Progress

So, here's the thing... I like to make fun of myself on this blog. My eating habits, at times, are still laughable. Literally. But I've also been making steady health-progress since May of this year. I've written about it already in this space... but the progress has continued and I think it's worth pausing, reflecting, and celebrating. (Before going right back to publicly shaming myself.)

The weight loss has continued, and I would say I'm "done" as far as weight being a focus of my fitness. At this point, I'd like to remain steady where I'm at, and shift my focus to strength (still minimal) and speed (improving).

As I continue to improve running speed, I assume I'll shed a few more spare pounds... but that's a byproduct, not a goal. And the weight loss will not be nearly as notable as the past half year: about 55 pounds in a little over 5 months. I haven't written about this extensively, but there's really nothing magical about this weight loss: I bike to work every day, run 6 days a week, and try not to eat everything I see. "Work out and don't be a pig." Simple.

185.8 this weekend

I've only tried to "run for speed" twice... and failed both times. (trying to break a sub 50 minute 10k and a 2 hour half marathon). So I was hesitant to get involved in making speed-related goals, but once I started... it's tough to stop. Running provides such a nice endorphin boost already -- adding "accomplishing goals" to that is nice icing on the cake (even if speed is relative), and I love icing. Plus it requires varying workouts to get faster -- so that keeps things from getting overly monotonous.

Anyway, I set pacing goals for 5k, 10k, and half marathon distances that I was hoping to accomplish first semester (with maybe the half marathon goal falling in early spring)... but then I completed all of them by my birthday - in early fall. Yippee. So I needed to set new goals.

Thus far I've accomplished two of my four active goals (sub-6 minute mile, and sub-21 minute 5k). The two remaining goals are 10k at sub-7 minute pace, and a half marathon at sub-8 minute pace. 

And I've added one more goal: finish a marathon. I'll be running Houston in January (more on that later).

For now, I'm celebrating hitting a PR in my 5k... next time goal is breaking the 20 minute mark. But that's still a ways off. Also, just in case I started to feel good about my "3rd place in my age group" finish today in the This Run's For Jack 5k... I got beat by a 12 year old girl, a 13 year old boy, and three guys in their 50s. Speed is relative.

This fall, I've hit a PR in some sort of distance about once every other week -- which is obviously encouraging. Consistent evidence of improvement is a great motivator, and these little goals along the way have made great signposts en route to killing the fat.

For the curious/nerdy, below are the numbers/dates for my best times. (and no, that is not a typo... prior to this fall there is no record of Dan Nicholas having ever run one mile in less than 7 minutes). It's fun for me to keep in mind that in May I ran a 5k (not really racing but not really holding back) at 31:51... a 10:08 pace. Wow.

PRs:

1 mile:
7:00 (Aug 26 - as first mile of 5k)
6:19 (Sept 24 - as part of a "mile repeat" workout)
5:48 (Oct 7)

5k:
23:56 - 7:51 pace (July 13, 2011)
22:04 - 7:07 pace (Aug 26)
20:49 - 6:38 pace (Oct 19)

10k:
50:43 - 8:11 pace (Aug 21, 2011)
50:27 - 8:07 pace (Sept 13 - as second half of half marathon)
46:55 - 7:34 pace (Sep 20)
45:44 - 7:22 pace (Oct 5)

Half Marathon:
2:09:04 - 9:47 pace (May 20, 2012)
1:49:14 - 8:20 pace (Sep 13)

All the Donuts

This entire post will be devoted to my favorite of all the essential food groups: donuts. It seems apropos to commence with some romantic poetry, and then proceed to indiscriminate and extraneous thoughts regarding this divinely inspired superfood...


An Ode To Donuts

Oh, Donuts, you are dough
Fried and covered with delicious sugar-based flavors
Glazed, Chocolate, Cream-Filled
You're glorious no matter what
Although jelly-filled aren't the best.

What brilliant mind birthed you?
Such a testament to human ingenuity
Circular, Everlasting, You complete me 
Warm, soft, comforting, intoxicating...
I love you.

- - - - - - - - - -

Apple Cider Donuts

For the last couple months, I've usually been doing a long run on Saturdays. This takes me through downtown Wheaton, and past the Farmers' Market. The booth closest to the prairie path I run on is always fresh-made apple cider donuts. The transcendence of that smell is well beyond my lexical ability to describe. It is the greatest thing I've ever smelled. And I run by it twice. 

