Our Bags are Packed

Like most expectant parents in the last month before our child's delivery, Beth and I have a bag packed for the hospital.

I notice that the contents really aren't all that different from a bag that I'd pack to go to a race - especially if Beth is going with me and there will be long stretches of time when I'll be disappearing off into the woods.

1. Change of clothes - for both of us. At a race I need this because I'm usually sweaty and disgusting and have a long drive home. For the hospital...well, we might be there a while.

2. Drinks and snacks - at the race I need this for energy and recovery. Sort of the same for the hospital. We've got Mike & Ike's, Clif Bars, some Kashi bars and lots of licorice.

3. Stuff to make you feel human again. For a race this is usually just some deodorant and a hat to hide my messed up hair. Now, we need stuff to make Beth feel more human after delivery. Girl stuff that I don't entirely understand.

Both trips are going to be a test of endurance. I mentioned to Beth that if she has a long labor, she should consider taking up ultra-marathoning. It seems to me that if you can endure 24 hours of painful contractions, you should be able to withstand 50 miles of trails.

Back on the Trails

Monday night I decided to give mountain biking another try. Actually, last Tuesday night I gave it another try and got a pretty big confidence boost.

Both nights I went to Pinchot and managed to ride trails that I had chickened out on before. Large rocks, roots and some semi-technical downhill sections were no match for me!

Especially if I was squeezing my brakes and going about 6 mph down some steep descents.

Of course that didn't stop me from crashing twice Monday night (nothing like my crash last fall), once losing traction on a big, flat rock and the other time losing control downhill (at about 6 mph), going off the trail and running into a tree.

The crashes were nothing compared to sensation of slowly losing strength in my right hand. I had planned to ride around until it got too dark, then pack up and go home. But after about an hour I was having a hard time down-shifting. I had to adjust my grip to get enough leverage to click my chain up into a larger cog.

When I got home my grip was practically gone. My first and second fingers seemed okay, but my thumb, pinky and ring fingers had lost a lot of range of motion. It's been slowly coming back, but my pinky finger still feels a little off and my hand got awfully tired holding my fork at dinner. (Although, I did put away a fair amount of Salisburty steak tonight - so it might just be a finger-endurance issue.)

So I'm looking into some options in case it's not a fluke (I'd prefer not to spend too much on a bike that I ride only a few times a year). Maybe a sweep handlebar or ergonomic grips? Suggestions accepted.

Tour de France in Review

I've been following the Tour de France on and off for the past three weeks. And I'm disappointed with the results.

It's not so much that Alberto Contador had won, but that it was a teammate of Lance Armstrong who won. It's hard to make a villain out of someone who's wearing the same jersey as the guy you're rooting for.

In future years I can definitely see a rivalry developing between Andy Schleck and Contador, but this year it was the rivalry between Lance and Contador that was hyped. It made me miss Jan Ulrich.

That's not to say that Armstrong and Alberto's rivalry is all hype - there was some tension there, but it was the duty of one of them to back off once the other was established as team leader. So the rivalry couldn't last.

The other thing is that I hate the "pistol shot." I mean, could he be any cheesier? What, no "raise the roof?" Signature moves just seem a little 1989 (just ask Ickey Woods). Besides, I thought Europeans hated guns.

What I did like about the Tour this year was the sprinters. Or, shall I say the sprinter. Mark Cavendish is so good, you can't help but root for him. It's the Tiger Woods effect. Generally speaking I always root for the underdog, but when see someone do something great and they have an attitude like Cavendish's you can't help but root for him. And with 10 stage wins in two Tours, he is definitely doing something great!

The Final Countdown

Last night marked the end of Beth's 37th week of pregnancy. Our baby is officially full term, and now the final countdown begins.

The funny thing is, that I expect fatherhood to be an incredible learning experience (as Jeff Foxworthy said, "I learned that you can fit an entire box of raisins in a VCR!"), but I didn't expect pregnancy to be such a learning experience.

Take for example, the birthing classes. I expected what you see on TV: a whole lot of breathing. But there were videos (circa 1987), learning the "birthing positions," and even a quick session on what to do if you don't make it to the hospital! We learned about all kinds of complications that could make hypochondriac go into labor out of sheer fear. It felt like way too much information.

I knew that we'd be getting a tour of the hospital on the last day of class, and I latched on to that. As long as I could get her to the hospital and in the proper wing, there will be people around to tell us all the important stuff.

