Poison Oak

Ugh. If you have ever had Poison Oak, Ivy, or Sumac then you know what I mean by "ugh". I got it again.

We were returning from one of our after dark runs, where we use lights to give the illusion of safety while careening along fire roads in muddy tennis shoes. The run was done and we were driving out of the park, when we came around a corner and saw a brush fire only minutes old. Vince and Rachel stopped, and immediately called 911. I pulled up, and lacking a fire extinguisher, grabbed an old blanket from the back of the Pilot and began to smother the fire. I quickly realized that in order to do any good, I would have to get above the fire, as it was climbing a rather abrupt slope. After a difficult scramble up through the brush to the right of the fire it became evident that the flames were going to be too much for me and my blanket. We all retreated to wait and watch the fire department douse the result of a careless smoker’s indiscretion. I now loath that careless person.

A passing comment from my wife made my blood run cold. “I hope there was no Poison Oak in that brush.” I set a new land speed record getting from our car into the shower. Too late.

It has now been nearly 3 weeks since that fateful night. I reach down and scratch between nearly every paragraph. Most reports claimed that the rash should be gone in 2 weeks. Not for me.

I’m on my second round of prescription steroids. I have experimented with every topical analgesic, antihistamine, antipruritic, and exfoliant. I’ve used 2 kinds of pink, 2 kinds of white, clear, another cream that had a fine grit that felt like heaven to rub in, a Filipino coconut oil home remedy, and a homeopathic boiled leaf tea that smells like dog pee. I’ve slept on the couch more nights in the last 3 weeks than in the other 8 years of marriage combined. (Especially when I smelled like dog bedding) I’ve seen every two hours come and go on the hour for more nights than I care to remember. Recently a good night sleep is one where I’ve had consecutive 3 hour sleeps separated by only one reapplication of one of the various colors. On average I’ve been getting 4-5 hours per night with restless catnaps wherever I can fit them in during the day - preferably with my pickup truck in park.

Poison Oak is a curse. It covered my legs from my ankles up to my shorts line, with a few branches obviously sneaking up a lot higher. Both arms suffered damage, up to my biceps, but the right one took the brunt. My stomach must have also been scratched by a variant vine, and a sore about the size of half my palm developed to the right of my naval. All of the noted areas developed wonderful little blisters that weeped unabashed. For 2 solid weeks I looked and felt like death itself and often caught myself impersonating a chimpanzee with scabies. Children cried out and women wept in my presence. We were going to take pictures, but couldn’t bring ourselves to do it.

Then something wonderful happened. The sores began to show a valiant attempt at healing, just as I came off the first round of steroids. For about a day I noticed significant relief. All of the aforementioned areas morphed from brilliantly grotesque sores and scrapes to something similar to an alligator, and then further to what now looks like random scars. But then the flowers blossomed. The scars seemed to spawn a rosy thin rash tripling the coverage area. I despaired. Back to the dermatologist. More little white pills taken with food. I renewed the application of the foul stench, attempting to hide it with Mary Kay cologne. I can only hope the cover up worked. No one would likely tell me if it didn't.

I urge you to peruse the website of a co-sufferer - http://knoledge.org/oak/. Especially his section on etiquette. Just knowing that others have survived, has given me reason to hope. Though as I sit here I cannot recall life before the itch, and am beginning to suspect that indeed it may not have existed.


What I have learned...

Look before you leap. If it is too dark to see - don't leap.

DON'T BURN POISON OAK.

Let the East Bay Regional Park Service and the Contra Costa County Fire Dept. deal with brush fires.

Go to the dermatologist first. The general practitioners don't have a clue, and have been too busy in school to embark on adventures that include Poison Oak interactions.

Believe everything you read on the internet - it IS that bad.

Boiled Yerba Santa leaves help considerably.

Boiled Yerba Santa leaves smell like dog pee.

Snuggling with the wife ceases when you get Poison Oak. Neither of you are especially interested in it. Particularly when one of you smells like a kennel.

Hot showers become torture chambers. Cold showers don't itch, but are, well, cold showers.

With Poison Oak on 3/4 of your legs, those nylon warm up pants that are so perfectly convenient and comfortable, become acutely insufferable the moment you step out of the car in a public place. The same also applies to any article of clothing that happens to terminate on, or immediately adjacent to a rash. (When covered nearly head to toe, this makes clothing seem so overrated.)