Each and every time I've run past it, I've had the same thought: "I should stop running immediately, and eat ALL of those donuts." 

Then I remember I have no money (I don't run with a wallet), and wonder what I could barter for a donut: "I wonder if the guy working that booth will take this GPS watch in exchange for one of those impossibly delicious smelling donuts."

Ultimately, I just keep running... and while I improve my fitness, a little part of my soul dies from intense sorrow and longing.

Last week, after conveying some of these emotions to my beautiful and wonderful wife, I was getting some work done on our basement when she left and purchased the very same apple cider donuts I had smelled that morning on a cold and rainy run! 

They were hot and delicious and so satisfying that I am still unwilling to rule out some degree of divine intervention during the course of their creation and/or my consumption of them. I love donuts.

the gates of heaven are made of fresh apple cider donuts

- - - - - - - - - - 

Gourmet Donuts

Sometimes at school people bring in donuts that are from a REAL donut shop. Have you ever had these? I mean, I love Dunkin or Krispy as much as the next guy (that's a lie, I love them WAY more than the next guy), but have you ever had REAL donuts from a REAL donut shop? The difference is like having a REALLY good burger vs McDonald's. No contest. 

Tomorrow, go buy some real donuts.

sometimes just simple "glazed" can't be beat

- - - - - - - - - 

The Bacon Long John

One time in Iowa City, I ate a Bacon Maple-Glazed Long John. This was the closest I've ever come to having my entire chest tattooed as the American flag.

my country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty...

- - - - - - - - - -

How many donuts do you think I could eat?

I've wondered about this question for while now. To a degree I'm restrained by the societal norms to which we've grown accustomed. I realize that if someone brings donuts to a meeting, eyebrows start to be raised once I've had 3 or 4... so I should try to keep it to only 5 or 6 to avoid any direct confrontation. (I'm fine with silent judging, I just don't want to have to actually face the imminent shame).

Anyway, without society's silly unwritten rules, I honestly think I would down about a dozen before I even notice. You know that feeling when you've eaten a lot of something, and you think "boy, this is the third gravy boat I've emptied at this meal -- maybe I should take it easy"...? I'm saying that wouldn't even cross my mind til I've finished the first box of donuts. Somewhere between 15 and 20, I think I'd start to consider "hmmm... that's a lot of fried dough and sugar. how are you feeling, stomach?" And then my taste buds would just scream "MOOOOOORRE!!! WE LOVE DONUTS!" and drown out whatever response was forthcoming. So I'd just keep eating.

Around the end of the second box, I bet I'd start feeling a bit sluggish... and potentially not super great. This would depend on how much coffee I'd have along with the donuts, but I'm guessing I start to slow down around the two dozen mark. At that point, I think it's no longer for pleasure -- it's a bit uncomfortable, and the answer begins to depend on the purpose of the question.

If the question behind the question is "how many donuts would I eat, uninhibited?" I think the answer is close to two dozen. If the question is "how many donuts COULD I eat (if I was pushing it)?" I think the answer is quite a bit more. I bet I'd eat another box... so I'm going to answer "pretty close to 3 dozen".

For those of you thinking I'm exaggerating... I'm not quite certain you are aware of what you're dealing with here. This, essentially, is my super power. And if you're thinking of mocking me for my predilection toward the greatest food ever created -- I am impervious to your shallow criticism. People always fear what they do not understand.

(for purposes of the above estimates, I am assuming simple glazed dunkin donuts, unlimited coffee, and a relatively loose time limit of "a morning")

The Culprit (Part 4): Generosity

(This marks another edition of my on-going series, “The Culprit”, wherein I investigate, uncover, and eventually rightfully bestow proper blame for my lack of fitness on others… because this is America… so it can’t be my fault.  Feel free to read Part 1,  Part 2, or Part 3)

It's been a while since my Culprit post... but that's not to say I haven't been properly shifting blame to those rightfully responsible for my nutritional and athletic demise -- it just hasn't been done quite as publicly.

In this installment, I'd like to finally bring to light (and eventually bring to justice) a particular assemblage of people who have been getting away with this sort of odious behavior far too long: the generous.

