Gears, Pedals and Seats, Oh My!

Welcome back to Part 2 of "Bikes for Beginners." Or "The Completely Non-Mechanical, Non-Scientific and Non-Expert Description of Road Bikes and Mountain Bikes." (Catchy title, right?)

Today, we'll talk about some personal preference items ... gears, pedals and seats.

GEARS: Gears mess me up.

Not because I don't know how to make them work but because I'm not great at knowing when the right time to shift is. Also, I have this caveman spot in my brain that says I should pedal for as long as possible in the hardest gear I can stand, because then I'm getting a good workout. Sweat = good. Of course that's not true. But my skull is also thick ... you know, like a caveman.

I think bikes just come with the number of gears they come with. (You're riveted by this expert commentary, aren't you?) I suppose you can modify them to be something different, but why? That being said, there is a difference between our two bikes.

The sole purpose of gears in the first place is that they allow you to keep a steady pedaling pace as you move up hills, down hills, all around town. A steady cadence helps you go farther with less effort. If you're a good shifter, you gear though inclines with ease.

I have a potential for 16 gear combinations ... my chain can move between two sprockets on the front and eight on the back. Jim has 21 total gear combinations ... three sprockets on the front and seven on the rear. In my opinion, neither one is better or worse. I'm guessing the more varied the terrain, the more gear combinations you may want to keep that effortless, steady pace going.

All I know is that I need the easy gears to get me up steep, long hills. And I'll find them wherever they are. Advice from my expert brother-in-law? Shift before you think you need to and never under strain.

When you change gears, your left hand directs the chain where to sit
on the sprockets by the pedals. I have two rings there, and Jim has
three. Your right hand moves the chain between a set of rings (sprockets)
on the rear. I have eight stacked up there and Jim has seven. 

PEDALS
This is a basic pedal, much like the one on Jim's bike and just like the one you remember on your banana-seat one speed from 1973. It's functional. It works. You already understand it.You push it down, the bike moves forward. Period.

This is a pedal with a "cage" on it It's what I have on my bike:

It's a bit smaller than the first pedal and the toe of your shoe slides into the basket-like part. What this allows is you to use some "pull" in addition to "push" when you pedal, thereby giving you a bit more umph. (That's the technical term.) On the normal pedal above, one leg is always relaxing and one is working. With the cage, both legs can be working to move you down the road.

Then there's this contraption:



They're known as "clips" because your specially-purchased-and-sort-of-expensive bike shoe literally clips ON to the pedal. Yes, your feet are attached to the bike.

They strike fear in me. I am too scared to try them. I picture myself approaching a stop sign and suddenly unable to unhook my feet from the pedals, ass over applecart as the bike falls over with me on it. I also find the noise the shoe makes when you walk into a gas station to use the bathroom a little silly. Think tap shoes.

The clip set-up gives you even MORE pull than the cage, which is why people like it. It makes you faster and gives you more bang for your pedaling buck.

Full disclosure: If you ever sign up for a bike riding event, all the cool kids will have bike shoes and clips. Some may even look at you and your pedal cages or naked pedals with little smirks. Let it roll right off of you. The amount of benefit you get from either is absolutely negligible to the average Sunday driver. If you plan on long routes, and want to work on decreasing your time, look into them. If you want to enjoy 7 or 8 miles on the bike trail, don't worry.

SEATS: And now perhaps the most important thing ... the seat. Officially it's called a saddle, so consider yourself forewarned should you get into a conversation with a purist.

My seat is on the left, Jim's on the right. Mine has essentially no padding and is flatter, narrower and overall smaller.

Prior to this week, I would have told you that all seats are so similar, it would be hard to tell the difference ... and as long as you have good padding in your shorts, it just doesn't matter that much. That's truly what I thought, in all my worldly expertise.

I stand corrected.

And I'm standing because my mommy parts still hurt from riding Jim's bike for one ass-numbing day.