The things taken for granted on a daily basis, including the most minute matters, become so intensely obvious, when you have danced with the pruritic vine.

Wine Country Century

I’m putting my Christmas and birthday money to good use. I signed up for another Century. Actually I’m riding a double metric century, which ends up being about 120 miles. The route sounds pretty flat, with only 4 – 5k feet of climbing. I don’t drink wine, so I hope it’s not a prerequisite for the event. Oh well if so. I’ll be the only teetotaler out there. I have till May 2 to get ready.

I have now signed up to meet one of the goals in the "Goals List" of the 1/16/09 posting. If all goes well this should be a decent training ride for the Death Ride in July - in which success will be another goal achieved.

What to Wear

I've never been a very good judge of exactly what to wear to most appropriately meet the capricious nature of cool weather rides and my thirst for significant variations in altitude during such rides.

Saturday morning Vince and I met at the train trestle at 8:00 am and rode the Crocket loop in pretty good time. The air was cold to start the morning, which always creates a wardrobe dilemma, especially when the afternoons are destined to be warm. I opted for shorts and knee warmers, a sleeveless t-shirt under my long sleeve jersey and a windbreaker. The bandana and long fingered gloves supplemented the helmet and cycling gloves.

It worked out nearly perfect. By the time I met up with Vince, I had climbed over the Shell St. hill, and was ready to take off the windbreaker. Once done, I was content to feel the 40 degree air through my jersey, but suspected the descents from our 2 climbs would be chilly. They were, but I was done with the windbreaker for the day. Following the 20 mile loop, I headed for Mt. D while Vince headed to finish some chores. I followed a familiar route across the west side of the Diablo Valley, and finally lost the knee warmers and gloves starting my ascent around 10:00 am.

I had a reasonable climb ahead of me and soon decided that I should have braved the cold earlier and chosen a short sleeved jersey. 1 hour 30 minutes from the North entrance to the top. I blame the less than spectacular results on being out of the saddle for so much this winter, and for riding 90% of the way in 2^nd gear.

Why in 2^nd gear? I don’t know. I got started feeling good, looked down and saw I still had one gear to go, and decided not to go there. It most certainly felt like the mountain got steeper, but I have no idea whether or not it helped my climbing ability, endurance, or muscle strength. It did get me passed by 2 cyclists near the top. However, their combined bikes, attire, and gear probably cost more than our Honda, so I’m fairly certain they were professionals or something like that.

The sun and a stiff breeze were in competition at the top of the mountain, so I positioned myself so as to give the sun as much advantage as possible. I slipped the long gloves back on after refilling 2 water bottles and headed for home. The windbreaker would have been nice on the way down, but one gets weary of the flapping, and the temperature relates inversely to the altitude.

Home in just over 4.5 hours for the 66 miles and approx. 5.5k feet of climbing. No sweat. I mean literally, I got home dry though hydrated, which means that I was dressed just about right, and the pre-spring air was feeling splendid.

Muddy Tracks

We’ve been running and hiking to stay in shape through the winter. The trails are muddy, the days are short, and the weather has been cold and rainy. Both the mountain bike and the road bike wince every time I open the shed door. They know what I’m thinking. I understand the trepidation. I’m not much fond of road rash either.

However, the mountain bike and I made a pact the other day, and we set off from the house for an hour ride through Briones to meet up with the others for our Tuesday trail run. My favorite women were going to drive up into the park to walk with some other ladies, so my bike was promised a ride home on the back of the Pilot.

Once I reached the park, and started up into the hills, the trails were predictably mucky. Very few bike tracks cut through the frequent slimy sections, but the equestrian and bovine traffic has been heavy. The trails are trashed. I managed to the top without stepping off, but only because of some rather narrow hard packed detours skirting the worst areas.

I reached our rendezvous just minutes before the group began to arrive; Phyllis, My wife and daughter, and finally Vince, Rachel, and the Black Dog. Vince and I ran a loop, taking us along both single track and fire roads, till we met up with the walker / joggers near the top of the park. The ladies had taken turns pushing Ella in the jogging stroller, often two at a time to make it up some of the hills. Boy was I glad I didn’t have to push her.

In all, we were out for just over an hour and covered probably 5 and 3 miles respectively. My quads were rather put out from riding and then running the painfully steep slopes. Bec found some new muscles on that hike, but Ella seemed no worse for the bouncing and jostling. Although, they say she did hike a fair portion of it herself.