That's right. Generous people have been bringing me down for years! And I'm not going to stand for it! Worse than their callous "generosity" is the insidious perception of innocence it conveys. Well, I know what you're really up to, you givers of gifts: trying to hold me back from reaching my potential as a slightly-below-average-middle-aged athlete. 

Let me explain... normally it looks like this: I'm going about my day, minding my own business, and then nice people give me things.

It's the worst.

As you're well aware from the 3rd edition of the Culprit, I am terrible at resisting food in general and free food in particular. Many of the gifts I receive either include food or ARE food. While these food-gifts ("fifts" or "foofts") take many forms, the most perfidious version merits its own special attention here: food-gifts left in the teachers' lounge.

You may or may not be aware that I am a teacher - certainly a job replete with myriad rewards and challenges. Some people (naive simpletons) would have you believe that one of the "rewards" is the constant showering of gifts - especially food-gifts - that teachers receive. For instance, every Friday at my school a family supplies "teacher appreciate treats" and leaves all manner of foodstuffs to be consumed in the teachers' lounge. 

Cold-blooded.

And it's not just Fridays. Leftover lunch food? Leave it in the teachers' lounge. Leftover pizza? Teachers' lounge. Leftover panera lunch from a meeting? Leftover baked goods from a morning meeting? Leftover dessert from any function whatsoever? Teachers' lounge. 

Add to that the Friday treats, and little "extras" such as donuts to celebrate the first week of school (yes, seriously) and the picture is becoming clear: The teachers' lounge is a smorgasbord of nutritional imprudence. For someone who can barely resist food at all... and essentially canNOT resist free food, this is where the "generous" have defeated me.

The teachers' lounge is like the elephant graveyard from the Lion King... an elephant graveyard for my aspirations and accomplishments.

the teacehers' lounge... where my dignity goes to die.

And just like young Simba... I know not to go. But I can't help myself. 

"I need to run to the main office - I'll just swing through the teachers' lounge."
"I should fill up on some water/coffee - just a quick stop in the teachers' lounge."
"Time to head over to chapel - I'll take the long route... through the teachers' lounge."

This is a cry for help. I can't avoid that place. The free food calls to me like a beautiful siren song... and the consequences are disastrous. 

"Oh look, some generous person brought candy corn! I know it's essentially unflavored high fructose corn syrup and that I'm trying to be healthy... but I'll just have a 5 or 6 handfuls." 

[45 minutes later]

"Hmmmmm I wonder if there is any of that candy corn left in the lounge. I'll just stop by and see if... oooo! CAKE!"

But here's the thing. This isn't *MY* fault. You already know I have no discipline or restraint, and it's certainly not my responsibility to develop self-control. That's preposterous. It's your responsibility to stop providing me with such calamitous potential consequences.

That's right. I see through your plans, "generous" people. Now if only I had the will-power to do anything about it...

Plotting Assassination

I recently attended a leadership conference where a distinguished expert on negotiations was giving a presentation that suggested that we essentially have “multiple selves”… and that we’re generally bad at negotiation with others, because we’re bad at negotiating with ourselves. Interesting.

As an object lesson, she gave an example of deciding to not eat a chocolate muffin, only later to convince yourself otherwise. She clearly understands her audience. (I mean, I’d obviously choose the cookie over the muffin but why pick nits). 

Anyway, this isn’t such a brand new concept (my lack of will power) but a new lens through which to see the problem. I am TERRIBLE at negotiating with myself… or, from a different perspective… one side of me is apparently AMAZING at negotiations. And that side loves food. Insatiably.

I give you exhibit A: From this past week, when I was trying to be *really* careful with nutrition because I knew my sub-200 weight goal was within reach. So how did that caution play out when I attended a Cubs game on Tuesday night? After 2 hot dogs (I’m at the ballpark after all), I went for one of these:

maybe a bit bashful... but there's some pride there too

No joke - because of the angle of the camera, that pretzel appears smaller than it actually is. Also, as far comparisons... I have a super huge freak-head. Just trust me, it's bigger than it looks (and it's not like it looks dainty).

Now my love for soft pretzels has been well-documented here, and there’s no better place to enjoy one than the ballpark… but in ADDITION to the hot dogs and beer, maybe a normal sized pretzel would suffice?

Nope, give me the one that could be used as flotation device. 

Also (and this should not surprise you), it was not cheap. I feel self-conscious giving a precise number, but how about this: you could get an entrée at pretty nice seafood place for around the same price. So, I had to eat it all because I didn’t want to waste money. That’s just LOGIC, people. 

