What's Up 2013?

I think I have finally gotten settled into 2013.  It only took me 3 weeks, but I am not longer writing 2012 on checks and student assignment sheets.  And, now, that I am comfortably engaged in the year, it is time to make my event forecast: the winters are remarkably mild in fitness land!

So, you already know about the Ride-As-Many-Days-As-Possible Challenge from a previous blog. That is still going.  Still going, despite the fact that I was laid out with consumption last week.  The quarter of a mile I did on Monday about killed me, but I did it.  And, despite the fact that I almost forgot to ride my bike on Thursday.  I was trying to fall asleep when I remembered.  So, I hopped out of bed and did five miles listening to a Planet Money pod cast.  

To my great surprise, I have already ridden 139 miles this month.  For a trainer, some spin classes, and a bout with consumption, I would say that is pretty good.  So, my informal goal is to add a hundred miles a month.  If I get to 150 this month, then in February I shoot for 250, in March 350, etc. until I get to July when I have to ride a total of 750, but minus 450 for the RAGBRAI and 100 for Tour De Brew that's only 250 extra miles. 

In addition to that, here is what else is on the docket.  I was roughly planning on doing an event a month for the year.  

January--Nothing. I was thinking doing the Icebreaker Triathlon again, but I just couldn't get my biscuit motivated to get in the pool.  I tried running one day after spin class and I was just not into it.  So, January, nothing.  

February--Again, I was planning on doing the Red Flannel Run, and I might go out and walk/jog it, but I am not going to be serious about it, because, well, I just don't care enough.  I have learned, in my years of infinite blogging wisdom, forcing doesn't work.  Instead, I am on doing the BRR Ride for the first time next week!  And, there is a 5K in Columbia, Missouri the weekend of the True False Film Festival, which I plan on attending with my pals Matt and Martha.  Marthy is the one who suggested the 5K, so we will do it together. 

March--in honor of the Tiger's birthday month, I promised him I would do some sort of randonneuring event. The Tiger has decided he is no longer a "commuter" and no longer a "bagger."  He is a "randonneur."  (He is still searching for his bicycling identity).  I am not expert, but I think that randonneuring is like a long distance, self-supported, alley cat race, only instead of messenger bags, randonneurs like handlebar bags.  And instead of ear plugs, they like beards.  There are no winners, though, "you are competing with yourself."  And, from what I can tell, the popularity of randonneuring died out in the 19th century, which is why the Tiger likes it so much.  And, they give out medals.  I guess there are some permanent-do-it-yourself and write in for your medal-level events around central Iowa.  

April--Fight for Air Climb Redemption Redux.  The first year I did this event was not as bad as I would have thought.  Last year was pretty painful, both because I had less fitness and because I was fatter.  I hope both to be less true this year because I am actually going to train!  

Side note--on Tuesday night, I was laying on the futon in pile of my own phlegm when I noticed I had text message from Steven, "Aannnnnd, [the mayor] managed to donate a hundred bucks to your last years climb fundraiser instead of this year's. Fail." 

I have to tell you when I got that text message, my first thought was, "what stair climb?"

My second thought was, "Oh, yeah, I remember, I do stuff like that."  I peered back through my consumption-induced fog and remembered that even though I was sick, and hadn't worked out in several days, that I would get better, I would be able to climb a bunch of stairs, and someone out there, someone who is pretty serious about his net worth believed a hundred dollars in me!  I gave me hope!  

So, Mayor, whether or not those funds ever find their way to my fundraising account, I say, thank you for believing in me!  I will get better.  I will train.  I will climb those damn stairs.  And, when I get to the top, I will take a picture of myself wearing a Mayor-Mask. 

May--Still Looking for Ideas.

June--Copper Creek Triathlon--do I want to do this triathlon?  If I do, I have to start training, for reals in March.  We'll see.  Goldie, what do you think?  

July--Tour de Brew, duh.  RAGBRAI, duh. 

August--Beer, beer, beer.  Bike, bike, bike.  Belguim, Belguim, Belguim.  

September--Maybe the Beaverdash, maybe something else. 

October--Still looking, Night Cap Cross?  Yikes.  There's nothing scarier than the idea of doing cyclocross with a bunch of people watching. 

November--Survivor Cross--my goal for this year is to do well enough at Survivor Cross that I don't look like I need a self-appointed "coach" to teach me how to shift and stuff during the ride. 

December--Still looking.   

Blog Bite: bike shorts

Do you know what sucks? You need to workout, because you are tubby. But, because you are tubby, you look bad and feel bad in you bike shorts. And your bike shorts don't fit all that well.

