Alaskan Pack Fodder

I haven't been posting. Nobody really reads blogs anymore and I don't have anything interesting to say. I don't race, barely ride outside, and mostly flog myself on a stationary trainer these days in a hopeless attempt to fend off the approaching darkness a little longer. I will say the Tour of Anchorage sounded somewhat interesting to me this year, but I decided to put it off until I actually build some sort of base of fitness for that sort of thing. Riding on a trainer for 45-90 minutes is not the same as race pace riding. I would be dangerous, and I would potentially hurt myself and others. Plus, it rained for the first couple of stages, and I really don't need the extra misery right now. Maybe next season... Saturday morning I got all suited up for another exciting trainer session and clomped my way into the garage. The bike had felt "off" for a couple days, shifting strangely and feeling mushy. I ran through the gears and adjusted the derailleur a bit, an...

It's a pattern I fall into every time. The smallest acquisition will inevitably lead to a deep dive into the intricacies of a particular subject that will become all-consuming until I invariably and quite abruptly lose interest, casting aside the thing that once so entranced me. Then it sits on a pile until I either rekindle the spark or pass it (and all of the other things that I acquired to go with it) off to someone else- usually at a significant financial loss. I try not to. I tell myself I won't. I strive to talk myself out of it. I distract myself in countless ways ("look at the bunny!").  I still do it. It's sorta baked into my character. Right now I'm looking at my bikes again. It's one of the starkest examples of the aftermath of that sudden loss of interest. My garage is a mess, which isn't unusual. My garage is not someplace to park a car, because the dual doors make it impossible to park in the middle. Depending on which side you park in, e...

I have had a hit-or-miss relationship with the bike recently. Up until January, I was cruising along with regular trainer rides, feeling some sort of fitness returning. I really should have known better. In December I decided to get a flu shot. My kids have a way of getting me sick on a regular basis and in the most inopportune times. While I was there, they offered me a COVID booster, so I took that as well (forgetting I had already gotten one in October). Then they looked at my records and told me I was eligible for the pneumonia vaccine. I figured I might as well while they were poking holes in my arm. The kids spent most of the Christmas break sick, so I was trying to immunize myself against everything. Because, why not? I took a quick vacation with the wonderful woman I am dating to see where she grew up and meet some of her family. I was extremely touched to be included and spend that time with her. A couple days after we returned, I started feeling really, really sick. Great, in...

Almost exactly eight years ago the Storck threw me over the handlebars , which resulted in a broken collarbone. Five months later it was relegated to trainer-only use. Today I returned the favor. During a sprint effort it suddenly creaked and went mushy. I spun to a stop only to discover the down tube almost ripped in half. You break me, I break you. Who knew that clamping down a hydroformed aluminum frame to a rigid structure and subjecting it to years of repeated stress would result in such a thing?   Well, I guess I can strip it down and recycle it.    I have other bikes that have no current purpose, so I pulled down my crit bike and set it up on the trainer for tomorrow. This is an old Trek-Livestrong Development Team Madone I had painted over black because, Lance. It may seem like a horrible waste to stick what once was a very expensive, top-tier bike on a trainer, but stick with me, because there's some poetic symmetry going on here.   The last time I rode this...

I'm not that guy anymore. Too much time off the bike, too much sitting around, too much extra weight. Too little aerobic capacity and lean muscle mass. I've been tooling around the Biloxi area in the small ring, trying to train away my natural tendency to grind, which uses muscles I no longer possess. My average speed for these jaunts was pitiful, but it was more about getting out and building some sort of a base of cycling fitness. From pretty much nothing. So obviously it was a great idea to tag along on a weekly hammer ride. In the dark. On twisty roads I didn't know. With riders I didn't know. Having flashbacks of my last crit crash, the one that effectively ended my racing days. I was a ball of tension, redlined and closing gaps I should have never let open. Yeah, I was dropped. Once we re-grouped, I hung on. Once on familiar roads, I did ok. I wasn't at the front, but I wasn't dropped, either. The saddle sores I have been cultivating were screaming every t...

