I made it to Thunder Bay, Ontario! It was another beautiful morning starting out from Grand Marais, MN. Unlike the last couple of days, the start of day 3 brought warm temperatures - perfect actually. Warm in the sun, cool in the shade. There was definitely a breeze that proved itself to be a rather annoying headwind, but when I took breaks and stepped off my bike, I welcomed its cool touch to my sweating body. I was only a handful of miles north of Grand Marais and found a spot near Five Mile Rock to pull my bike off the road on onto the rocky beach on the water. Since starting this ride, this is the first time I've actually gotten to enjoy time near the water. I sat for awhile feeling the warm sun bathe my exposed skin and the wind blow its secrets across my face and through my hair. I pulled out my journal and wrote.
Although I know I have the support of friends and family back home, it's not the same as having someone ride along side me. I experienced some sadness today as I was riding along. I realized the importance - necessity really - of self-talk. I'm the only one who's going to get me through this ride. I can complain about it later or share highlights after I've put in my miles for the day to loved ones via phone or email, but no one gets this up-close-and-personal experience with me, and I have no one to cheer me on and coach me through the challenging parts in the moment. I know a big part of this ride is to be alone - with myself. I do enjoy the solitude, but I think being alone also brings up some baggage from my past. Regardless, I must continue to push on and push through the sadness and the pain. I must learn to rely on myself and trust myself to get myself through it. I can be my own coach and cheerleader too.
The ride was slow today. I wasn't so much riding along as I was plodding along. I took my time on purpose. Yesterday's 86 miler to Grand Marais wore me out and I needed to be easy with my body today. Although 10 miles less today, 76 miles is still substantial when done back to back. And I sure felt it. I started out feeling pretty strong this morning, but a few hours in, my sciatic nerve on my left side began to bother me again. Bolts of pain ran up and down my left leg ultimately affecting my foot. That familiar burst of tremendous sharp pain came and went - long slow pulsations. I felt like my toes would literally explode. A few times it was so bad I had to stop and dismount from my bike. Other times I was able to push through. As if dealing with this pain wasn't bad enough, today the chaffing finally caught up with me. By the time I was done with my ride it hurt to sit on anything. It even hurt to walk. Thankfully a phone conversation with my sister, who is no stranger to diaper rashes with her young son, advised me to get something with some zinc-oxide in it. My mom (half of my sag-support team) and I made a prompt trip up the road to the drug store and purchased a couple cans of diaper rash cream with 40% zinc-oxide. I am hoping for some magical healing over night. I have a 79 mile ride tomorrow and if there's not some major healing going on down there, I'm not sure my body can physically make it.
I was doing some research tonight on long distance riding and some of the medical issues that can arise from constant pressure being put on one's private area. Although I wasn't surprised at what I read, I was surprised. I guess I just didn't think much about it, at least in terms of severity. Probably, in hindsight, something I should have read up on before I went on this ride. I think there were some preventative measures I could have taken. Ce la vie I suppose. For female-bodied riders, aside from the bad chaffing, one also needs to be worried about various types of vaginitis - the most common of which is the yeast infection. There are other things too - medical names I cant remember right at this moment, but I can assure you, rotten in their own respective ways. Because of how many hours I am in the saddle each day and the conditions in that particular area, I am highly susceptible. I can't tell you how happy I was to find this out (said with sarcasm of course). This is an interesting thing to ponder, and hopefully *fingers crossed* not actually experience as someone who identifies as gender nonconforming. I am reminded of the incongruence I feel with my body sometimes. I usually dont think much about it unless there's some attention being drawn to it - and usually in a negative way (i.e., restroom accessibility and now chaffing and the possibility of vaginitis). It's been challenging enough just to find gender neutral restrooms on this trip so far. And, let me tell you, when your stomach is tweaking out as it's adjusting to all the sports drinks, gels, and bars, being without a restroom one can feel comfortable enough in (although I do acknowledge, how comfortable can anyone feel in public restrooms?) is anxiety-provoking for sure, which of course does wonders to help an already upset stomach.
I am still feeling every bit of this ride. Physically it has already taken so much of a toll and it's only the end of day 3. Emotionally, this puts a damper on my spirits. As much as I think and will myself to push through and keep on keepin' on, if my body wears out on me physically, there's not much I can do. I wish I would have planned for a few rest days on this ride. Unfortunately it will not be possible unless I am willing to sacrifice some miles. One day at a time I guess. I've always been one of those people that lives by the motto, "no pain, no gain." As much time as I spend trying to tune out of my body while I'm on this ride, I know I have to stay vigilant as well. I do not want to risk serious injury or some major health issue because I was too stubborn to do the right thing. It's a tough spot to be in when mentally, I'm capable, physically is questionable (especially so early on in the game), and emotionally, because of the physical, I'm slowly crumbling.
