A friend complained to me about my (former) blog title "Can He Do It?".
"Much too negative." she said.
The reason I'm negative is I'm facing reality, and the reality is: I'm not sure I can do it. I really am not. 1,700 miles is a long haul on a bicycle. None the less, I've acquiesced to her wishes and changed the title to something more positive.
My route and timeline is planned. It is:
Day 1. Leaving Denver, take Route 36 east to either Last Chance (90 miles), Lindon (100 miles) or Anton (110 miles).
Day 2. Route 36 to St. Frances, Kansas (100 miles from Lindon).
Day 3. Route 36 to Norton or Philipsburg.
Day4. Either173 or 183 south to route 18. Take 18 to 176 to Lucas.
Day 5. Route 18 to Junction City (about 75 miles).
Day 6. Route 18 to Manhattan (No, not that Manhattan!) to route 24 to Topeka.
Day 7. Stay on 24 to Lavasy (30 miles) to Carrolton (71 miles).
Day 8. Route 24 to Keytesville (30 miles) to Moberly (60 miles) to Paris (90 miles).
Day 9. Route 154 to 54, through Curryville, through Bowling Green, to Louisiana.
Day 10. Route 79 south to St. Louis. Roughly 90 miles.
That's the plan. It's ambitious, but if I can do it in 11 days I'll still be happy. Twelve days I'll take. Beyond that, I'll be disappointed but only because it's going to kick up the cost of my airline ticket. I'll still be quite happy that I completed the first half of this sojourn!
One last thing: I need feedback. If you read these posts, please let me know. I'm writing for your entertainment, and if no one is reading these things, well, I've got better things to do.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Song
It's the Parkinson's that gets me. Sometimes I just get so damned dizzy! Maybe I should write a song:
I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning.
Like a whirlpool, it never ends.
I'm so dizzy...
But I suppose its been done.
The other day I was walking down a hallway. I was feeling faint but thought I was hiding it pretty well. A women came up to me, and asked, "Honey are you ok? Because you look like you're about to fall down!"
I told her I was fine. She replied: "I have six grand kids, and when I see one looking like you, I know they ain't fine!"
So much for keeping my secrets to myself.
My doctor has thoroughly checked me out and pronounced me "fit as a fiddle." Stress test, blood work, BP, the whole nine yards: I'm in great shape. My body is in better shape than guys 20 years younger than me. "Yes, I'm bragging."
So, I suppose it's the Parkinson's. Which makes me so mad!
No one wants Parkinson's. No one likes it. But I feel like having it is a cosmic joke. I've been interested in it for years, because it's a weird disease. You don't go to the doctor, have a blood sample taken and get it analyzed.
Instead, you give the doctor a writing sample. He watches you walk, watches your face. Checks your balance, has you follow an object with your eyes. So the diagnosis is based on exhibited symptoms, not diagnostic blood work. That, to me, is what makes it interesting. I mean, some guy looks at your writing and says "You have an incurable disease that will slowly kill you. Oh, yes, have a nice day." It's like he's a witch doctor or clairvoyant.
I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning.
Like a whirlpool, it never ends.
I'm so dizzy...
But I suppose its been done.
The other day I was walking down a hallway. I was feeling faint but thought I was hiding it pretty well. A women came up to me, and asked, "Honey are you ok? Because you look like you're about to fall down!"
I told her I was fine. She replied: "I have six grand kids, and when I see one looking like you, I know they ain't fine!"
So much for keeping my secrets to myself.
My doctor has thoroughly checked me out and pronounced me "fit as a fiddle." Stress test, blood work, BP, the whole nine yards: I'm in great shape. My body is in better shape than guys 20 years younger than me. "Yes, I'm bragging."
So, I suppose it's the Parkinson's. Which makes me so mad!
No one wants Parkinson's. No one likes it. But I feel like having it is a cosmic joke. I've been interested in it for years, because it's a weird disease. You don't go to the doctor, have a blood sample taken and get it analyzed.
