July 2026 Recap

Reading

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. For a couple of months, I have been following a young man named Denver Camp on Instagram as he hikes the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. His journey brought to mind the hike of Bill Bryson, a comedic author who also seems to be fond of researching every little thing. So I re-read my copy of A Walk in the Woods, his account of a somewhat disjointed attempt at hiking the AT with his friend Katz. The first 80 pages or so are as funny as anything I’ve ever read in my life. The two men abandon their attempt at a through hike (doing all 2,200 miles of the trail) The book goes off on one tangent after another about the geology, flora, fauna, and history of the trail. Bryson wraps up the book describing how he and Katz attempted the last 100+ miles of the trail in Maine. Along the way, Bryson makes it clear that the National Park Service has been a dysfunctional, incompetent mess for generations. I agree.

Riding

I broke 900 miles for the third month this year. More than 500 of my miles were spent riding Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent, in preparation for a blood test on August 3. I took three days off. Two of them were spent hanging out with my son and his girlfriend who are visiting from Thailand.

Touring the grounds of Washington National Cathedral

So far this year, I’ve ridden 6,014 miles, a bit more than last year. I’m on track to ride 10,354 miles. Not half bad considering that I haven’t done a tour this year.

One of my rides this month was my annual pilgrimage to Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens in DC to see the lotus and water lilies. Another was a day tour of Talbott County on Maryland’s eastern shore.

I signed up for the Washington Area Bicyclists Association’s 50 States Ride in September. I have two more in my sights, the Great Pumpkin Ride our of Warrenton, Virginia and WABA’s Cider Ride in early November.

Watching

I’m not a soccer fan but I did watch the last ten minutes of Argentina’s comeback win against England. It was insanely intense. England forgot the old adage, “Never sit on a lead” and it cost them as Argentina pelted the goal with shot after shot. I watched the final between Spain and Argentina. Spain was head and shoulders above every team it played and Argentina was no exception.

And, of course, I watched nearly all the Washington Nationals baseball games. Improbably, the team that was downright terrible from 2020 to 2025 now is in the hunt for a playoff spot. If they can find a decent relief pitcher or two and stay healthy, they just might squeak in. More likely, they’ll fade by Labor Day.

Big Nellie and the Great Cancer Dodge

I am about to turn 71 and have so far, knock wood, dodged the Big C, cancer. This assumes that all the screening tests that I have done have been accurate. (A grad school roommate of mine was not so lucky. He had a “clean’ colonoscopy that missed his cancer. It killed him. Irony alert: his professional specialty was health economics.)

So far this year I have been screened for four types of cancer. I celebrated the new year with a colonoscopy. I have a family history of colon cancer so I’ve been having them every few years since I was in my early 40s. The gastroenterologist found and removed some noncancerous polyps. So far so good. See you in 2029, doctor.

I go to the dentist twice per year. He does a thorough visual screening for oral cancer. He looks in my mouth every which way and so far he’s only seen normal tissue. Smile when you say that, mister.

During my youth I routinely had bad sunburns owing to my heritage from the British Islands. Between running and bicycling I have spent thousands of hours under the sun since I turned 22. My skin is a cosmetic disaster. I go to a dermatologist twice a year for skin screenings. My most recent visit resulted in a biopsy. The tissue was noncancerous. Just to be careful, the doctor froze the bejesus out of the tissue near the biopsy site.

Next week I go for my sixth prostate cancer screening blood test. This involves measuring the amount of prostate specific antigen (PSA) in my blood. During a routine test in 2024 at my primary care doctor’s office, my PSA measured above 4 ng/ml which is indicative of a non-zero probability of prostate cancer for people in my age cohort (60 to 70) with a family history of prostate cancer. My doctor sent me to a urologist who has ordered four subsequent PSA tests and an MRI.

The MRI showed that I have an enlarged prostate (not unusual for old men) and no sign of cancer. An enlarged prostate tends to secrete more PSA into the blood. This alone could cause a high, but innocuous PSA level.

PSA levels also increase with age. Having just turned 70, I have entered a new PSA cohort. My threshold for concern is now 6 instead of 4. Being old has its advantages, I suppose.

Doctors hate when their patients introduce some random wisdom from the Internet. As it turns out, I heard from multiple sources online that bicycling can cause a rise in PSA levels. It seems the pressure of the saddle of a conventional bike on the perineum in turn causes pressure on the prostate gland leading to the prostate secreting abnormally high amounts of PSA.