I've been told by a border patrol agent and a police officer that the road ahead of me through Canada is only going to get more dangerous and challenging - no shoulder, construction, idiot drivers who don't pay attention, and hills. I have a feeling the worst part of this ride is yet to come - starting tomorrow. The best I can do is give myself up to the Universe and hope for the best and that the Universe is watching out for me on this ride. I have no cell service here - cant send or receive texts, likely cant make or receive calls. We've become so dependent on our technology that this thought alone is terrifying, especially given where I'll be and the increased chances of something major happening in which I would need to be reached or reach someone. Although tomorrow's 79 miles will be brutal, if I can make it through and still feel ok, I think I will feel better. I believe for 3 days after tomorrow I'll have some shorter rides. This will be a good thing.
I'm not sure when I'll be able to blog again. I'm headed into the remote parts of Canada and am not sure how well outfitted technology-wise these hotels will be. I'll continue to post as long as I am able. Keep sending me those positive thoughts! And 40% zinc-oxide, do your thing!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Sciatic Nerve & Canada
I've made it to Grand Marais. The first big ride out of the gate was sure to leave its impression on my body! This will be my last night in the states for 8 days. Tomorrow I head 76 miles to Thunder Bay, Ontario. At present moment, I am feeling the lingering heat from the Tiger Balm I bathed myself in. I can't believe how sore I am. You'd think with all the biking - all the training specifically - that I have done for this ride, I wouldn't hurt this bad. The left side of my body is in far worse shape than my right side. Today as I was riding, I began to wonder if a person needs their Sciatic Nerve in order to live and function with relative normalcy. If it's one of those things, like an appendix, I could do without mine. It was giving me so much trouble today. I dont know if it was the nerve itself or the pain I had in my neck on the left side, or the intense pain in my left foot - or even the pain I had in that space between your thumb and index finger - actually, it was probably a combination of all of the above. Either way, it killed the left side of my body.
Last night's easy 26 mile jaunt into Two Harbors from Duluth was nice. Although it was a night ride, the temperatures were cool and there was no wind. Today around Silver Bay, all of a sudden, a pretty annoying head wind decided to give it a go at me, so needless to say, Silver Bay to Grand Marais was all into a headwind. And I dont know what it is about the hills up here. They aren't steep, but there's alot, and they're gradual inclines. Maybe the gravitational pull is stronger here because it will reduce me to like 7 mph! That's terrible!
My body's been adjusting to the level of exercise and the mass quantities of power gels, Cliff bars, and sports drinks I have been putting into it. Can't say it's responded very well. I'm hoping all gets adjusted sooner rather than later. Luckily, there have been no urgent incidences while on my bike. No, my body waits to tweak out until after the ride when all I want to do is relax. That's when my stomach decides to tie itself in knots and beat the crap outa' me - sometimes literally! Too much info? Well, it's part of my reality thus far.
Day 2 has been rough. I hear that distance riding is supposed to get better the longer you do it. I am hoping in a few more days, I will feel strong and the pain will decrease. It's been hard to focus on anything other than how uncomfortable I am and the various points of pain, sometimes excruciating, coursing through my body. Right now this feels like a hopelessly long and miserable trip. I try all the time to get out of my body and into my head. I've got alot of hours in the saddle and alot of time to myself to ponder the many questions and curiosities I have. Right now, because the pain is so much, it's all I can focus on. Here's hoping for some vast improvements!
The lake is beautiful as always. This morning was particularly wonderful. I've been taking some photos along the way, but alot of Highway 61 didn't have nice lake views. Also, with the 1.5 - 2 foot wide shoulders sometimes, and vehicles that dont move over, it was pretty treacherous for a long time. Guess it was good practice for the next 8 days in Canada where I have heard the TransCanada Highway is just like that as well.
For our last night in the states for awhile, we're staying at a hotel that has terrible internet reception so, because it will take a half hour, at least, for this post to upload, I am signing off. I will have more tales and updates in a few days when I can access some internet hopefully in the remote wilderness of Canada at some of the places we're staying. We'll see though! Stay tuned and thank you for all the positive thoughts and encouragement. Maybe my next post will be less complain-y! ;)
Last night's easy 26 mile jaunt into Two Harbors from Duluth was nice. Although it was a night ride, the temperatures were cool and there was no wind. Today around Silver Bay, all of a sudden, a pretty annoying head wind decided to give it a go at me, so needless to say, Silver Bay to Grand Marais was all into a headwind. And I dont know what it is about the hills up here. They aren't steep, but there's alot, and they're gradual inclines. Maybe the gravitational pull is stronger here because it will reduce me to like 7 mph! That's terrible!
