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Hugh

Another week in review

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Now with greater than a week between today and my previous post, I find myself straining my pea- brain just a little to remember what training has actually transpired since then.  Let's see...well, let's work backwards:

Today: easy half hour run - I was initially thinking of longer, but I needed to take my three paintings to the Community Arts gallery beside the Sussex Building as opening night is tomorrow.  The latest one was framed today and I have finished it more or less to my satisfaction.  It does, however, feel unfinished, and there are certainly touch-ups required, but it's at least sufficiently complete for public display.

Tuesday: after coming home to work on my painting immediately, later in the evening I managed a quick run to gym, a short ride on exercise bike, weights, calisthenics, run home - afterward I finished painting at about midnight. 

Monday: no training at all, and although I thought I might get out for some sort of easy ride, it didn't happen - the day seems to have faded in the mists of my memory, and I can't remember clearly how the day was spent, though it was generally relaxing...

Sunday:  ran for 1hr 20 minutes in and around Cobble Hill/Shawnigan Lake area, about 18km

Saturday: three hour ride - plan was to hook up with the Burnside group, but ended up missing it.  I sought to cross-paths with the group along their usual route, but it didn't happen, so I proceeded along the usual Lands-End/route alone until I ran into Clare H-P near Sydney and joined her for a while back into town

Friday: nix

Thursday: met up with Ased right after work for three loops at the top end of the Cedar Hill golf course; we did the second loop hard, while the rest of the run was fairly comfortable - total distance on the day was about 10 miles, I estimated

Wednesday: easy two loops around Beacon Hill and home (I think) - about 40minutes

Tuesday: so this brings me back to last Tuesday, and the only thing that makes sense was that I ran to the gym for my weight-training workout.

Again, the idea for me is consistency of training - I'm not worried about intensity or volume, and for the time being it can be alternately running or cycling.   Just a bit more than two weeks until I travel to Costa Rica, where the plan is to do a lot of volume for both, plus a fair amount of intensity. 

Tomorrow is opening night for the Legal Services Branch art exhibit.  Apparently, most of the pieces will be photography, or other artistic forms, with only two or three painters, myself being one of the few.  Quite a good idea to organize a Branch exhibit.  Apparently opening night two years ago was a big hit - which I missed as I was on a temporary assignment with a different ministry at the time.  I am glad to have pushed myself to prepare another piece for the exhibit, since I would not have done it otherwise.  I am, however, mildly disappointed with how the piece turned out in the end.  There is, I think, a certain richness to some of the colors I used, and my human figures are, to me, as dynamic as always, but there was some sloppiness in the end amid my urgency to complete it, and I feel the theme, both in terms of the configuration of the painting components as well as its colors, is incomplete and underdeveloped.  This is unlike my previous painting, which I feel was adequately complete thematically in terms of composition and color and attention to detail.

The big switch

Monday, November 5, 2007

With a few hundred WordPress blog page themes to choose from, I found myself clicking through them like one might watch television and flip through channels endlessly and mindlessly.  While I have effectively sworn off television, I cannot say the same for the computer, which has become nearly an equal replacement in its capacity to mire me in a quicksand of misspent time.   The choices were hypnotizing, as there were so many good ones.  I am not ordinarily prone to lingering in deciding upon selections of pretty much anything, but oddly it seems to matter more to me how the background will appear for my blog page than many things of arguably greater importance.

Wordpress is the online blog platform that we will be switching to soon.  Pano, website owner, had long ago provided the option to switch platforms from Pivot, which is this one, to WordPress.  I have been a bit tardy on that front, but with a little gentle nudging and assistance from Pano, I'm soon to finally make the switch. 

On that note, below is an update of the last week.  Owing to a lot of time spent on courses, preparing a third painting for the little Legal Services Branch exhibit upcoming on November 15, among other things, I have been finding less energy available to keep my blog updated on a daily basis.  I'll also be starting a few Spanish lessons as well to prepare me for my trip to Costa Rica.  Despite these things, it is always a priority to sustain, at the minimum, some base fitness. 

The week was largely a recovery week after the Shawnigan Lake half last weekend. So, working backwards from today:

Today - no training

Sunday - a 3 hr ride in the afternoon at a brisk, but not hard, pace - about 100km

Saturday - a one hour run at a comfortable pace, with a few gentle accelerations

Friday - easy run to gym, light weights, calisthenics/stretch, run home

Thursday - 1hr 10 ride easy

Wednesday - easy run to gym for light weights/calisthenics/stretch, 10min ride on exercise bike, run home

Tuesday - easy 1 hr ride

Monday - off

Sunday - Shawnigan Lk half

Shawnigan Lk Half

Monday, October 29, 2007

Last week looked a bit like this:

Sunday: Did the Shawnigan Lake half marathon, somewhat spontaneously.  As I have not really done much running of any real significance since the Victoria Half three weeks ago - no intervals and no long runs - running a half marathon this weekend did not seem like the best of ideas.  I had already given the Provincial x-country champs on Saturday a miss, also because I hadn't done any hard runs in three weeks.

But after a short run of my own on Saturday that consisted of a couple of 800s on the Oak Bay track and realizing I felt quite good, I figured if I felt good in the morning that I could probably run the Shawnigan Lake half.  I wouldn't have lost all my fitness in three weeks, I reasoned.  After the 800's I also popped into the gym to do a circuit of weights, but made sure to keep all the weights at about 60 percent of what I normally do them at.  The idea was to prime the muscles for the half-marathon, not fatigue them to the point where I would really hurt them during the race.

It seemed to work reasonably well.  After awaking on Sunday morning, the legs felt a wee bit sore, but limber and so I figured I might as well do the Half.  The course was a bit longer this year - about 150m longer it seemed to me - as it started in a different place from two years ago when I did it last.  Conditions were fairly good - no rain, and about 9 degrees.  That's a bit cool for me, but still warm enough for shorts. 

I was tentative off the start and at first was content to watch Trevor Wurtele zip away.  However, after the first 500 m I realized I had a bit more zip in me and closed the gap to Trevor.  He and I stayed together to about 5km when he started to pull away and I thought it not prudent to follow.  He gained about 20 seconds on me, until the gap held steady for the next 8 km or so, when Trevor began to flag just a bit and I caught back up to him.  At that point we ran together until the bottom of the last long climb before the descent to the finish.  We had eased up a bit before the hill, allowing us both to gather some steam for the last punch to the finish, but he had more strength than me on that climb and opened a gap on me.  When we turned the last corner to the descent, Trevor kept ahead at full-gas and proceeded to a 9 second lead at the finish in 1:16.31, to my 1:16.40. 

I hadn't realized how close behind Mark Knoop was, only 15 seconds.  I imagine he closed a larger gap between us in the last 2km when Trev and I slowed up just a bit.  In any event, a fun race, and I was happy that my legs felt pretty good through it, although my aerobic system didn't feel quite capable of handling a much harder pace.

I've been second in that race now four times - once to Bruce Deacon, once to David Jackson, once to Kelvin Broad and now to Trevor. I won it once.

Saturday - that was the warmup to Oak Bay with a couple of 800s and some light weights, 10 mins on the exercise bike, and the run home.

Friday - no training

Thursday - easy run with Ased from work to Cedar Hill where we did two loops around the top and then back to work, for me, and home

Wednesday - 1hr 15 ride - legs felt quite good - pushed the pace a bit

Tuesday - easy run to Oak Bay for weights with an extra 20 minutes of running to warm up thrown in

Monday ??

Sat/Sunday last week - Saturday I did a hard ride in the afternoon from Cobble Hill, out around the east side of Duncan through Cowichan Bay, then across the highway to Lake Cowichan and back - that was almost a three hour ride and owing to the descending darkness, I pushed quite hard, but felt good doing it.  Sunday, I ran for about an hour back in town up the water front, with the legs having felt nicely recovered from the hard ride on Saturday. 

That, I think takes me back to the last update, more or less...

The boy who knew too much

Update

Friday, October 19, 2007

Short update since the Royal Vic Half two weekends ago, as well as my memory serves me.

• Monday after the race - rode about an hour, easy
  
• Tuesday - off completely
• Wednesday - slightly harder ride for 1.5 hours
• Thursday - run to Oak Bay for weight room workout - kept all weights light as sartorious is still a bit tender - stretch/calisthenics - run home
• Friday off completely
• Saturday off completely
• Sunday - two hour ride
• Monday this week - 40 minute run, easy
  
• Tuesday - 1.5 hour ride mostly relaxed with some efforts - legs felt really good
• Wednesday - run to Oak Bay for weights - added two new adductor and abductor leg exercises to routine, again kept weights light, but increased over last week - ride exercise bike for 10 minutes - stretch/calisthenics - run home
• Thursday - 1hr 5min run, relaxed but quick (sub-tempo) - felt good, but could tell legs were a tiny bit tight from previous four days in a row
• Today will be off, with plans for longer rides/run this weekend

The idea at this point is to build consistency into the program - nothing too structured, hard, or long at the moment.  Still need to be careful about the sartorious as well.  As I now plan to train quite extensively while in Costa Rica, the objective is really to build enough of a base so that I can actually train hard while I'm there for three+ weeks and possibly do a local race or two.

