End of January. Next phase?

I’ve been going back to fill in the blanks (spasmodically) rather than carrying this forward. A couple of entries covering our Maine trip in September. And going farther back, some description of our Grand Canyon and Zion trip end of March. I still have to fit in my recollections of Tom’s and Jill’s wedding, and will be getting back to that. But the narrative wants to continue, and the new month and the New Year (of the Ox) make a convenient entry point. Hard to grasp that January is almost over.

Number 1. I’ll be starting chemotherapy next week. I’ve accepted it as pretty much the best course, and it’s possible it won’t be as terrible as anticipated. Went to chemo class at Kaiser and got better informed: basically they pump toxic chemicals into your body which target and destroy “rapidly-dividing” cells, including cancer cells, of course, but also blood cells and hair follicles and sex cells and things like stomach and mouth linings. Hence the well-known side-effects like hair loss (on my regimen I’m not supposed to lose mine), anemia, fatigue, nausea, susceptibility to bleeding and infections, but all these are temporary and manageable. The cancer, if any, hopefully gets killed. I’ll be getting twelve treatments over a six-month span, and also an infusion at home for two days each cycle through a “port” which they’ll be installing in my chest. Then recovery for two weeks. Maybe those are enough details—I talked with someone who hates to go to parties with his older partner because all his friends want to talk about is their symptoms! We’ll just have to see how it goes.

Number 2 (I guess). Diana and I got on our bikes and rode with our friend Kerwin out to the Richmond Marina on the Bay Trail, our famous flat route for easy cruising, and it went very well. The first time for both of us after surgery. Diana’s new knee works very well (the old one was giving minor problems), and I didn’t feel any ill effects, climbed pretty briskly on the only hill(s) at the race track. We started on High Street near the Fruitvale Bridge and so covered nearly 40 miles. A good workout: we probably overdid a little. I subsequently rode my bike out to San Leandro to bring music to Bob Fowler (who is going to accompany me at our Northbrae concert on Feb. 28th), around 20 miles, but riding a little harder, so I felt it. I had planned to ride (and BART) to the dentist today, but didn’t really feel like it when the time came. Actually my rib is still hurting on and off, and oddly, more in front where he didn’t cut (referred pain?) But we’re looking forward to riding as the weather gets better.

It’s pretty clear we won’t be going on the Ride this year. We’ll continue to lead training rides for ALC this Spring. Maybe with Denise and Monica, who have just bought a house in our neighborhood. We had dinner with them at Fountain Garden. Diana and I attended a First Aid-CPR class for leaders two weeks ago, which I (and I’m sure others) had suggested. Still in touch, but feeling more like an outsider.

Number 3. Concert for AIDS/Lifecycle at Saint Mark’s, Berkeley, last Saturday. Hard to tell how much paid attendance, after a whole lot of work doing publicity. Valdez will know more. Some outstanding performers and a big variety. We heard a trio of flutes (one a bass flute, which I’ve never seen before); a very gentle jazz group: 21 Flights West who seemed terribly young; a prize-winning junior clarinettist; one of the flutists, now on a Native American flute, with a flugel horn player; an a cappella chorus (who take on singers of any skill level, good sound and clever arrangements); finally a klezmer band: Go Van Gogh (really good instrumentalists and a great sound). Also a lot of familiar faces: Marcie and Isabelle Brown (she’s 6 this year) on cellos; Andrew and Wendy with Verna (“Baby, It’s Cold Outside”); Carlo with a setting, a cappella, of “O magnum mysterium” (I wasn’t quite sure how it fit, but he makes a big sound); Valdez playing Mompou; Wanda Goree even appeared and sounded good in a gospel number. I was very well satisfied with my performance, with Larry Marietta: Rorem, Copland and Bernstein, and even had some audience response during one of the numbers. (Larry said nice things about my singing, but he always does). Program ran way overtime. There’ll be nine more concerts this spring. I’m trying to help Valdez where I think I can (there are some blind spots and some looming problems which have to be addressed), but it is really his thing and his to figure out. I’m not trying to raise money this year, but do want to perform.