My body's been adjusting to the level of exercise and the mass quantities of power gels, Cliff bars, and sports drinks I have been putting into it. Can't say it's responded very well. I'm hoping all gets adjusted sooner rather than later. Luckily, there have been no urgent incidences while on my bike. No, my body waits to tweak out until after the ride when all I want to do is relax. That's when my stomach decides to tie itself in knots and beat the crap outa' me - sometimes literally! Too much info? Well, it's part of my reality thus far.
Day 2 has been rough. I hear that distance riding is supposed to get better the longer you do it. I am hoping in a few more days, I will feel strong and the pain will decrease. It's been hard to focus on anything other than how uncomfortable I am and the various points of pain, sometimes excruciating, coursing through my body. Right now this feels like a hopelessly long and miserable trip. I try all the time to get out of my body and into my head. I've got alot of hours in the saddle and alot of time to myself to ponder the many questions and curiosities I have. Right now, because the pain is so much, it's all I can focus on. Here's hoping for some vast improvements!
The lake is beautiful as always. This morning was particularly wonderful. I've been taking some photos along the way, but alot of Highway 61 didn't have nice lake views. Also, with the 1.5 - 2 foot wide shoulders sometimes, and vehicles that dont move over, it was pretty treacherous for a long time. Guess it was good practice for the next 8 days in Canada where I have heard the TransCanada Highway is just like that as well.
For our last night in the states for awhile, we're staying at a hotel that has terrible internet reception so, because it will take a half hour, at least, for this post to upload, I am signing off. I will have more tales and updates in a few days when I can access some internet hopefully in the remote wilderness of Canada at some of the places we're staying. We'll see though! Stay tuned and thank you for all the positive thoughts and encouragement. Maybe my next post will be less complain-y! ;)
Friday, August 5, 2011
The Bicycle Constant
On the night - or early morning perhaps - before I push off into that first mile of what will likely be somewhere around 1400 miles over the next 20 days, I have been thinking much about this last year of my life. It's been quite a story. While driving all over town today running various last minute errands and spending so much more money than I have in preparation for this trip, my mind wandered back through this last year to August 2010. As I was sitting at my dining room table with an impressive spread of bike gear laid out in front of me, overwhelmed at the daunting task of packing it all up in bike bags, and gear bags for the sag-wagon (aka my mom and our good family friend, Helene), I tip-toed myself into those nooks and crannies buried deep into the depths of my brain, again, reminiscing the last 12 months of my life.
August to August has given me quite the journey. I've navigated many complex identities, some of which are still evolving. I made big life changes and decisions that will end up impacting me the rest of my life. I was scared and uncertain, and with much nervousness, I went with where the Universe seemed to be directing me. I experienced so much emotional turmoil as I headed back to the place of my birth in search of meaning, answers, a sense of peace and completeness, and experiences to fill a void I have carried with me my whole life. The last year saw the ending of one job, the beginning of another, and preparation to enter a doctoral program this fall. Relationships over the last year have been extremely complicated and painful, yet enriching and affirming at the same time. I think I've cried more over this past year than I have my whole life - perhaps combined! I've felt heartache. I've felt frustrations and loneliness. I've healed and found peace in some areas. I've grown and allowed curiosity to take my hand in exploring just who it is I am. I've found new happiness in a new relationship with new confidence and trust. I mended old wounds, reacquainted with people from my past, and enjoyed surrounding myself with good friends new and old.
This morning, as I was on my final training ride - an easy 20 miles to save my legs - I stopped by an overlook and watched the Mississippi flow gently by. The waters seemed to roll on through - heavy and lazy - perhaps not yet awake. The air was fresh with just a hint of heaviness as the humidity has come slithering back. Without a breeze, I could feel the thickness encase my skin. With the late rush hour traffic whirring about in the background, my ears tuned into a cicada and the silence in between the various urban morning noises. I thought about this upcoming trip and what it signifies to me. Throughout so much - especially this last year, my bicycle has been my constant. I have ridden it through many experiences and emotions. I have had moments of intense clarity and realization while riding my bike. I biked through intense sadness and feelings of being so alone. Biking through my emotions and thoughts has allowed me to grow and heal in some ways. I have allowed my body to experience its natural process and way as my legs pushed me for miles. In addition to emotional workouts, physically I have also transformed in many ways. Mostly due to intentional training for this ride, I have pushed my body through the cold, the heat, the humidity, the rain, and the wind. I have felt the most brutal pain and misery on my bike, yet continued to push through. I've worked hard to bring myself up to a level of cycling that I feel is necessary to successfully complete this ride. Even so, this will still be the most physically challenging thing I have ever done.