Not bad, all things considered

Sunday, October 8, 2007

So, in the end I made the decision to run the half-marathon this morning, knowing full well how risky the venture was given the tenuous state of my sartorius muscle.  However, in the last few days it seemed increasingly like it would hold out for the race.  I had taken Trevor O'B's advice about an easy run Tuesday after physio treatment Monday and a 45min run Wed (although I went easier than he suggested), then had taken Thursday off completely.  On Friday I did 1/2 an hour on the treadmill with 3X2 min race pace pickups (35min 10k pace), and part of them at faster than race pace.  My leg held up, so I thought that that was sufficient confirmation I was ready for a full half.  The plan was then to take Saturday off completely and hopefully to be ready today. 

So late in the afternoon yesterday I finally registered for the race, despite already developing some heaviness in my legs after standing in the cold for nearly four hours for the "New Balance roll-the-dice give-aways" yesterday morning.  I had volunteered for that as part of my sponsorship obligation with Frontrunners to volunteer at a few odd events.  The event was part of the marathon exposition, and the idea was for registered runners to roll a big foam die and win a prize behind a locker door that corresponded to the die number.  This was actually quite a hoot as Kim Shortreeb-Webb, fellow volunteer and sponsored FR runner, and I managed to keep each other in stitches the whole time and had great fun faciliating the "roll the wet-foamy dice on the soggy pavement" expo event outside the NB store on Government St.  After a while we were recycling the same lines to people about "here is the dice, freshly squeezed," or " or "good roll, no whammies", or "the dice is definitely weighted, with water, in favour of the two", or "wash your hands after touching the dice, we don't know what's been on the sidewalk" (which was very good advice).  As much as an introvert as I usually am, there are some situations where I can actually ham it up relatively well, and we had a hoot.  I would definitely do that again next year, although it isn't the best thing for the legs the day before a race, especially given how cold and windy and wet it was yesterday morning.

In any event, as for the race: firstly I nearly missed the start, since for some reason I had it in mind that we started at 8:30 (I think that's what I had seen on the website), and at 7:00 after awaking at 6:30 this morning, figured I'd better double check the race bible.  To my horror I discovered I had to be on the start line in half an hour.  Fortunately it only takes 10 minutes to jog down there, so I whipped on my running attire with a belly full of porridge and zero coffee and  gently eased my body there.  The morning was relatively warm (about 11 degrees) and not raining, which was a positive start to the day.

The jog down seemed ok - legs a bit heavy maybe from standing around yesterday and perhaps a bit heavy even from the treadmill run on Friday, since that was the first time I'd done anything at race pace since straining my sartorius 10 days prior.  But there was no pain in the sartorius on the jog down, so I figured I was ready.  As it turned out the sartorius did hold up, although admittedly I stopped twice to walk a bit when I felt it tightening on me, which I think saved it from deteriorating again to a cramp and resultant injury.  I ran the first 13k with Lucy Smith, women's winner, until she did a short surge that forced me to drop off the pace a bit, and soon afterward began to feel the legs begin to tighten like a vice, which in turn forced me to stop.   Both times I stopped I thought I would turn off the course and walk home, but each time I started to go again the leg held up and eventually I was close enough to the finish just to keep chugging it in for the finish.  My time was 1:17 something, and somewhere in the  top 20 still, though I'm not sure where - 17th? 

So, in the end I was actually happy with it.  Also, given that I've only just gotten over a battle with the mono virus, which I've heard from yet more people still about how devastating it can be, in the end, all things considered, I had reason to be thankful that the day was as good as it was.

A reason to fight

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Spreading its arms across the morning sky and kicking up a jig to celebrate the departure of so many overcast days, sunlight at last had banished the clouds.  Aroused since crimson light flicked over the horizon, the gypsy cyclist pondered his vast and strange surroundings.  He did not move quickly and each thing he accomplished, from rolling his sleeping bag to preparing a bowl of muesli, was done in time only with the changing colors of the morning sky as red shifted to purple, purple to blue, as all the stars faded, closing their eyes for a sleep of their own and were gathered up and calmed to stillness in the arms of the sun. 

The gypsy cyclist's languor and calm was to be shortlived this morning, however.  In the distance he became vaguely aware of the sound of shouting men. The voices grew louder as the group evidently approached his location amid the jungle trees just off the roadside.  From the brusqueness of their tones, it was quickly apparent the group was military in nature.  But their shouting was unclear and the gypsy cyclist could not understand what words were exchanged.  He was uncertain if he should be afraid, but decided remaining in place was the most prudent course of action.

"Here, here!" he heard a man shout, as the group was running.  "Turn into that clearing, there! Now!"  Six soldiers thrashed through a trail from the road straight into the clearing where stood the gypsy cyclist with his bicycle held at his side. 

"Well, what have we here?" said the first, the one who had shouted the directions to turn.  The group stopped at the behest of their leader and examined the gypsy cyclist.  Some chortled.

"What brings you here?" the leader asked. 

"I have been travelling with my bicycle around the world," replied the gypsy cyclist.  "I hope I am not intruding." 

"Intruding?" replied the leader. "You are not intruding at all, but this is a military exercise, and we need this space.  You are a civilian, and I have no authority to order you to leave as you are on public government property.  But if you wish to stay, you will observe a lot of rapid movement among my troops, and if you get trampled on in the process then I would suggest that you have been warned.  The choice is yours."

"Sir," piped up one of the men. "I've been radioed and C Company approaches easterly on the road we were just on.  Radio control has asked for a response on our coordinates and plans."

"Private Ongodo," replied the leader, "inform radio control that we are distributing resources.  One man stays here, and we spread out in a circle into the woods surrounding this clearing.  The man remaining will draw C company into the clearing."  The leader looked at the gypsy cyclist. "Would you like to be part of this?" he asked.  "This is an exercise only, and you will not be hurt, but you can help us by drawing C company into this clearing.  Private Oloono will stay with you.  You are free to leave if you wish."

"Thank you," replied the gypsy cyclist, hesitant but somewhat excited by the prospect. He was reassured by the man's respectful demeanor, and he thought to trust him. "I'll, I'll stay," he said.

"Move out !" shouted the leader. "Spread in a semi-circle and take positions 200 metres into the bush.  How long until they arrive?"

Ongodo replied, as he hustled toward the edge of the clearing. "If they find us quickly, I estimate it will take them less than ten minutes. If they pass by, and turn back, maybe thirty minutes."

As the others moved out, Oloono lay down on the ground beside the gypsy cyclist's bicycle.  "You can stand," said Oloono.  "They won't hurt you, but they will see you and come into the clearing.  If you don't want to stand, you should lie down beside me.  Leave your bicycle upright to attract them."

Still the gypsy cyclist sought to trust these men.  For him the road to this clearing had been arduous and silent, and just for the opportunity to interact with people for a while, the risk of harm was strangely worthwhile.

Ten minutes passed, and there was no sign of the other group, and those who were hidden in the area surrounding the clearing were silent.  Oloono became impatient.  "I don't think they are coming," he said. "Seargent can be an idiot sometimes.  But don't tell him I said that.  The orders were that we were to leave traces of our presence, but not so obvious as to make it easy for C company to find us, so what does Seargent do? He puts me in here with you."

The gypsy cyclist laughed. "Well, maybe we have some time to waste then," he said.  "Tell me something about yourself."

"Ok," said Oloono.  "I will tell you that my mother just died."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said the gypsy cyclist.

"I cannot get it out of my mind," said Oloono.  "Four days ago, I held her slender hand. How limply she had laid her hand, given in resignation, to the hand I had offered.  In her hand was no more strength or desire to clasp eagerly but tenderly, as she had just days before.  There was only resignation and exhaustion.  But so much love.  She said to me 'I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute'.  And she did while I held her beautiful slender hand."

Oloono looked deeply into the gypsy cyclist's eyes.  He continued,  "Three or four times, she opened them, my mother, and looked at me, until eventually she looked up one last time and said that she was going.  In that moment, I knew she was ready to die, and it saddened me immensely, for it seemed that with all the love that was in her hand only a moment before, she could offer no more to me and was relieved to be leaving."

"You, strange man," Oloono continued, "are the first I have told this to.  Yes, they all know my mother died, and that I was there.  They are not unsympathetic, but I have not shared this with them.   I have asked for bereavement leave, and was told I will have to wait until this exercise is finished tomorrow because I will have to fly to Uganda for the funeral.  But you see, strange man, it isn't just her death that is haunting me, but the relief in her eyes; there seemed no remorse in finally leaving me."

"Oh, I am sure she was not relieved at leaving you," replied the gypsy cyclist. "The relief was from whatever suffering she endured in her last days."