You'd think that'd be something they'd put on a handout or have you write down. Nope. It was mentioned pretty much in passing during our tour of the hospital. Luckily I was paying attention. Actually, I was distracted by a painting of a doctor with the silhouette of a pregant belly in the background. (It made me chuckle.) But I was paying enough attention to ask Beth what I had just missed. So I got it down [patient parking off 2nd street, ninth floor (back elevator), ring the bell at Labor & Delivery.]

I also learned that pregnant women don't like comments about their body size any more than regular women - that is, not at all (unless it's, "You're expecting when? You look too small to be that far along!"). Actually, I didn't really learn that - so much as it has been confirmed.

Just Like Riding a Bike

Yesterday I got an e-mail in the middle of the day from my friend Matt, who also is our church's softball coach. It was looking like they'd be short on players for last night's game and he wondered if I'd be willing to "come out of retirement" to play.

Since my evening was free, I said sure - but not to expect much. I'm one of those people who need a lot of practice before I'm even really adequate on a softball field. Besides, I wasn't even sure where all my equipment was.

Then I got thinking that maybe I threw out my cleats - they were pretty beat up and I hadn't planned on playing at all this year. I couldn't play in running shoes! I found my gear pretty quickly when I got home. It was all in the bag that I had kept my gear in last year. Imagine that!

I dug through the bag to make sure everything was there. Mitt? Check. Cleats? Check. Batting glove? Check. I tried on the batting glove to make sure it wasn't rotted out or misshaped or anything. "It looks fine, but it's the wrong hand! Then I remembered that I always wear two batting gloves. I found the other one and it checked out too.

I got to the field and while warming up, I realized just how out of practice I was...er...am. Throwing the ball did not feel good. Once I warmed up it felt better, but still unnatural. I took some batting practice and I surprised myself (and I think many others) by hitting the ball really well, some nice line drives, just as far as I've ever hit the ball.

In the first game, I "EH"ed - that's extra hitter, since the pitcher bats in softball we're allowed to put a couple guys in who only bat and don't play the field. I went 2-3 and scored a run. Matt said to me as I reached base the second time, "it's just like riding a bike!" I said, "yeah, but don't put me in the outfield!"

I had fun playing last night, but it didn't reignite any passion for me to come back and play regularly again. The team has great chemistry and some really gifted players. And for the most part, they've always got enough guys available to play to field a team.

...But I'm happy I hit well last night!

Dual Success!

After my failed attempt to adjust the deraileur on my Speedster, I've been hesitant to try anything new in the world of bicycle repair. However, the gravel spread all over Clouser Road meant that I should really replace the rear tire on my Schwinn.

Of course, I've changed tires before - pretty regularly, in fact. But while I was in the garage changing the tire on the road bike, I got inspired and decided to adjust the brake cables on my mountain bike.

GASP!

After successfully mountain the replacement tire (Continental Ultra Gatorskin) on the Schwinn, realizing that I had it on backwards (the "direction of rotation" arrows were pointing the wrong way), taking it off and remounting it correctly, I grabbed a hex wrench and started fiddling with the mountain bike.

The brake handle for the front brake pulls all the way down before it's really effective, so I decided to pull the cable a little further through the anchor bolt to tighten it up a bit. I loosened the anchor bolt, pulled the cable about 1/4 inch through and tightened it again. Success! Nothing went wrong! I used the adjusting barrel to fine tune it and voila! My brakes were re-tuned in less than two minutes!

I was so stoked, I did the same on the rear brake. I spun the tire to check it out and it stopped almost immediately. Seems I tightened it a bit too much. No worries, just a quick adjustment and I had that fixed too.

So not only did I fix a problem with my bike, I also fixed a problem that I caused by trying to fix something that wasn't a problem. Dual success!

LOSER!

Beth says I have "an unhealthy relationship with food." This is because if you set something in front of me, I will eat it. Regardless of whether I'm hungry, I will eat it. This is even more true if it's something I like.

Hypothetically, if someone were to set a five-gallon bucket of M&M's in front of me I would eat M&M's until:
a. They were gone,
b. I threw up,
c. Someone took them away, or
d. I died from chocolate poisoning (not sure if there is such a thing, but if there is I would likely be stricken).

And I admit, I go a little overboard at times. But today, I was reminded that some people just plain need help.

This morning I got an e-mail reminding employees not to take any food in the refridgerator that is not their own. We get this e-mail every few months and it blows my mind.