For the next 20 days I will be riding around the perimeter of Lake Superior. No matter what the weather conditions are, unless severe weather is threatening, I will ride. The terrain will be hilly no doubt - perhaps even mildly mountainous through Canada. I'll be dodging road kill, potholes, and other vehicles not paying attention to me on the side of the road. I'll be eating more than my fair share of bugs, and will do my very best to minimize chaffing from long days in the saddle! I am hoping for a bit cooler temperatures and less humidity near the lake, but, who knows. I am also hoping to keep flat tires and other mechanical issues to a minimum. Winded, lungs burning, legs aching, feet screaming, neck failing - I will roll into each new stop at the end of the day ready for a big plate of pasta and a good night's sleep, only to get up and do it all over again the next day. All of the miseries that I am sure will come at some points during this ride will all be a part of this incredible experience to ride with my heart, as I always do when I get on my bike, in an area of the country that has always held such meaning to me. I have many points of inspiration to draw on when things are challenging. For 20 days I will give myself to Lake Superior and all its beauty and magic, and to the Universe to take care of me and my two-wheeled friend as we embark on another trip of a lifetime. Once again, and in many ways quite literally too, I am completing yet another important circle in my life. I think this may be the most healing and transformative trip yet!
August to August has given me quite the journey. I've navigated many complex identities, some of which are still evolving. I made big life changes and decisions that will end up impacting me the rest of my life. I was scared and uncertain, and with much nervousness, I went with where the Universe seemed to be directing me. I experienced so much emotional turmoil as I headed back to the place of my birth in search of meaning, answers, a sense of peace and completeness, and experiences to fill a void I have carried with me my whole life. The last year saw the ending of one job, the beginning of another, and preparation to enter a doctoral program this fall. Relationships over the last year have been extremely complicated and painful, yet enriching and affirming at the same time. I think I've cried more over this past year than I have my whole life - perhaps combined! I've felt heartache. I've felt frustrations and loneliness. I've healed and found peace in some areas. I've grown and allowed curiosity to take my hand in exploring just who it is I am. I've found new happiness in a new relationship with new confidence and trust. I mended old wounds, reacquainted with people from my past, and enjoyed surrounding myself with good friends new and old.
This morning, as I was on my final training ride - an easy 20 miles to save my legs - I stopped by an overlook and watched the Mississippi flow gently by. The waters seemed to roll on through - heavy and lazy - perhaps not yet awake. The air was fresh with just a hint of heaviness as the humidity has come slithering back. Without a breeze, I could feel the thickness encase my skin. With the late rush hour traffic whirring about in the background, my ears tuned into a cicada and the silence in between the various urban morning noises. I thought about this upcoming trip and what it signifies to me. Throughout so much - especially this last year, my bicycle has been my constant. I have ridden it through many experiences and emotions. I have had moments of intense clarity and realization while riding my bike. I biked through intense sadness and feelings of being so alone. Biking through my emotions and thoughts has allowed me to grow and heal in some ways. I have allowed my body to experience its natural process and way as my legs pushed me for miles. In addition to emotional workouts, physically I have also transformed in many ways. Mostly due to intentional training for this ride, I have pushed my body through the cold, the heat, the humidity, the rain, and the wind. I have felt the most brutal pain and misery on my bike, yet continued to push through. I've worked hard to bring myself up to a level of cycling that I feel is necessary to successfully complete this ride. Even so, this will still be the most physically challenging thing I have ever done.
