week and a half. I brought my running shoes and other essentials along for our weekend vacation.

Friday morning dawned foggy like no other I've ever seen. Jack Frost had been working overtime overnight. The trees, fences, cars, and - well - everything outside was covered with not only frost, but ever lengthening thorns of ice crystals. The meteorological term is "freezing fog," which worked for me, since visibility was under a quarter mile.

This weather could only be considered "better" since it wasn't actively raining. Though obviously below freezing, I was undaunted and antsy, and thus decided to tackle the 5.5 mile route I had established on my phone's Google Earth map. Every breath was marked by a burst of vapor that rose up and around the bill of my hat and then drifted off lost in the thick sharp enveloping cloud. A summer fog is something like a wet wool blanket. This fog was more like a swan dive into a half frozen lake.

The nice thing about running is that your body becomes an enormously effective heater. My long sleeve jersey, base layer, and arm warmers were more than adequate and were soon wet from the inside out. With speeds far slower than in cycling, the wind chill from my plodding actually become my friend.

I took a pull on my CamelBack about half way through the run, and thought I perceived a touch of resistance as I sucked frigid water from the translucent blue tube. A few minutes later I decided I didn't need to be thirsty anymore. The bite valve had become stiff, and in spite of a reasonable effort, the reservoir was no longer accessible - dammed off by a cylinder of ice.

The desert surrounding their town is considered "High Desert," for the simple reason that it is 4000' in elevation. With the flat terrain and towering peaks on the horizon it would be easy to think yourself much closer to sea level. My lungs weren't fooled though. At the end of 5.5 miles my muscles craved to indulge in far greater quantities of oxygen than my lungs were metering out. 5.5 might as well have been 10.

The run was the start to a wonderfully relaxing weekend. We spent a day doing - for all practical purposes - nothing. The drive home Saturday was punctuated by a half day at Sugar Bowl. I snow boarded for the second time, and my sister in Law skied for the first time in 10 years. We were there just long enough to ensure a sore ride home.

Strangely Compelled

I have little to say.
Though I feel strangely compelled to say it.

There is something about having a blog and not writing regularly that plays at the conscience.

I guess I could say nothing about the fact that it is pouring down rain AGAIN...

Or, that my knee is rather sore, and making me nervous about my pending surgery and the New Years Day ride up Mt. Diablo in 4 days.

And so I'll also say nothing of the fact that my 13.1 mile (Half Marathon) run at 6:00 am this past Sunday morning went very well, and I'm excited about how great I felt on the home stretch. Of course I probably shouldn't leave that out, since that is about the only thing I have to say even distantly related to the primary content of this particular blog.
But I could leave it off and neglect to mention that I managed just over an 8.5 minute mile finishing in under 2 hours.

But since none of those are worth mention, a singular topic will suffice: The fact that I'm now sitting at home on a Tuesday evening with no compelling reason to do anything else. Not exactly astounding - but close. Having survived another festive barrage of holiday obligations, I am now pleasantly obliged to sit and do nothing. A dark, rainy, and cool winter evening is plenty of reason to sit listening to my daughter play belated Christmas carols on the piano with ice on my knee and no plans of moving any time soon. The bleak mid winter hasn't always been adequate to render me docile. But for tonight it has, and that is noteworthy.

I think I'll go brew some coffee and try not to look at my running shoes leering from beside the front door.