January, 2009: Post Surgery

It’s already 2009 (I think the first time I’ve actually had to write the new number!) and I haven’t been keeping up the blogging. I want to try to summarize the rest of our year and bring it up to date, and I’ll be posting some pages below (in the proper sequence) as I get around to it and as memory serves. These include our trip to Arizona and Utah and the Grand Canyon in March (pushed out of the way by cycling matters) and our trip to Maine in September for Tom’s and Jill’s wedding at Edgehill. Starting here with a surgical update.

While I was having colon surgery in June, a small lesion was also discovered by accident in my right lung together with my pulmonary embolism, and we’d been keeping an eye on it through the fall. We finally managed to biopsy it in December, and it turned out “consistent with” colon (not lung) cancer, which was good news: it’s a lot less aggressive, though its spread is of course a concern. After some consultations we decided to go ahead with thoracic surgery, on December 17th; my surgeons and the oncologists thought there was a good chance to “get” it once and for all, since apparently it hadn’t appeared anywhere else. The operation went very well; I was in the hospital only two nights and went home feeling very strong, though I do find myself wanting to nap a lot. My rib, where he cut it, is still uncomfortably sore (and the December chill makes it all feel even worse).

Diana meanwhile, who had to postpone her knee replacement while I was in the hospital, finally had her surgery in early November and has also made a really strong recovery. It turned out she only required a partial (“unicompartmental”), and that has been much easier to deal with. Her surgeon, Dr. Burri, was so pleased with his part that he entered it into her medical record. She did real well with her rehab exercises, mostly to strengthen the muscles, until they kicked her out of p.t. She’s slacked off some since then. But she’s been helping walk the dog around the block, doesn’t need the cane (or the disabled placard) any more, has been cleared to ride her bike, and is basically without pain. And has returned to Kindergarten as planned. We need to get her to the gym on a regular schedule and get serious about losing weight, which will help make the knee last. And she’s already made a tentative appointment to have the other (left) knee done in June.

I had my post-op checkup this week with Dr. Patel, and everything is looking good. In fact he made me feel like a celebrity, as an outstanding patient! I guess they are glad when you make them look good, and it is good to be able to share in the satisfaction, especially when one is the canvas, so to speak. He took less of my lung than I expected, had a chance to feel around, and apparently “got” everything, including another growth which he said was “nothing.” Pathology indicates it was indeed (most likely—you never seem to get 100% sure out of them!) colon, not lung, cancer. I saw Oncology today. They think it advisable to put me through a six-month course of chemo, just to make sure nothing remains. My best chance for an actual cure, although they have nothing concrete, only statistics, to go on. I’m hoping to put the whole thing behind me in 2009.

Counting my cataract surgery last December, this makes four times under the knife between us in a single year. I certainly didn’t intend to turn my body over to medical science in this way (Diana’s procedure was more elective), and we don’t recommend surgery as a steady diet. But Kaiser has been outstanding and I/we are astonished at and thankful for the skill, the expertise, the knowledge which have been available to us. And the care and caring of the nursing and supporting staff. And for medical insurance which has paid for almost all of it. (Of course, if one adds up all the premiums over thirty and more years, Kaiser still comes out ahead, but I’m sure they don’t count it that way). One can only imagine the horrors of being un insured these days, and it is obvious that affordable health coverage for everyone has got to be one of our most important national priorities. We need to keep pressure on the new Administration and Congress until we all have it.

November, 2008. Riding Again

GPC: Healdsburg–Jimtown, 10/29/08

This was entirely inadvertent: I must’ve hit a button funny as I was trying to down load this foto. But okay. Souvenir of a recent Wednesday Ride with the Grizzly Peak Cyclists to the Alexander Valley in Sonoma County. As a Yellow Jacket I was of course interested in the honey bee jersey.

I’ve been riding a lot with this group recently after not seeing them for a couple of years. It has helped to carpool with some locals from here: Carla (who takes Wednesdays off from her dental practice) and Paul (a fellow Post Office retiree), because many of the rides are in Marin. We also see Rich and occasionally Laurie, also Yellow Jackets. An interesting group, both tight-knit and fluid, many of them older citizens (in September we celebrated the eightieth birthday of one of the Pats) but remarkably durable and strong. Many of them go on bicycle vacations, in New Zealand, in the Pyrenees. Hard core cyclists. We’ve ridden out to Inverness and Point Reyes; to Novato and the Cheese Factory and back over Lucas Valley Rd.; from San Francisco over the Marin Headlands and out to Larkspur; over Mount Tam to Bolinas and then back over the ridge to Alpine Lake and Fairfax (this was the ride which nearly finished me!); from Healdsburg out to “Jimtown” (mostly flat, for the fall colors in the vineyards); most recently from Oakland up to Skyline Dr. and out Redwood Rd. to the golf course. I’ve also ridden a couple of times in the South Bay with the Fremont Freewheelers and my friend and comrade Valdez Hill: across the Dumbarton Bridge and out the bicycle trail to Lakeside Park (real nice café), and through the streets of Fremont to another coffee stop.

