Monthly Archives: August 2010

Cycling

Easy Rider

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Easy Rider

After 100 km on the bike yesterday (see H.O.T. ride entry) I decided to ride again the day after, partly because I’ve read that’s a better recovery strategy than a rest day, and partly because I need to do back-to-back distance days in preparation for “Jack N’ Back” in October. But I also remember the observation that most amateur riders “ride too easy on hard days and too hard on easy days”. So I decided to ride really easy.

I went about 25 miles. It was near sunset when I began and the last 30 minutes were in the dark, but I had a bright headlight (Planet Bike ***) and blinking tailight, plus I wore a reflective vest. I never got out of the lower chainring except on descents. I consciously slowed my cadence and never pushed up any hill. It was a very enjoyable ride. There was no pressure, no calculation about pace or timing; indeed I felt as if I was just sauntering around the county. I sort of made up the route as I went, which made for even more serendipity. The frogs were singing, crickets chirping, traffic generally light (all the good people were in Sunday evening church meeting), weather pleasurable with the sun down and a gentle breeze.

We need to occasionally do less, not more, in our quest for improvement.\
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Cycling

H.O.T. Bike Ride

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The 20th annual H.O.T. (Heart of Tennessee) ride sponsored by Murfreesboro Outdoor and Bike (MOAB) was yesterday and I rode the 100 km “metric century” with my friend Rob Lennon. Had to get up at 4 am just to brew a cup of coffee, have a piece of toast, an\
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d get to Rob’s house by 5 am. It was an hour to Lacassas Elementary school where the event was staged. There was plenty of parking, efficient check-in, more coffee and bagels, but not enough bathrooms for pre-race necessities (when there’s a line in the men’s room you know there’s a problem). I was looking for a last minute toilet when the race was starting and so we were one of the last ones out of the parking lot. There were probably 400 cyclists or so. The weather was cloudy and about 73 degrees, but the humidity was high.The first few miles were easy flats on country roads, but like all these rides, when your in a group of cyclist one tends to go faster so I had to consciously limit my speed remembering that I usually make the mistake of going out too fast. Even so, at about 15 miles, my legs felt a little heavy and I thought “this is not a good sign at less than 1/4 of the way to the finish”. There was a rest stop at mile 17 or so, with a mass of cyclists and bikes and a too-long line for the water and HEED (electrolyte drink).IMG_0528
We got back on our bikes and the little rolling hills started to increase. Our next landmark was the little town of Woodbury, TN, because we knew from the route map that the major hill of the ride started just outside of town. It started off easily enough, but the curving little swale just kept going and going and going. At one spot, a cyclist had dropped his bike on someone’s lawn and laid himself out on his back, gasping for air. I was too damn dyspneic myself to even ask him if he was OK (though I heard him reply in the affirmative to someone’s inquiry behind me). At the top, there were several “false summits” but at last we saw a van ahead laying out water bottles and ice and knew this had to be the apex. All told, we climbed about 500 feet in a little over 3 miles-the longest climb I’ve ever done.

After rehydrating and refilling our bottles, we took off down the descent on the other side of the ridge we had just climbed. What a glorious feeling, to have the wind whistling past your ears and your freewheel singing at over 40 mph! At the bottom of the hill there was a bone-jarring stretch of road for several miles with a terrible rough surface but the legs felt good and we averaged 18-19 mph along this stretch. Nest was the little town of Statesville and the next rest stop at the Grange. It included water, HEED, brownies, bananas, pastries, fruit, a large industrial-size fan blowing air in the shade, and a Tennessee Walking Horse! (One of the locals was prancing his steed up and down the road there and came over to see what all the commotion was about).IMG_0531

At this point in the ride (43 miles or so) I was feeling pretty good and the next several miles went well. Then, at about 55 miles, my legs started complaining enhanced by the topography which included seemingly an endless series of little rolling hills that individually weren’t bad but collectively took their toll. At one point, about five miles from the end, I heard another cyclist on the road next to me say “I am just hilled out”. It rained briefly which actually felt good and Rob went on ahead of me when I started to falter, but at last the school came into view and I pedaled into the parking lot.