  The last time I was in Biloxi was in November of 2016. I was recovering from a broken collar bone, but otherwise was relatively fit, lean, and getting fitter and leaner. Because I had nothing else to do and energy to burn, I rode a lot. It was wasted effort that translated into burnout during the trainer season, but I really didn't care. I hadn't been riding at all. A handful of road rides before the season ended. A couple fat bike rides when the trails near my house were packed well. Mostly I've hiked, cross-country skied, and sat on my fat ass. Primarily the latter. I knew I was going to be spending the month of February in Biloxi. I swore I was going to get back on the trainer in preparation, but I never did. I came in cold. I packed all sorts of warmers and raingear and stuff that I have yet to use.I forgot all sorts of tools. My tires were excessively worn and my tubes weren't in great shape either. I ended up buying new ones after a horrible first ride led to 4 ...

Today I opened this blog for the first time since April 19, 2021. 827 days ago. Two years, three months, and six days ago. What happened? Anyone who was reading (like, all five of them) the last couple years could have seen it coming. Any number of things combined in a malevolent way to blow it all up. I kept riding on the trainer (but not on the road) for almost another year, because I didn't know what else to do. One day at Point Barrow during a class for a new position with my company, my left ear started ringing and my eustachian tube closed off. A week later I started running into stuff and falling over. A couple weeks later I started to experience extreme vertigo with nausea and often violent vomiting- sometimes while seated in front of a desk. I would be out for a couple days until I felt the episode had sufficiently passed. I went to ENT specialists, had a CAT scan, had my blood tested for everything under the sun... I have Meniere's disease , which usually starts aroun...

As my time at Cape Lisburne drew to a close, I rode less and less on the trainer. After three days of skipped workouts, I finally got on my last day before packing everything up. A casualty of too many days out in sub-zero temperatures, hanging in a harness off a roof catwalk reinforcing and  aligning a wind-battered satellite dish that is a difficult one even in more favorable conditions. It took its toll on my body, but I was determined to at least make it work better. I did, but there was a bill to pay afterwards. I came home and so far have been successful at avoiding the bike. It's not hard if you don't make the effort. Actually, I wake up every morning and pet my dogs, telling them they are the bestest puppies in the whole wide world. Then I get the kids ready for school, drive them across town to drop them off, and run errands on my way home. Projects and other time killers eat up the hours I have before I pick the kids up. Then it's dinner and well... the day is sho...

I tracked down my best friend from high school. Took awhile, but we've been catching up on what's happened over the almost 30 years since we last saw each other. We used to be the center of a whole string of bands, but I guess our friendship was always based primarily on music. Once I stopped playing and we both moved away, well, we just lost touch. Since I started playing again, I just figured I'd reach out. He played in a cover band that serviced the Northern Virginia yacht and golf set. Think Uptown Girl at the Catalina Wine Mixer. If you don't get that reference, we can't be friends. COVID kinda killed that, to a far greater degree than we experienced in Alaska. Sill, he never stopped playing, and I gotta give him credit for that. I've lost touch with a lot of people over the years. I've never been one to have a wide social circle. My friends were always compartmentalized to specific activities or situations. Very rarely did the groups intermingle. Part ...

After over a decade, I picked up my guitar and enjoyed playing. To be honest, it's been longer than that. After my mostly negative experiences as a young music major robbed me of any enthusiasm, I stopped playing altogether except for short-lived spurts. Over the last few weeks I've rediscovered the sensation of learning and playing. All of my old aptitude and misplaced confidence in my abilities was gone. I started again, this time with old hands and a mind made feeble by the years. Still, I can sit for hours and contently noodle away if I allow myself. Sometimes I do. I bought a new guitar. I didn't mean to. It just happened. A Gretsch with a Bigsby. There it was in the Guitar store, resplendent in its Cadillac Green glory. It didn't have a price tag, and I knew if I had to ask I couldn't afford it. I asked, and I found it irresistibly in reach. I took it home.  I started frequenting music shops again, picking up odds and ends. I justified the new Gretsch by sayin...