What kind of loser steals lunches from the fridge? Obviously they have a job, so they should be able to afford to make or buy their own sandwiches (there's a Subway less than a mile from our office)! I mean, what goes through their head?

1. "I'm really hungry."
2. "I ate my lunch during my morning break."
3. "Subway is two whole minutes away. And I'd have to wait in line!"
4. "I'll just check to see what everyone else packed today."
5. "Hey, a ham sandwich! I like ham sandwiches!"
6. "I'll take this ham sandwich, they'll never miss it!"

I can potentially see a short-sighted teenager doing this, but once you enter the adult workforce, it's time to control your kleptomaniacal tendancies. If you really need a snack that bad, beg 90 cents off a coworker and buy a Snickers! LOSER!

Perspective

If you're checking in to see how I did at the Harrisburg Mile last night, I'm sorry to say I didn't run. There was a miscommunication between myself and the team captain and I wasn't able to find him to get my race number and timing chip before the race.

Which I guess isn't so bad, since last year I found this race to simply be 6 1/2 minutes of pure suffering. It did mean that I completely wasted a perfectly good evening, though.

Tuesday night Beth and I had our final birthing class. She's at 36 weeks so this baby could be arriving at any time! Which is both daunting and exciting. It's making me feel very grown up, like now I really need to start acting responsible.

The last class is held at the hospital where the baby will born and we (by "we" I mean "I") not only learned how to get there (which is very important), but also toured the facilities. As I saw the $35,000 monitor in the Labor and Delivery Room, the rows of incubators in the NICU and the view of the Susquahanna River from the recovery room, I couldn't help but think how a mother from a third world country would be amazed and so excited to have their baby at this facility.

I might have also thought, "do we really need videos about breast feeding?" I mean it's been done for thousands of years and I've seen pigs do it without any training at all!

Afterwards, Beth said to me, "do you think there's any way I could just have the baby at home?" She was joking--well...at least half-joking of course, but I guess when you're the one pushing out the "cannonball" and you've got scores of doctors and nurses "up in you business" your perspective is a little different.

Being a Jerk Part II: Honking Your Car Horn

Car horns have a purpose. I use mine fairly often when someone is about to back in to me, pulls out in front of me or otherwise ticks me off.

I hear car horns usually about once for every 25 miles of cycling. In 99% of these cases it is someone being a jerk and trying to scare me. What's funny is when they do this wrong and they don't startle you because they are half a mile down the road behind you. To really tick off a cyclist you need to be right behind him when you hit your horn, because then it feels like you're about to get hit by a car. Which, I suppose is a faulty supposition. If they're blowing their horn, they see you and want you to either move off the road or flip them off. But I think a car that hits you would never see you, so you'd never hear a horn.

Another popular thing to do with your car horn is to blow it during someone's backswing when driving by a golf course. This of course, is hilarious. Unless it happens to you. So I don't do it. But if you do it, I understand. I'm not saying it's right. But I understand.

A couple weeks ago, Beth and I were looking for a space in the Boscov's parking lot when we almost saw something terrible happen while we waited for a white mini-van to back out of it's spot. As the van was pulling out another car was backing out from the space across from it! We thought for sure they were going to hit each other, so I started hitting the horn. The lady in the passenger side of the van started gesturing at us as if to say "what's your problem?" Fortunately the white car on the other side pulled away through an adjacent parking spot and never hit the van, so we didn't witness anything terrible.

But now I'm pretty sure that lady just thinks I'm an impatient jerk (because, frankly it took them a while to back out of that spot). So lady, if you're ready this - I'm really not a jerk.

I Don't Like Rocks

Today, since my best road bike is in the shop I decided to do a little mountain biking. I've mentioned before that off-road riding is not my forte. It's the exact opposite of my forte. It's my anti-forte.

But I have found that once I've spent some time on the trails I do better. Not great, but better. Today I decided to try someplace new and went to Rocky Ridge Park down near (in?) York. It's a pretty good park as far as mountain biking goes, with something for every skill level. There was a mile or two of rail-trail style crushed gravel trails, but also some technical dirt trails that are extremely challenging.

And by extremely challenging, I mean rocky. I have no problem with mud, uneven ground or steep hills, but rocks make me nuts. It's not just that they limit the line you can take on the trail or give you unexpected bumps and drops during your ride.

Rocks are hard, and I'm a little scared of crashing. And if I crash on dirt, it's usually okay, because it's dirt and it's soft. But rocks are hard. It seems like if you crash on a rocky trail (made more likely with the rocks bouncing you around) you're liable to break a bone on a rock. Or at least get a really nasty bruise.

