Climbing

I like climbing.

Sorta.

Climbing goes part and parcel with cycling in Colorado   It doesn't matter what kind of cycling you do.  You have to climb around here.  We have these Big Things called the Rocky Mountains.  They're kinda high.  Because we live close to those mountains the terrain here isn't flat.  At least not for very long.  Sooner or later, on any given ride, you have to climb.

Yeah, it hurts sometimes.

If you ride a bike around here, climbing is something you have to make peace with.

I have a love/hate relationship with climbing.  As I approach a climb, there's a certain loathing I experience.  Something in me doesn't want to do the Work.  I think about walking the climb, or I'll consider possible alternatives.  However, at some point, usually just before the slope changes, something automatic kicks in and I just start working.

I start enjoying myself.

When I finally summit the climb, even a short one, I feel an exhilaration.  I feel like Caesar.

Veni. Ego ascendit. Vici.

It's kind of silly-sounding, but climbing with a bike is serious business.  It takes strength, endurance and intelligence.  You have to have strength to push yourself ever higher, be able to carry on to the end, and smart enough to do it right.

I find climbing a useful tool.  I ride a number of climbs regularly and I find that as time goes on I get through these climbs faster.  It's never easier, either. It's like Greg Lemond said.

It never gets easier.  You just get faster.

Climbs that  a year ago, would kick your ass, still kick your ass, but the difference is that as time goes on you don't have to endure the ass-kicking for as long.

And that, dear friends, is progress.

It shows that I'm getting stronger, my lungs are improving and maybe, just maybe, a tad smarter.

I like that.

I also find that once I make it to the Top, that I've been having fun.

I like that, too.

Some People Collect Stamps ....

.... and I get to collect cancers.

Lovely

We all know about the Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma I have.  About a year ago my doctor diagnosed me with two more.  One is a Basal-Cell Carcinoma and the other is a Squamous-Cell Carcinoma.  Both are skin cancers. Both are related to sun exposure.  They're fairly common.

I decided i really didn't want to know a whole lot about these additions to my "collection".  I just wanted the fucking things gone.  Fortunately these cancers are fairly easy to deal with.  I had the Basal-Cell and one occurrence of of the Squamous removed late last summer.  I had another Squamous-Cell removed from my right temple just the other day.

I went through what's called "Mohs Surgery".  It's fairly straightforward.  They numb you up with Lidocaine.  In my case they used a Lidocaine cocktail of sorts, tailored to reduce the bleeding that would occur because of the Coumadin I take.  Anyway, they numb you up, and then proceed to cut away the affected skin.  They bandage you up and send you back to the waiting room for a couple hours while they send the tissue to the lab for analysis.  If the lab says they got all of the cancer, they stitch or staple you up and send you home.  If the think some cancer was missed, they repeat the process and continue with that until they get it all.

They got mine on the first try.

So they stitched me up.  They had removed an area about the size an almond.  Fortunately the doctor is a plastic surgeon and does a great job making sure I don't end up looking like Frankenstein's monster.  They covered it with a dressing that made it look like I'd been gun-shot, gave me a prescription for Vicodin and sent me home with instructions.

The instructions were of the usual sort.  They included things like keep the area dry, no bending over, keep my blood pressure down ......

And stay off the bike.  For two weeks.

Two fucking weeks.

I was pissed.  Bad enough to loose a day's pay to have somebody dig a almond-sized hunk of flesh off your head.  But to leave the office with instructions to cease a beneficial and fun activity was bordering on the intolerable.  I have a couple centuries in June to train for.  The weather is starting to warm up.  It's glorious out there, and I'm stuck with doctors orders to take it easy.

Bullshit.

But what can you do?

You contemplate your growing collection of cancers and follow doctor's orders.

Bastard.

On the bright side it's less that two weeks till I'm back in the saddle.  I have a dressing change on Friday and maybe the doctor will see that I'm healing beautifully, relent, and let me get back on the bike.

With my luck they'll want to biopsy a suspicious spot on the other side of my face and plan the next Mohs Surgery.

I can hardly wait.

Wrenching

Gentle Readers .....

I have been remiss in my writing of late.  Truth be told, I had lost my job, and was fully committed to finding  new gig.  This left little time for writing.  After about a month's worth of being unemployed, I was offered a job - a really decent job - and will be starting up there shortly.  We then took a long-overdue trip to visit family in Minnesota, which is where I am as I write this.  Things are settling back to a semblance of normal and I feel like I have the time and energy to write.  So without further gilding of the lily ......