So here's what I know about seats:

1. They're adjustable three ways on a good bike. Up and down (height) is the obvious way. They also adjust forward and back (front tire to rear tire) and angle (nose to heel).

2. More padding isn't better. I liken it to a pillow top mattress, which I hate. The padding can get worn from the way your but fits the seat, causing weird pockets of pouf. What seems like a little thing  at the beginning of a ride is a very big thing after an hour.

3. It's completely personal. Your butt is shaped different than mine. Our sit bones are in different places. We weigh different amounts. Our height is different. Our rides are different. And what's comfortable to you may not feel good to me.

4. The goal is to sit light, not heavy. When you get tired or when you're not in biking shape, you tend to sit heavy in the seat. You hunker down and push your pedals. The heavier you sit, the more your butt hurts. Riding light, if that makes sense, is just easier on your butt. Put your weight in your feet. Stand up and stretch every now and then. Gear properly so you're not forced to push so hard. The seat isn't there to "ride on." It's there to support you.

5. Seats have different scoop outs, contours, some even have holes in the middle and are marketed as more comfortable for men. As you can imagine, daddy parts don't logically line up with the whole bike seat concept. Since I don't have daddy parts, I can't speak to the benefit of any of these. But I can say, with complete certainty, that Jim's seat is a torture device for mommy parts, so I can only imagine what it does to him. We're shopping for a new one this week.

Tomorrow we finish with gear. (And don't lie. You secretly laugh when you see someone on the bike trail all duded up like Lance Freaking Armstrong when you know he's only going 4 miles. It's OK. You can laugh. But I'm still going to dress that way and I'll tell you why.)

The Difference Between a Road Bike and a Mountain Bike

I am not a bike expert. As with most things mechanical, I could honestly care less about the gears and sprockets and spokes and carbon fiber this and derailleur that.

I could not tell you a single thing about the latest Trek models or why Bike A is better than Bike B. I also don't believe that someone who rides like I do really notices much of a difference between a bike that weighs 2 lbs. 2 oz. and one that weighs 2 lbs. 6 oz. ... or whatever. Can elite athletes tell when their performance is aided by a smoother gear shift or carbon fiber? Yes, probably. But I'm not that athlete.

I am a bike rider, thought, so by default I have a bit of working knowledge. And, I also have access to two bikes (three, really, but one never leaves my basement) and there are distinct differences that I thought you might be interested in ... should you be shopping for a basic bike.

I'm going to show you my road bike, a Trek Lexa S, and Jim's sport mountain bike, a Trek 3 Series 3500 ... that's been modified a little from factory stock to make it a bit more road-friendly.
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TIRES: First, notice the difference in tires:



A road bike has skinny tires, inflated to 100-120 psi. They're smooth (no nubby stuff) and they ride "hard" ... not a lot of give when you're rolling over uneven surfaces. My driveway is long, hilly and gravel. I always feel sorry for my tires on it, because they just don't handle it well. They almost skid across the loose rocks and ping a few out sideways every once in a while. They're made for pavement. Period.

Jim's tires are much wider. The original tires on his bike were very nubby. Nubby is good for mountain biking. There's give and grip for uneven terrain. But nubby is not as good for road/bike trail riding. So we've traded for smooth-and-wide tires, which require inflation of 40-80 psi.

Jim's bike will handle an off-road trail and the pavement ... well enough for me to get back and forth to work or for a 20-30 mile ride comfortably. To the contrary, my bike would SUCK on an off-road trail.

If the two bikes started at the top of the same hill together, with a rider of equal weight and proportion, my bike would go down the hill faster. How do I know? I've been the rider on the slower bike. In my unscientific brain, it's because the wider tires mean more contact with the road. More contact with the road equals more "drag" ... and if I'm wrong, don't tell Mr. Raasoch. He'd be as unimpressed with my grasp of high school physics now as he was then.

HANDLEBARS: The second most obvious difference between the two bikes is the handlebars.