I’ve also managed several rides with the Oakland Yellow Jackets, my home club. In August the breast cancer ride: Bike Against the Odds, which we sponsor and host (I elected to ride an extra twenty miles in order to avoid the hill on Pinehurst!) In September a long, hot loop from Oakland, over Fairmont and Dublin Canyon to Calaveras (right at the limit of my endurance—fortunately we rode back on BART from Fremont). Diana and I missed the annual club overnight ride to Monterey when we travelled to Maine for my son’s wedding. In October a longish (but flat) run to the park at Point Pinole. All this must be pretty boring, but I wanted to give a brief report of my riding/training this fall. The point is I’m riding a lot and, even with the setbacks noted, I am stronger and fitter than last year and than I was in June. I’ve been working hard, and it seems to be paying off.

I should also add I’ve been serving as an unofficial/official fotografer on all these rides, have been getting some quite gratifying results (and a lot of compliments). Which brings this page full circle; maybe it was not sheer inadvertence which brought me here, because I certainly intend to use this space to post pictures. I’m starting to feel as if I know what I am doing with a camera, as if I have a real viewpoint and an actual style. Learning by doing. I’m trying things, becoming more confident, am finding a lot of enjoyment in it.

A New Season

If I knew how to draw a double line or turn the page. . . This is Fall of 2008 and time to begin a new chapter, after a long pause in my blogging, which has partly coincided with a long pause in the AIDS/Lifecycle training season. Cycle training and the AIDS Ride have provided the framework and rationale of this writing—and I certainly have not ceased riding. But life and events have also gone on in the interim, and soon I guess I’ll have to give some account of them. But here we are, facing the kickoff ride for ALC 8, this Saturday (I’m going to have to decide whether to skip it and go help sing a Gregorian mass at St. Ambrose, where they sorely need me, or whether I can ride and still get back on time). Diana has volunteered to help conduct a clinic for beginning riders, but I didn’t sign up to help; I felt that others would probably appreciate the chance to act as leaders. And I haven’t yet registered to ride this year. I think I need to see what my cancer situation is before I commit myself; in fact I also have some reservations about the ride and some concerns about my determination to do the fundraising. Again, maybe I need to give others a chance to ride: they’re going to limit registrations again. And Diana won’t be riding; she will be undergoing knee surgery in just a few weeks and has extensive rehab to look forward to. Actually the bike will help her regain her strength, assuming all goes well. But the main factor is her school schedule. The first week in June is the worst possible week for a teacher to take off. Well, we have both been recertified as Training Ride Leaders and intend to help train AIDS riders as we did last year.

While speaking of ALC and fundraising: our friend Valdez Hill, who developed the ALC Concert Series last year, is back with even more ambitious plans for this year. And we’ll be joining him, as supporters and performers. I’ve been trying to set up a program in February at Northbrae where I sing. He’s been lining up sponsor churches, some very desirable venues this time, and recruiting musicians, professional and amateur. And he’s found he can reach out beyond AIDS/Lifecycle, will be staging benefits for several organizations, including the Young People’s Symphony and a rec program for HIV positive teens. It’s exciting to think about.

Well, my condition. I am continually embarrassed by people who ask me in that urgent way how I am feeling. I should appreciate their concern, for me, for a fellow human, but they are seeing me as a “cancer patient,” and almost seem disappointed to hear that I feel fine. And I am fine. Yes, I am on anticoagulants, until December, and there is the possibility I could bleed dangerously if injured. While they were scanning me in the hospital for my embolism they discovered another spot in my lung which appears cancerous. But it’s way too small to biopsy for now, so we are waiting to see if it will grow. It’s just the same story as my colon mass: no symptoms, nothing I can do about it, just take one step at a time. I’ll be going in for another scan when we get Diana through surgery and recovering. Worst case could be very bad, but there’s no reason to assume the worst. So yes, I am fine and feeling fit and riding strong. That’s enough for now.