A Pause for the Cause

So, I hopped back on the don't-eat-so-much-and-work-out-more wagon on January 7th.  And, it has been going pretty well.  I've been working hard in the gym, trying to sneak some cardio in through afternoon and Saturday spin classes, and I have been keeping track of what I eat in my little app.  I didn't drink during the week, and I didn't eat any of the "Welcome to DMACC" cookies that flood the first week of classes.

Yesterday, though, I was feeling pretty beat up, so I took it real-easy-like at the gym.  I did the work out, I just under achieved.  Then, I ate a monster cookie for breakfast in addition to my yogurt and blueberries.  Also, I dipped pretty heavily into the emergency-dark-chocolate I bought for my desk.  Also, we had pizza for dinner, and I had two mini-High Lifes at the Smart Wool Trivia night at Back Country (Team White Tiger won!).  And, you want to know what else?  I slept in today.  Yup, I skipped the gym.

And, I feel fantastic about it.  The great-and-powerful Ed, our fearless cult leader has been out of the gym for a week.  Reports are that he is just feeling pretty worn out.  I was feeling the same way: tired, burned-out, and I tweaked my knee in the hard/fun spin class on Wednesday nights.*

I don't want to get the death flu.  I don't want to get injured.  And, I don't want to get burned out.  Therefore, I am taking a little pause for the cause (PC).  The PC is a bit hard for me.  For one, it doesn't support the crazy-fast weight loss that I seem to expect and always allow myself to get disappointed over. For two, I know that there are people out there who work out way harder than me and NEVER take a break (Goldie, I am looking at you).  For three, the PC always risks the WLGU (week long give up), which can lead to a MLGU (month long give up).

But, for me at least, a little PC is necessary.  I am trying to think big picture.  I'd like to get to my 2010 "beastly" RAGBRAI weight, which is do-able.  I would also like to not go crazy and/or give up.  Also, do-able.

With that in mind, I would like to make a brief list of all the things that I do for myself that are good, like taking a PC, that are recommended, that are healthy.

1. I got a flu shot.  So, I am 60% less likely to have to take a fitness week off due to flu.
2. I get outside and walk the dog most days of the week.
3. I exercise.
4. I rarely eat fast food.  I eat a lot of vegetables.  I don't drink pop.
5. I get massages.
6. I love my job.
7. I have good friends and family and I try to spend time with those folks.
8. If I want something, I have it, and I don't feel bad about it.
9. I am mostly positive.
10. I went to the doctor.

A note on 10.  I hate going to the doctor, but I did it.  And, I had a clean bill of health.  It turns out, the only thing that is wrong with me is that I am fat.  And, so I am working on that.

*Dear Mayor--here is yet another reason I need you to move to DSM.  I need a local-cleat whisperer!

Blog Bite: Ride Everyday

I love riding my bike, but I don't do enough of it.  

I think about it.  Then, I talk myself out of.  I am too tired, too lazy, too busy, too unshaven.  

The solution?  Just ride every day.  So, one of my New Years resolutions was to ride my bike, or any bike, some every day.  

How far? I don't care.  I am shooting for a mile, but if I don't make it, that's cool too.  

How fast?  For now, it doesn't matter.  If I am tired, slow.  If I feel good, fast.  If I am riding a long time, slow.  If I am riding a short time, fast.  

What bike?  It doesn't matter: road, cross, back-up cross, cruiser, even spin classes count.

What happens if you miss a day?  Ha!  I already did.  January 3rd I forgot to ride.  In all fairness, I did go ice skating.  So, I won't ride every day of 2013.  I will ride most days, and 364 or even 350 would be better than most years.  

When I brought this idea up with the Tiger he said that I needed to think of a way that I couldn't give up if I missed a day.  Fatty over at Fat Cyclist said something similar about his weight loss challenge.  He gave himself 5-passes.  I am doing the same thing with missed days.  I am not trying to ride every day, I am trying to ride as many days as possible.

What's the point?  I don't know, really.  Fitness, sure.  Establish a good habit, yup.  Weird challenge, love it. And, I always say that the worst day on a bike is better than the best day doing anything else, so we will test that theory.  

I believe my pal and second biggest supporter, the Mayor, is participating as well, though only on the weekdays.  (Mayor, I have been instructed to give you sh!t about this fact, but hey, 5 out of 7 ain't bad, right?).

Right now, the bike is on the trainer, so it is easy to whip out a few miles in the evening.  

I have to say, I am 12/13 now and it is pretty fun.   You can follow me on my ill-conceived Google-Drive tables here. 