Mine: Curled down, like the 10-speed of your youth. They sit lower, forcing your hands a bit more forward and lower. You have the option of holding onto the curly part, too, causing a tighter tuck. You must hold them on the curly part to brake. Your brakes are on the front, meaning your hands are palms-in when you brake. Since road riding doesn't generally require a lot of braking, sharp turns or precision control, this position is OK ... it allows you to stay in that tuck.

 

Jim's: Straight out, hands a bit further apart.They are also a bit higher, allowing your body to sit more upright. Because your hands are wider and your brakes are on the ends, you brake palms down, with downward pressure on the front fork. That means more control and power when you twist and turn on an off-road trail. Your more upright body position can also mean a more comfortable ride.



Now, I'm sure that there is some aerodynamic benefit to the tuck vs. non-tuck position. A wind tunnel would certainly prove that. However, the way I ride, this measurement is completely pointless. If I'm a twentieth or a tenth of a mile per hour slower because I'm riding more upright, who the hell would notice and, more importantly, who the hell would care?

FRONT FORKS: Next up, the front fork.

Mine is rigid, skinny, flat, and not all that exciting to look at. There's no give. Remember when I said my tires rode "hard?" So does the fork.

Jim's has suspension ... like a shock in your car. It's two beefy cylinders, one inside the other, to absorb bumps a bit when you go over them. When you combine this "give" with the wider, lower psi tires, you get a smoother ride on that pesky gravel in my driveway. And over the railroad tracks. Or bridges made out of old railroad ties. However, it also makes the bike heavier.

BRAKES: The other main difference between our bikes is the brakes themselves.

I have rim brakes.

Rim brakes work by simply applying pressure to the rim of the tire. The harder I squeeze my hand, the more brake I get ... it's not terribly complicated. The pads come down and apply pressure to the rim, and, voila! ... slower rotation.

Jim has a disc brake on the front.

A disc brake uses hydraulic assist to apply pressure to the rotar ... the little silver ring in the center of the tire. The benefits of a disc brake are these:

1. In wet conditions, the holes in that ring "dry" the surface out as it's turning, allowing the pressure to work faster/better. Compare that to the squeezing of the rim on my bike ... if the rim is wet, the pads just don't work as well. Or at all.

2. The hydraulic assist allows for a smoother, more controlled/constant pressure ... not dependent on how hard I am squeezing. More controlled/constant/smoother equals faster stopping.

3. In muddy conditions, like an off-road trail, that little silver ring with holes in it is farther away from the gunk on the ground and less likely to get mucked up ... allowing better, more reliable braking. If the rim on my road bike gets muddy, the brake just can't work as well because the pads can't get to the rim, perhaps.

4. A rim brake CAN cause wear on the actual rim, which can affect tires.

So if disc brakes are so awesome, why does my fancier road bike not have them? It doesn't need them. Road bikes don't ride in mud. Road bikes don't need to brake that much ... their job is to go fast in a straight line, not twist and turn through fancy obstacles.

(Kind of the way a good Thoroughbred race horse is different from a reliable, sure-footed trail horse. One is built to go forward fast and has very little skill in anything else, no fancy footwork, no back-up or sideways walking. The other will never win a race, but will take you over streams and rocks and up and down mountains safely.)

Disc brakes also add some weight, though, again, for the kind of riding I do, that doesn't really matter.

Tomorrow, gears, pedals and seats!

Just One Stinking Tank Top

I ran this morning. A quick 4 miles in the basement, because I'm convinced that if I run outside I will get attacked by the neighborhood cougar. 

(And I don't mean Courtney Cox, HRGirl.)

When I was done, I came upstairs and headed to my bathroom for a shower. And I caught a whiff of myself. 

O.M.G. 

Rank doesn't begin to describe it. 

I smelled like a locker room full of teenage boys after a night of hard boiled eggs and beer. With Limburger cologne. 

As I peeled off my running top, I knew what the problem was. 

It wasn't me, so much as it was the 2 years worth of me that has accumulated in this particular running top. 

Peeeeeeeeeeee-yeeeeewwwwwwwww! 