Maine, September, 2008

September in Maine
In September we traveled to Maine, to our family summer home in Sargentville, to celebrate the wedding of my son Tom and his lovely girl Jill. The couple are actually living in Hilo, Hawaii, but the bride’s family live in Philadelphia, and it was an opportunity to reconnect with roots back east. It’s a place we all love (and have been struggling to maintain all these years), bought by my great-grandfather in 1905, a large house on a lot of land, which has mostly reverted to spruce forest (when we were kids it was meadows with orchards and gardens), with shore frontage and a pond as well. My sisters (and several cousins) have all moved back to Maine and live in the neighborhood, and we’ve taken to renting it out in the summer to earn money for repairs and taxes, are hoping we can preserve enough to pass it on down to our children (and grandchildren!)
Edgehill is always where my heart is and we don’t get back there often enough. September, outside the rental season, is a beautiful time to visit, with clear blue skies and the beginnings of fall colors and a little nip in the air.

Edgehill (foto by Diana in 1999)

Diana again felt she couldn’t leave her Kindergarten until late in the week (we drove down to pick her up in Portland). But I decided to go early and visit old friends in Boston area, stayed with Larry Joseph (my college roommate) and his wife Judith, and we had dinner with our classmate Bob Volante (we missed him at our reunion last year) at his club. Needless to say, it was great to catch up with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. I also stopped in East Vassalboro to visit more old friends, Chuck and Lore Ferguson.

Nature Preserve in Holliston

Larry and Judith

Bob Volante

Chuck and Lore

Sailing With Harmon.
Margaret and I had a chance to get away and go sailing with our friend Harmon Dunathan. He’s the husband of Mary-Frances Vookles Pitts (familiarly known as Mo-Fo) from Memphis, sister of Claudia, who married and divorced our Cousin Chris, and has been “family” forever. They loved summering in Maine so much they purchased a place in Stonington, and he shares the boat with Debby (M-F apparently doesn’t like to sail). We had an interesting day, with threatening and spectacular skies and flat calm, though eventually the wind came up and let us sail. But perfect for relaxing and chat. Out of Burnt Cove on the Penobscot Bay side of Deer Isle and through the channel past Stonington, a picturesque (and still pretty much unspoiled) village, which is important as a depot for lobster fishing and for its granite quarries. We caught sight of a couple of the popular “windjammers,” old working schooners which now cruise the Maine coast carrying tourists. A good chance to share some pictures. I later discovered a Deer Isle and Stonington group on Flickr with a large number of pros and some spectacular  and beautiful fotos of the region.

Rowboat

The Victory Chimes, a three-master

Harmon

Lobster Boat

The Lewis R. French

Dinghy

Burnt Cove

Epilog: 7/12/2008

Finally it can be told!

Shortly before the Ride, on May 21st, I was called in for a colonoscopy at Kaiser which revealed a cancerous mass.  A consultation followed with the surgeon. Dr. Dixon saw no reason I couldn’t go on the Ride (he said his wife had ridden last year) and would schedule surgery after my return. A CT scan also showed the tumor was contained and hadn’t spread. For myself I had no symptoms or any sense of being sick or weak or disabled or special in any way There seemed to be no need to tell anyone except family and a few close friends; in fact it seemed only slightly ironic to be doing the AIDS Ride as a “cancer patient.”

Pre-operative checkup brought up my road rash from my crash, but it appeared to be well-enough healed not to be a problem. The operation went smoothly, I believe (of course I remember nothing of the procedure, only being asked my name and what they were going to do before I lost consciousness—they kept asking me my name for days!) I had somewhat underestimated the extent of the surgery; not just the lump, but my entire ascending colon was removed, but of course if you think about it there wouldn’t have been much sense in reattaching the leftover parts. And Dr. Dixon was able to operate laparoscopically, making only a few tiny incisions. Into the bargain I got a small hernia repaired. I was to be in the hospital maybe a couple of nights while my incisions began to heal and my colon learned to function again. I had visitors and no pain (thanks to a morphine drip I could regulate) and felt drowsy but clear and rational, though I later heard I had been largely incoherent.