But seriously, there’s a problem here. It’s not that I sometimes am just barely unhealthy. It’s that if I go off track even a little, I’m WAY off track. 

In political science terms: I’m either a fascist police state under martial law, or it’s the freakin’ purge around here. I have no middle ground. 

Anyway, so how will I out-maneuver and beat this side of me in a negotiation? Impossible. He is brilliant and inconceivably convincing. More extreme measures must be taken. I will assassinate him. I am going to run him to death. You see, working out is the kryptonite to his superman. 

The last week of July (after the Tour de France was over), I started running more seriously, and it wasn’t feeling as awful as running normally does. So in August, I started a bit of runstreak. First by accident, but then once it was going I wanted to keep it going. After two weeks my shins were feeling a little tight, and I thought the novelty of it wasn’t really worth the potential for injury (it ended up being a pretty big increase in mileage)… so for the first time in 14 days, I didn’t run yesterday. But once I’m in better shape, I think I’d like to go for a pretty long runtsreak. I guess we’ll see. 

 

August... no days off.

Either way, extreme-overfooding-Dan is toast. I will burn him up… and from the ashes… a more moderate middle-ground candidate will arise. Viva la revolución!

wait... again?

In May, when I became fed up with being in such terrible shape (240 pounds), I put down some goals for the summer as far as fitness.  I started a 10 week workout program (more on this later), and was hoping to drop 25 lbs by the end of the program: July 12 (during the end of schools and a double-session of summer school… a very busy time for me). That would get me to 215 (math!), and the secondary goal was to keep chipping away at that extra 15 and get sub-200 before school starts: August 26.

In my mind, this would get me to where I ought to be (as sort of “Phase 1” of sorts), and I could move on from there to better goals than just weight loss.

I hit my first goal on schedule… and have been nearing my second in the past couple weeks. Well, Saturdays are weigh-in days, and I’m proud to say I cracked 200 a week ahead of schedule.

been about two years since that number started with a "1"

At this point, long time readers (or really those who have known me for a couple years) are thinking “wait – we’ve seen this before, haven’t we?”

It’s sort of like when you start watching Friday Night Lights and you’re like “wait, is this a mockumentary about Varsity Blues?” … because it’s the exact same thing. 

Yes, you’ve seen this before. And yes, it dulls the accomplishment that I’ve see it subsequently squandered in years past. So that brings us to “Phase 2” (talking about things in phases feels pretty lame… I’m not sure what better word to use. restricted by my own vocabulary. how ironical.)

Basically, I need to get off the see-saw. But how? 

If you’d excuse a poorly executed and clichéd football analogy: the “prevent defense” isn’t working, so I’m gonna keep calling blitzes. Essentially, I’m not going to sit back and celebrate my accomplishment… I’m going to continue to try to set and complete new fitness goals (varying from fitness goals of years past such as “try not to eat that”) 

For instance, being lighter helps you do things. Like, I can run faster (not fast, but fastER). Really, if this is a hard concept to grasp, next time you’re in the gym, pick up a 45lb plate (about how much I lost) and then imagine running with that strapped to your chest. See what I mean? 

So my next goal will be to run a fast (for me) 10k this fall. I already run 10k distances pretty regularly, but I'm training for speed now. Which is weird. It's the first time I've ever *actually* done that. 

Then I’ll need some sort of carrot to chase for the spring (to keep me working through winter – which is key). I’m thinking a destination half marathon. And then maybe I’ll try to run the Chicago Marathon the following fall. We’ll see how it goes… but either way, I’m not letting up. Who knows, maybe after a while I can even become not-embarrassingly-slow. 

- - - 

PS I'm not going to include much about *how* I lost the weight, mostly because it's a relatively boring and uncomplicated version of "eat healthy and work out a bunch"

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Mocked

In creating and (sort of) maintaining this minutiae of drivel in my own little corner of the blogoworld, I realize that at times I can, to a certain degree, exhibit a propensity toward self-deprecation… even self-judgment, But that doesn’t mean YOU can judge me. Don’t you dare! Don’t. You. Dare.

Especially if you’re trying to sell me food… which, aside from your judgmental insinuations, ought to be about as easy as selling a rearview mirror to a hummingbird! (you see… a hummingbird is the only animal that can fly backwards. also, I struggle with similes.)

