Sunday, February 21, 2010

Lake Superior speaks


It took about an hour to trudge the two miles through northern Wisconsin woods to reach the spot on the south shore of Lake Superior.

Suddenly, we were walking near a cliff's edge, looking down several hundred feet to a field of ice chunks shifting and groaning along the shore. The ice pushed into the famous sea caves of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. We reached the area about an hour and a half before sundown, a piece of rich serendipity because the sun's light shined into the caves, and it brought out the rich browns and reds of the sandstone.

We stood there for a few moments, looking at the ice oozing out of the cliff walls, listening the lake ice murmuring as the cold water moved below it. I wish I had an audio recorder with me, because even though I try to recreate the sound in my mind now, three days later, I can't quite get it. I remember it as a combination of wind chimes and groaning, and for a moment, it felt like the lake was speaking right to me.

"Wow, it's no wonder the Indians thought the lake was a living thing," Kris said.

The spot is located about two miles north Meyer Beach on the Bayfield Peninsula, about 18 miles northwest of Bayfield.

During many winters, people are able to walk to the base of the cliff on the lake's ice. But this year has been too warm, and wind conditions have created the field of broken chunks that shift and crash into each other about a half mile along the shore. Beyond the ice was open water. A sign at Meyers Beach, put up by the National Park Service, strongly discouraged people from walking along the shore. We took that advice, although it was disappointing.

Even so, taking the overland route was interesting, and not without a bit of adventure. The trail was packed and well-used, but it was slippery, and as we got closer to the caves, it was easy to imagine one taking on false step and sliding into Lake Superior oblivion.

So I still want to see those sea caves close up. I think there might be a kayak trip this summer.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Contentment

I spent about half of last weekend in Madison, the home of our state capitol and the University of Wisconsin.

There was a time when I believed that I would have liked to live in that town. After all, it is a great place. There are terrific restaurants (I'm particularly taken with Buraka, an East African restaurant on State Street. (Great stews, reasonable prices.)There's a youthful vibe. Great museums. An outdoor ethic. I love the fact that it's a great place to ride a bicycle.

But I found that as I was driving around the city, I spent most of my time trying to get to the left hand side of streets. Most of the main streets in the city are four lanes and split by medians. This means that every time I wanted to get to, say a bike shop on the left hand side of the road, I would have to drive past it, take a left, and then drive another half mile away from my destination before making some kind of illegal u-turn, then head back. I grew increasingly frustrated with this ordeal, which had to be repeated time and time again.

Now, I'm sure if I were more familiar with the city, I would rapidly adapt and find better ways of getting around. For example, I wouldn't drive. I would bike. I would learn short cuts and back alleys.

Most of my time in Madison was spent in bike shops and one super running shop. It was a nice time for me, but I found myself wanting to get home, so I could actually go running, or cross country skiing, or ride a bike.

I've found that this place in central Wisconsin is about the best place in the world to indulge those kinds of passion. The bike riding here is terrific. There's abundant cross country ski areas. There's even a relatively decent downhill ski hill. And it's all right out my door. And I don't have to make three left-hand turns and an illegal u-turn to get to them.

Madison is a great place to visit. But I like the livin' here. This contentment thing feels kinda weird.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Cool running

Now that I have gotten back into running after the ailment, I've been thinking about this theory that I have.

Everything is more difficult in the winter. For example, gas mileage in cars suffer in the cold, because oil gets thicker and the engine works harder.

As a runner, I am much slower in the winter, and I think it is more than the treacherous footing and the 12 layers of clothes required to run through a Wisconsin February. I think that running in cold weather is just plain harder, and that if you can persevere to May, you will be tougher.

I've read that capillaries constrict when it is cold. Therefore the heart must work harder to do the same amount of work to get the blood into the muscles. Common sense would tell me that in order to adapt, the heart must get stronger. And if gas mileage goes down, a human body must burn more calories to go, too. This is what I tell myself when I am slogging through my gray morning run. I tell myself I am getting tougher, stronger, and burning more calories. And when things thaw, I am going to be a monster.

In the course of my job, I get to talk to a lot of different people, and many of these people are smart. This week, I've talked to exercise and heart experts, so I asked them about my theory.

Corey Huck, an assistant professor at the School of Health Promotion and Human Development at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point, wasn't buying it. A body acclimatizes to cold and heat, he said. There is a constriction of arteries, it's true,but that's in skin exposed to the cold, he said. A runner wearing proper clothing wouldn't experience it.

His theory is that I'm actually warmer when I run in the winter. Because I'm wearing layers (and a hat on my head), evaporation of sweat doesn't take place, and my body can't cool down as well as it can in the summer, when I'm wearing shorts and t-shirt that allow my sweat to evaporate away, and cool me down. So ironically, I'm overheating when I'm running in the cold, and it may be that that's slowing me down.

However, Dr. Paul Luetmer, a cardiologist for Cardiovascular Associates in Wausau, and the medical director for the Aspirus Heart and Vascular Institute, thinks I might have a point. "Cold air can cause coronary constriction," Luetmer said, and exercising in the cold can put more stress than usual on a person's cardiovascular system. That's why people who aren't fit can get into heart trouble in the winter, like "having the proverbial heart attack while shoveling," Luetmer said.

But that's good news for fit people who want to get fitter.

That means that I can feel superior to runners from California,those poor souls who never get to adapt to the frigid weather.

But running in the cold probably isn't as effective as running at altitude. When a person trains at high elevations where oxygen levels are low, a whole slew of adaptations take place, including changes in the blood and muscles, all of which allows oxygen to get to muscles in a more efficient manner.

That means I should feel drastically inferior to people from Colorado, who have both altitude and cold working for them.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Why did I get sick? Because it feels so good when it goes away.

A couple of weeks ago a gray illness descended upon me, forcing me to the couch and hours of daytime television watching.

I knew I was sick, because normally I would relished such an opportunity. But the headaches, nausea, sore throat and the general malaise took the fun out of it. This particular bug wasn't particularly intense, but it's taken me a long time to feel well again. That meant that running, skiing or any sort of activity was put on a back burner for a while.

That, in turn, has meant higher anxiety and stress levels, a minor weight gain and a general lethargic view of life.

When I get caught in this cycle of physical and psychical ennui, I begin to believe that it will last forever, and perhaps there is something seriously wrong with my brain or body. Do I have lupus? Fibromyalgia? Some kind of cancer? A symptom of some serious mental illness or a deep depression?

It doesn't help that Kris is constantly watching those reality medical shows such as "Mystery Diagnosis." The storyline of these shows usually begin with something small -- a toothache, for example -- that balloons into a health problem that consumes a person for years.

But this isn't about that. This is about the aftermath, that feeling of recovery that begins with that sweet burst of energy and well-being. Usually my first run after an illness does not go well. The desperation for breath comes early in that run, accompanied by a deep sort of ache. That lasts for maybe 20 minutes, and then it seems to ease, and the steps get lighter.

There are all kinds of cliches that describe this feeling. A curtain lifting, a fog diminishing, the emerging from a tunnel. Suddenly, I'm good again, and that particular rush makes getting sick almost worth it.

***

P.S. -- This is the second installment in "The Great Blog Throwdown" between my nephew Mark and me. I believe we need to include Luke in this, as well. The throwdown is part competition, part external inspiration, and it seems to be working. Check out Mark's blog at http://penelopesa.livejournal.com/. Luke's can be found at http://frubert.livejournal.com/.
I should point out that at this point, I am winning the blog throwdown, two posts to one for Mark, and none for Luke. Although Luke technically isn't an official competitor at this point, so he should get some slack, for now. Get on it guys.