In the second night I was unexpectedly moved downstairs into the Transitional Care Unit and there was this trio of nurses trying to roll me on a bed to the elevator and down to Radiation for a CT scan. We never actually crashed into a wall, but they seemed mostly concerned to bring along all the monitors and equipment and hardly seemed to notice me, and I just had to submit to all of it. Of course I was forbidden to stand up or move myself. Turned out there was a blood clot in my lung, a pulmonary embolism which had developed in spite of extensive precautions; they had detected it by monitoring the drop in my blood oxygen; the danger was that it could travel from my lung to my heart and then through the arteries to my brain or worse. So I was suddenly in Hell, in the TCU, on oxygen, with intravenous blood thinners, a nasal tube down my throat (clearing the fluids from my stomach and small intestine was supposed to help my colon recover) and no food and no more morphine, just Vicodin which seemed to give me bad dreams. And the worst was I was unable to sleep; I could close my eyes and relax, but could not manage to drift off, and could only witness time passing, second by second through endless hours of the night. It was like this for five nights (in the first two I was also finding terrible spaces deep within which I struggled to escape: I really doubted if I could survive another night like that). In time the bad dreams (if not the sleep rhythms) improved—Brahms concertos on the IPod my daughter brought me helped a lot—and I believe I must have managed to doze considerably during the days. And the nursing staff seemed to get better as well: care givers who cared, who would talk to me and tell me what was going on and seemed to be glad that I was feeling better. Eventually someone came to insert a PIC line (only one person in the hospital has the qualifications to do it) so they could feed me intravenously. I hadn’t had anything to eat in five days! And almost as soon they removed the nasal tube and my stomach was ready to start on liquids again and then semi-solid food which I found largely unpalatable (Diana brought me won ton from outside). By this time I was ready to get up and take long walks, at first dragging the IV stand and an oxygen bottle, then more freely as more and more equipment was unhooked. They finally released me on Sunday afternoon, after a 10-day stay.

Initial results are excellent: Dr. Dixon removed the whole mass (he said it had grown into the colon wall) and the labs showed the lymph nodes cancer free. I’ll be checking with Oncology in time to see if any follow-up (radiation or chemo) is necessary. I’m enormously impressed with the Kaiser system: I talked with one stupid doctor and another who just seemed to be shining me on, but the rest of the surgical team were great: efficient, responsive, informative. They were on top of the cancer and all over the embolism. The nursing staff, again with a few exceptions (and part of my negative judgment is colored by my bad mood, no doubt) were outstanding. I don’t think I could have been in better hands.

I’ve lost twenty pounds—not the recommended weight-loss program—and can’t wait to see how that helps my climbing! Unfortunately it seems to be mainly muscle mass: my arms and legs, which I’ve been building up for all these years, are skinny again. And I’m going to be on anti-coagulation drugs for several more months, and the doctors think I should stay off the bike because of the danger of a crash. So it’ll be awhile.

Diana decided to postpone her knee replacement until I was safely home again, assuming she could be rescheduled immediately, and found she won’t be able have it done now this summer. If they had only told her. . . But it looks as if she can hold out until November now (she can take pain killers again) and use Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays to get back on her feet.

Yes, there are even a couple of fotos, made with the cell-fone. For now everything is well.

Looking pretty sick Flowers from the ALC Office

The AIDS Ride: SF to LA in Seven Days, 6/01–6/08/2008

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Ride: SF to LA in 7 Days.

This is the link to my Ride fotos on Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/swedg/collections/72157607790012932/. They’re organized in sets on the right for ALC 7, Days 0–7. Too many to post here. Here’s a nice one, though, by Steven Rood, an LA rider, who caught me on Day 1, as I chugged up the hill on Highway 92. That looks like a smile, but you can almost feel the effort.