Perhaps some backstory would be helpful: in July I watched the Tour de France, and they ran commercials for a (relatively) new website called thefeed.com which offers energy food for endurance athletes. Generally speaking, I like this stuff. I used to get it when I worked at REI and bring it along longer bike rides… although now I don’t really bike or run long enough to justify it. Also, I can’t get over how weird it is to eat while running… at least with cycling you’re already sitting down.

Anyway, The Feed also is supporting a 100 mile bike race I’m doing in October to support a cool charity (more on this later), and they had a free water bottle promo… so I figured what the heck. I know I said I can’t justify it like 3 sentences ago, but I’ll buy a box of stuff anyway. #muricka

I got a few gels, a few chews, and a bunch of waffles (not real waffles, but the kind that people eat as energy food)… because they’re awesome. Especially for morning rides (note: REAL waffles are also awesome… but less so while riding a bicycle.)

The parcel arrived promptly, delicious goodies and free water bottle all accounted for… with a nice personalized touch of customer service on the inside of the box…

The Goods from The Feed

Wait… it’s definitely personalized, but was it “nice”?

Who’s invited? Who’s invited?! 

Uhhh… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was gonna eat ‘em all myself.

What are you trying to say here? That I ordered more waffles than is reasonable for one person? … because I thought I was showing remarkable restraint. The only thing holding me back from ordering *significantly* more is my incredible stinginess.

Anyway, this sat open for a while on my counter, and every time I looked in that direction, it irked me just a little bit more. Who’s invited.

The Feed was turning into that obnoxious friend at a social gathering who is dropping not-so-subtle hints that you’re a pig. It’s basically a “hey george, the ocean called” situation.

You know that friend, kinda louder, and acts like what (s)he says isn’t offensive, but it sort of is though... They comment and remark on things like:

At a restaurant: “Boy, you really like the salsa, huh?” 

yeah, it’s free and it's salsa and I have a pulse. plus they’re just going to bring more after I finish it. why aren’t YOU eating more? 

At a party with a good cheese spread: “whoa – look at all that cheese! Ya bringin’ some back for a friend?” 

who needs friend with all this cheese. There are only two people at this party: me, and people trying to eat my cheese. 

At a family gathering: “hey Dan, isn't that like your fifth piece of pie?” 

Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know Comrade Commissar had released the new PIE RESTRICTIONS for this season! What’s that? It’s not 1983 in soviet Russia?! Then how about this: PIE IS DELICIOUS AND I’LL EAT AS MUCH AS I LIKE! 

Anyway, The Feed… the waffle party will be in my mouth. And no one is invited. Feel free to RSVP for the after-party. 

- - -

PS - If anyone from The Feed actually reads this, your website is actually pretty cool. And thanks for helping sponsor the Fatcyclist's 100 Miles of Nowhere. Please feel free to send me free stuff.

PPS - sorry for ending with potty humor.

Bachelorhood (Part II)

this is the second installment of a recurring series wherein I'm temporarily forced to face the trials and tribulations of life as I once experienced them long ago -- as a single guy. you may recall last time... it did NOT go well. 

So Kelly is gone this week at Young Life camp, which means I’m solo-dadding all week long. The week is only half over, but I’m beginning to develop some takeaways that I think are worth sharing.

Firstly, to be congruent with the emphasis of this blog, this makes workouts and nutrition more difficult (lots of runs with the stroller). Most notably, I no longer have time for nice long bike rides, which is regrettable. But also, and this is a larger takeaway… I no longer have TIME.

Emily Joy is smart and awesome and hilarious and insightful and caring and pretty much the best miniature person in the entire world… but she also is a black hole of time. (wait… are black holes already black holes of time? I mean isn’t time theoretically affected by how black holes consume light? Wait, do they CONSUME light? Sigh – I wish I understood astrophysics. I should probably re-watch that Cosmos mini-series…)

Anyway, she takes an incredible amount of time and energy. And here’s the thing… there is only one of her (I think… I should probably check on this -- it would explain a lot). Between going on walks, playing at the playground, prepping meals, cleaning up meals, changing diapers, going to the store to buy diapers or stuff for meals, reading books, playing with blocks, stuffed animals, sports paraphernalia, and chasing each other… there’s just not time for… well, anything.