For the next 20 days I will be riding around the perimeter of Lake Superior. No matter what the weather conditions are, unless severe weather is threatening, I will ride. The terrain will be hilly no doubt - perhaps even mildly mountainous through Canada. I'll be dodging road kill, potholes, and other vehicles not paying attention to me on the side of the road. I'll be eating more than my fair share of bugs, and will do my very best to minimize chaffing from long days in the saddle! I am hoping for a bit cooler temperatures and less humidity near the lake, but, who knows. I am also hoping to keep flat tires and other mechanical issues to a minimum. Winded, lungs burning, legs aching, feet screaming, neck failing - I will roll into each new stop at the end of the day ready for a big plate of pasta and a good night's sleep, only to get up and do it all over again the next day. All of the miseries that I am sure will come at some points during this ride will all be a part of this incredible experience to ride with my heart, as I always do when I get on my bike, in an area of the country that has always held such meaning to me. I have many points of inspiration to draw on when things are challenging. For 20 days I will give myself to Lake Superior and all its beauty and magic, and to the Universe to take care of me and my two-wheeled friend as we embark on another trip of a lifetime. Once again, and in many ways quite literally too, I am completing yet another important circle in my life. I think this may be the most healing and transformative trip yet!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Route & Mileage
Here is the mileage and route all broken down. My plan is to stick with what's listed here. If I'm feeling strong enough, I may combine the days I listed below into century+ rides and cut out a couple of days. We'll see though!
Push off date has officially changed to Friday, August 5th! Only a few days away!!
Day 1. Duluth, MN to Two Harbors, 21 miles
Day 2. Two Harbors to Grand Marais, 86 miles
Day 3. Grand Marais to Thunder Bay, Ontario, 76 miles
Day 4. Thunder Bay to Nipigon, 79 miles
Day 5. Nipigon to Terrace Bay, 61 miles
Day 6. Terrace Bay to Marathon, 52 miles
Day 7. Marathon to White River, 61 miles
Day 8. White River to Wawa, 56 miles
(may combine days 7 & 8 and ride 117 miles combined)
Day 9. Wawa to Montreal R Harbor, 68 miles
Day 10. Montreal R H to Sault Ste Marie, 80 miles
Day 11. Sault Ste Marie to Paradise, MI, 68 miles
(Sault Ste Marie to Munising may go south to Newberry, MI instead of north, along the lake)
Day 12. Paradise to Grand Marais, MI, 48 miles
Day 13. Grand Marais to Munising, 60 miles
(may combine days 12 & 13 and ride 108 miles combined)
Day 14. Munising to Big Bay, 72 miles
Day 15. Ishpemig to L'Anse, 56 miles
Day 16. L'Anse to Cooper Harbor, 81 miles
Day 17. Hougton to Silver City, 65 miles
Day 18. Silver City to Ashland, WI, 87 miles
Day 19. Ashland to Cornucopia, 57 miles
Day 20. Cornucopia to Duluth, MN, 58 miles
(may combine days 19 & 20 and ride 115 miles combined)
Push off date has officially changed to Friday, August 5th! Only a few days away!!
Day 1. Duluth, MN to Two Harbors, 21 miles
Day 2. Two Harbors to Grand Marais, 86 miles
Day 3. Grand Marais to Thunder Bay, Ontario, 76 miles
Day 4. Thunder Bay to Nipigon, 79 miles
Day 5. Nipigon to Terrace Bay, 61 miles
Day 6. Terrace Bay to Marathon, 52 miles
Day 7. Marathon to White River, 61 miles
Day 8. White River to Wawa, 56 miles
(may combine days 7 & 8 and ride 117 miles combined)
Day 9. Wawa to Montreal R Harbor, 68 miles
Day 10. Montreal R H to Sault Ste Marie, 80 miles
Day 11. Sault Ste Marie to Paradise, MI, 68 miles
(Sault Ste Marie to Munising may go south to Newberry, MI instead of north, along the lake)
Day 12. Paradise to Grand Marais, MI, 48 miles
Day 13. Grand Marais to Munising, 60 miles
(may combine days 12 & 13 and ride 108 miles combined)
Day 14. Munising to Big Bay, 72 miles
Day 15. Ishpemig to L'Anse, 56 miles
Day 16. L'Anse to Cooper Harbor, 81 miles
Day 17. Hougton to Silver City, 65 miles
Day 18. Silver City to Ashland, WI, 87 miles
Day 19. Ashland to Cornucopia, 57 miles
Day 20. Cornucopia to Duluth, MN, 58 miles
(may combine days 19 & 20 and ride 115 miles combined)
Friday, July 29, 2011
Final Century Ride Before Lake Superior
One week left. By this time next Friday, I will hopefully be getting some much needed sleep before I push off from Two Harbors, biking 86 miles to Grand Marais on day 1 of my epic ride around Lake Superior. I have been due for a long ride for awhile in terms of my training. The last several weeks, I've managed to eek out some 50 mile rides - not 50 miles a day like I had intended. I am all too familiar with the various routes around here and find myself so bored with them, it's hard to will up the energy to go - much less get some distance riding in.