Now, just in case you're thinking, "Doesn't she WASH her workout gear?" Yes, of course I do. I generally hang it to dry before I shower and wash it at night when I get home. But my two favorites are more that two years old and they've been worn and sweated in a LOT. 

They are Energy Zone brand from Shopko. Tanks with built-in shelf bras. And I love them with all my heart. I bought them at half price or about $14.99 ... not because I remember, but because I only buy them at half price. Shopko seems to have a sale every month or so. I used to have a whole rainbow of colors. But over the years, I've had to toss them out, one at a time, as they got stinky. I'm down to my last three (my two favorites and one other one). 

So obviously, your next question is, "Why have you been wearing the same, stinky shirts for two years?"

I've been wearing the same, stinky ones for two years because apparently, they don't make tank tops with built-in shelf bras anymore. Well, at least the folks at Shopko's Energy Zone brand do not. 

I look. I look every time I go there. I even make special trips to look on occasion. I have bought the separate jogging bra and loose-fit tank and I just don't like running in that. I don't want to put two things on, take two things off and wash two things when ONE will do. I like the tight fit of the bra-included tank. So sue me. 

So tonight I took to the web to find something similar. How hard can it be? 

Apparently, It's almost flippin' impossible. 

A search for Energy Zone confirmed they no longer make my favorite kind of shirts. Next step, searches on self-bra tank, sHelf-bra tanks, running tanks with bra, running singlet. All return a few things from Sierra Trading post for brands that I've never heard of, items not in my size or brands built for yoga (read: not enough support for running), things with bad reviews or this: 

This is a cute tank, in my size, with a bra, for $84.99. Yes, I said $84.99!
It had better run FOR me for $100 after shipping! See for yourself here.

Yes, I have checked Athleta and Reebok and Brooks. (Ordered two pair of shoes there, but no tops.) Yes, I have looked at Kohl's ... I own a couple of the FILA brand they carry and don't like them. The seams under the arms are killer chafers. And they're $30+. 

Guess more than one thing about this whole scenario stinks. 

Ominous Beginnings

This was the view on my bike ride into work this morning. There was a bit of a damp chill in the air and misty evidence on my bare legs and shoulders of the dark clouds that were headed east.

It made for a nice start to the day, though.

And I like the metaphor. I chased the dark clouds away and dragged in the sun.

Grocery Day Prep

Let me start by saying,

I HATE GOING TO THE GROCERY STORE.

Especially on a weekend. Especially on a weekend at Woodman's. But go, I must, at least once a week. (For the record, I barely survived today's trip ... between the construction and the approximately 873 other people in the store, I made it out just before I flipped my lid.)

But then I got home and was happy to put all of this together:

• Carrots peeled and cut. 
• Red peppers, deseeded and sliced.
• Seedless cucumbers, one sliced for snacking and one currently in the process of becoming 24-hour refrigerator pickles. 
• Jicama, peeled and matchsticked.
• Corn on the cob, shucked for dinner this evening.
• Iceburg, washed and chillin' for BLTs Monday night.
• Green grapes, rinsed and ready. 
• Bowl full o'cherries, duds removed.
• Seedless watermelon, cut up and getting cold for tonight's snack. 

After yesterday's German Fest fun, it's back to good stuff for the week. And now that it's all ready for me, there are no excuses for not eating well.

If It Feels Good, Do It

The concept is incredibly simple. Easy, almost.

Do what makes you feel good.

The hard part is knowing what feels good. And identifying what feels bad.

I read this the other day and it has stuck in my cranium:

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/07/20/rethinking-exercise-as-a-source-of-immediate-rewards/?smid=tw-share&_r=0

What is says, in a nutshell, is that perhaps it's wise to think of exercise /eating better in a new way. Perhaps we should ot think of it as means to an end ... like weight loss. But as a way to feel good. Really good. Down deep inside good. For a long time.

Or at least that's how I interpreted it.

So I started thinking about what makes me feel good. Really good.

I attack the day better, think clearer, handle stress better when I work out in the morning.