Day 1, Climbing Hwy. 92

I’m back! A little bit sore, and still bruised and abraded after my crash on Day 6, but everything is returning to normal as I reflect on this year’s Ride and how to summarize my impressions. On the whole I found it strenuous, much harder than expected or remembered. I struggled on the famous hills, and the distances, especially on the long days 2 and 4, seemed to stretch way beyond the endurable. At the same time, I am convinced I rode stronger than the last two times. My difficulty was probably more due to pushing myself early: I rode hard on Day 1, attacking the “rollers” on the Coast Highway, and passing everyone in sight. Joe Borgonia calls me “competitive;” on Day 2, after cranking it out over ninety miles, I had enough left to charge up a little hill approaching King City, and someone yelled “Showoff!” But I don’t see it that way: usually I just find myself edging up on riders ahead of me until I have to pass in order to have riding room. There’s also the exuberance factor: having spent much of my training time sweeping as a TRL, I enjoyed the opportunity to open it up. And the tailwinds! I hit 49 mph on one downhill and was still coasting as I flew by struggling riders halfway up the other side!

“Quadbuster,” the big hill on Day 3, defeated me this time; I had to stop and catch my breath even before I reached the turnout halfway up, and once more before the top. And the “Evil Twins” on Day 4, though I didn’t stop, were a real struggle. They hadn’t seemed so hard on previous Rides. And Day 5 produced three challenging climbs which I’d just forgotten about, either because they are still unnamed or because they had not been a problem before. (Throughout the Ride I kept having flashes of recognition, but most of the route seemed new and unfamiliar). And endless: by Day 4 I had fallen into a much more conservative (survival) style, content to coast a lot on the flats, pedaling just enough to keep up the momentum. My quads were sore to the touch; I was finding muscles I never knew I had.

The Morro at Morro Bay

Compared to my last time, two years ago, the Ride has grown enormously, and crowding is a real problem. Long lines for meals and showers and porta-potties (they did seem to move along, but required an effort in patience). We kept running into huge clots of riders, at stop signs and signals, and often for no apparent reason. It took fully an hour and a half to get out of Santa Cruz on Monday morning, basically walking our bikes, and the same in Paso Robles and Santa Maria. And I felt very much less a sense of community, rather a huge (and loud) impersonal mass of strangers. It was a good thing to belong to a team (Oakland Yellow Jackets were some 20 strong; we didn’t really ride or hang out together but bumped into each other frequently). There were a number of large teams: the “Funky Monkeys” who seemed to have a different team jersey for each day and even a team sweatshirt for camp. And everywhere we saw “Midnight Radazz,” “Team Bear,” “Team 100,” and others. Of course I tried to engage folks in conversation, in lines and at meals, but hardly made real contact (well yes, I met a nice young man, Tim, from Baltimore who was riding alone; Joe and I exchanged stories with a woman who was a “roadie” for the first time (she was keeping company with her daughter, who was riding), and later kept running into her at traffic control points; and I got to know some of my teammates better, including my tentmate Joe). I think my feeling was probably closer to nostalgia: I felt like an old-timer, a veteran rider looking at all the newbies and missing the old times and how it used to be (and that was only three years ago!) Incidentally, I never encountered Bert Shaw, the 80-year-old from Florida, or Richard from San Fran., the “most ancient” rider at 82.

Teammates

I observed a lot of rude (I thought) and reckless riding, perhaps a function of youth and numbers and impersonality; it seemed for many to be about “getting ahead,” rather than “caring:” racing past lines of other riders at stop signs, passing three abreast, even going out on the highway to get by, though most riders did call out “on your left.” My fall was caused by a rider who cut in too close, descending on the narrow shoulder of the freeway (where passing is supposedly forbidden). Fortunately I had slowed down on this stretch in order to stay behind the riders ahead of me. She was probably emulating behavior she had been witnessing and said later there was another rider passing her on the outside and forcing her over. I was incredibly lucky, suffering only skin abrasions (my jacket was shredded and my helmet, we discovered later, broken); and my bike was okay. She was so upset I had to hold her and comfort her for several minutes. She’s going to buy me an new jacket and pay for my helmet. Amazingly, it was Ron Starkey, my OYJ teammate on the Moto crew, who picked me up and called the sweep van, and Lisa Lestishock, another OYJ on the Medical team, who patched me up at Rest Stop 2, where my Oakland neighbor Josie Chapman was in charge. By another quirk, all the riders were massed here, waiting for the Highway Patrol to open the freeway, and my teammates came by to wish me well. It was almost providential: I felt like a celebrity and among friends. To top it all, Diana was there; she had driven down to meet the Ride at Lompoc (I discovered the pleasure of sleeping in a bed and eating out on the “Princess Plan!”) and was allowed to be my private SAG for the rest of the day (I could have ridden on, but was strongly advised against it). We found a bike store and acquired a new tire and helmet, and I got to rest up for Day 7.