RAGBRAI '13: Stage 2 Cherokee to Lake View

Cherokee to Lake View: 62 miles

Again, I don't really remember what happened.  Steven and the Mayor are always so impressed with my RAGBRAI memory, but seriously, I don't remember much until the end of the day.  

I do remember that it was hot.  Like, crazy hot.  

We did stop for a cup of coffee in Cherokee that put us behind the rest of the crew, but there was a nice coffee shop in Cherokee and you don't just zoom by good coffee.  

8.2 miles to Aurelia?  Nope.

10.0 miles to Hanover Villege?  Blank. 

11.1 miles to Schaller--all I remember about Schaller, which is pronounced "shay-lore" is that I pretended that it was called "shaw-ler."  And I kept pronouncing it like "holler," which I thought was endlessly hilarious.  

11.5 to Nemaha--can't say what happened here.  Though, I believe, at one point, we stopped because there were some farm animals.  

Take one.

Take two.

Steven developed these hilarious daily newsletters full of information, comics, and a week-long scavenger hunt.  The Beaver Times?  Amazing.  One of the scavenger-items was "get a picture taken with a farm animal.  Do not smile."  Done. 

Hi Bob!

Also, photography note.  The Tiger's brother always sends us pictures of his face in cut-outs.  He never smiles.  It turns out, there are millions of those on RAGBRAI, so I took as many pictures as possible and sent them all to Bob as postcards.  That's why there are so many in this blog.  

Where?

I do remember Sac City--popcorn town.  I remember washing up in Sac City pretty broken down from the heat.  I was feeling a little woozy, and I remember a guy came by and said that a bunch of people had been hospitalized in Cherokee because of the heat and at least one had died.  Yikes.  

We went into the American Legion hall looking to cool off.  Unfortunately, 1702 of our closest friends were in there as well, steaming up the joint.  We found a back porch with some fans and some chairs that was quite as fusty as the rest of the building and drank some Coors.  Soon, we were joined by this crazy triathlete  from Wisconsin.  His name would become Wisconsin.  

We pressed on a little ways down the road and found a beer ghetto with some food and some ever diminishing shade.  No one wanted to press on.  It was just. so. hot.  

When we did leave, we turned the corner to head out Sac City only to find this ungodly hill.  Near the top, we saw the boys, the Tiger and the Mayor getting water.  Steven asked if we should stop, to which I replied, "eh, fuck 'em." 

That was hilarious to another cyclist who burst out laughing.  We figured the boys would catch us and it was only 9.6 miles to Lake View.  

Those were the longest, hottest, head-windiest miles in the world.  It was only out of sheer luck from the RAGBRAI gods that we found a weird little pace line, lead by two strong dudes leading two lines of two ladies who did not seem to know what they were doing.  

We tagged on and it was heaven: the-not-so-fast pace line on a hot, windy day is amazing.  We rode with them several miles until it broke up on an uphill.  

We overtook the guys in the front and Steven yelled her thanks as we passed.  One of the dudes yelled back, "we are reforming, if you want to join back on."  So we did.  Bless those strong dudes who pulled us all the way to Lake View.  I am not sure I would have made it without them.  

(The Tiger told me later that he was in pretty dire straits that afternoon as well, and that he wouldn't have been able to make it if the Mayor hadn't ridden with him.  I don't know if the Mayor knows how grateful the Tiger was for slowing down and riding with him that day.)

Soon we were ambling into town looking for our campsite.  Steven and the Mayor and I hobbled over to the lake with some beers and walked into the water, cycling clothes still on.  The water, because this was the hottest year ever, was bath temperature.  It was disgusting.  A local would tell us all the fish were dieing because it was so hot.  

Showers, beer, and pizza later, the Tiger and I, along with Emily and Ham decided to wander down to the party, which was, I thought, conveniently located near our campsite. Little would I know who inconvenient that would be.  

We look so happy!  Check out the sun burn lines.

We bumped into the nice hipster friends we had met in Cherokee and chatted with them a bit. Then, we headed back to camp for bed time.  

But sleep would not come.  

The list of anti-sleeping agents was incredibly long: 

1. Our campsite was adjacent to the bathroom.  All night long wooden doors slammed shut.

2. Our campsite was directly under the street light.  

3. It was 98 degrees out. 

4. The band was playing just blocks away, into the night.  

It was torture, knowing you need to sleep so much and not being able to do it.  This was the third night in a row that I was under rested and soon that lack of rest would start to break my spirit.

RAGBRAI '13 Stage 1: Sioux Center to Cherokee

Sioux Center to Cherokee: 54.4

Oh Sunday of RAGBRAI.  The day that lets you know just how much pain and suffering you are going to have to pay for a week's worth of fun.  It turns out: a hot lot.  