What started out today as just a ride to Stillwater, MN and back turned into a century ride (100 miles). When I finally reached Stillwater some 34 miles later I decided I would lock in 100. It was my last century ride before I push off around the lake. With my wheels humming along the pavement, the light whir of the freewheel, and the burn in my legs as I continuously powered forward, I felt good. I stopped off in Stillwater and sat by the water (a much needed break for my feet and for my um...tender parts. Ha! I indulged in a Cliff bar and pounded back some water flavored with Nuun electrolyte enhanced drink pellets. I swear these Nuuns have saved my life in terms of hydration! I highly recommend them! The St. Croix river, which flows through the heart of Stillwater was still very high, and as the waves rolled in from passing boats, the water washed up on the flat stone I was sitting on. I took in the clouds off in the distance and tuned in and out of the conversations of the people in the gazebo above me. The shade offered a nice temporary refuge from the sun, heat and humidity.
As I mounted my bike on my way to White Bear Lake, headed back to the cities, my legs burned and cried out. It was a slow few miles to get back in the groove. I suppose climbing the hills out of the river valley didnt help things much either. I shifted up to my highest gear (yep, I utilized the "granny-gears") so as to try and minimize the torque on my joints as I worked every muscle in my body to get up those hills. Carrying 15.5 lbs of extra weight on a bike that weighs probably 10 lbs heavier than my road bike really makes a difference.
My ride took me to Stillwater, the border of Mahtomedi, North St. Paul, dowtown St. Paul, out to Hopkins and through the Cedar Lake Trail, back through Minneapolis, and out to Mendota Heights and back to St. Paul. There were several times during my ride that I imagined I was pedaling through Canada. Exhausted, yet exhilarated, in pain, yet willing to push through - driven to push through - I continued to turn those cranks over and over and over...As I tuned into my body, I felt every muscle contract and release. I felt every sting of pain and rash of burn. My breath was fast and shallow. I tried to pull in deeper breaths only to feel like I was going to vomit. The sun was baking me and the humidity had cloaked me in a thick layer of sweat. It felt heavy and miserable. Thinking ahead to every day for 17 days being like this, hopefully minus some of this heat and humidity though, this big ride suddenly became so real that I almost started crying. The intense need to cry didn't come because of the pain, it came because of the meaning of this ride. It came because of the 4 months I will have worked so hard to train to put myself through, by far, the most taxing and physically demanding endeavor yet. It came because of nervousness and fear. It came because this ride, I believe, will define me in so many ways and on so many levels. This is literally the ride of my life.
When one is heaving in breaths, pouring sweat, and in a fair amount of physical pain, all of a sudden feeling that lump forming in the throat does not do anyone any favors in terms of being able to continue to breathe! I literally swallowed that lump hard in order to maintain my pace and my ragged breathing. About 65 miles into the ride, my feet started to cramp really bad. This is a new ailment that usually plagues me around the 40 mile mark on rides. I've done some research on this and am fairly confident that it's about 80% my bike cleats (too narrow and not firm enough souls), 15% my bad knee, and 5% from a back injury I sustained while lifting weights a few days ago. It amazes me how everything is so connected. The pain was unbearable at times. I literally felt like my toes were swelling up so bad that they were going to burst. I finally stopped around 80 miles and took my socks off and loosened all the straps on my bike cleats. That helped for a little bit. As I was on the final homestretch at 97 miles, the pain was so bad I was yelling and moaning into the wind as I continued to push forward. I stopped, got off my bike, took my shoes off and tried to elevate my feet to try and get even 30 seconds worth of relief.
I worry about this foot issue for my ride. I think I have a combination of things that will help reduce the pain. For one, I will be biking mostly in tennis shoes that are a wide fit. I'll save my cleats for when it's raining when I'll need to fit my waterproof rain booties over them. I also have some Adidas sandals that can fit so loosely that no pressure is applied to my foot. Additionally, I know I'll be getting off my bike many times to explore the small towns I ride through, eat lunch or get a snack, take some photos, journal, and/or just meditate along the shores of the lake. I am hopeful this will minimize the pain as it has caused quite some concern for me, especially with this trip being full of back to back distance riding.
I'll be posting my route and mileage on my blog in the coming days. Anyone who takes a gander here can see what I'll be putting in and where I'll be. Whenever possible, I'll be updating my blog with reflections of the day and perhaps some photos.
All in all today, it was a good century ride to go out with. I'll be taking it easy this next week so I have fresh legs come August 6th! I am ready for this!!