*** and right on cue – she woke up early from her nap. I am now continuing this post on the following day ***

This brings me to my main point: Moms are awesome. At this point, it can seem cliche to say that moms are overworked and under-appreciated, but come on. They're amazing! Moms of lots of kids? Single moms? How do they do ANYTHING else? How do they do it? No, seriously… how. do. they. do. it?!

Also, in case you’re offended by my focus on moms (as opposed to dads)… allow me three points:

1. It’s not as though I’m normally shirking my parenting responsibilities. I’ve had Emily for multiple days in a row before… but a whole week by myself is a different ball game. (I’m retroactively realizing this is essentially what Kelly had to do the entire month of June while I was teaching a double-session of summer school)
2. Yes, some dads are stay-at-home dads, and the responsibilities I’m describing here are certainly not exclusively held by women. I’m merely playing into our culture’s largely-held societal gender norms… I guess that makes me part of the problem.
3. In regards to #2 above, please accept this (not actually very) counter-cultural cheerios ad as my peace offering. It’s a little corny and contrived… but I still like it.

  

 

I can’t really remember what else I was going to write about yesterday, and the kitchen still looks like a ravioli-yogurt bomb went off in there, so I’ll close with this:

Go hug your mom.

If you’re not near your mom, call her to tell her you love her.

And for good measure, hug/call your dad. That dude was at least picking up some of the slack at some point.

Thanks Mom & Dad. Love you.

(just to have some photos in this post: here’s a couple recent shots of Emily Joy & me)

trying on her new "hat" - she loves it. safety first

final day of the Tour - I'm wearing yellow... she's riding in yellow...

story time. she's the best.

Peak Summits & Tornados

First things first: did you know that the plural of "tornado" can end in "dos" or "does"? I've chosen the former in the name of efficiency.

Anyway, much to my chagrin, I never wrote the final installment of my Western escapades. I had previously ended with my arrival to Jackson, Wyoming. Which WAS sort of the end, but I tacked on one more chapter... the highest paved road in North America: Mount Evans. 

You can read about it here.

So why mention it? Well, for one, I meant to discuss it yesterday on the two-year anniversary. But, also... I recently discovered something unbelievable. 

Quick backstory: On my descent down Mt Evans I passed a cyclist accident. In writing about it after the fact, attempting to provide my readers with closure, I performed a google search including things like "evans" "accident" and the date I was on the mountain "july 28". No news on the cyclist (which is probably good news), but non-cyclist news was HUGE!

Get this: on July 28, 2012 there was a TORNADO on the mountain. The second-highest ever recorded tornado (at 11,900 feet) in US history (missing this highest ever recorded by only 100 feet). UNBELIEVABLE!

According to the National Weather Service, the tornado touched down at 2:51 pm, so I was off the mountain long before that (I had woken at 5am specifically to avoid afternoon weather on the mountaintop)... but crazy to think if I had gotten a late start, and was basically stuck on the mountain on a bicycle with a tornado nearby! Yeesh!

So here is the tornado:

I biked on that road just a few hours earlier.

Link to the news coverage.

And here is a map from the National Weather Service pinpointing where the tornado touchdown occurred. Compare that to the Google Earth image from my actual GPS data... holy crap.

Yeah, so that barren spot, about halfway up the image. At the base of that, on the left. That's where it was. And look at that road! No cover or protection anywhere! Yikes!

According to my GPS, I started my ride at 6:45am and total elapsed time (including breaks for food, photos, etc) was 6 hours and 13 minutes. So I was completely done by 1pm and elbow-deep in cheeseburger by probably about 1:15. By the time the tornado showed up (almost 3pm), I was probably back in Denver already. But still... that's today's lesson, kids: whether hiking or biking, plan to hit your summits EARLY to avoid weather & other potential problems.

Anyway, if you haven't yet - feel free to check out my Mt Evans story - it might be my single proudest accomplishment on my bike. I'll get back to the "here and now" tomorrow...

If Time Is Relative... So Is Speed.

note: This will be a sort of “part 2”… with the first installment being yesterday’s post.

I last left you with the lingering stench of my failure in the arboretum. A measly 14 seconds kept me from the immortal glory… of barely making the top ten on an obscure social media site focusing on an obscure sport…

Anyway, despite the recognizable absurdity of my endeavor, and my subsequent recent failure, I knew I needed another shot. This year, the Tour holds its Time Trial on the penultimate day of the race – July 26th (sidenote: I love the word “penultimate”). In the past I had “time trialed” a course of my choosing that was pretty flat and try to keep the speedometer up in the mid-20s. But this time, it would be in the (comparatively) hilly arboretum.