I worry and kick myself less when I eat right.

Do I like sleeping in? Yes. Do I like cake? Yes. Yes, I do. But both of those things really end up making me feel worse, not better. It's just not always the easiest thing to remember when my eyelids are heavy and there's frosting just a few feet from me in the breakroom.

When I stop and think, really think, the choice isn't as hard as it seems.

(This is Day 3 of relatively clean eating for me. The first 3-day streak in a long time.)

Efficiency

I'm still riding my bike to work a couple of times a week.

There is still no hot water.

This is how you take an ice cold shower:

1. Get washcloth, soap, shampoo and conditioner in the ready position.

2. Turn water on about half-speed and immediately jump under it, washcloth in hand. Your goal here is to get your body as wet as possible, as quickly as possible, with the water that's "in the pipes" and therefore NOT ice cold. Ignore your head at this point Your hair isn't the most important thing yet. Making sure you get the sweat and stink off is the key outcome of this step.

3. As soon as you are wet, turn water OFF. Use washcloth to scrub away. As soon as you are soapy ...

4. Turn water back on ... again at half speed. (You don't want to use that "in the pipes" water too fast.) Rinse as you spin quickly under the trickle. Get hair as wet as you can. Keep that washcloth under the water as much as possible.

5. Turn water off. Shampoo.

6. Turn water on to rinse hair ... but bend forward to do so, so that your butt/body is out of the water and only your head is in. The water is getting colder now.

7. Turn water off for lather #2. And curse the amount of "product" you have in your hair that requires two shampoos to get it all out.

8. Turn water back on for final rinse, again head first. Water is really cold now.

9. Turn water off and apply conditioner, the smallest amount you can. The less you use, the less you have to rinse out.

10. Rinse conditioner from hair. By now, the water is FREEZING and it hurts the back of your head as it hits.

11. Turn water off. Use washcloth to get the last bits of soap off.

12. If you need to make one more swipe of the important parts (my grandma called them the 3 Ps), use the wet washcloth you've been holding on to.

13. Done! And there is no steam to mess up the mirror or wreck your hair. If I had to guess, the water ran for less than 3 minutes.

The good news is that my boss has searched out parts to fix the innards of the faucet on Amazon. He says that I will eventually get warm water. And I'm not going to lie.

I can't wait.

I Am Strong

Today, I am loving my body.

I've been pretty down on it lately. It's too big. I'm carrying too much weight. There's too much squish and my clothes are not fitting properly. 

I'm really not fond of the muffing top that appears with my jeans. 

But you know what? 

I still love my body. 

I ran Saturday morning. Lately, every mile has been a real challenge. I've been feeling big and lethargic and heavy. 

Saturday morning I felt at home. The best way I can describe it is comfortable in my own skin. My feet hit the pavement methodically, one in front of the other. My breathing was even and steady. And I covered 5 miles after a 1-hour RIPPED workout with relative ease. 

It made me feel like a million bucks.

This body has been bigger. This body has been smaller. When it was bigger, I didn't trust it. I didn't trust that I was good enough or strong enough.

Today, I know I am good enough. I am strong enough. My body will take me where I want to go, when I want to go there. Through this whole process, and it is an ongoing process, I have learned to trust me.

It hasn't come easy. It's taken practice to believe that I can do "it" ... whatever it is.

But today, at almost 48 years old, I know I can.

I love that.

P.S. Here's one more thing I love. I got a message from our old friend New Runner today. This morning she logged a personal best distance of 6 miles!  That's SIX MILES ... that's the distance between Fort and Jefferson, y'all! What I love most about it is that I know she's feeling the same way about her body tonight. She's proud of what it can do.

Double Double

Saturday marked the second day of my week where I doubled up workouts.

If you recall, I ran and biked on Thursday. It felt pretty OK, so I thought I'd give it a whirl again to start the weekend off right.

