Alaskan Pack Fodder

It hasn’t been a glorious return.    If I want to be honest, I’d have to admit my reintroduction to pavement has been mostly a relearning process. For the past year, I haven’t done a whole lot of actual riding. My travel schedule meant I was relegated to the trainer for all but a couple months of the last two years. Sometimes I’d roll home from an extended stint at a radar site and not want to look at my bike, even if there was dry pavement out there to be ridden. Such was the extent of my exhaustion, Sometimes all that was available was a couple hours at the Dome, because winter had arrived during my absence. Sometimes it was projects that had to be done before I had to leave again. But mostly it was just a lack of motivation.    The first year I wasn’t sure when I was going to be working, so I didn’t make many plans for racing. No use in training for a race you won’t line up for. Instead, I focused on gaining weight and losing fitness, mitigating it somewhat by riding the tr

The bike had been sitting there, completely built and mounted on the trainer, for a few days.    I just couldn't do it. The thought of another session of Zwift just wasn't something I was willing to stomach. I hauled 50 pounds of trainer all the way out here and decided that the last thing I wanted to do was another session in the virtual world.    Problem was, I'm in a sort of modified quarantine. My movement is limited to the very small base (about the size of a city block) and a couple of other places when performing official duties. I had squandered the first week of isolation on dog grief and eating junk food in front of the TV, but it was time to rejoin the world (or at least a mile or two of it).    It had been exactly one month since I'd last kitted up. The morning's rain had given way to an overcast gloom by the afternoon. Far removed from a routine, I fumbled through my preparations. I wish I could say I was enthusiastic or excited or some other po

I logged onto Training Peaks today, after a month of not riding.    All of the progress, all of the effort focused on driving those squiggly lines upward had been wiped away. At least, that's what the charts said.    I've lost fitness. This should be plain, even to an idiot like me. I wasn't sitting around, doing nothing nothing during this time, but the cycling fitness took a huge hit. I probably gained a few pounds (I haven't checked). My hips and back are in sorry shape form the lack of riding and stretching. I'm not falling apart, but I'm not far from it.    The projects I did during the down-time needed to be done. They pile up while I'm away from home. Spending time with the family and dogs was something I'll never regret. The eye issues I had which kept me off the bike were more pressing than any canceled race I was "training" for. Simply put, I had better things to do.    But now I need to get moving again. It's time to star

I miss her. After her MRI, Piper took a turn for the worse. The MRI showed brain swelling and lesions. She was suffering. My wife and I decided to have her put to sleep. My middle son and daughter insisted they be there, not realizing quite what they were asking for. At least she's finally at peace. The span of her life was a mere six months. Four of those were spent as loved, coddled, spoiled part of my family. Thanks to travel, I got to spend about a month of that with her. Doesn't sound like much, does it? She had a way of squirming her way into your heart, like the very best lab puppies do. As much as I wanted to claim her for my own, she was my wife's puppy. Sure, she cuddled and played with everyone, but those two had a special connection. With the stress of teaching and parenting and everything else while I was away, Piper was my the calming force in my wife's day, so my wife could provide a stable center for those around her. Nobody deserves all the love a g

This is Piper. The weekend before I left for King Salmon, we decided to take the RV down to Anchor Point. It's my wife's favorite place for some reason, so I wanted to make her happy. We loaded up the dogs, kids, and supplies for the weekend, and made the four hour drive down. The wife and kids took the dogs to the beach to play, and I set up camp and started opening beers.    I turned in relatively early, and in the morning I was somewhat surprised to find Piper had jumped up on the tall bed during the night and slept at my feet. My large black lab, Jackson, had opted to curl up with my daughter on the pull-out couch, which is significantly lower to the ground. I did my usual early-morning checks, and then let Jackson out to stretch his legs. Piper didn't stir, which isn't unusual.    When Jackson and I returned from our adventures, my wife was waking up. Piper lifted her head and started whining. It soon became obvious her rear legs weren't working and she

I came home after a long time away, full of trainer fitness. Almost three weeks later, I still haven't gotten on my bike.    It started with removing all of the top soil on half of my front yard and transporting it to my back yard. By hand. Then there was a matter of spreading 5 cubic yards of D1 gravel over said space to create a parking pad for the RV. By hand. Every night I would crawl in to bed, my back wrecked and my hands barely able to close.    When that was done, I had to get our old RV ready to sell and our new RV ready to use. So, I spent the rest of the first week installing solar panels and electronics on the new RV and chasing down propane leaks. A laundry list of RV projects stared me in the face every morning. Little by little, I worked my way through them.    When that was done, I loaded up the bike and kit in the RV, planning on riding while we were camping that weekend. The next morning, I opened my eyes and shooting pain drove through my head. I quickl

During the coronavirus lock-down, some people have been going stir crazy. They've been conditioned by modern life for constant stimulation. They've begun to realize that even gluing their faces to screens doesn't give them the same buzz.    I had already been essentially locked down for a month at a remote radar site when the rest of the world decided it was a good idea. I'm sorta used to this sort of thing. I know how it is to be deprived of "normal". I've developed coping mechanisms to deal with the isolation, which mainly involve riding the trainer, eating, and sleeping. I deal with it, because there really isn't much else I can do.    Even after all of the sleeping I do, when I'm away from home I still look longingly at pictures that my wife sends me like this: Curling up with my dogs and sleeping the day away looks pretty nice to me. I've never had an issue with slowing down and enjoying the simple things, probably because I'm n

When it comes to cycling shoes, I like a stiff sole and a soft, compliant upper that wraps around my feet evenly. My flippers are pretty wide and weird in places, so there are some other design features which make or break a shoe for me, but the soles and upper are my baseline.    I'd been wearing Specialized shoes for a while, mainly the Pro Road variety until they mangled the design enough that it no longer worked for me and I couldn't find suitable used/NOS replacements. All good things must come to an end.    While I was casting about for a replacement, I picked up a pair of Specialized shoes designed more for endurance than performance. Worst shoes ever. I mean, I have a pile of shoes that didn't fit for one reason or another. When you buy on clearance or on the used market, returns aren't always possible and I've been too lazy to offload them. That said, they were all good shoes with well thought-out designs that encouraged comfort and performance relative