Why Brian needs a new bike

Maybe you don't know Brian. He's my cousin-in-law. Last fall, he and I made an epic Mountain-Bay Trail ride from Green Bay to Wausau, during which we formed a bicycling bond that can't be broken.

I have come to believe that Brian is on the cusp of a very important turning point in his life. He is about to become a cyclist. He's even started riding with a local cycling group in Green Bay. And he is able to pull his young daughter Elise through the hills of Wausau without breaking a sweat. But there is a problem. He needs a new bike.

Right now he sits bolt upright on a city/comfort bike. There is nothing wrong with this bicycle. It's very nice to use around town, to pull Elise, and to use for toodling. But it's not the right tool for him to become a cyclist, the kind who frets about ave mph, rpms and drafting. He must get a road racing bicycle.

So I've compiled the top 10 reasons Brian needs a new bike:

10. He's skinny. Skinny guys make good bike riders.

9. Elise really wants to GO FAST in that little cart he pulls.

8. Brian likes to eat. Up until now, his youth and his squirrel-like metabolism has worked in his favor. But time stops for no one, and his cycling will allow him to continue to eat two pieces of pie after a full Aunt Shirley-created Thankgiving dinner.

7. He's become way too proficient at ladder ball, and really needs to take up a more active sport.

6. He's become way too proficient at Scrabble, and really needs to take up a more active sport.

5. He looks like American pro bike rider Levi Leipheimer.















Levi

























Brian

(OK, I don't have a lot of expertise in uploading photos into blogger, but you get the idea. [They are sans hair. It's more aerodynamic.])

4. Cycling is a sport that will get Brian out of the house. Getting Brian out of the house is a good thing, because then he won't annoy Cousin Jenny so much, therefore making their relationship stronger.

3. He's a pharmacist. That means he has easy access to pain killers.

2. He's a pharmacist. That means he has easy access to the latest in performing-enhancing drugs, and the expertise to foil drug-testing technology.

1. Because I need another cycling partner to cut the wind for me, so my rides are faster and easier. *

*Brian should get a good road bike, but not a great one. I want him to be good enough to pull me up some hills, but not so good that I won't be able to kick his keister.

Feeling too good

I've just finished a 35 mile bicycle ride through the hills northeast of town. Not so very long ago, this ride would have left me completely spent, and the rest of the day would have consisted of long naps on the couch while the television nattered away in the background of my dreams. There would be sore legs, which would lead to the gulping of aspirin, and complaints from the love of my life: "Is that all you're going to do today?"

But not today. I was tired after finishing the ride, but there was some strength left. The muscles of lower back -- usually the weak link -- were relaxed instead of cramping up. There was a short nap in front of Wimbledon coverage, but it only lasted 20 minutes. A quick lunch, and I'm feeling good.

Maybe a little too good. In the past three weeks I have been directing an athletic resurgence of sorts. It came after my usual nattering about, trying to decide whether to focus on running or bicycling, and wondering if there was some sort of athletic goal I to which I should be aspiring.

This probably is the undue influence of Dave on my thinking. He's big on goals. He likes measuring things, too, and recording progress. It's really kind of disgusting. But that's who he is, and I accept that, and listen to his Oprah-like goal blathering as one does a toddler who chatters away without making any sense whatsoever.

I avoid goals, because it requires commitment. What if, for instance, I were to focus on cycling, only to want to jump into a 10-k in a couple of weeks? What if I were to just run, with intent on competing in a marathon and suddenly wanted to get into some sort of citizens race?

So I decided that I would try to do both. Riding one day, running the next. The theory ultimately is that the cycling will give the legs a break from the pounding of running, and will be actually a "rest" day.

I've found that it's working exceedingly well. I'm feeling stronger. I'm feeling faster, both as a runner and as a cyclist. Now I haven't run or ridden with anyone, and I haven't actually done a competition or official time trial to accurately measure this feeling, so it all might be self-delusion.

In that case, when I do jump in with a group of cyclists, or sign up for a 10-k, I might be in for a mighty humbling experience.

And in the past, feeling too good has always led to bad things. An injury. A car breakdown. So I'm worried that although I'm experience the ying of getting into pretty good shape, the yang will clang down on my skull like a frying pan.

Before the heat sets in

The air was thick this morning just after dawn. It was cool, but you knew that wasn't going to last long, not by the way the humidity was hanging in the air.

Forecasts called for the heat to come in, and that's why I dragged myself out of bed at 5:15 a.m. I wanted to get ride in, beat the heat and get to work, all before sun started scorching.

I took Highway 52 east out of town, right into the sun. Water hung on the tall glass and shimmered in the light, and mist rose out of the patches of trees that lined the road here and there as I climbed the long hill. The suns rays angled through them, as if this were a movie and Jesus was being born in those woods. I rode through little bubbles of cool air, and the moisture started clinging to the hair on my arms and dripping off my helmet.