I was up early, at RIPPED by 6:30 a.m (OK, 6:35 ... I missed the first half of the warm-up) and good and sweaty by the cool-down an hour later at 7:30. The sun was still hiding behind the clouds and the breeze was just perfect, so I grabbed my running water bottle, flipped my Map My Run app on and hit the streets of my old neighborhood.

It was fun to cruise over those once-familiar sidewalks. I always walked, even at my heaviest, and knew my old 2-mile route would serve me well. I wanted to do 4 miles, however, so I added a few blocks here and there in an attempt to avoid simply doing the loop twice.

Before I knew it, I was back at my car ... with 5.1 miles on my phone.

A nice surprise.

Best of all, it felt easy. My pace was "slow" for me ... 10:40 miles. But it was easy and it felt good. Really good. For the first time in a long time.

A change of scenery is good for everything, I guess.

Bugs, Breathing and Beads

I challenged myself Thursday.

First, I woke up before 5 a.m., ran four miles and then hopped on my bike to ride to work. 

Then, I put in a 10+ hour day.  

Then I got suited up for the ride home. I was actually looking forward to it because it's nice to have the decompression time. It's a good time to think and a good time to sort, prioritize and chill. 

But as soon as I hit the bike path, I knew I wasn't alone. 

They were there. 

Millions of them. 

Swarms of gnats. 

I took a mouthful before I knew it. They stick in the back of your throat in the most disgusting way. 

I got wise quickly ... in through the nose; out through the mouth. In through the nose; out through the mouth. In through the nose; out through the mouth. I kept repeating it over and over, in cadence with my pedaling, and tried to keep my nose/mouth pointed toward the ground to prevent an accidental bug cloud inhale . 

I didn't dare lick my lips for fear that I'd have a whole bunch of the little buggers stuck there by the time I got home. 

I could hear them pinging off my helmet and see them bouncing off my sunglasses. 

I was convinced I could even hear them as they hit the craters of my ears. Gross, right?

The good news is that the ride is only about 8 miles ... so I was home fairly quickly. I took off my helmet and gave myself a good shake to make sure there were no hangers-on. 

And that's when I noticed something that made me smile. 

You see, I had forgotten to take my earrings off when I changed from office wear into bike gear. What I thought was bugs crashing into my ears was actually some fake pearl beads clinking from my dangle earrings. 

It's a good look. Bike helmet and dangly pearl earrings, right?  

Better option than this ... 

I Keep Looking ...

I am looking for something.

I have not yet put my finger on it. Every time I think I have found it, when I swear I've found it, it turns out I haven't yet.

What am I looking for?

I'm looking for the one thing that's going to snap me back to reality.

So far, these are the things it has not been:

My smallest clothes not fitting.
My favorite clothes not fitting.
My biggest small clothes not fitting.
Walking around feeling like an uncomfortable sausage all day because my clothes don't fit.
The re-emergence of huge upper arms.
The rubbing together of the tops of my thighs.
The blob of skin that hangs over my too tight bra.
The re-appearance of a pooch in my mid-section.
The weakness of will that allows me to walk when I should be running or back off when I should be pushing.
The nearly constant bad internal conversation in my head.
The tired, defeated, hopeless feelings that creep in.

I have made myself lots of promises. I have vowed to get back on track a hundred or more times. And, as of yet, I have not actually done it. Which means I'm obviously lying to myself. I can't figure out why, either. 

But yesterday I tried on a pair of size 12 pants and stopped breathing for a minute when they fit. 

The truth is I'm working out pretty much like usual. But I'm essentially eating whatever I want. Proof that this whole deal is ALL. ABOUT. THE. EATING. 

For now, I'm going to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep moving forward. And maybe, just maybe, while I'm hunting for divine intervention or some equally illogical other thing, I'll do enough right to get to the place I want to be. 

Conversation During Today's Punishment Workout

I had a fun weekend. Lots of time with friends. A couple of celebrations. And an early morning drive to Dubuque today with my mom to get her a couple of hours at the Diamond Jo Casino. 