Instead, you give the doctor a writing sample. He watches you walk, watches your face. Checks your balance, has you follow an object with your eyes. So the diagnosis is based on exhibited symptoms, not diagnostic blood work. That, to me, is what makes it interesting. I mean, some guy looks at your writing and says "You have an incurable disease that will slowly kill you. Oh, yes, have a nice day." It's like he's a witch doctor or clairvoyant.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Philosopher's Sport
On Saturday (6-21-08) I rode 21 miles down to the town of Stow. It took me 1 1/2 hours; there was a gentle headwind. I visited with a friend for about 45 minutes and came back. By the time I got home I was riding against a pretty good headwind.
The good news is I made it. The bad news is my legs were pretty tired. One reason I like riding is it gives me a chance to think about, and sometimes even solve, problems. I've thought about failed loves, failures in the stock market, and life in general. Lately, I think a lot about "Why the hell am I doing this? Why am I riding 1,700 miles, all by myself, across the United States?"
There are lots of reasons, but I think the one really driving me is to prove, to myself, my manhood. Now I know I don't have to really prove my manhood per se, but consider what Parkinson's does to a person. It doesn't just make you tremble. It weakens you and saps your strength. It makes you dizzy. You loose your sense of balance. It causes you to have involuntary movements with your hands and feet. It causes incontinence. It makes you freeze up; unable to move, and your face lacks expression. Your movements become slow and deliberate; you lose the beauty of continuous motion and coordination. You become emotional; little things make you cry. Depression is another symptom.
On the positive side, as Michael J. Fox said, "It doesn't hurt."
So by making this ride, by attempting it, I'm making a statement: Fuck you Parkinson's! And I hope making people more aware of the disease will help spur the fight against it.
That's the way I see it. Perhaps, in some convoluted manner, I am happy that this God damned disease is forcing me to live my life and experience all I can, while I can. I doubt that I'd be doing the ride without it. It's the philosophers sport.
The good news is I made it. The bad news is my legs were pretty tired. One reason I like riding is it gives me a chance to think about, and sometimes even solve, problems. I've thought about failed loves, failures in the stock market, and life in general. Lately, I think a lot about "Why the hell am I doing this? Why am I riding 1,700 miles, all by myself, across the United States?"
There are lots of reasons, but I think the one really driving me is to prove, to myself, my manhood. Now I know I don't have to really prove my manhood per se, but consider what Parkinson's does to a person. It doesn't just make you tremble. It weakens you and saps your strength. It makes you dizzy. You loose your sense of balance. It causes you to have involuntary movements with your hands and feet. It causes incontinence. It makes you freeze up; unable to move, and your face lacks expression. Your movements become slow and deliberate; you lose the beauty of continuous motion and coordination. You become emotional; little things make you cry. Depression is another symptom.
On the positive side, as Michael J. Fox said, "It doesn't hurt."
So by making this ride, by attempting it, I'm making a statement: Fuck you Parkinson's! And I hope making people more aware of the disease will help spur the fight against it.
That's the way I see it. Perhaps, in some convoluted manner, I am happy that this God damned disease is forcing me to live my life and experience all I can, while I can. I doubt that I'd be doing the ride without it. It's the philosophers sport.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Mr. Monkey
Ok, I'm depressed. I've denied it to myself for a month, but I can't get this monkey off my back. It's really hard for me to motivate myself to ride. And when I ride it's not with the intensity that I had last year. Last year I would average 17.5 mph on my workouts. That includes riding up out of Chagrin River valley; usually an 7-8 percent grade for almost a mile.
This year I haven't even bothered to measure my average. I'm sure it's under 15 mph.
The bit of good news is riding does improve my mood. I'm sure it's the endorphins. Hell, when I start riding to St. Louis, from Denver, I should be the happiest guy alive! Ha. Ha.