"No, no," said Oloono. "Thank you, but you do not understand.  I held her hand because I loved her, but in my twenty six years of life, even as a boy, I forever distanced myself, and yet she always welcomed me.  Strange man, her fight was for me - how much love can a mother give her son and have it rejected over and over again?  It was from that - from that was the relief I saw in her last glance to the sky, and that is the image that will haunt me until at last I too find relief."

Oloono looked at the gypsy cyclist sternly. "You and I have just met.  You cannot know how immensely this haunts me, " he said.  "For these exercises here today and for my mother's relief, I have volunteered to fight in Congo after the funeral.  This is my reason for fighting.  I do not hope to return."

Planning Costa Rica

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

With a run today of 45 minutes to test out the sartorius, as Trevor had suggested, there is some room for optimism about running on Sunday.  While I was still pretty gentle with it, I did 3X800 meter pickups during three loops around Beacon Hill, along with an overall slightly quicker pace than what I had done yesterday or on the weekend.  These pick-ups were not at race pace, mind you, as I was being pretty cautious, and were done at maybe 90 percent 1/2 marathon race pace.  I'm still not ruling it out.  I've now heard from others, such as Rob B, who notes a similar sartorius strain healed in about 10 days, and the injury I have is not a serious one.  Nevertheless, there's no need to make it worse - but I am certainly still not ruling out the race. 

Costa Rica planning is, for now, mostly complete.  I've booked myself four different places to stay over the 23 days I'll be there, primarily in the northern/western regions of the country. I was originally planning only three different places to stay, but I realized one of the places was at fairly high altitude (nearly 5000 ft) and that it can get pretty chilly up there along with a lot of mist - not really what I want.  If I wanted cold and wet, I'd stay in Victoria.  Maybe that is why I can get a cabin for $25 there (!), although apparently the hotel in the cloud forest is very popular. 

Regardless, the location is a tropical jungle, and the whole experience will be very different from anything here - so, three days up there will be ok.  Besides, I can ride down to sea level on my bike, and then ride back up for some brutish nasty climbing, then go sit in the hot tub and crash, pleasantly exhausted, and maybe mumble a few Spanish words I'll have learned before departing to whomever happens to be nearby.  Speaking a foreign language while bonking after a hard bike ride will certainly be a whole new experience in looking completely idiotic.  Perhaps I can be a source of some entertainment to the locals.

In preparation for leaving, I want to finish two more courses.  After my A in Math215 (stats), the latest course I'm now taking, Statistics in Evidence (Communications 308), seems relatively straightforward. Still a lot of work, but I'm cruising through it like a hot knife through butter.  The next course, Econ401, The Changing Global Economy should, with some diligence, be complete before I leave as well.  I'll decide if I want to take another course with me to work on there, or if I'd prefer simply to relax and perhaps take a book of fiction with me.  I had thought I might like to work on a painting, perhaps, while there, but it might be cumbersome to travel around with. 

On that note, the Legal Services Branch is, at the end of November, holding its second branch employee art exhibit at the Community Arts gallery in the Sussex Building (where most of our branch is located).  I've committed to displaying three pieces, including one that I've only just begun, but hopefully will finish in time. 

I have a lot on the go right now, but knowing I have all of December off to spend in sunny climes is sufficient reward to put in some hard work over the next couple of months.  The Tour of Costa Rica is seeming to be a bit less possible, and frankly I think I'd rather just enjoy my time there rather than worry about training for the race in the rain here in Victoria and then busting my butt for 12 race stages at the end of December. So I won't be very disappointed when it's certain that I can't do that race.   There is another local two-day race on December 9/10 which I can probably enter just be showing up with my Canadian Category 2 UCI licence, which might be just enough to give me the experience of racing there without taking a huge chunk out of my holiday.

A fleeting meeting returned

October 2, 2007

A Fleeting Meeting Returned
by guest, Hayley Sinai

The gypsy cyclist pedaled towards Brussels and each stroke was harder than the next as the vision of the beautiful woman kept crossing his mind.  He thought to himself, I must stop, rest and then maybe she will come to me in a dream.

He pulled over roughly two kilometres from where he had met her.  He saw a little pathway going into the woods.  He pushed his bike until he came across a clearing.  He thought this is just as good a place to rest as any.  Taking his panniers off his bike, he looked around.  His eyes found a place by a log.  He emptied out his favourite blanket made by his mother when his was 11 years of age and proceeded to rest it over him and close his eyes... drifting off into sleep.

He awoke to the sound of fire crackling.  He took his hand out from underneath the blanket and touched the ground.   He felt the dew and the cold.  He heard fire crackling and the whinney of a horse.  He sat up abruptly and saw the silhouette of the woman feeding the fire and, to her left, the horse eating some grass with a cart close by her.

"Ah, you are up", she said. "I heard you calling to me, as did my horse 'Painting', would you like some warm tea and banana loaf?"

The gypsy cyclist nodded his head and began to walk towards the fire with his blanket wrapped around him... He muttered under his breath. "How did she hear me?"

Her eyes greeted his as they both sat on a log a foot a part.  She handed him the tea and loaf and looked into the fire.  "I hear almost everything that wants to be heard." Then she turned and gazed right into his eyes, then turned once again to look into the fire.

"But, I asked you to come in a dream and here you are alive in the flesh in my life," he said as he put the loaf and tea down by for a moment.

She giggled softly and looked at him in the eyes and took his hands into hers.  He felt energy run through his body, a warm energy, an intoxicating energy that made him want to melt into her arms, an energy he had never felt in his life.  He felt scared and elated at the same time.  "I heard that too," she said. "Come let me hold you in my arms."

The gypsy cyclist was reluctant, but drawn at the same time.  He moved towards her and she embraced him as he rested his head on her shoulder.  The energy was now stronger than before, he knew she could feel everything in him.  He felt incredibly vulnerable and at the same time very safe.  He didn't want to ever let go of this woman as in this moment he felt one with her.

He heard her voice as he bathed in this energy. "You must know life is a dream... There is so much more here than you can imagine... if you open your heart this is what you are capable of feeling in this dream... you must know this thing you call life is a dream and sometimes people get comfortable in one scene of this dream and because other scenes of their life/dream have been scary or bad they stay in the comfortable scene rather than moving ahead with the dream... But, you see, the more conscious you are of the dream, the more you can become the creator and bring your dream together with others... what people call of the night dreams 'lucid dreaming'".

The gypsy cyclist trembled with delight and fear in her arms.  What he felt was so pleasant and calming yet so new it scared him, but he could not move because he did not want to let go of this moment of being as one.  The words she spoke were ancient and yet not of this world, at times she did not feel of this world as she knew things of him that others could never know without him saying the words.  And this feeling he had with her -- so beautiful and unknown to his worldly experience.  He closed his eyes and she continued.

"You see before I decided to have this dream,  my husband and I held each other close in the river.  Our bodies made love in our caress, the water was up to our waists as we held each other.   We have been married forever and our love so strong.  We both knew we would have to go and sleep and join this dream with others, that we had to help others with this dream and become wiser in the process by learning through the dream.  We actually knew that we would sometimes forget we were dreaming.  Maybe forget each other, yet we both knew we could not forget the feeling of  love.  You see, I have remembered him for a while and I see his image.  I also remember our children who I promised to bring into this dream.  And my heart is open and big.  Because of this I see and know many things, and I feel people wanting me or needing my energy.  Sometimes, when I feel men's energy, I wonder, is he my husband?  And sometimes, when I have missed him so much, I have taken other men, and prayed they were him.  I know in this time he has done this with women too tried to find our love with them.  But I know when I wake up from this dream I will wake up in his arms on the bear rug beside the river that we lay on after making love before entering this dream.  The rug we fell asleep on together."

The gypsy cyclist looked up and the woman turned her eyes from the fire and looked into his eyes.  He knew she saw his soul and he shivered all over in this oneness together.  She continued as she looked into his eyes.

"You see, before we left our children that day, we promised we would try our best to remember and find each other and bring them into the dream.  Me?"  she laughed, "I don't like to break promises so I remembered them too.  Now, I know I must bring these beings into the dream.  I can feel them over our bodies looking on thinking when, when?  So, I continue in this dream knowing that even if my husband does not find me, or, if he forgot about how the dream works and walks by me that I must bring the children in.  I feel them coming to rest and sleep by us by the river as they are ready to journey here.  I also feel my husband's arms around me while I dream and feel his love travel everywhere I go with me."

The gypsy cyclist felt panic strike his body as she spoke her words, then he felt the love come through her and he relaxed once again into her body and felt the oneness.

She continued. "Cyclist man, you called to me.  Are you just another man who needs the love that my heart is so capable of giving.  The love that has nourished so many others during this dream?  Or are you my husband who has heard me calling him and come to be with me?  And love me just as strong?  I heard you say you would ride with me forever... Is this true?  Are you my husband?  Or maybe you are a friend who has remembered me and come to help me bring the children into the dream?  This is one thing I cannot tell about you because this part you must tell me.  If you are my husband, come put your bike and packs in my cart.  I will take you to my home and we can bask in our love and bring our children into the dream.  But now you must tell me this, I cannot tell you."