Lisa

Speaking of eating out, camp food was great, served by friendly, encouraging, cheerful roadies (occasionally we got a peek behind the scenes and saw how hard they worked), though chicken and turkey sandwiches for lunch got old soon (and the “Powerade” we were offered to drink was awful), and it was tempting to pass it up for a hamburger & coke on the road. The shower trucks were better than the shower at Motel 6: plenty of pressure and hot water, and ALC even provided big bottles of shampoo! Joe and I enjoyed a walk-in massage on Sunday, wished we had waited till we really needed it later (we were allowed only one for the week), but it was a great service. I also made use of Medical, Bike Tech, Lost and Found services, and of course the Rest Stops, Bike Parking, Gear Trucks, Moto and Sweep crews and many others not seen. I even found foam rollers to stretch out my aching quads. Every conceivable need was met; organization and logistics were amazing. All staffed by volunteers. All we had to do was pedal.

The last day was more celebratory (yes, it involved a sixty-mile ride on the Pacific Coast Highway, along the ocean and over several challenging hills, but my legs were relatively fresh): I discovered I could maintain a speed of 17 mph, but 18 began to feel like pushing it. I linked up with teammates, Joe and David and then Welela and Teri and Ron and Wilma, but then found myself pedaling alone, endlessly, through Malibu while trying not to miss Gladstone’s seafood restaurant on the beach where the OYJ team had a rendezvous for lunch. We were supposed to ride from there together, showing our team jerseys, but got scattered again in the short remaining distance into LA. Diana and I missed the Closing Ceremony; she was finding it too hard to walk in on her aching knees, and I was unable to find my bike until all the activity at the Veterans’ Center died down. We had a reunion and spent the night with my old friends (and sponsors) Bob and Brenda in Santa Monica, and drove home Sunday on Highway 101, retracing much of the bicycle route. Oh, my backup computer wasn’t working, except to record total distance (odometer: 469.5 miles) and speed (max.: 49.1 mph). But the numbers seem really unimportant; I am satisfied with my performance, in spite of setbacks and my inability to ride every mile. I challenged myself and, in large part accomplished what I set out to do. On the fundraising side, donations are still coming in. Thanks to all my many donors, I’ve collected over $3,000 for ALC this time. Somewhat short of my goal, but not shabby at all. Together we raised a total of $11.6 million. Pretty impressive. We’ll see how it goes for next year.

Sports Basement Ride & Party, 5/24/08

These are fotos from today’s ride. Click on the image below to view the whole set.

Sports Basement & Party, 5/24/08

This was Denise’s last training ride and time to celebrate our accomplishments. A large group of riders assembled, many of them familiar in one context or another: Geoff Schneider, indomitable commuter from the City, who was a co-leader, and Kerwin (late) and Matt Martin, also Ron and Wilma Marshall sporting 20th anniversary Oakland Yellow Jackets jerseys (there was a plethora of colorful and unusual cycle wear: see foto set), and Lala and Alex and Jay (with Jen) from our previous ride. Seemed to be a lot of couples present too. Plan was to ride out to San Ramon and back, short and pretty flat, and return to Sports Basement for refreshments and fellowship. I was the last to leave and hustled to catch up, then set out to join the leading group, but when Geoff passed me I wondered who was left back there to sweep, waited for the trailers to come, and discovered it was me! Eventually I followed Élan (who reminded me Diana and I knew her from working at Sur La Table years ago) and we fell farther and farther behind despite making a pretty constant 11 mph. When we reached Peet’s, most of the others were leaving already (Diana, car-sweeping, and our little dog Albert were still there), and Élan and I continued on the back, joined eventually by Troy. Same story at Peet’s in San Ramon: the others were ready to leave when we got there. I lingered over coffee this time with Kerwin and Matt, but we had room to ride fast, we were so far behind, and I got a chance to spin with a tailwind and attack the rollers, and it felt good. Flat tire on Danville Blvd. (Kerwin and Matt came back to encourage me), then over the Iron Horse and Contra Costa Canal trails to Heather Farms Park and the Sports Basement. Denise had arranged a lavish spread: pizza (she had to keep ordering more), and roast beef and the trimmings for sandwiches, and salads, and beer & wine (it was after our ride!); she also had raffle prizes and offered, as a store employee, 20 percent off all purchases we might still need to make for the Ride. Wow! I stocked up on inner tubes and GU gel, couldn’t think of anything else I needed. Well, we made just about 30 miles, and I averaged 13.8 mph and can’t imagine how fast the main group rode. Quite satisfactory. Am I ready to ride? I think I’ve already noted I haven’t done any long distances yet: only a couple in the 50–60 mile range. But I feel stronger and more efficient than in past years and am starting to have a lot of confidence in my training and technique (I’ve just realized the stiffness in my hamstrings is due to my spinning with new muscles). So yes, I think I’ll be all right. The Ride (as I write this) is less than a week away.