I take care of most of the mechanical needs for our bikes.  I really enjoy the activity and feel like there are a number of benefits.  You save money, become more intimate with the working of a modern bicycle and have a better riding experience overall.  There is also a therapeutic value to the activity.

Bike shops are equipped to handle any problem that may arise with a bicycle, but it comes with a price.  Along with the cost of parts, there are often shop fees associated with the routine maintenance, repairs and upgrades that are part-and-parcel to owning a modern bicycle.  Doing this work yourself saves on shop fees, which can add up quickly and may cost ore than the parts involves.  It also frees you, the consumer, to find the best price you can on the parts you want or need,  So by wrenching your own bike, you can save a bit of money.  For me, She Who Holds The Purse Strings really appreciates this.

It may seem kind of strange to speak of intimacy with a machine, but this is what wrenching your own bike gives you.  After a while, there isn't a single part of your bike that is unfamiliar.  You know very nut, bolt, screw and other bits that are on your bike.  If something is going wrong, or out of adjustment, you know about it long before it becomes a problem.  You also know what needs to be done to fix or correct it.  Oftentimes, this level of intimacy, allows you to correct minor issues as a matter of course.  The bike is almost always in peak condition as a result.

This leads us to the overall experience in riding the bike.  Because you wrench it yourself you are always fully aware of your bike's condition.  As a result of this, you ride with greater confidence in the machine.  You ride without the worry that something may go wrong.  Everything is as it should be, so you can relax and enjoy the ride.

While all that is important, the biggest benefit I get is from the therapeutic value of the activity.  Although my cancer isn't foremost in my mind, it's still a thought that lingers, and there is always frustrations and anxieties that go along with it.  Like anyone else, my life has its share of other stresses which can sometimes weigh heavily on heart and mind.  Being able to take a cup of coffee down to The Shop and tinker with one of our bikes is a remarkable source of relaxation.  It may be a something major, like replacing a part, or readjusting the derailleurs and it may be a simple as cleaning the chain, or just detailing the bike.  Whatever I do leaves me calmer, happier, satisfied and relaxed.  The cares and concerns of the day are suddenly gone.  As Steinbeck said so well (and I paraphrase),......

The world, once again, spins in greased grooves.

So, there's a lot to be said for wrenching your own bike and there's really nothing much to it.  Modern bicycles are relatively simple machines whose workings are easily understood and learned.  You can save a buck or two, be a better cyclist, have a lot more fun and it can even help you feel better.

Feeling better is important.

Shelly's Mantra

One my wife's best friends, a gal we'll call Shelly, is a cancer survivor.  Cervical cancer.  She's been through 3 rounds of chemotherapy for that.  The therapy beat the crap out of her, but she pulled though and is currently in remission.

Shelly is also a recovering alcoholic.  She's been sober for over 20 years.

She tends to vote Republican.

I tend to overlook that.

I have a lot of respect for Shelly.

When my doctor's constant pressure about my smoking finally got to be too much, I went to Shelly for some advice.  After all, she a pulled through several rounds of chemo AND quit drinking.  Anyone who's been though that in one lifetime is someone to be talking to about smoking cessation.  I asked her if, based on personal experience with breaking the cycle of addiction, did she know of some trick, something I may have overlooked, or simply didn't know when I tried quitting before?  Her answer was both simple and profound.

Whatever you do, no matter what happens, DO NOT have another cigarette.

In my experience the simplest advice is always the best.

DO NOT have another cigarette.

That's pretty simple but it's also very hard.  Resisting the urge to to smoke, to have one more cigarette, is the one thing I was never able to do.  Just the same, I knew that's exactly what I'd have to do if was was ever going to quit.

Shelly was right.

 I decided to begin by evaluating my situation.  I saw my addiction on several fronts.  I was addicted to Nicotine, of course.  I also had a digital fixation - I needed to have something in my hand.  I had an oral fixation, too - something in my mouth.  I was addicted to the sensation of having something other than air drawn into my lungs and exhaled as well.  After some consideration I decided that was the world of my smoking addiction.