In August 2025, I repeated one PSA test after having taken a couple of days off the bike. There was no change in my PSA level. (A friend of mine did the same and his PSA fell. As they say in med school, your mileage may vary.)

In February of this year, however, I had a more promising result. The weather was bad that I rode recumbent bikes indoors for about a week before the test. Low and behold my PSA level of nearly 6 in November fell to nearly 4. I felt young again.

In anticipation of my PSA test next week, I have been riding my recumbent exclusively for the last few weeks. I am hoping that Big Nellie is just what the doctor ordered.

Summer Rides

Aside from the usual scary evening thunderstorms and hazy, hot, and humid days, July has been pretty good for bike riding.

I rode The Mule to Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens. My route there was 23 flat miles via the 14th Street Bridge. I hit the summer lotus and water lily blooms near the peak. I did about a mile walk through the gardens. When I was done, I was soaked in sweat. On the way home I took a 21-mile shortcut through Anacostia to the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. I had forgotten about two big hills, one on MLK Jr. Boulevard and another up Oxon Hill in Maryland. They put the hurt on me but the blossoms were worth it.

About a week later I drove over to Talbot County on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. The weather was perfect and the route was flat. I combined two rides from the Talbot County bike brochure. The School Days loop took me west from Easton through some farms and shady wooded areas. I passed through historic Uniontown along the way. The Oxford/St. Michaels route took me to the quaint town of St. Michaels before backtracking to the ferry to Oxford across the Tred Avon River. The ride finished with a 12-mile jaunt back to Easton.

Graves of free and once enslaved blacks who fought for the Union army

Heat Domestique

Ah, we have entered the truly entertaining portion of our DC area summer: the heat dome. Beginning yesterday we will have (at least) five consecutive days of temperatures above 90 degrees F. The F being a rather appropriate abbreviation. With DC’s wonderous summer humidity temperatures will feel like 110 to 115 degrees F. Or as we say hereabouts effing degrees.

I chose to do my normal Wednesday routine yesterday. I left home about 8:30 to clear the way for our housecleaning service and our lawn crew. I rode 15 miles here and there until I ended up at the gym. As I dismounted The Tank, I became aware that the breeze my bicycle riding had generated had disguised the fact that it was now 89 degrees and downright swampy.

Fortunately. the gym had its air conditioning set on Nome. I cooled down nicely despite lifting weights for 30 minutes or so. I use the term “lifting weights” rather liberally because I have to lower the weight on every machine after just about anyone else uses it.

80 pounds! No, that won’t do. Let’s try 45. Much better.

After shehulking, I walked back outside to my trusty steed. You know it’s hot when your bike is sweating. That’s all I’ll say. Off I rode, choosing only the most level ground I could find because I certainly didn’t need any help warming up on a climb. I rode for 15 more miles. Somewhere during the last five I entered the realm of the heat dome. Damn it was hot!/

I made it home and did some chores outside then retreated to the air conditioned splendor of my man cave. Absolutely nothing was going to coax be back out. The heat index was well over 100 effing degrees.

Today, I left home on Little Nellie at 8:30 for a quick trip to the supermarket. I brought one pannier and bought only a few items. When I put the pannier on the bike, it leaned ominously. Oops. I guess I should have bought a half gallon of milk instead. I rode at a slant a little over a mile back home. After putting things away, I took off for another 28 miles of blast-heat adventure.

I went from feeling quite comfortable to feeling nauseous then to feeling turmoil in my intestines. The once-cold water in my bottles was now warm enough to defrost frozen beef. Improbably, drinking it made me feel better. Alas, a few gulps and the comfort/nausea/turmoil sequence began anew.

I managed to make it through the ride and scrambled indoors. The temperature at the end of my ride just after noon was 99 degrees with a heat index of 112.

Tomorrow I plan on riding 15 miles to DC for some nice hot coffee in Georgetown. At 7 a. m. this should be manageable. Then back home in 85-degrees. Via the gym, of course. With any sort of luck I’ll avoid the ER which is conveniently located 1/2 mile from home.

Temperatures over the next two days are supposed to be a couple of degrees higher. I’ll be celebrating Independence Day inside, napping on the couch, dreaming of snowcrete and weeks of subfreezing temperatures.

Stay toasty, my friends.