Last night I averaged about 9 mph coming up out of the valley. I took Berkshire Road, one of the easiest climbs out, but still that ain't (sic) bad. Latter on the ride I met another rider who told me he tried to keep up with me coming up Berkshire, but couldn't. That made me feel good too.
Still, I have big doubts. So do my friends.
Joe:
"So why you doing two legs of the ride this year? Why not ride to Boston next year?"
"Because Parkinsons is relentless, and I don't know if I will be able to do the last leg next year."
"Do you remember how you felt when you got back last year?"
"Yep. I was sick of riding. Went out for one ride around my circuit, and that was it. I was done. Kaput. Finished."
"So what makes you think this year is going to be different?"
"Nothing. I'm just going to have to tough it out."
"And what happens if you're in the middle of nowhere, and you hit The Wall?" (An expression for hitting your physical limits.)
"I'll just have to deal with that."
We'll see how well I deal with that. Stay tuned.
This year I haven't even bothered to measure my average. I'm sure it's under 15 mph.
The bit of good news is riding does improve my mood. I'm sure it's the endorphins. Hell, when I start riding to St. Louis, from Denver, I should be the happiest guy alive! Ha. Ha.
Last night I averaged about 9 mph coming up out of the valley. I took Berkshire Road, one of the easiest climbs out, but still that ain't (sic) bad. Latter on the ride I met another rider who told me he tried to keep up with me coming up Berkshire, but couldn't. That made me feel good too.
Still, I have big doubts. So do my friends.
Joe:
"So why you doing two legs of the ride this year? Why not ride to Boston next year?"
"Because Parkinsons is relentless, and I don't know if I will be able to do the last leg next year."
"Do you remember how you felt when you got back last year?"
"Yep. I was sick of riding. Went out for one ride around my circuit, and that was it. I was done. Kaput. Finished."
"So what makes you think this year is going to be different?"
"Nothing. I'm just going to have to tough it out."
"And what happens if you're in the middle of nowhere, and you hit The Wall?" (An expression for hitting your physical limits.)
"I'll just have to deal with that."
We'll see how well I deal with that. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Amelia baby, where are you?
When I think about this upcoming ride I'm reminded of Amelia Earhart. She wasn't really prepared when she took off from Indonesia to fly to Howland Island. I wonder how prepared I am. Can I avoid disaster?
On July 7, 2008, I'm leaving Denver, Colorado and riding my bicycle to Boston, Massachusetts. Solo. By myself, no sag wagon. I haven't been able to train nearly as much as I should. Last night (6-16-08) I rode up Brigham Road hill (Gates Mills, Ohio). It's about three quarters of a mile long and the grade is about 8-9%.
What a bitch!
My legs were burning so badly! I almost thought I wasn't going to make it.
I did think I wasn't going to make it.
I got dizzy and light headed. The only reason I made it to the top is because I am so stubborn. I could have shifted to a lower gear (I was in fourth) but that would have been cheating, wouldn't it? I'm not trying to make this easy.
Will, I have another two weeks to train. Maybe I'll get stronger. Maybe I'll ride up Brigham a couple of more times.
And that's why I wonder: "Can I do it?".
On July 7, 2008, I'm leaving Denver, Colorado and riding my bicycle to Boston, Massachusetts. Solo. By myself, no sag wagon. I haven't been able to train nearly as much as I should. Last night (6-16-08) I rode up Brigham Road hill (Gates Mills, Ohio). It's about three quarters of a mile long and the grade is about 8-9%.
What a bitch!
My legs were burning so badly! I almost thought I wasn't going to make it.
I did think I wasn't going to make it.
I got dizzy and light headed. The only reason I made it to the top is because I am so stubborn. I could have shifted to a lower gear (I was in fourth) but that would have been cheating, wouldn't it? I'm not trying to make this easy.
Will, I have another two weeks to train. Maybe I'll get stronger. Maybe I'll ride up Brigham a couple of more times.
And that's why I wonder: "Can I do it?".
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