I’ve addressed “speed” in my previous post, but it warrants reiteration: speed is relative. Keeping it over 20mph on the flats (or certainly in a paceline) is no great feat… but *averaging* over 20mph in the arboretum would be very fast… for me anyway. Here’s partly why:

The hills aren't tall, but there's some quazi-legit steepness there

So the day has been set. It’s embarrassing, but honestly I woke up feeling nervous. Nervous. Note: there is no one watching me… no one except Kelly even knows I’m attempting this. I have no explanation or excuse for why I feel nervous. But I do. I want to do well.

I get into the arboretum, start up my “TT” playlist (for the curious: “Helter Skelter” and “Bullet the Blue Sky” off Rattle & Hum, Pearl Jam's rendition of "Love Reign O'er Me", and then a couple Foo Fighter songs. That should be all the time I need).

I hammer up the first hill, still over 20mph halfway up. This is fast. But my legs feel weak. Not in pain… just not CAPABLE of what I want to happen. Turn those pedals! Come on legs!

I’m pretty fast through the West side (the arboretum is split into two sides: West and East). But I was fast through the West side last time. The East has a long gradual rise (false flat)… and THAT’s where I need to make up time. The side starts with a good climb. I’m slow. I can feel the pain and deadness in my legs. SHOOT… that’s gonna cost me time.

Pulling into the flat, I get as low as I can and try to keep my cadence (pedal speed) up. I’ve GOT to make time here. Spin Spin Spin.

I hit the last rise before a long descent starts, knowing I need every second I fly downhill – still pedaling hard. Near the bottom of the hill, I see a security car. He's going slower than me... ummm... yup, okay, I'm gonna have to pass him. Can't slow down now, I'm under two miles to the finish! He sees me and pulls to the side.

I pass him in the mid-20s. The speed limit is 20.  He hits the loudspeaker on his car…

"The speed limit is 20! Please slow down!"

Luckily, I’m pulling up to a steep-ish hill. I point at the hill and wave. It slows me down to about 17mph… but as soon as it’s over, it’s all downhill to the finish. Plus, there are 3 stop signs near the parking lot and the route ends on the other side of those signs. I am 100% certain that I am blowing through all 3 stop signs… above the speed limit.

I start having thoughts flash through my head: if this guy sees me run those stop signs is he gonna pull me over? Since I didn't heed his warning, will he cut up my arboretum card and ban me for life?! I love the arboretum. Oh no!

Doesn’t matter. Totally worth it.

I’m beyond reason at this point. All I know is that my time looks good. I might actually do this.

"so you’re saying there’s a chance…"

I get to the bottom of the hill. About half a mile of flat. I have one recurring thought: “Fourteen seconds. Fourteen seconds. Fourteen seconds.” I’m going all out – what if I’m a second short?

I pass what I think is the finish line but keep going (strava can be finicky with its finish lines). When I finally stop, the garmin tells me 7.66 (a quarter mile extra) and my time is 21:44. Unofficially, I have it… unless something went wrong. I won’t know for sure until I upload it to strava at home (and the ride home will be sloooowwww - my legs are fried).

Upon upload… SUCCESS!

21:14 – 20.9mph average – top 5! 

… and the crowd goes wild! Oh wait… no crowd. Welp, meeting goals feels good, even when they’re trivial and ultimately not that impressive. One man’s PR is another man’s easy recovery day. Or however that saying goes.

I realize this entire post has a relatively high potential to come off as braggy, but let me remind you that this is a blog wherein I once celebrated running 3 miles without stopping… so it’s really a story more of progress than triumph. That said, I don’t do much very well, athletically speaking: I’m not sure if I can bench the bar, or curl a gallon of milk in each hand (I also apparently don’t know how to use regular weights), and Lord knows I am not fleet-a-foot on the track. But here’s the thing… considering my other athletic shortcomings, I am disproportionally fast on my bicycle. Much faster than you’d think, and much faster than many others who are in much better shape. I like being fast… even if it's just "fast, for me".