What started out today as just a ride to Stillwater, MN and back turned into a century ride (100 miles). When I finally reached Stillwater some 34 miles later I decided I would lock in 100. It was my last century ride before I push off around the lake. With my wheels humming along the pavement, the light whir of the freewheel, and the burn in my legs as I continuously powered forward, I felt good. I stopped off in Stillwater and sat by the water (a much needed break for my feet and for my um...tender parts. Ha! I indulged in a Cliff bar and pounded back some water flavored with Nuun electrolyte enhanced drink pellets. I swear these Nuuns have saved my life in terms of hydration! I highly recommend them! The St. Croix river, which flows through the heart of Stillwater was still very high, and as the waves rolled in from passing boats, the water washed up on the flat stone I was sitting on. I took in the clouds off in the distance and tuned in and out of the conversations of the people in the gazebo above me. The shade offered a nice temporary refuge from the sun, heat and humidity.
As I mounted my bike on my way to White Bear Lake, headed back to the cities, my legs burned and cried out. It was a slow few miles to get back in the groove. I suppose climbing the hills out of the river valley didnt help things much either. I shifted up to my highest gear (yep, I utilized the "granny-gears") so as to try and minimize the torque on my joints as I worked every muscle in my body to get up those hills. Carrying 15.5 lbs of extra weight on a bike that weighs probably 10 lbs heavier than my road bike really makes a difference.
My ride took me to Stillwater, the border of Mahtomedi, North St. Paul, dowtown St. Paul, out to Hopkins and through the Cedar Lake Trail, back through Minneapolis, and out to Mendota Heights and back to St. Paul. There were several times during my ride that I imagined I was pedaling through Canada. Exhausted, yet exhilarated, in pain, yet willing to push through - driven to push through - I continued to turn those cranks over and over and over...As I tuned into my body, I felt every muscle contract and release. I felt every sting of pain and rash of burn. My breath was fast and shallow. I tried to pull in deeper breaths only to feel like I was going to vomit. The sun was baking me and the humidity had cloaked me in a thick layer of sweat. It felt heavy and miserable. Thinking ahead to every day for 17 days being like this, hopefully minus some of this heat and humidity though, this big ride suddenly became so real that I almost started crying. The intense need to cry didn't come because of the pain, it came because of the meaning of this ride. It came because of the 4 months I will have worked so hard to train to put myself through, by far, the most taxing and physically demanding endeavor yet. It came because of nervousness and fear. It came because this ride, I believe, will define me in so many ways and on so many levels. This is literally the ride of my life.
When one is heaving in breaths, pouring sweat, and in a fair amount of physical pain, all of a sudden feeling that lump forming in the throat does not do anyone any favors in terms of being able to continue to breathe! I literally swallowed that lump hard in order to maintain my pace and my ragged breathing. About 65 miles into the ride, my feet started to cramp really bad. This is a new ailment that usually plagues me around the 40 mile mark on rides. I've done some research on this and am fairly confident that it's about 80% my bike cleats (too narrow and not firm enough souls), 15% my bad knee, and 5% from a back injury I sustained while lifting weights a few days ago. It amazes me how everything is so connected. The pain was unbearable at times. I literally felt like my toes were swelling up so bad that they were going to burst. I finally stopped around 80 miles and took my socks off and loosened all the straps on my bike cleats. That helped for a little bit. As I was on the final homestretch at 97 miles, the pain was so bad I was yelling and moaning into the wind as I continued to push forward. I stopped, got off my bike, took my shoes off and tried to elevate my feet to try and get even 30 seconds worth of relief.
I worry about this foot issue for my ride. I think I have a combination of things that will help reduce the pain. For one, I will be biking mostly in tennis shoes that are a wide fit. I'll save my cleats for when it's raining when I'll need to fit my waterproof rain booties over them. I also have some Adidas sandals that can fit so loosely that no pressure is applied to my foot. Additionally, I know I'll be getting off my bike many times to explore the small towns I ride through, eat lunch or get a snack, take some photos, journal, and/or just meditate along the shores of the lake. I am hopeful this will minimize the pain as it has caused quite some concern for me, especially with this trip being full of back to back distance riding.
I'll be posting my route and mileage on my blog in the coming days. Anyone who takes a gander here can see what I'll be putting in and where I'll be. Whenever possible, I'll be updating my blog with reflections of the day and perhaps some photos.