The Ham-a-Lam-A-Tandem Breaks Camp

We broke camp in Sioux Center after a rocky night's sleep.

Hammie and Emily actually arrived after driving across both Wisconsin and Iowa after an Australian Rules Football tournament in Madison, so they were sleepy.

We had several new folks and a new camp system, so it was a little rockier than normal, but soon we were all on the road headed for the breakfast town: Orange City.

As we rolled into Orange City, we heard the sound of music blaring from a trailer.  Then, over the microphone, came, "Good morning RAGBRAI!  Who is ready to rock Orange City?"  Everyone hooted as what would become known as the RAGBRAI DJ rolled past: a fella on a bike, with a huge Hawkeye speaker trailer.  He had rigged it up so that he could cut the music and speak into a microphone: genius!

We saw him several more times, and usually, he was playing pretty dope music, so even Steven and the Mayor had to forgive him his Hawkeye-love.

Northwest Iowa is Dutch country, and the Dutch are a conservative bunch.  So there would be no fun or shenanigans until we were further east.  I was particularly excited about Orange City, "like Pella only more conservative," because I knew it was a cute town and I had read they were serving "fudge babies"--a waffle on a stick dipped in chocolate and sprinkles.

We quickly found those.  And devoured them.

Then, I got in the coffee line and the Tiger went on his first prowl.  As I sipped hot coffee in the increasingly steaming sunshine, the Tiger returned with a magical treat: the pofterjy--tiny round pancakes in a buttery, orange Brandy sauce.  They were so good, we sent him back for more.

But, as there was no beer in Orange City, and it looked to be a hot one, we headed on a quick 4 miles to Alton.

Of Alton, I remember nothing.  I am pretty sure I had heat stroke.

Alton?

Same goes for Granville.  Nada.  Definitely heat stroke.

Grafton?

The next town was Marcus, the meeting town.  I am pretty sure that this was the day that Kelly met us.  He found a shady yard off the main street, and popped open the trailer and we drank icy cold beer, sat in chairs, and used the bathroom at the nearby bowling alley.  It was glorious.

The only problem was that we had to ride 17 miles still to Cherokee.  There is nothing worse than the longest stretch of the day being at the end.

Did I mention it was hotter than Hades out there?  Blazing, disgusting hot.  I think this was the day that the Tiger filled his panniers with beer for us to drink midway between Marcus and Cherokee and we stopped in the "shade" of a farm house and pondered the strange cruelty that made us choose this vacation with some poor virgin.

Marcus?

In Cherokee, we stayed in the basemen of some nice folks who lived at the top of the hill.  No one really wanted to go downtown, except for me and the Tiger, so we headed down to the main drag where we found some sandwiches, and some ice cream, and some beer.  We bumped into my workout buddy, Bruce, and his wife, who had ridden out to Cherokee.  Bruce is the nicest guy, but I don't think his wife was charmed.

At one point in the conversation, she turns to Bruce and says, "let's get something to eat."

He responds, "are you hungry?"

She says, "No."

And, they left.  We spent the night on the floor, which was cool, but I think the valve is broken on my Therm-a-rest, so I was pretty uncomfortable and I was paranoid that the Tiger's snores would wake the rest of the team like they were waking me.

RAGBRAI '12: Prologue

It has reached that time of year: when it is so cold out that all you want to think of is when you were so hot, you thought you might die.  Let me take you, gentle readers, in the way-back machine, to RAGBRAI 2012. What will follow is a series of 8-ish blogs detailed the exploits of Team Beaver's RAGBRAI adventures.

We laughed, we cried, we slip-and-slided.

It was a building year.  Know that.  We added a posse of new beavers.  We had virgins.  We arranged home stays.  We had a driver (who is a god!).  Cock ups were inevitable.  Glory was possible.

On Friday night, we loaded the trailer with the help of head Beaver Wrangler, Kelly.

Beaver None, Beaver 1

(Note the cache of beer behind Steven. This was the last time I saw Kelly in sleeves.)

Our driver to and from RAGBRAI was none other than Eric, cousin to Steven and high school-novio of yours truly, and co-worker of the Tiger.  Please note: he volunteered to drive us!

Weirdly, this photo featured even too much cleavage for me, so I edited. 

When he arrived, the Tiger and I were enjoying our first brews of the day.  We wrangled the troops and headed west.

Eric's head, being very polite and helpful.

We weren't very far west, not even to Earlham, when we decided we needed to be able to have some frosty brews.  So we stopped at a gas station to get empty cups.

We weren't far from the gas station when Steven remembered that she had left her RAGBRAI passes with her mom, in DSM.  We put the trolley in reverse, turned it around, and had an awkward rendezvous with the Magg-ster outside of the Hooter's in WSDM.  (She just wouldn't stop driving around the parking.)