The gypsy cyclist's body shook; he began to panic and the woman let him go.  He looked her in the eyes and he could see her soul.  His lips trembled and a squeaky voice came from his mouth, "Thank-you."  He stood and started to walk towards the path to the road.  

He looked back, the woman was sipping tea, a doe within two feet of her and a fawn beside her, resting it's head in her lap.  Her free hand was on the fawn and she sang a beautiful ancient song to it.

The gypsy cyclist could not believe what he was seeing, yet he knew he was not dreaming - or was he?  He began to run on the path towards the road.  He heard her voice being carried by the breeze to his ears.  "Don't forget your bike and things."  And when he reached the road there his bike was... panniers packed and in place.

Cat feet

Monday, October 1, 2007

Carl Sandburg thought the fog rolled in on little cat feet.  So much in contrast to the silence of a San Francisco fog, here in Victoria, October rolls in on massive cat feet, perhaps even thunder feet, or feet as big as lakes.  So much like winter already, and September has only just rolled out on feet as big as moons, following on a summer that stomped around like elephants.

So, as an update on the lighter things in life at the moment, I ran gently on Saturday on a treadmill for half an hour, mixed with a bit of stationary bike riding.  The strained sartorius held up, but no chance of really striding it out.  I then ran slowly on Sunday for an hour in and around UVic, hoping to catch Cliff at the finish of the Run for the Cure, but missed him.  Still it held up, but even the very thought of really striding out could have caused the muscle to seize. 

So today I went in to see Trevor O'Brien for some physio, who gave me the full treatment, from yanking my legs around to pull out my hips a bit -- a slight misalignment and tightness in my back  are largely the source of the problem, he thinks -- to electro-stimulation and ultra sound.  If we're lucky we'll have me running on Sunday, but Trevor suggested testing it on Wednesday, and if it's tight and stiff even by Thursday morning, then I should give the 1/2 marathon a miss.  Better to miss the race than to be out for a month afterward.

On that note, there is still an outside chance I could race the Tour of Costa Rica.  More about that later.

In any event, regardless, I have now booked my ticket to Costa Rica, December 3 to 26th.  If I end up racing, I'll need to return a bit later, but I'll cross that bridge if it comes.  If I get in to the race, I'll need to begin training immediately.  If I don't race, I have so far reserved three different places at which to stay, and prices are amazingly cheap - $38/night US for a single room; $35/night US for a cabin in one place!  A third was $50/night, I think.  My return flight from Seattle cost me $650, versus $900 from Vancouver.  The US/Can dollar parity comes in handy, and the holiday itself will not be egregiously expensive.

In the meantime the plan is to take some Spanish lessons before I leave, and have signed up for some with someone name Anna (ad on Craigslist).  I figure 2 hours/week for about 6 weeks should give me enough to be able to get around down there a bit better than I did the last two times I was in Mexico.

Now to bed, where at least perhaps my sleep will be carried on little cat feet...

possible injury

Friday September 28, 2007

It seems I may have pulled a sartorius muscle (right leg).  It has been a bit weak for a while and aggravated mostly by weight-training with fairly heavy weights.  It had been hanging in for quite a long time without injury and as a mild strain, so it seemed I could just keep pushing it.  However, during yesterday's 20k approx, and less than a km from home, it yanked a bit when I was forcing the pace to the end of my run. 

I think I really pushed it with the workouts the last week - Tuesday a few treadmill intervals plus weights; Sunday 20k, mostly easy; Saturday 20k hard fartlek intervals; last Thursday; 16km hard tempo intervals.  I have been careful not to train more than two days in order to ensure the mono is not going to return, but my workouts have been good quality, and I've done mostly tempo runs since I began running again a month ago, and have been feeling as strong as ever.

It may be that with a few easy days the sartorius muscle will be fine, but I can tell it is weaker now and and probably vulnerable to further injury.  So, I will have to see whether the Victoria Half is even in the cards at all.  If not, then I may shoot for Shawnigan lake.  I can tell my form and strength are very good right now, so I am looking forward to testing it out in some race or another.  It doesn't have to be the Victoria Half, but that is a popular race and would still be fun to do.  But we will see.

A fleeting meeting

September 24, 2007

Lovely was the breakfast and the dinner the gypsy cyclist shared with the tall blond man and his daughter, and healthful was the sleep he had and the bed they provided him.  And while the man was tall and muscular, how gentle were his slender hands, inherited also by his daughter, as they clasped the mugs and plates in which he and his daughter brought him water, oatmeal and eggs in the morning, and beef, beens and potatos in the evening.

And after two days of rest, the gypsy cyclist - after the welcome and the care they gave to him, and his bicycle retrieved and repaired and his body on the mend - was on his way once again.  How fortunate he considered himself that his bicycle was retrieved and all his paniers too, and that nothing was lost in the rapids of the river.  He could not thank them enough before he departed, and they asked nothing in return except that he should have a safe journey and for a wind at his back and always for blue skies, or, if there should be rain, that it always be soothing.  

But the gypsy cyclist was uncertain of the direction ahead.  Is it time to return home, he asked himself.   There is a fresh start, he thought, and I am replenished, but after such a fall I now am not so clear whether I have begun to weary of the journey.  I have looked at the map the girl provided me and this is the road I am taking, and that road is the one upon which I will take a right hand turn, and I know, for now, where I am going.   Indeed, they offered me a ride to Brussels, which I did not take, all for the sake of my bicycle and a few more pedal strokes. But there is no certainty now that this is the medium I should be traveling by.

The gypsy cyclist, hollowed by his doubts, stopped by the roadside and dismounted his bicycle.  There were no vehicles on this silent country road, and the sky was dimpled with greys of many shades that obscured all but a few fingers of sunlight that seemed to reach through and gently rake through the mists ten thousand feet up, revealing a few lines of brazen blue sky. 

As he stood to survey the flatness of browning oatfields to the north and breathe deeply the cool air, a woman on a horse appeared from a side road that parted the yellow leafy collage that upward rose from the thicket of straight and slender trees to the south.  She stopped when she saw the gypsy cyclist.

"Do you know where you are going?" She asked, her long brown hair billowing slightly in the first inklings of a morning breeze.  "I can see by the look on your face that you are lost."

"Oh," he replied.  "Is it that obvious?  I think I know the road ahead, but at this very moment, there is not one pedal stroke more that I want to take toward it.  Only for this moment, mind you.  The feeling will pass, I know.  But that is why I have stopped. 

"Four days ago." he continued, "I fell off my bicycle and it vanished in a river, until some wonderful people retrieved it for me.  They fed and cared for me and offered to drive me to Brussels.  But I chose to ride instead, and now, suddenly, at the moment that you have found me, I wish that my bicycle had never been found."

"I am sorry to hear this," said the woman.  In the sky, sillouetting her face, the clouds seemed to part a little more, and blueness enveloped her.  "If you did not have your bicycle with you, I would offer you a ride on my horse, and I would take you to Usterckx, a town not far from Brussels.  Of course after that, the roads become too heavy with traffic, and from there I could not ride my horse." She paused, while the sun flicked a line of light from the edge of a cloud, obscuring her face.  The gypsy cyclist adjusted his line of vision to see her more clearly, but he could not. "Feel free to abandon your bicycle," she continued. "Feel free to abandon your bicycle if it wearies you too much, and I will give you a ride."

The gypsy cyclist looked up at her, astonished at the words he had just heard. For a moment he imagined it: removing the paniers from his bicycle, and leaving it by the roadside; mounting the woman's horse and resting his head upon her shoulders and clasping his arms around her waist.   He looked into her eyes as the image came upon him, but still he could not clearly see her face, sillouetted by the sun.  She did not look away. 

"Thank you," he replied. "That is a thoughtful offer.  I cannot have imagined I would ever hear such words from anyone.  But I must mount my bicycle and proceed upon my way.  You know that your words will haunt me for the rest of my journey."

"You are welcome," she said.  The horse was becoming impatient, lifting first one front hoof and then another and swinging its tail.  "I can sense the weariness in your face.  I see it in you.  But I have given you strength to move on, and for that I am glad.  I hope that the rest of your journey is as pleasant as this meeting I have just had with you.  Take care."  She pulled at the reigns slightly; the horse proceeded, and the two soon disappeared.

The gypsy cyclist looked off in the distance where he lost sight of the horse.   Why do I doubt what I have seen? He thought.  In a moment that strange woman was here, and now she is gone, and the moment so fleeting that I can barely believe the meeting was real.  The gypsy cyclist mounted his bicycle.  "Come to me in a dream," he whispered, pushing down on the pedals. "Come to me in a dream for that fleeting moment you were with me that I cannot believe was real.  Come to me in a dream and prove to me that you are just a dream; maybe there, in that dream, then I will believe our meeting was real.  Dear woman on the horse, if you come to me in a dream and tell me those words once again, then I promise to abandon my bicycle and ride with you."