Haven't written recently. Haven't felt like it. The world crumbled around me when my wife asked for a divorce for Christmas. Brutal. Months later, I'm still fragile. A stiff breeze can send me into sobbing fits and dark depression. Where I am now, we get a lot of wind. When I came home from Cold Bay I didn't touch my bike for over a month. Instead, I focused on what I've come to realize is truly important- my kids. They are really what provides meaning to my life. They need to know that, so I told them. I spent time talking to my dogs, rebuilding the relationships that were weakened by long absences. They need to know how much they mean to me, so I told them. I threw myself into home projects. Sexy stuff like vinyl plank flooring. I packed up all of my wife's stuff and marveled at how much room there was. Slowly I'm reclaiming the house, making it functional again. I accepted what it was when she was there, but she's not anymore. I get to reimagine and s...

The other day I was commenting on a friend's Facebook post and I realized it had been seven and a half years since I have been on-form (for me) during a race season. After that point, injury, illness, lack of motivation, and any number of other things derailed my plans, until I reached the point where I stopped trying. Throw in job stress, career change, weight gain, frequent travel... yeah, it's been a while since I've been in shape when I've needed to be. There were a couple of points where I felt good, but it was always during the wrong point of the year. Every year it gets a little harder. Sure, getting older is part of it, and I accept that. I know a lot of guys who are older than me and are still insanely strong through good genes and/or good living. Maybe modern medicine too, but I figure I'm not really doing my part shoving boxes of vanilla wafers down my throat at a sitting, so any fingers should be pointed directly at me. My resolve gets weak at times, and...

Right now my squiggly lines are back up to where they were a month ago, which is to say, too damn high. The last time I hit these numbers I was finishing up a stint at a radar site. I used the couple weeks I was at home to back off and recover, then started building when I was back in the field. After a couple weeks of nothing I'd call excessive intensity or duration, here I am at the ragged edge of being cooked. Except I'm not. I'm tired, but nothing a good rest day isn't going to fix. Today is the rest day, so it seems like I'm right on schedule. A couple good nights of sleep (no waking up early to climb on the trainer) and a day to relax should be all I need to bounce back and start cranking away. So I'm at a decision point. Do I hit the previous peak and then back off, or do I pick another arbitrary round number to shoot for over the next two weeks? Chances are I'll pick the latter, pushing my luck to see how far I can push things in the all-important mi...

I've ridden the trainer eight days straight, the last two being double workouts. Usually I go for six days and then take a rest day, but this week I just kept going. I had stuff to work through, stress to eliminate. I just kept cranking away every chance I got. There is a fragile balance there. If I push it too hard, it all backfires and things spiral downwards into a very dark place. Perspective is lost and any chance of a positive outcome is lost. Last spring I cooked myself on the trainer, so when I had the opportunity to actually ride on pavement I had no motivation. A couple of weeks of unmotivated grinding and then a handful of sporadic rides was my total for the whole summer. I got dropped every time I rode with other people. That lack of enthusiasm bled into just about everything I did. Sure, I would rally for a project or other short-term endeavor, but it was only a momentary respite from the swirling toilet bowl I'd made of my life. It wasn't just the overtraining...

Yeah, I skipped last week. Your refund is in the mail. To be honest, I didn't feel like blogging. I didn't feel like doing much of anything. I was hit with some devastating news that left me curled up in a fetal ball. Isolated and alone, stuck in the middle of a wildlife preserve in southwest Alaska, there was nothing I could do about it. I fell apart. Then I got on the trainer and started riding. Every day I got up and put one foot in front of the other and tried to dig myself out of the hole. I reflected a lot. I avoided plundering the sites beer stash, given my current state. I did the work I'm paid to do, but not to the level I aspire to. I'm a mess. I don't know if I'm going to blog much for a while. Sorry. I have a lot to work through and posting it for the world to see is not my style. That's not what this blog is about. We'll see where this all leads when we get there.