Which meant I skipped my normal workout this morning. You see, I have this radio call-in thing for work every Sunday morning. It's at 7:30 a.m. and my choice is to work out before it or after it. Since last night's celebration was a wedding reception, getting up super early this morning wasn't that appealing. Especially since I woke up extra early yesterday to ride my bike into 6:30 a.m. RIPPED. Two weekend mornings at 5 a.m. is just not fun. 

So that means I had to do something this afternoon to make up for the skipped workout. I call it The Punishment Workout. It's got to be something awful enough to prevent me from wanting to skip again anytime soon. So I picked one of the things I hate most: Weeding.

Why do I hate weeding? Mostly because it's pointless. They just grow back. And it's hot. And sweaty. And dirty. And you have to bend over. I really hate bending over. 

This is how it went down:  

"I hate weeding," I said. "Though it's better when we do it together. It goes faster."

"Yeah," Jim says. "These clover-things suck. They're hard to pull because you can't find the source." 

We pull. And pull. And pull. There's no dilly dallying because neither one of us wants to look like the wuss. Thankfully the sun isn't blazing down and the ground is soft. But it's still a pain in the ass ... or more specifically, in the back. 

With the front done and half of the back flower beds complete, this happens:

"This is precisely why we should have had kids of our own, you know," I say. 

"Yeah, then we could tell them to get out here and take care of this shit," he laughs. "'Get out there and weed those flower beds you little bastards. If you want supper, you'd better get out there an bust a sweat,'" 

I'm giggling, knowing he'd probably not call our kids little bastards. To their face. Or maybe I'm giggling because he would. The thing is our kids would probably laugh at him doing so. 

"It's not too late. We can adopt," he suggests. 

At this point, I'll do just about anything to get out of this task. "We don't have to tell the adoption agency WHY we want to get a couple of them, right?" I ask. 

"Nope," he says. 

I'm still considering it. 

Good Genes: A.K.A. Dragging My 73-Year-Old Mother Around Chicago

So, this is an open letter to all you 30-somethings, 40-somethings, 50-somethings who think you are too out of shape, weak, hurt, malformed, injured, just plain unable to do any sort of cardio exercise:

My 73-year-old mother covered more than 7 miles at full speed in downtown Chicago on Monday.

In flip flops.

Any more excuses?
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Mom and I hopped aboard the Chicago Fun Day tour of the Windy City. A luxury motorcoach dropped us off at Navy Pier and the day was ours to do what we wanted, knowing the bus would pick us up at a predetermined spot later.

Since the day was rainy and thick, we didn't stay long at Navy Pier. The big ferris wheel wasn't running, so there was very little reason to stick around. Instead, we headed to Michigan Avenue.

We started at Water Tower Place and marched all over the 7 floors. Then we headed south, stopping at the Tribune Building and the DuSable Bridge to take in a Chicago Architecture Cruise. After 75 minutes on the water, we continued our southern march to Millennium Park. She didn't know what to make of the Bean.

This is us. Yes, I have a coat tied around my waist. She insisted I take one along
on an 80-degree day. Because she's my mom, I listened. Nevermind that I'm 47.

We then trekked back north, making a few stops and side trips off of Michigan, eventually landing at the corner of Rush and Superior.

Not only did she put on the miles, in many instances, she was setting the pace. She puts her little head down and goes.

She did admit on the way home that her feet were starting to hurt.

Damn flip flops.
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I sure hope I have inherited a few of those genes.

And while she may not know it, she has given me something even better. She's given me an example of what "growing old" should look like. She knows that you can do what you set your mind to. She knows the key to living to her target 100 is to keep moving.

Thanks, Mom.

There she is, Big City Mama. She also has a coat
tied around her waist, of course. She wore it when
we stopped for ice cream. The AC was too cold.
And you'll see I'm not lying about the flip flops. 

P.S. I took the following day off from exercise. It was my rest day. She mowed her 1-acre lawn with a push mower.

... And Then a Cold Shower

I rode my bike to work for the first time of the year today.