So do most mountain bikers just embrace the rocks as an additional challenge? Or are there trails somewhere with fewer rocks that mountain bikers flock to? Or am I just a big wuss and either need to get over it or stick to the roads?

Two Weeks

It looks like I'll be without my main road bike - the Scott S20 Speedster for two weeks. Actually, I could be riding it now, but then I'd have to remember to bring it in to the shop two weeks from now. And I don't necessarily think I can do that. Besides, this is why I own two road bikes. If one goes down, another takes its place.

Remember my post last week when I mentioned that I needed to adjust my rear derailleur? Well, I did. And I made it worse.

I was having some issues with the second- and third- largest cogs slipping into lower gears and I noticed when riding at high speeds, my chain didn't like to stay on the smallest cog and would shift up off it for no reason.

So I set up my repair stand and did some adjustments to the high- and low-gear limit stops and the adjusting barrel. Then I took it for a ride. My favorite ride over Waggoners and Sterrets Gaps. Which it turns out is pretty tough to do when you can't use the granny (largest) cog and the chain falls of the smallest cog when you're speeding down the hill at 40+ mph.

I made it home, both myself and my bike in one piece (two pieces actually, one for me and one for the bike - we weren't fused together in some kind of 20-speed transformer/cyborg) then I began working on the deraileur again. This time I tried something I never dared try before. I removed the anchor bolt on the rear deraileur cable.

And now my bike is in the shop. Because if I try to fix it now, I'm pretty sure it will never be the same again.

24 Hours of Keuka Lake

...Actually it was more like 27 hours.

Pretty much every year at this time Beth and I go to Keuka Lake in New York's Finger Lakes region to see my family. And I have a pretty big family - and I pretty much saw all of them this weekend. Okay, most of them.

Beth has exactly three cousins, so when she visits my family (26 cousins ages 3-40) it can be a little overwhelming for her. My mom threw a baby shower/graduation party for Beth, me and Tim. It seemed like everybody showed up. Which was cool, a lot of them are cousins I haven't seen in years.

We of course got a lot of nice baby gifts and the next day Beth got to go to her favorite place in the Finger Lakes Region (maybe all of New York) - the Windmill. And I went golfing with my dad, and was once again reminded that I could be a pretty decent golfer if I put the time into it to practice. Personally, I prefer sports that at times makes me think my heart might explode (riding a bike up a mountain) or that my legs might fall off (ultra running).

The last two years on this weekend I had run the Finger Lakes Fifties 25K trail run, but alas, it was not to be this year. Maybe if I'm healthy next year (and not badly detrained) I'll make another go at it.

We saw a few more people Saturday afternoon, then headed home. We stopped at Wendy's for lunch and I had the hottest boneless buffalo wings I've had in my life. When I pulled the lid off, I'm pretty sure I singed all my nose hairs from the vapors. They were powerful, and by the end of my meal I was sucking on ice cubes. Funny, I wouldn't expect that from Wendy's.

Shifting Gears

That title reminds me, I need to make a derailleur adjustment on my bike...

Yesterday I ran for the first time in over a month (since May 29.)

I did two miles around the office park where I work on my lunch break. Normally I do four, but I've been hurt and all...

But anyhow, I was a little nervous that my foot might not be healed all the way yet. I think it's a stress fracture or some kind of slow-healing tendon issue on the side of my foot. I was almost certain that this was going to be a setback.

So I was surprised to finish the run totally pain free. You'll notice I didn't end that sentence with an exclamation point. This is for two reasons: first off, extraneous exclamation points are a bit of a pet peeve of mine. If you always use exclamation points, what do you use when you're really excited? And more importantly, I could still tell there was something wrong despite the lack of pain.

I did notice some achiness in the foot last night, but nothing serious. So I'm certain that the time off did help, I'm just not there yet. The problem is that I have the Harrisburg Mile in two weeks, and I'm on our company's Corporate Challenge team. But it's just one mile - what could possibly go wrong?

That being said, I'll probably be shifting my focus this fall to baby stuff and if my body isn't going to let me train for a marathon, I'm not going to push it. I think over the next six months or so I'll be shifting gears in how I work out and focus less on big running events and more on 5K's and other shorter races.

I'm hoping that I might shift back next year a run the 2010 Harrisburg Marathon, or maybe even a spring marathon or 50K. But you know what they say: "A baby changes everything."