Tomorrow I leave for Cold Bay. Yeah, I'm spending the holidays in a cozy place named Cold Bay. In addition to being a one-man site, the local area is locked down really tight. If I talk to more than one person in-person during my stay, I'll be surprised. It's not that I'm the most social person normally, but even Grumpy McGrumpyface can look forward to an occasional, heartfelt "'sup?" So I guess I'll be spending a lot of time on the trainer, grinding myself down further and peaking just in time for... mid-winter. Yeah, sounds like a great idea. I mean, winning sprints in Watopia and earning green jerseys that expire in an hour is pretty much the height of glory in the pandemic era. I think. I don't get out much these days. I'd much rather be home with my family. After three years being away for the major holidays, it's starting to lose its charm. I don't miss the decorations and lights and parties and traditional stuff that hasn't b...

When I hit that nice, round Chronic Training Load (CTL) number on Training Peaks, I thought it was a nice place to stop. I set up my workouts to start easing off a bit, to prevent burnout. For a few days I actually stuck with the plan, and then the numbers started climbing again. Maybe it was a sprint-friendly course or a group on Zwift that drove me to push the boundaries a bit. At any rate, a new, beautiful, round number was staring me in the face and I couldn't resist. The last week of the trip I pushed it a bit harder, and I passed the number on Friday. Then I kept going, fearing it would drop below the magic number on my next rest day (which is kinda the point of not riding). I added a little padding on Saturday and Sunday, and was rewarded with the kind of fatigue that comes extended, pointless flogging of oneself. I've never been a huge fan of stairs, but when you need a nap, 5 Hour Energy, and a pep talk to make it up a single flight of stairs, you know you've overd...

This is my 983rd blog post. Sound like a lot? I guess it is. Certainly others have written far more with greater skill. Still, for a guy who varied from a post every month or so to one almost every day to the current twice a week deal, it's a lot of bullshit clogging up the internet. In 17 more posts I'll be at a nice, round 1,000 posts. I'm not sure what I'll do then. Probably keep on going until I don't feel like doing it anymore. It's been a struggle at times, but eventually it just became more or less a habit. Riding a bike is pretty much like that. Once you get going, you just tend to keep moving. Once you stop, it gets harder to overcome inertia and start again. Since I see this as a more or less positive exercise, I figure I'll keep going.  It's certainly more intellectually stimulating than cruising Facebook or online shopping. It's a time when I can focus and expand on a small thought. Some stay small and go nowhere, while a select few actua...

Tomorrow another hitch at a remote site is coming to an end. When I'm home, there are all sorts of things that compete for my time. In the field, I have working, eating, sleeping, watching TV, surfing the web, and riding the trainer. That's it. After a while, the only one I want to do anymore is sleeping. The rest slowly grind me down mentally and physically. I'm at the point where I'm pedaling harder and not seeing the same results. That's a sure sign of burnout, so I've been pretty much coasting the last couple weeks. Do just enough not to lose significant ground, and wait for the legs to come back around. It's taking a while, but one thing I've had plenty of here is time. I miss my wife and kids and dogs and bed and... everything. I feel like a stranger when I return, as their lives have gone on while mine has been more or less suspended in time. It takes a while to get up to speed, to feel like I belong. Then it's back again to the grinding wheel...

I had it all planned out. A week of easy rides to slowly back myself from the edge and allow me to capitalize on the gains of the last three months. But staring me in the face was that number. That nice, round number. So, I stuck with the plan. Sort of. I rode easy. Easier than I had since my first, limping days back on the bike months ago. Then I'd sprint and immediately regret it. Then I'd ride easy for longer than I should. So, instead of my chronic training load dropping back to a sustainable level, it crept up. The nice round number was surpassed, and all I got for the milestone was tired. So, I guess I'm going to try this again. Riding easy on a trainer is not a lot of fun for me. Actually riding really hard isn't all that much fun for me either. But when I really think about it, waking up with a persistent ache that I have to carry the entire day like a backpack full of lead weights probably sucks the most. And that's where I am. Falling apart. All is not los...