All in all today, it was a good century ride to go out with. I'll be taking it easy this next week so I have fresh legs come August 6th! I am ready for this!!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Watching the Storm Roll In
I hear the distant whales of the tornado sirens. Instead of heading to the basement like I was taught to do, I head outside to scope it out. I hear their somber, yet alarming cries off to the south. Once they subside, the air here is still, the night is dark, and now the silence is interrupted by the humming of window air conditioning units at our house and the neighbor's house. There's a storm coming. A couple of birds are restless - still awake long after the sun has set. Flying around - perhaps trying to find some steady shelter. It seems like there is panic in their nocturnal chirps. I wonder, how do bird nests stay in trees during the high winds that accompany some storms? They must or we would see all sorts of them all over the ground with other downed branches and debris in the aftermath.
I'm sitting in the backyard waiting for the storm to arrive. I've been watching the strobing lightening for some time off in the west. As it moved closer, its bright flashes light up my surroundings. What was once silhouetted and hidden in the shadows around me is revealed to me in those few seconds of light - the green leaves on the trees, the pink flowers in our neighbor's gardens, the red shingles on the roofs of the houses across the back alley. The thunder doesn't crash here. It shouts and rolls. With the river a few blocks away, it reverberates in the river valley - gliding its sound along the water's surface. The low tones moan on and on. I can hear them as they travel away down stream. The atmosphere is never silent.
The air has been humid for the last handful of days. I walk outside and it sucks me in and clings to my skin. It wraps me in its suffocating embrace. It fills my lungs and weighs me down. There is a constant heaviness - saturation really. The sweat pours even just standing still. What relief I hope this storm will bring. I know these hot humid days will eventually bring on some big storms as cool fronts push through and violently collide with this hot, heavy, humid air.
As the cold front moves in, the winds pick up. The trees once so still come alive. There is intense energy building as the gust front (the leading edge of cool air rushing down and out of a thunderstorm) pushes the branches over and whips around anything not anchored firmly down. The trees give way to the rushing currents of invisible air - bending and arching - sometimes breaking. I can hear it coming up behind me as it roars through consuming the silence and the stillness. The racing wind pummels through the branches and leaves moving its way up our block and on to the next, and the next - tearing through our yards. My heart pounds as the silent night air is consumed with the raise of the wind bursting through the trees. I have always been afraid of high winds during storms - more so than the thunder and lightening. When I was younger, I thought the wind would literally pick me up and blow me away, yet tornadoes do not scare me. They intrigue me and I have been known to get in my car, cameras in hand, and head off in the direction of the storm hoping to catch one on film. I listen to the weather and have my maps ready so as to not head into the danger, but rather move alongside to witness and document from a safe distance. They have been elusive thus far...
The gust front brings new air - cooler, less humid air. It feels good. In a matter of minutes, the winds die down and the rain comes. Up until now, it's just been a few sprinkles dancing across the yard. Larger drops are beginning to fall. There is that smell of fresh falling rain. It reminds me of new spring after the snow from the long Minnesota winters has finally gone away and the earth is just beginning to awaken. Harder and harder the rain drives coating every dry space within sight. My only partial refuge is under the awning of the house - squeezed up against it to protect me from the rain and flying debris from the wind gusts. The patio now glistens as the light from the shed illuminates the saturated ground. The wind whips the falling rain into a mist and peppers my computer screen with water droplets. It's time to move indoors.
I stand at the back door watching the weather. Sheets of rain race across the patio in sync with the blowing wind as they are directed and driven in various chaotic directions. As the talkative part of the storm ends its conversation with me tonight, I return once again to the living room, settling back in, waiting for the silence to envelop the night and peace to fall asleep to. While storms can be scary and violent, there's something comforting for me in watching them and understanding how they work. It reminds me of my dad. He taught me some of the things I know about severe weather and storms. I remember driving out to back country roads at night with him and watching the storms roll in.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
One Month and Counting
As I think about this blog and when and why it began with my journey back to Korea, it seems fitting that I will conclude a year of blogging with this bike trip. I have mentioned this before, but it will definitely feel like I have completed a full circle in so many ways over the last year of my life. I am hoping that many good things will come to me as I prep for the trip and as I embark. I cycle in search of clarity, meaning, place, love, acceptance, healing, mourning, and letting go.
With my bike getting geared up and preliminary shopping for a light weight solo tent (unless I can find someone willing to lend me theirs for 3 weeks), a few new bike duds, maps, and mileage plotting, I am sealed into this trip. It's not like I would have backed out anyway, but the reality - the excitement and shear terror too - is sinking in.
I'll be blogging about my training pre-trip, the trip itself once I am on my way and when I can actually have computer access, and probably some post trip thoughts to conclude this blog. Let the cleansing of mind, body, and soul begin!
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