Next was how to address that.  Having been though a number of half-hearted attempts and ultimate failures, I felt that to gang-up and kick the shit outta the habit was the way to go.  Take no prisoners.  I decided that the need for Nicotine could be dealt with with patches.  I'd used them before and they do tend to keep nicotine craving under control.  My wife suggested trying one of those so-called "eCigs" to help deal with digital/oral fixation.  Then, a little something to take the stressful edge off: Wellbuterin.  Wellbuterin is a drug used to treat depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder and aid in smoking cessation.  Added to that was a new mantra .....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

I was set.

I won't bore you with endless details about this adventure.  Suffice it to say that after two years I have remained smoke-free.  I've laid all the tools, the patches, the eCigs, the Welbuterin aside as well.  I don't need them.  The one thing I still carry is Shelly's mantra .....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

After a good meal when a smoke would be perfect ....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

When I pass a group of smokers and something tells me that they'd happily bum me a smoke ....

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

When I get stressed out with work ...

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

After sex .... ;-)

Whatever you do, DO NOT have another cigarette.

DO NOT have another cigarette.

Quitting smoking isn't easy.  Having friends like Shelly who have been down that road can be a real blessing.

Listen to what they say..

It's Not A Death Sentence

If you want to be sad, no one in the world can make you happy. But if you make up your mind to be happy, no one and nothing on earth can take that happiness from you.

~Paramahansa Yogananda

One of the things you learn when you have cancer is that there are a lot of well-meaning people - beautiful people - who step up and offer their support.  More often than not, that's moral support.

We'll be here if you need us.

If there's anything you need, let us us know.

That sort of thing.

I'm not trying to trivialize.  What these people offer, oftentimes the only thing they that they can offer, is really important.  It's surprisingly comforting to know you have people "in your corner", so to speak.  You find out pretty quickly who actually gives a shit and who doesn't.  You may not ever have to call on them and in any event, there may be nothing they can do, but you do come to consider these people your friends.  They want to make you happy.

We'll be here.........

I had a couple rather touching examples at my office.

Two of the first people I told about the cancer was my boss, Wayne, and his administrative assistant Tammy.  A couple days later I got an email from the senior partners' administrative assistant, Darlene.

Barry and Carol are so sorry to hear about your cancer and wanted me to let you know that if there's any thing the partners can do to help, don't hesitate to ask.  Please keep us posted.

I thought that was very nice.  I was touched.  I was also moderately curious about how Barry and Carol found out about the cancer in the first place, but Ma Clover didn't raise ingrates.  Better to acknowledge the kindness and forget about the source.  So I wrote back saying how deeply I touched I was by the message and thank you very much.  A month before I would have been a little outraged at the intrusion, but today I was thankful for the understanding and compassion being demonstrated.  I was a little curious about how  they found out about it but didn't inquire. As it turned out it was Tammy who spilled the beans.  I couldn't be mad at her, either.  It all came down to people being compassionate.  You can't get pissed about that.

Sometime later I was walking past Wayne's office and he called me in to catch up on how things were going.  I talked about still feeling OK and what a pain all the doctors were and how I'd be better served in Iceland and all about all the crap I was going through.  Wayne took this in with a great deal of understanding.  His wife was in remission from Lymphoma at the time and he and his family had been through the wringer.  Without having actually had cancer himself, he knew exactly what I was going through.  As I was leaving his office he added this:

My wife and I were talking about your situation the other day and she asked me to pass along something.  She asked me to tell you that it's not a death sentence.

.....it's not a death sentence.

I'd already had my fill of people telling me how sorry they were about my having cancer, the looks of sheer horror, the pity.  Finally, someone, a fellow survivor, was giving me something I could work with.  It was like a breath of fresh air.  I had a new mantra.  I decided that this ...... thing ...... that afflicted me would never get the better of me.  I would live life, what life was left to me, happily and fully.  I had a disease, yes.  It might not be curable, yes.  Life in the future could and probably would be a real bitch at times, yes.  So what?

.....it's not a death sentence.

In our society, we're conditioned to think that a cancer diagnosis is the end of the road.  We think that a doctor telling us we have cancer is the same as saying us we're a dead man.  It's all over.  The end of the road.  The last hurrah.  Time to piss on the fire and call in the dogs.

But it's not.  It's none of that.  Yes, in a existential way of thinking, we're all dead.  None of us are getting out of here alive.  That much is certain.  However a doctor telling us we have cancer doesn't mean we're dead ....... yet.  For many of us, surviving cancer means the belief that there is a lot of life left to live and that we will go on living (not just staying alive) ........ until we die.  Maybe all cancer survivors feel way. 

Everyone should live that way.

.....it's not a death sentence.