There was a spaghetti dinner being served, but neither one of us wanted to eat, so we just got some cold water, changed into fresh clothes, and headed home. My final tally: 66.5 miles at an average pace (while riding) of 16.6 mph. Estimated calories burned: 2886 Estimated fluid intake during ride: 200+ fluid oz.

The web site: http://www.mborobike.com/ridecalendar/hot100.php

The route: http://ridewithgps.com/routes/107001\
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Family

Bird Extraction Project

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The cats bring home trophies. Often they’re dead, but sometimes they’re still alive. (My friend Rob says killing the prey decreases the “toy” quotient for the cat) So on Vikki’s birthday, August 7, I come back from my bike ride and hear a fluttering in the corner of the great room. It’s intermittent, but the cats are clearly interested in the sound. Since I’m busy cooking breakfast in bed for VLM I don’t give it much thought. Later, I get the full story pieced together from the family. The day before Mitzi the cat had brought a semi-dead bird into the house at which point she promptly dropped the poor thing out of her mouth. Off the bird flew up to the safety of the alcove above the built-in bookcases.

The problem was, the builder of the bookcases had left a space on the wall side of the alcove between the drywall and the vertical side of the bookcase. Poof! Into the space went the bird and down, down, down it fell to the bottom-ten feet below. It couldn’t fly up the space, but the bird began making pitiful sounding cheeps from its new prison cell. The cats immediately went to investigate but obviously couldn’t find it. I kept hearing a muffled little sound but thought the bird was either outside or in the workshop below. Finally, we had Greg go up the ladder and ascertain that there was a space at the lateral aspect of the alcove big enough for a bird to fly into.

Then the planning began. How to get the bird out? There is no space in a house that cannot be reached if the proper tools are available. I took out the drawers at the bottom of the bookcase and started making holes with the jigsaw. The first one, in the bottom panel, yielded no bird. The second one, in the vertical side panel, yielded sparks. Sparks? Yikes I thought I’ve hit an electrical cable and nearly electrocuted myself. Is a small wounded bird worth dying for? I altered my cut and completed the hole without visible electrical burns on my skin. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough space between the side panel and the drywall to allow much of a viewing angle. So I made the hole bigger. Finally, with a flashlight, I was able to see the poor bird at the bottom of the space, covered in sawdust and looking very forlorn.

Next problem: My arm was too big to reach into the narrow space. So I enlisted Helen, age 8, who initially said sure, she would try it. Just as she was about to reach into the narrow space with her little arm, she paused, turned to me, and asked “But are there spiders in there?” Once the thought came, it could not be banished. So Helen bailed. Next I recruited Anna, who bravely put her hand (I did give her a work glove to wear) into the space, down to the bottom, only to declare “There’s no bird, Dad” What!? Sure enough, when I looked again with the flashlight, the bird had disappeared! What the heck?

On closer inspection with the light, I spied a small crevice in the drywall where it made its junction with the wood flooring. The shoe molding had been removed and left a space just big enough for the terrified little bird to scurry into, away from the bright lights, human voices, and buzzing jigsaws, and into the space between the studs behind the drywall. But now what to do? Was I going to have to tear out the drywall between the studs, too, just for a little bird?

Mercifully, with a little bit of time, the bird came back out on its own outside the drywall and back into the space between the vertical bookcase panel and the sheetrock. We heard it squeak again, so Anna reached down and got ahold of the little thing, and brought it out. Hooray!

We knew the cat had mauled the bird bringing it inside, and we knew the bird had been without food or water for at least 24 hours, (plus we had seen small spots of bird blood on the drywall from its wounds,) so we assumed it would be pretty well decompensated. While Anna carefully cupped the sparrow in her hands and took it outside, we thought it was probably going to die. As Anna unclasped her hands to show the bird to Vikki, the little sparrow, sensing its freedom at last, promptly flew off to the safety of the hedge.

So, apart from two large holes in my oak bookcase, the endeavor ended well. I spent the last half hour of the effort cutting and fastening pieces of 1X4 pine boards across the openings in the alcove where the whole adventure had begun.\
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