It was really lovely. Just a nice way to start the day. Sort of.
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I have been fortunate enough in the past two years to have three jobs, all with showers, making the two-wheeled trek to work possible. In fact, a shower is now on my list of must-have benefits. Health insurance? Check. Vacation days? Check. Shower? Yes, sir!

In fact, it was actually one of the last questions I asked before accepting my current job. (Much as it had been at my last place of employment.) "We have one," said my soon-to-be-new-boss hesitatingly. "It's been here about 20 years and I'm not sure anyone has ever used it," he added.

"And it's in the men's bathroom."

Fast forward to last week. With high hopes that the weather would finally cooperate, I determined that it was time to check the shower.

Confidently, I marched into the men's room after 5 p.m. when most everyone was gone. I twisted the faucet and, voila ...

Water! I was good to go.

Or so I thought.
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This morning, I stuffed my backpack full. I pedaled as fast as I could. I locked my bike up outside and I headed toward the men's room.

It's a little unnerving to disrobe in the men's room, I gotta admit. What if the lock doesn't work? Not the way I want to address my still-not-"old"-friends coworkers. But disrobe I did, stepped into my flip flops (it's still the men's room and everyone knows athlete's foot lives in places like this), and fired up the shower.

Fired up is not exactly accurate. Fire would imply warmth. And this, my friends, was a cold shower. A very cold shower. As in, no hot water. None. Zip. Nada. Bupkis.

I guess I should have tested the temperature when I tested the existence of water.

Needless to say, my shower didn't take long.

Naked by November

I got to spend the weekend with some of the people I love most in the world ... my girlfriends from home. Due to a work trip that brought Arizona to Chicago, Arizona was able to extend her stay by a couple of days and head to my house. Then Cross Plains, Neenah and Fort Atkinson x 2 also joined and it was slumber party at the ranch! 

Poor Jim. LOL

Normally, we rendezvous in the fall. This unexpected gathering was a bonus. 

We did something we'd never done on Saturday morning. I rolled everyone's ass out of bed and we went to RIPPED. 

Wait. Let me say that another way. 

Because my friends love and support me, they rolled their own asses out of bed at 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday, after a very late Friday night, and went to RIPPED with me. 

Isn't that just the coolest thing? 

Like Alice handing out brown bag lunches on The Brady Bunch, I had a protein bar, water bottle, sweatband and gym towel ready near the back door, so they could grab what they needed before heading to the car. In the car, I had all of my extra yoga mats and hand weights preloaded. Off we went into the sunrise. 

We jumped around. Made up a few of our own moves. Groaned a little. Sweat a lot. 

And when it was over, we talked about how we all needed a little incentive. We realize that taking good care of ourselves means making sure we do all we can to eat better, breathe deeper and move more. 

I mean, let's face it. We're closer to 50 than 40 at this point and the reality of that is lost on no one. 

So we made a pact. 

When we get together in November, we're going to do a 5K. We have the time between now and then to get ready. No one is forcing anyone else to run, but I do think that will be the goal of a few. 

A quick check of calendars showed that the weekend of Nov. 13 seemed to work for our fall extravaganza. Another fast check of Google showed that we had three good options that weekend in our neighborhood: 

Echo Turkey Trot, Janesville

This is a 5-mile run/walk with a 1-mile option. The event raises money for Janesville's food pantry. 

Frosty Rock Challenge, Fort Atkinson

This is a 12K (7.4 mile) run through the trails at a county park. There's also a 5K option with money raised to go toward the Jefferson Country Cancer Coalition. 

The Nearly Naked 5K, Whitewater

This 5K is a fundraiser for the Whitewater Community Clothes Closet. The idea is that you layer up in clothes you would like to donate, and at each mile marker, you shed a few articles. By the end of the race, you should be "nearly naked." ("In November? In Wisconsin?" asked Arizona, whose blood has thinned considerably over the years.)

Can  you guess which one is the early favorite? 

Love these ladies with all my heart.
Strong and beautiful, in every way.