As I write this: a rider named Richard has just introduced himself on the Discussion Forum. He is 82 and clearly the oldest rider (called himself “most ancient”), eclipsing Bert Shaw who is “only” 80 this year. Both Richard and Bert are pedaling recumbents. Awesome. I’ll have to introduce myself when I see them on the road. I have a much longer way than I thought to become the oldest rider.

Another Short Ride, 5/20/08

I rode with my friend and Yellow Jacket colleague Midori, from her house down Seminary and out Havenscourt and 66th Avenue to the wetland preserve in M. L. K. Waterfront Park. I haven’t been there in ages; Oakland has been working to restore the Bay wetlands, and it’s a great place to ride and hang out, especially at high tide. A piece of the Bay Trail. We stopped and looked at the water. Then on Doolittle (into the wind) and around Harbor Bay and over the bike bridge to Alameda. We stopped to visit Diana at Edison School. I showed Midori the way up 38th to MacArthur and over to Calaveras to the intersection of Fair Ave. where I left her to ride home alone. The idea was to get in an easy, flat ride; Midori had just finished her interval session on Monterey (I think she said four sets of four minutes: she’s training seriously!) and my hamstrings were still sore and tight, in spite of extensive stretching and the foam roller. Well, it was a good day for spinning, and even the three hills went by easily. 22.26 miles (slightly more than yesterday) @ 10.8 mph. Not bad.

Back on the Bike for a Short, Hilly Ride, 5/19/08

Only 2 fotos (but nice ones if I may say so myself): here are Blaine and Valdez at lunch on Piedmont Ave.

I’ve been off the bike for over a week, unexpectedly, with concert business and medical appointments and just “stuff”: last ride a Saturday ago with Denise’s group. Jumped at the chance to go on a short outing with Blaine and Valdez from Lake Merritt (it was going to be Calaveras, but they had an appointment in Oakland). V. wanted to ride up Mandana, I think because he’d heard it was a challenge, so we did that, and it was steep and hard (I got onto my low gear and couldn’t spin), but not very long. We relaxed on Saint James up through Piedmont; then he wanted to try Leimert (same reason), so we did that, and it was long but somewhat easier. Again it’s hard to say “spinning” but I managed to use my whole leg (on both sides), lifting and moving them through the complete circle, and that seemed to work powerfully. I’m discovering all kinds of new physical techniques! (The other one is making “small” circles with the feet and shins, to give the big muscles a rest; and the main thing is concentrating on doing it smoothly). Valdez even asked how I was able to spin so fast up the hills. It’s hard to explain. Over to Monterey, then up Burdeck and Butters which he knows (he told Blaine he was in for a real climb, but Blaine had no difficulty and pulled ahead on the steep part, while I followed Valdez and indulged in my low gear again). We descended on Joaquin Miller, rode through Montclair and out to Lake Temescal and Rockridge, finally over to Piedmont Ave. to Tropix (a nice Caribbean restaurant) for lunch. I let them wait and watch my bike while I popped into Kaiser Optical Services to get my glasses fixed (this time the screw had come all the way out and got lost!) I left them on the way back to Blaine’s and rode home on MacArthur, another set of hills where I did manage to spin and pick up the pace some. Improved my average, from 7 point something at the top of Butters, to 9.3 mph. for 21.99 miles. Feeling it in my thighs; it was a workout. I think I’ll need at least a couple more rides before I start resting next week. The Ride is less than two weeks away!