500 [miles] of Summer

edit: after posting, I changed the title from the snoozy-lame "My Tour" to the almost impossibly witty current title. word play! just goes to show how rusty I am. let that be a lesson to you, kids: that's what happens when you're out the blog game for two years!

As cycling-nerds (cyrds) like myself are well aware, July is the month of Le Tour de France. There are a lot of nuances and peculiarities within the Tour that will not endeavor to explain or defend here. Only this: I like it.  And each year of the recent past, I’ve participated in some version of my own little tribute.

This year, my goal was to complete a fourth of the mileage, while mimicking the day’s experience as closely as possible (e.g. mountain stages, time trials, etc)

I missed the first couple days because I was out of town for a wedding, and then I was sick… but all things considered, a pretty solid three-week effort. I didn’t hit my mileage goal, but considering the late start and the sickness… 500 is a lot of miles in 21 days (19 if you take out the sick days). Here it is in chart form:

For those of you who are curious, “mountain” stages were just me trying to find “big” (for the area) hills, and ride them more times than seemed reasonable. For instance, on the final mountain day in the Pyrenees, I climbed the Park Blvd hill (coming up out of the arboretum) 10 times to get my mileage that day. Nothing else, just climb the hill, turn around, bomb down the hill, turn around, climb the hill… on and on. Mundane perhaps, but a decent workout… and the closest I’ll get to anything “mountain”y around here.

There was a landscaping crew working the yard of a house along the route… and every time I passed I tried to imagine what they thought of the spandex-bedecked fat guy who is going up and down the same hill over and over. 

But this post isn’t about me acting irrationally foolish on some pathetic misinterpretation of a mountain stage…

It’s about me acting irrationally foolish on some pathetic misinterpretation of a TIME TRIAL stage.

First, a quick background: I bike in the Morton Arboretum a lot. It’s a 7.4 mile loop and it’s the best place to bike in the western suburbs for the following reasons:

1. Considerate (and limited) traffic
2. Smooth roads
3. Good hills
4. It’s pretty

Also, since 2012, I’ve used a website/app called “strava” that allows you to virtually race other people over different segments of road (or trail). It crowns riders “King of the Mountain” and alerts you of your PRs and all sorts of neat nerdy things. It’s pretty brilliant, actually. I won’t explain more here, but google is your friend.

So one of my days in the arboretum (a good place to simulate “mountain” stages), I accidentally went pretty fast because, in a moment of misplaced competitiveness, I passed some guy and I didn’t want him to come back and pass me.  After finishing, being successful in not being passed after passing (a faux pas, to be sure), I was alerted of my PR.  Huh. I had beaten my previous PR around the arboretum by almost two minutes... and that got me thinking… how fast could I go? Ya know, if I really TRIED to go fast*?

* two notes on speed:

• “fast” is a relative term
• I LIKE going fast. It’s fun. It’s one of the many reasons cycling is much better than running. But I don’t often think “oh I need to go fast or TRY to go fast”… I just go… and since fast is fun, I keep trying to go faster. This is perhaps difficult to explain with any degree of lucidity. Suffice it to say that my “pursuit of speed” (if you can call it that) is more like a little kid flying downhill than someone who takes cycling seriously (or for that matter, does it well). This explains how “what if I TRIED to go fast?” can be somewhat of a novel concept.

So I decided to try. After looking at the strava leaderboard, I made a goal of finishing the 7.4 mile loop in 22:12 – exactly 20mph. That would also put me in the top 10. Not bad.

On July 19^th, I made my attempt. I was in an absolute sprint for 22 minutes… gasping up hills, talking to myself (sometimes in whisper-screams: “come on!”), passing cars, and blowing through stop signs. Looking ridiculous. All in the name of this goal I had made in this silly online community that pretty much everyone who saw me had no idea existed. I just imagine the old couple on a stroll through the trees of the arboretum seeing me pass, pedaling as hard as physically possible, panting, grunting, maybe drooling a bit… and thinking “what the crap is that guy doing?” It’s not like there are other cyclists racing me (that they can see, anyway).

Finally I finish. The “unofficial” time looks good. I won’t know for sure until I get home and load it intro strava. 

aaaaaaaaaaand... 22:26.

DANG IT! 14 seconds! Fourteen stupid seconds!!!

Ranking is #11… all that ridiculous effort… for nothin’.

But of course, this means I’d have to come back and try another day…