We finished in the dark.

My bike breathed an almost visible sigh of relief as it was fastened securely to the bike rack.

3 days later – Friday, we went out again, with a similar group. No running this time. It ended up being basically a walk in the park. 5 year old Ella managed the majority of the 3 mile hike on foot. I pushed the stroller the whole time, empty and occupied. Vince was busy trying out his new video camera. Lots of mud.

Last night it was just Vince, Rachel, and Black Dog along with Bec, Ella, and myself. Vince and I attempted the Briones summit, but had to turn back at 40 minutes in order to make it back in the agreed upon 1 hour. It is likely that we actually found the steepest possible ascent. We managed to run, or maybe trot is a better definition, 99% of the way. Some areas were just too steep and slick to keep it up. Running down is a scream. I’m still sore today. Lots more mud.

Speaking for myself and my family, it has been a good winter so far. I have thoroughly enjoyed running the trails. It’s a bonus having my women so close too, as we share in a little adventure a couple of times each week.

I'm getting good at vacuuming out the Pilot.

Goals

US Postal Service team leader Lance Armstrong reacts as he crosses the finish line to win the 15th stage of the Tour de France cycling race between Valreas, southern France, and Villard-de-Lans, French Alps, Tuesday, July 20, 2004. Armstrong was honored Monday Dec. 27, 2004 as The Associated Press Male Athlete of the Year for the third straight year. Armstrong joined Michael Jordan (1991-93) as the only athletes selected by sports writers and broadcasters three straight times since the honor was first awarded in 1931. AP / File Augusta Chronicle 12/27/04

We're supposed to have goals, right?
(My wife would recommend that I place the word "reasonable" in that sentence somewhere, I'm sure)
So, I'm laying out some that I've been considering for this year.
I in no way think that at the end of this year I will return to this post and compare reality with these hopes. This is just an opportunity to wander through the possibilities.


First, a story about a goal.
In August of '08 I posted about a dismal ride up Mt. Diablo. It was painful. The only worse pain I've had on the bike, was a bone chilling descent from the same mountain at the end of '07, which I have not forgotten. There was no choice concerning the descent - I wasn't about to spend the night on that mountain wearing sweaty spandex.

The climb 3/4 of a year later was optional - and grueling.

I never would have finished, if I hadn't set a goal. I had determined to make it my fastest time to the top of the mountain, which meant I had to reach the summit.
Not even 3 miles into the 11 mile climb, it was obvious that the secondary goal, "a best time ever" was a dream and likely to be more like a nightmare. Just surviving all the way to the top was becoming a perilous prospect. However, with half of the objective already deceased, the other approached a temporary obsession.

There were a variety of factors working against me that afternoon, and the sum of them was enough to create doubts about my sanity moving forward. This 3000'+ climb had become routine, so it would have been inconsequential to miss just once. However, I had set a goal to reach the top of the mountain, so I pressed on through clammy crawling skin, dizziness, and nausea. I had bonked, hit the wall, blew up, and any or all of a number of other ways of saying I was spent, all in, toast, and wasted. The climb was miserable.

Notwithstanding, and much later than anticipated, my goal was achieved. And as always, it was worth it. Not because I felt so good, or because there was anyone there to laud and praise, but rather because quitting feels so bad.


Lance Armstrong has a quote:
“Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”

My wife found this quote poster size, with a picture of Lance and framed it for my office. I actually think of it often.

In the first Century AD the Apostle Paul, prior to his demise, was led by the Spirit of God to write, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:" in reference to finishing this life in good standing with the God of the universe.

Now that's a goal. That's finishing well. That's refusing to quit. That's what I want to be able to say.




List of Goals - (Many of which aren't nearly as important as the previous paragraphs may have led you to anticipate.)

1. Ride one of the bikes at least once per week.
2. Run / ride at least twice a week.
3. Ride to the top of diablo four times in one day - at least once this year.
4. Finish all 5 passes on the Death Ride.
5. Replace my 10+ year old bike before the Death Ride.
6. Get Dave and Pastor to the top of Mt. Diablo on their bikes at least once.
7. Get my daughter proficient enough to ride her bike along with Bec and I while we walk.
8. Ride at least one organized century other than the Death Ride.
9. Swim in the warm Atlantic Ocean.
10. Ski at least twice this winter.
11. Make a list of my personal and spiritual goals somewhere else where others won't read them.