Goodnight Benny Vansteelant

Monday, September 17, 2007

Three days ago Benny Vansteelant, multiple duathlon world champion (both short course and long course), passed away after being hit by a car during training.  While there exists a core number of passionate duathletes, their numbers are small in comparison to other endurance sports like triathlon, cycling, or running.  That is why to lose even one of the passionate few represents a massive blow to the sport. 

There are some who occasionally compete in duathlon but whose primary discipline is triathlon or running or cycling, but not duathlon.  This may be understandable when duathlon is not an Olympic sport and is not supported by the same critical participation mass and wide distribution seen in  triathlon or the other more established sports like cycling or running.   But Vansteelant seemed to love the sport for the inherent nature of the combination of the two disciplines, and called duathlon "the most beautiful of sports". 

But Vansteelant was from Belgium, a landlocked country where cycling is King and gods like Eddy Merckx, still regarded as the most successful cyclist of all time for his combination of victories in the Classics and grand tours and his domination of them (1), are pre-eminent in the national psyche.  In the 60's and 70's a host of Belgian runners won gold medals at the Olympics in everything from 800 meters, the steeplechase, 5 and 10,000 meters, to the marathon (2).   There have been a handful of Olympic level swimmers from Belgium, most of them from the turn of the twentieth century (3), but their numbers are small compared to the grande magnitude of Belgian successes in cycling and running.  Since I have not spent more than a week in Belgium, I cannot vouch for the prevalence of swimming in the national consciousness, but I suspect swimming takes, by far, a backseat to cycling and running in Belgium. 

This is the athletic environment in which Vansteelant was raised, and to combine running and cycling in one sport could only represent the merger of the highest pursuits in Belgian athleticism.  Vansteelant epitomized the greatest of the Belgian athletic talent in two sports combined in one, and while he was competitive as a pure cyclist and as a pure runner, he obviously loved duathlon the best, and to the exclusion of all other sports. 

For me, having devoted substantial energies to duathlon, the loss of Vansteelant is something of a personal shock.  I cannot profess to love duathlon as much as Vansteelant did, and obviously I did not know him well: I shook his hand on the start line of the duathlon World Championships in Corner Brook, Newfoundland in 2006 and found myself dancing beside him at the after-race party (during which he took an obvious shine to one of our female Canadian team members); shared a brief light-hearted moment with him and Kyle Marcotte in Switzerland, 2003 - and that is all I personally know of him except to have been in the same race as him three times. 

But his passion and love of the sport can have been nothing less than monumental and inspiring, and anyone who has seriously been involved in duathlon will very much notice the absence of the name "Benny Vansteelant" in a host of races in the future. 


(1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddy_Merckx
(2) Bosch, Ed.  Mons Magic Continues in Leuven? Alan Webb's 3:46.91 mile http://www.runnersgazette.com/features/monsmagic.htm
(3) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Belgian_swimmers

 

The Trouble with Men

Sunday, September 16, 2007

The latest edition of Scientific American contains an article (which I've so far only seen the abstract of online) called the "The Trouble with Men", noting that sons reduce a mother's life span by an average of 34 weeks.  Yikes!  Doing the math, Mom, with five such sons, therefore has had a reduction from her lifespan otherwise of nearly three years and four months!  Given my general temperamental nature as a child (and grown man to be sure!), coupled with being asthmatic, I have no doubt I took off more than the average! 

The first part of the abstract is as follows:

"Insights: The Trouble with Men; October 2007; Scientific American Magazine; by David Biello; 3 Page(s)

Sons are tough on their mothers. Whether it is heavier birth weights, amplified testosterone levels or simple, hair-raising high jinks, boys seem to take an extra toll on the women who gave birth to them. And by poring over Finnish church records from two centuries ago, Virpi Lummaa of the University of Sheffield in England can prove it: sons reduce a mother's life span by an average of 34 weeks."

Well that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy about being a man. 

But changing the subject abruptly to avoid further reasons to begin self-flagellation, I put together a couple of runs this weekend, including a 15k run yesterday with about 6km of hard tempo in the middle, and a 20k easy run this morning, twice around the lakes.   This follows a very hard tempo run on Thursday - also 15km, but with about 10km at tempo.  Tuesday I did only an easy run to the gym and some weights, where I was happy to discover I have not lost any strength.  I sense the overall strength is paying off in increased stride length and power, but obviously I won't know whether I've benefitted until I race again. 

People are warning me of the dangers of starting hard workouts so soon after having mono.  I feel I am being careful, but perhaps am beginning to up the ante a tad sooner than is good for me.  This week, though, will similar to last - no running tomorrow, and only an easy run Tuesday with weights.  So not until Thursday again will I do a hard workout.

It was not so tough today to watch the Bastion Sq from the sidelines when I was registered to race the elite men's race.  It was raining lightly, just enough to slicken the course and make it highly dangerous.  There were several crashes in all the races, and with that degree of carnage I was quite happy not to have been racing it.  So, not a whole lot of disappointment there.  Still, with the fitness I had accumulated, it would have been nice to cap off the season with a relatively big local race.  But, I think I'm over it!

EBV and a couple more runs

Monday, September 10, 2007

While the Epstein-Barr virus (mono) continues to harbour itself within the confines of my body, the collosal struggle between it and my white blood cells seems to be abating as the headaches and body aches have diminished, and the eyelid edema (swelling) is the least it has been in a week.  Lymph nodes are still inflamed, as is the throat still tender and there remains a general weakness in my body and tightness in the lungs, but I have awoken this morning feeling as close to normal as I have in a few weeks.  I have gotten off lucky, I think - I have heard how severe the virus can be for some people, and how long it can linger.  

On the plus side of the ledger, I have learned that there are actually some positive benefits to acquiring the EBV.  A recent article in Discover Magazine summarizes a study done by a viral immunologist from the Washington University School of Medicine that shows the EBV creates some  immunity to certain types of bacterial infections. The study showed immunity to a common kind of food poisoning and to the bubonic plague.  As those were the only two types of bacteria studied, it seems likely it creates immunity to other types to.  So, next time I'm way down south, I won't be as worried about food poisoning!

Mono is a variant of the herpes virus, I've learned, but apparently the simplex herpes types (cold sores and genital), neither of which I have, fortunately, do not establish the immunity that the EBV creates.  So my advice is: if you're going to get a variant of the herpes virus, go for mono!

After last weekend's heroic attempt at three rides in three days ending with 150km Jordan River ride - at the height of my infection I'm sure, but before I'd had a positive test - and awaking to devastation in my body the next day,  I have learned to be more careful and to not do more than two training sessions in a row at the moment.  And with the up coming Bastion Sq cycling race weekend nixxed off my schedule, I've decided to run more.  So, this weekend I put two runs back-to-back.   Saturday I did one loop of the lakes, beginning very easily and gradually increasing to finish the last couple of km at a quick pace and a time of just over 40mins.  Yesterday, although the legs were a wee bit sore, I ran to Beacon Hill for 4 loops there, each one also gradually increasing in speed with the last one pretty much flat out with a slight relaxation for a few seconds at about 800 metres.  My left quad was very tight by the end of it (not injured just tight), and I walked home from Beacon Hill. 

I can tell I will regain running fitness very rapidly, so long as I don't get recurring bouts of EBV - knock on wood.

Blog networks and mono+

  
Wednesday, September 5, 2007

This is interesting.  It is from a fairly new application called TouchGraph, available on Google and accessible through www.touchgraph.com .  I typed in the words "trainharder blogs" and the following blog network was returned:

blogs

(use Acrobat to open)

Interesting to see all the different blogs that have linked to our blogs on Pano's Trainharder site.  Most interesting for me was to discover that a site called "Physics of Happening" has a link to my site, as does one called "After Hours Blogs - Arts & Events (washingtonian.com)".  Jarhead has a number of Gobi related links to his site, among others, and Running Diva has several pool running sites linking to hers, among others.  Great little application.

On that note, I've learned that I'm positive for mononecleosis.  At least it explains what's up.  The doctor suggested I would likely feel too fatigued to train much and that I could use my own fatigue levels to guide me.  He noted that many patients with mono feel the need to sleep 20 hours a day.  Evidently he has not dealt much with well-trained athletes with mono, since I went for a 150km ride on Monday with it, and did reasonably hard rides the two days previous.  Granted I was not 100%, but was still able turn the screws on the others heading up the Shirley climb toward Jordan River on Monday.  Of course the next morning I awoke to the effects with eyelids the size of Manhattan and more aches and related symptoms. 

What this means is that the Bastion Square weekend is out. There is no way I'll be in race shape by then.  I may be able to train at some low level, and probably will not need to sleep much more than I do normally if at all, but there's no point in trying to prepare properly for the race - better off just letting it go and taking the rest as needed.