It was one of those mornings, you know, when you're glad to be alive. As I woke up on the bike, my legs started spinning and my breath evened out and my heart began humming inside my chest. What was that I felt? Oh, yeah, I felt strong. It's been so long since I've had that feeling.

The pockets of mist turned into out and out fog as I rode further out into the country, gliding along at at even 20 to 22 mph. Suddenly the fog surrounded me, and all I could only see about 100 yards in any direction. It was a nifty, disconcerting and scary feeling all at once.

It felt as if I were stationary, and the world was spinning beneath me. Houses and barns came at me from the mist, like ships at sea. I got this crazy notion of belonging in this particular place and time. At the same time I hoped that I wouldn't get hit by a Ford Econoline van, driven by some electrician on the way to work.

I was a little lost, too. I know these roads, but when you're in a fog, there's no sense of perspective, and the landmarks I use to measure where I am were lost in all that gray.

It was one of the best rides I've had in a long, long time.

Dumping organic

About a year ago, maybe longer, under the influence of a late-1970s-era, hippie-dippie book called "The Running Mind," I embraced a concept called "goalless running."

This was a feel-good endeavor to combat all the shoulds and have-tos in my life, and a way to embrace the pure joy and freedom of movement. I would be blessed with running highs and float along the sidewalks in a wave of euphoric bliss that comes with no aim other than to be a part of nature. Like a gazelle. Or a wild stallion. Or some other animal that runs for the sheer joy of it.

My good friend Kyle called this concept "organic" running. I liked that, because it captured the spirit of the natural which I was trying to attain.

The problem? It didn't work. Goalless running was all too soon replaced by runless running, and I promptly gained 5 pounds.

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a battery for my heart rate monitor, and went out for a three-mile run with it strapped to my chest. My goal was to keep my heart rate within the prescribed training zone for a man of my age.

I found that it was remarkably easy, and that for most of my runs, I've been going out to hard. While in many ways that's OK, it's also not very sustainable. Since then, I've been wearing the heart rate monitor to keep myself in check, much like the RPM gauge does on a car. And my runs have been easier, more fun and I've been feeling a lot more productive.

On Sunday morning, I ran for 7 1/2 miles, and felt fresh when I finished. It was the longest run I've clocked since, well, I can't remember the last time I ran that far.

I've decided that I'm going to charge up the old Garmin Forerunner next, and embrace it like a long-lost friend.

Not abandoned.

I read today that, according to the New York Times, "only 7.4 million out of the 133 million blogs the company tracks had been updated in the past 120 days. That translates to 95 percent of blogs being essentially abandoned."

I immediately felt a stab of guilt. This poor blog has been sitting at the truck stop of the Information Superhighway, while its creator has been, well, not really doing much of anything. Maybe this blog has been woefully neglected, but it's not been abandoned.

And just in case the you're monitoring, make that 7,399,999, Old Gray Lady.

Picking on the guitar

The finger tips on my left hand are all tingly and a little bit sore.

Usually this is a sign of romance, but this time it's because I have once again gotten the urge to learn how to play a guitar.

As of this writing, I have practiced three days in a row, for a time period of about 40 minutes or so. I run through a fingering exercise that was taught to me by JG Lightborne, a local performer. I strum through some chords, E, A and D, think, but God knows what they really are.

The trouble I am having is that my fingers, although not particularly fat, seem moosh onto more than one string at a time. This gives most chords a rather dull sound.

Now, I am in "working" phase of the 5 stages of mediocrity. And my question is this: Will more practice help ease this finger issue? Or do I suffer a guitar disability that cannot improve no matter what? Will a new guitar help?

Maybe I'll just try the harmonica.

Shorts weather

When you live in Wisconsin, life revolves around the weather.
So when there's a significant turning point, one must take the time to acknowledge the mark.
Today was such a day. I wore shorts on my run, first time for 2009.
I do love winter, really, I do. But there times when it starts to feel like a prison. The environment itself seems to bear down on you. It's as if you're wearing a suit of lead, one that has been stored in the freezer, at that.
So the first shorts day gives one the feeling of true liberation, freedom. It must be how birds feel when they take their first flight.
It all reminds me of that old joke about the guy who wears too tight shoes, because they feel so good when you take them off.
Winter is great, because it makes summer feel like heaven.

***

Of course, like anything in life, the bliss of spring must have it's cruddy counterbalance. For us, it's ankle-deep puddles, barf-colored left over snow and mud. My run today took me through a large local cemetery. It's one of my favorite routes, because there's no traffic and it's easy on the legs.
But the gravel roads are now soft and gushy. This particular run reminded me of the "Mud 'N' Grunters" race Dave and I ran in the Hudson Valley north of New York. Ugh.