And merrily, we went about our way, Steven and I providing charming and witty color commentary from the back seat, fueled with tasty beverages.  Eric listened very nicely.  The Tiger scorned our use of cups.  We did need to stop many, many times for comfort breaks.

Breakie!

In Council Bluffs, we stopped for a burger at 5 Guys, thanks to the recommendation of Eric.  It was delicious.  I started to get messages from Kelly asking how far out we were: the backtrack and comfort stops put us behind the rest of the team.

(Meanwhile, the Mayor, always one for adventure was riding his bike towards Sioux Center, having flown into Sioux Falls and stayed with some couch-surf people.  I really want to share an account of his story.  Perhaps he will guest blog for me if I ask nicely?)

Then, we proceeded to Sioux Center.  We got sleepy after all our beverages and burgers.  Soon, the roads started getting clogged with buses, trucks full of bikes, and charter buses.

Sleepy.

Soon, we were pulling off into a new subdivision, looking for the home of our hosts.  Sioux Center set us up with this couple.  The RAGBRAI coordinator told us that we had to have only "minimal partying," which seems like how we roll.

The Mayor's bike was in the yard and Kelly and Les were already there with the truck and trailer.  We piled out of the car, grabbed a handful of stuff, and headed into the house to meet our hosts for the night.

The guy who opened the door looked nice enough.  "Please take off your shoes," he said smiling after he introduced himself.  Steven and I put our stuff down and started taking off our shoes.  As I stood up, I noticed that the Mayor, Kelly, and Les were standing around awkwardly.  They weren't really settling in.

"You can sign in here, and here's a copy of the rules," our host said.  Rules?

"Okay," I thought, "Maybe this is for a guest book or something."  As I signed my name under the Mayor's I started reading the "rules," which had been printed out.  There were copies for everyone.  (Not that the MS Word formatting changes are still on the document).

The Rules!

No Smoking Allowed...okay.

No Drinking of Alcohol or Use of Illegal Drugs on the property...hmmm.

No burning of Candles or Incense allowed...what the hell?

Each Guest must provide valid ID and Register Name and Address...?

All Doors are locked at midnight. In the meantime, keep doors shut...okay.

If you move or relocate something, ask the hosts where it needs to go...what would we move?

Prefer no shoes be worn in the house...duh.

Advise us of your planned "check-out" or leaving time...okay.

Use the bathroom fan when showering...okay.

Do not use the land line phones in the house...okay.

No pets allowed...what am I going to do with the parakeet I brought?

Ask permission to eat or drink anything in the house that you did not purchase...do you have cheese balls?

Should go without saying --Do not take anything that is not yours -- We do same...what the hell?

If something breaks, let us know so we can work something out...you break it, you buy it, bitches!

Emergency & Non-Emergency Phone Numbers

Ambulance, Fire, Emergency: 911

City Policy Non Emergency: 712-722-0761

County Sheriff Non Emergency: 712-737-2280

Secret Service: 402-965-9670....what the hell?

FBI: 402-493-8688...in case we stumble onto a sleeper cell operating out of Sioux Center?

With much haste, Steven and I and the rest of the crew adjourned to the drive way for a little beaver-chat.  Kelly and Les were ready to abandon us to our fate.  They had a friend who lived in town who said they could camp in the yard.  (We had elected not to stay with said friend, because we wanted to get some A.C.).

Steven, because she is tough, decided to explain the situation.

She told the host that we might like to enjoy a few brews in the evening.  The host said we could drink, just not at his house.  We could go downtown if we wanted to (as long as we were back by midnight!).  Then, Steven, because she is tough, said thank you very much but we should really stay at this other house and we pulled the old "beaver leaver."

Kelly and Les's friend was actually the ex-wife of a client.  And she was awesome.  A RAGBRAIer herself, she may have been the only liberal in the city, maybe the county, perhaps the tri-county region.

She had a huge brick house, so we found a cozy corner of the yard to make camp, and laughed about our close escape from RAGBRAI purgatory.

We very politely drank some beer, wandered down to the expo to get some free stuff, showered, and then went to bed.

The Tiger and Kelly enjoying their first expo.

We had a fitful night sleep.  Easy-E and the Hampsta' rolled in late and had to make camp.  There was flashes of lightening and a touch of rain that sent us scrambling for the fly, only to be stifled by the heat inside.  And, after 10 our friend Steve-Oh showed up to hang out, only to find everyone sleeping.  How embarrassing.

It was a quite a foreboding beginning to our RAGBRAI adventure.