A viral event

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

The other day, whilst in the throes of studying for a stats final, I ran into Sean C who said he had heard that I had retired from running.  Hmm, I thought, where did you hear that from?  Then it crossed my mind that at the relatively midling level at which I run, is it even possible to "retire" from it?   I suppose I could "cease and desist" or "quit the habit" or "move on to other things", but it had never occurred to me that I could "retire" from something that was neither a profession nor something to which I've aspired to make a full-time endeavor.

But that would be to take a narrow interpretation of the term.  Upon a review of the definition from www.dictionary.com:

re·tire      /rɪˈtaɪ^ər/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ri-tahy^uhr] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation verb, -tired, -tir·ing, noun –verb (used without object)

1.	to withdraw, or go away or apart, to a place of privacy, shelter, or seclusion: He retired to his study.

2.	to go to bed: He retired at midnight.

3.	to withdraw from office, business, or active life, usually because of age: to retire at the age of sixty.

4.	to fall back or retreat in an orderly fashion and according to plan, as from battle, an untenable position, danger, etc.

5.	to withdraw or remove oneself: After announcing the guests, the butler retired.

–verb (used with object)

6.	to withdraw from circulation by taking up and paying, as bonds, bills, etc.; redeem.

7.	to withdraw or lead back (troops, ships, etc.), as from battle or danger; retreat.

8.	to remove from active service or the usual field of activity, as an army officer or business executive.

9.	to withdraw (a machine, ship, etc.) permanently from its normal service, usually for scrapping; take out of use.

10.	Sports. to put out (a batter, side, etc.).

–noun Literary.

11.	a place of withdrawal; retreat: a cool retire from summer's heat.

12.	retirement or withdrawal, as from worldly matters or the company of others.

A few of these definitions do fit quite nicely, so Sean's choice of words was actually more than apt.  In any event, I mentioned to him that while I've been focussing on some bike racing for a couple of months, I haven't quit running forever, and chances are I would do one or other of the run events on the October long weekend if I can whip myself into shape quickly enough after the Bastion Square weekend two weeks from now.   I have run about four times in the last month, and do actually feel like I could get into half decent shape in three weeks - not peaking or near my best by any means, but the kind of shape which could allow about a 1:17 half, or a 28min 8k.

However, while I've signed up for all three races on the Sept 14-16 weekend (hill climb and two criteriums), the state of my health is sufficiently tenuous so as to leave me questioning whether I will do any of the three races.  I'm still fighting an odd virus of some sort that has not yet been diagnosed.  It is flu-like, but  is absent any obvious respiratory tract symptoms (it seems), which for me is unusual.  One doctor thought perhaps it was mono, while another thought I would be exhibiting far more extreme fatigue if that's what it was and described it simply as a "viral event".     Although not 100 %, I was able to ride three times in a row this weekend, including a Jordan River ride with four other amigos, so extreme fatigue probably does not accurately describe my state.  Regardless, I'm still awaiting results of a couple of tests.

And while I thought I was well on the mend, this morning I awoke again to the balloon-eyed appearance that was starting to subside before the weekend, and it felt rather like the whole process was starting all over again.  Not to mention the scare when I thought I had bloody stool, only to realize later that the offending discoloration was probably due to the beet/barley salad (fantastic) I had had the night before.

But whatever, I think it is dissipating, albeit perhaps more slowly than preferable.  I just go about my business.

From the cot

Thursday, August 30, 2007

The gypsy cyclist turned beneath the blanket on the cot the girl and her father had brought him to.  The girl watched as his closed eyes twitched and his arms began to shift.  Morning sun too was stirring, sighing gently as it slipped through an open window that framed open oat fields and cattle, most of which were still sleeping, scattered in locations near the farmhouse all the way up to the horizon.  "Pater, come quickly!" She shouted through an open door to the next room. "He is awakening!" 

The tall blond man ducked as he entered through the doorway.  "Well, so he is," he said.

The gypsy cyclist turned one more time onto his back, threw an arm so that it hung off the cot, and opened his eyes.  He looked upward at the high wooden ceiling, unpainted, his eyes focusing on fine planks that revealed swirling timber grains. Disoriented, momentarily he wondered what type of wood it was.  He blinked, then from his peripheral vision could see the two figures standing near him. He turned to face them.

"Hello," he said. 

"Hello!" said the girl and the man in unison, smiling.

"Let me guess, I passed out."

"Yes," said the girl. "Something like that.  You weren't conscious when I came back with Pater.  You had a great fever and we brought you in here.  You have just slept for nearly thirty hours!  We thought you were in a coma!"

"Oh," said the man. "You must be very thirsty.  Let me get you some water!" He rushed off.

"Yes, thank you," said the gypsy cyclist. "Wow, thirty hours?  Look you've given me pyjamas!" He lifted the blankets weakly to study his outfit.

"Not easy to get you into!" said the girl.  "But, can you guess what Mr. Sir?"

"Mmm, no, what?"

"Pater and uncle Hansed have retrieved your bicycle from the river!"

Lumpy lymphs

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Despite a few untoward aches in my body and a couple of swollen lymph nodes, I elected, against my better judgment to ride this evening and toss into the mix a few Mt. Tolmie intervals.  The last couple of days I've noticed that I'm fighting some sort of infection, although it isn't entirely clear what it is.  The lungs are clear and I've got no head congestion - just swollen lymph nodes and some general muscle achiness.  I was sporting a mite of a fever yesterday too, but this morning a couple of Tylenol with caffeine seemed to quash all symptoms and I was feeling more or less on top of the world.  The effects of the drugs continued to linger after work and, when I eventually made it onto my bike, the legs exhibited some strength and I thought to stick with my original plan of some intervals. 

So, it was up the waterfront for a brisk warm-up, then a swing left over through Uvic and to Mt Tolmie, where I subjected myself to six of the best lashings up the Beast.  I considered a couple more, but decided that was sufficient to open my system up without overdoing it, given my somewhat tenuous condition.  I didn't have a watch with me, so I can't report times, but the first was fastest and the rest all about the same, but a tiny bit slower.  Of course when I returned home and finally dismounted my bike, I felt a bit like I'd be hit by a Mack semi as I was promptly reminded in no uncertain terms that indeed I am fighting some sort of invasion by the little guys. 

Today's effort followed a couple of hours easy yesterday, when I felt particularly weak, but I wanted to make sure I got the time on the bike.  This followed on a hard weight session on Tuesday, where I found myself hoisting weights that in the past I could only have imagined.  There is definitely some good strength, and hopefully it will result in some extra jump and ability to go anaerobic when the going gets tough in Bastion Square, coming up in a couple of weeks or so.  I'm hoping I will have a little extra juice in the pedal stroke for the Bear Mountain Hill Climb, as well as the Oak Bay criterium, all three of which are on the same weekend.  That will be my last hurrah for the year, unless I can squeeze myself into the Tour of Costa Rica in December, which at this point I have done little to investigate.

I'll take tomorrow off in hopes my body will kick this bug in the behind and leave me reasonably able to train on the weekend.  There is a Masters 48km TT on Sunday, but if I'm feeling at all pekid, I'll be canning it.  It would be good to do, just to ensure maintenance of the aerobic threshold, but I don't need to thrash my body into submission quite that badly.   Hokay, to bed now.

Wayward waters

Tuesday, August 21, 2007


"Mr. Sir, won't you tell me where you have been?" asked the girl, perhaps seven years of age. "You look tired and muddy and wet, and I can see that you are shivering.  But it is warm here.  See? The skies are blue; there are no clouds.  Where have you been?  Where ever you have been, you should become warm beneath the sun, and I think your shivering will stop.  Your clothes are so strange!"

"You are right," replied the gypsy cyclist. "I fell into the river, not far from here.  The water was cold and muddy.  I have lost my bicycle. "

"You had a bicycle? Oh dear!  How did you lose it?"

"It flipped away from me into the water where it was very deep, and it sank to the bottom.  I tried to retrieve it, but the water was too fast and deep in that place with sharp boulders, and it wasn't safe enough to swim."

"Well, then," replied the girl.  "You are lucky that it was the bike that landed there, and not you!"

"Hmm - I'm not so sure about that..."

"Oh you poor man!" said the girl. "I will ask my father to see if he can get your bicycle back..."

"No, no. It isn't safe. It's ok.  I'll be fine without it.   I can walk back to the village and catch a train to Brussels.  I will fly home from there.  I have lost my money as well, but I have a friend in Austria who can wire me some money.  It is ok.  I've been fighting a cold and I've been weak, and it is time for me to go home."

"But it is twenty kilometers to town!" said the girl, her blonde hair flicking to the motion of her head as she spoke.  "I will ask my father if he can drive you.  Will you wait here, while I fetch him?"

The girl ran off to the farmhouse in the distance.  The gypsy cyclist relieved the aches in his body by sitting at the grassy edge of the gravel road.  He removed his cycling shoes, his wet socks and jersey.  What a long and beautiful journey, he thought.  But perhaps I have lost my bicycle for a reason.  Yes, I think that is it: this is the right time to return home. 

He closed his eyes and, in a moment, all the purples and blues that danced behind his weary eyelids transformed into a thousand faces and voices.  Images and sounds of all those he had encountered during his journey coalasced into a single voice and a single face, at first unrecognizable.  He lay back on the grass, felt a thousand blades gently strafe his back while the heat of the sun pressed upon his own face; the single image persisted before him.  

Then at last he knew who it was.  Beneath the warmth of the sun and the weight of his fatigue, he turned to one side, and held his face in his hands.  Tears streamed, clearing in little salty rivulets the dirt from his face, seeming to forage pathways along his cheeks where new tears, and new tears, and new tears followed.

Update

Monday, August 20, 2007

There seems to be some amensia as to exactly what sort of training I did last week, although generally it was not a difficult training week.  I think Tuesday was a reasonably hard couple of hours on the bike, and I think perhaps I ran on Wednesday and took Thursday off entirely.  On Friday I recall a session in the weight room and some easy riding thereafter. 

Ah yes, it's all coming back to me in a cascade of synapses.  Following on some weight training advice from Rob B, I am looking at shifting from my past approach of low weights/high repetitions, to high weights/low reps to stimulate some fast-twitch muscle growth.  My weight training session Friday was likely harder than any I've done in recent memory, and I found it interesting the sort of strength I had in my hamstrings and gluteals compared to when I was doing weights while running - generally when running, my max strength was significantly lower.  Max power gained while cycling for most leg muscles is substantially higher for me, it seems - and which makes sense: cycling is all about high power output capacity.  So is running, obviously, but it seems to me the ability to put the same kind of maximum power output is reduced when running - something worth researching a bit more. 

In any event, my legs felt somewhat weakened for Saturday.  Still, when Brett and Jon W and I met up for two jaunts up Bear Mountain before joining the regular Burnside ride, I was reasonably strong.  I didn't have a watch, but I was about 30 seconds ahead of Brett on both efforts to the top (a bit more on the first one I think), who was another 30 seconds or so ahead of Jon.  We estimated I was up in 8 minutes and something, while Brett was up in 9something (based on Bretty's watch time).  The balance of the ride consisted of mostly sub-tempo type riding punctuated by a few harder efforts, and some solid paceline work by a few guys including Matt, Roland, myself, Jon around Lands End.  The total ride for me on the day was about 145-150km - a good solid day after a couple of easier weeks since the Kelowna races. 

Sunday was an easier ride of about 55km to flush the legs out - enjoyed taking a jaunt into Genoa Bay near Duncan, the road to which takes my vote as perhaps the most scenic 8km stretch of road on the entire Island.

Saluddin's Lamp

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Saluddin was a heavy set boy of twelve whose father and mother together toiled in the hayfields and gathered water from the stream that divided all the rocks, the red clay and dark topsoil into a crevice a hundred feet down and barely three hundred feet across.  For two years, though, the stream was nearly dry, yielding only a trickle, but still just enough for Saluddin and his parents to meet their needs. 

Although Saluddin was portly and his parents kept him so, he was asthmatic and sickly and was frequently prone to fits of painful coughing.  Due to his allergies, he could spend no time in the hayfields, so, while his parents worked, he was left alone to spend much of his time exploring the bottom of the gorge, wheezing often and moving gingerly, rather like a groggy slovenly bear over the rocky stream bed.   Sometimes during times of more extreme asthmatic discomfort he would sit on a boulder or a fallen tree, hold his head and clutch his soft dark hair in his hands, and wait for his lungs to relax just enough so that he could resume enjoying, on his naked shoulders, the warmth of the sun as it shone at the best angles in the middle of the day, and continue inspecting the rocky outcroppings and their amorphous geology in hopes of discovering the singular, as yet unknown, motherlode of fossils that would make him famous.

But one day, as the sun lowered and spread itself against the horizon, Saluddin's last moments of the day before departing were interrupted by a strange man who stood atop the highest bank of the gulley with a bicycle beside him, shouting down into the ravine, echoing.  "Excuse me," implored the man, "is there a bridge across this gulley?  The road ended back there," he said, pointing, "but I can see where it begins again on the other side of the ravine, but there is no bridge to cross."

At the moment of answering Saluddin was having great difficulty breathing, but between shallow breaths, he said, "No my mother... and father... removed the bridge to keep the chickens...and the goats on that side of the ravine...  If you want to cross, you... you must go that way for a few hundred meters and there... there is a path that comes down on your side.  At the bottom... you must walk along the stream... back toward me... and there is a path on the other side... just over that way.  Be careful, though, there... there...are many sharp rocks down here." 

"Thank you," replied the gypsy cyclist. "I will look for the path up thataway and come down.  Are you ok?  You don't sound well."

"I'm ok," said Saluddin.  "I've got... just got... the wheezies a bit.  So I cannot move... much to help you, but you... you can call out to me if you want.  It is getting dark... you should not waste any time. You be careful... on your step down.  My mother... broke her ankle once... once coming down that slope."

The gypsy cyclist had miscalculated the rate at which the sun was setting and, being in an equatorial region, it did not linger on the horizon.  When it pressed the earth in a ball of flame, the horizon became like quicksand and the sun was rapidly swallowed up.  The gypsy cyclist moved quickly to find the path into the ravine.  "I am not sure where it is!" He shouted back to Saluddin, hesitating "and my bicycle light is beginning to brown out.  Maybe I will wait until morning now to cross."

"That is fine!  You can... wait until morning if you choose," replied Saluddin.  "But I will...I will guide you if you want!  I have spent... all my days in this ravine, and I know... every inch of it.  I know every rock... for I have touched... and examined them all; every piece... of driftwood, every layer... of earth along the banks, every... sandy outcropping and... every branch.  I have measured them all... and know all the distances and the number of steps... between everything down here.  This is not my home... but it is where I have studied...studied the nature of the earth... and learned of its ancient history.

"From the bottom of the path... when you find it... I will guide you... step by step until you are here, and then I will guide... you to the path that goes up the other side.  Do not fear...old man!" 

In an instant the gypsy cyclist's hesitation vanished.  "Thank you.  I am relieved.  Please guide me, my boy," he said.  Then, in the darkness, he listened intently for Saluddin's every word.

A couple of runs

Tuesday August 14, 2007

With the close of the Kelowna Stage Race, now two weekends ago and rapidly fading into the past, I haven't quite decided what the plans are now, racing-wise.  Do I maintain bike-racing fitness for the Bastion Square weekend in early September, or do I begin running now at the risk of taking the edge off my bike racing capacity, but building for a fall marathon (perhaps)?

Given that I've actually reached a decent level of bike fitness, by my standards, it makes some sense to maintain it, or at the very least maintain some semblence of race fitness for a while.  At the same time, if I want to get in shape for a marathon, I will certainly lose my bike racing fitness. 

I've been eyeing a UCI (Union Cycliste Internationale) 12-stage race in December in Costa Rica.  My plan is to take December off work, and if there was some way to get on a team for that race, it may be doable.  Although the race is ranked as a UCI 2.2 race (the first digit 2 means it is a multi-stage race, decimal 2 means it is ranked for UCI points and allows division I and II pro teams) -- I've checked past results, and it is usually not contested by European or North American teams, and is primarily a South American specific race.  That doesn't mean it will be any easier to do as a race, but it may be easier to get into, and there are ways to get on teams for races like this for a Category 1 or 2 rider like myself, and I will investigate.  Two stages are 194km and 190km respectivly, but the rest are quite a lot shorter.  With my current level of fitness (plus some higher mileage) it's the sort of race I can probably hang in and finish.

That said, if I want to do that, I would need to be in very good shape for it and would need to do some serious training and some racing somehow in the months before it.  Not an easy task in these climes.  And perhaps not realistic with two additional courses I'll be taking starting in September too.  But no more about that until I investigate some more about it -- it's just an idea at the moment.

In the mean time I did a couple or runs last week.  One last Wednesday, about 35minutes, for which I felt a bit tight, but surprisingly limber given I haven't run for six weeks; the second was on Saturday when I ended up getting lost in the roads of Cobble Hill and ran for at least 15km for an hour and a half.   I had planned on only 10k, but from Hayley's place in Cobble Hill there are myriad twisting subdivision roads, and I managed to get myself a bit backwards, making for an extra long run.  Surprisingly, while I felt a bit tight, I loosened up as I went, and by Sunday when I went for a couple of hours on the bike, I actually felt loose and limber.

So, we'll see how the running progresses in combination with the cycling at the moment, and see where it takes me.

Grabel's Law

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

        "Two is not equal to three -
        not even for very large values of two."
                - Grabel's Law.

The gypsy cyclist once met a man, perhaps from an antique land -- but of this there was no certainty, for the features of the man, neither his face nor his clothing, betrayed anything other than a man of northern European descent.  But about this man, who was neither old nor young, was the general characteristic of one whose knowledge of history, archaeology, and perhaps ancient sanskrit literature permeated through his pores.  Indeed, in the oddest of fashions, the man simply exuded the odor of one from an ancient land, and all the words that he spoke served as ample confirmation of anyone's suspicion in that respect. 

    "Like the application of the Rosetta stone," he once explained to the gypsy cyclist, "One day I sat down with pen in hand, and sought to prove the equivalencies between the content of two ancient texts: one found in the Tigris valley and one from the rainforest of Peru. 
 
   "They were not contemporaneous," he explained, "but were separated in the times of their creation by at least two centuries.  And I had nothing to do with their translation - believe me, I am not a linguist.  Too, not even the contents were related - one was an epic tale of war, not unlike Homer's Illiad, while another was a collection of mystical teachings, not unlike the Upanishads. 

    "But," he continued, "I sought to quantify the images presented in each text, developed a system of assigning values to these images and equations for equivalencies in the content of their information.  I began with a simple hypothesis:  these two texts contained nearly identical underlying quantities of information.  This was not planned by the writers, but nor was it coincidence. There is a hidden order, I believe, to the creation of literature that reveals itself only on the rarest occasions and only when circumstances are just right for one to see the order there. To realize this I discovered key markers at identical junctures within the texts that suggested that these texts, informationally, were identical. 

    "I know, some thought it was crazy -- in fact I doubted it myself for a very long time, and wondered how I could even intuitively sense that these equivalencies existed.  But when I read them -- and I have read thousands of pieces of ancient literature -- there was a similarity between these two texts in a way I did not at first understand; that is until I read them both twelve times and came to realize they were one and the same.   This was despite the fact that Tigris text contained nearly twice as many words as the one from Peru - for it was the images that matched at a precise scale, revealing a hidden shared structure to their creation.  This was the key feature by which I deduced the equation for their equivalencies. 

    "What does this mean, you ask?  I have yet to understand it.  But of all the thousands of texts I have read, these are the only two that share this deep structure.  And what this suggests to me is that there is a kind of order that develops among the writing of billions of words contained in collections we call books - much like fractals in nature. It was not planned, but it is not a coincidence - rather it is part of the nature of the universe.  It is very hard to find, but it is there nonetheless.  And what is interesting to me, is that it allows me to see all literature as a deeply connected tapestry."
   
    "That," said the gypsy cyclist, revealing his ignorance, "is hard to believe.  Doesn't it violate Newton's second law or something like that?"

Kelowna results

Results of BC Cup #7 are now up.

I see that I ended up 15th overall in the final General Classification.  Being only a few seconds out of the next few places, it goes to show it's worth fighting for every second you can get.  Brett ended up 33rd on the day.

Also of note is that it looks like they sorted out the alleged fastest times in the TT - it looks like the fastest time was 9:13, not 8 minutes flat as was rumoured, a bit more than a minute faster than my time. 9:13 was posted by Rob Britten of Lazy-Boy Furniture.  

BC Cup #7 Kelowna

Monday, August 6, 2007

There were four stages to the "Fantastic Four" BC Cup stage race this weekend in Kelowna.  For the Category 1/2 race, the stages were:

1.  Hill Climb - 3.4km up Knox Mountain on Friday evening
2.  Road Race. 108km Saturday morning, 9 X 12km hilly circuit, technical winding course (shortened from the originally advertised distance of 132km)
3.  Time Trial - 8.2km Saturday afternoon/evening - point to point, rolling, but with a strong tailwind
4.  Criterium - 48km - Sunday mid-day - 28 X 1.7 km circuit, short hill, but fast wide-open course.

55 cat 1/2 riders were on the start list.

Brett and I made the trek out Friday morning, after Demian was kind enough to pick up our race packages the day before.  Demian was up for the Category 3 race, for whom the RR was shorter (60km) and the Criterium shorter, but the HC and TT were the same.

1. Hill Climb

My legs were a bit sore and tender during the warm up for the HC, and my plan was to not completely kill myself for the climb, in order to ensure I was adequately fresh for the RR in the morning.  So, I went relatively comfortably for the first 400m of the climb, before gradually winding it up.  The evening was quite warm, mid-20s, but not scorching hot, and pleasant to be able to warm up along the waterfront on the back side of Knox Mt, where Brett and I did a few efforts up one of the climbs there.  Oddly at the moment I have amnesia as to what my exact time was, but it was about 10mins and change, putting me in 27th overall, with the winner up in the low 9s.  Brett deliberately took the climb easier, with much the same plan as me - to ensure freshness for the road race in the morning. 

2. Road Race

We managed to find someone to help us in the feed zone, which, on a warm day is necessary, even for a relative short race of 108km.  I was a little worried, given my legs still felt a bit tender.  Still, I felt adequately recovered from the Hill Climb and well carbo-loaded from the meal the day before. My heart rate in the few days leading up to the weekend was good and so I was reasonably confident in my preparation, although one is always uncertain. 

The course being hilly and technical, the race went out hard. It felt like it was going to be a long course criterium - fast and brutally hard.  Right away guys were being shelled as Christian Meyer of Symmetrics and a Red Truck Ale guy (I think, and who's name I've just forgotten) blasted away early, and ultimately stayed out for the top two places.  For me I knew it was essential to be continuously aiming for the front of the peloton as the back of the pack was shattering on the one longer climb, and on the technical twisty sections.  I'm generally not a great technical rider, but once I got comfortable in the group and with the course, I was picking my way to the front at every opportunity, and headed the steepest climb at the front as much as possible. 

Small groups got away to chase at various times, but were always brought back.  At one point, I made an effort to bridge to a two-person chase, but being caught in no-man's land, gave up the chase.  Those two were brought back. At about lap five, an H&R Block guy from Calgary initiated a chase group shortly after the feedzone on the descent, and I took up the chase.  Dan Macdonald of Masi-Adobe came across along with one other, forming a four man chase.  Within about 5km, Rob Britten (current leader of the BC Cup series) and a couple of other Lazy-Boy's got across to us, and we had an 8 man chase.  I thought this might stick, but eventually what was left of the peloton made it across. 

On each lap, the group dwindled, and by the finish there were about 15 guys left in the peloton as the rest were lapped out, with two guys off the front, and two who got ahead of us by a few seconds.  I came through in the group sprint in 16th overall, with all of us in our group receiving the same finishing time, 2hrs 45 mins and change, I believe.  Brett had two flats that sidelined his day, much to his disappointment and ended up being lapped out. Lapped riders were given calculated times and were allowed to start the next stage, however.

At the end of a hard race I was elated with my result in the road race, bumping me up in the General Classification to 16th place. 

3. Time Trial

The course was a point to point 8.2 course, with rolling hills, and very fast with a tail wind.  This was an effort I simply wanted to get through.  Unless my time was disastrous I wasn't going to lose my spot in the general classification. I also knew that, without great TT equipment -- I even loaned my front Zipp wheel to Brett, who was hoping to redeem his misfortune in the RR with a fast TT time -- and not having done many TTs this year and none particularly fast, I was unlikely to move up much either.  

On the day my time was 10:18, and I'm not certain of the placing, although many guys posted times in the 9s. Two highly questionable times were at about 8mins flat (!) These time were questionable as they would have had 60km/hr average speeds, which, when most of the fast guys were going in nine-something, there was a lot of speculation that these guys had the benefit of some drafting or that the times were messed up, and one of the guys apparently admitted his time was erroneous. 

Brett posted a time about 15 seconds faster than me, which he was a bit disappointed with.

In any event, I was glad to get the race overwith.

4. Criterium

The course being wide open, a short hill over some railway tracks covered with rubber matting, the day being warm, guys being tired, the group was destined to stick together.  While a breakaway of four guys slipped away, I was mostly content to stick in the pack.  I did make a couple of hard attempts to get across to small chase groups and found myself a couple of times in solid six or eight man chase groups.  Still I for one didn't have a lot of extra will to pull much at the front, and I think the will generally was lacking among many others as well, resulting in the main pack ultimately together.  I preserved my 16th spot on the GC (although I haven't seen the official results yet), which I was more than happy to do. 

Overall I was happy with my race.  There has been continuous improvement since I started training in earnest specifically for bike racing at the end of June, and I'm finally where I would like to be with my fitness.

After departing immediately after the race, Brett and I caught the 7:00 pm ferry home, and today my legs felt incredibly good - I was wishing for a fifth stage, perhaps a long road race.  Nonetheless, I am elated with how things went for me. 

Demian, I have learned, missed the start time for his TT, and so missed the opportunity for some upgrading points.

A fellow duathlon/runner turned cyclist, Frank Woolstencroft from Calgary, had a good race in the Cat 3 race, and had the fastest HC time for the Cat 3s.  So, we should see him in Cat 2, soon, I think.