I went for a ride on my Cross Check today. Yesterday’s ride on Big Nellie, my recumbent, was unnerving. It was as if I had not ridden it before. I had a feeling I was going to get run over for the entire time I rode.
The Cross Check has a new drive train so I had to make sure it was functioning properly. I am happy to report that Sean at Spokes Etc. in Belle View did fine job. I probably should have told him to put on new bar tape and new brake pads but when he told me he’d change my chain and cassette while I waited I didn’t want to upset my karma.
Today I went with the flow. I rode the Mount Vernon Trail with its downed leaves. The trees at Dyke Marsh were bare. It was a sad sight, one that I will have to get used to for four or five months.
As I passed the golf course I saw a big bald eagle perched in the nest tree. I have been seeing him regularly for a couple of weeks. In the shallows of the river, there were many, many egrets and herons. They must be heading south.
It was in the low 50s. I was in denial. I didn’t wear wool socks. My feet are still cold four hours after I came inside.
I rode over the Woodrow Wilson Bridge because I, like Chuck Berry, had no particular place to go. The expansion joints are really bad. I am glad I don’t have a skinny-tired road bike.
I rode up to Oxon Hill Road then blew through a construction site because there was no accommodation for bike and pedestrians except the other side of a six lane road that I was in no mood to cross twice.
Back down to the Potomac River past the monstrosity of a casino that is being finished. I was going about 30 miles per hour and taking it easy. This is a great hill to ride down but it will be traffic hell soon when the casino opens. They better have some good concerts there because nothing else about it is appealing to me.
Once back in Virginia I rode to the north end of Old Town. Then I reversed course and rode back home. What an exciting trip.
Aside from my feet I was comfortably warm. The streets are double track with leaves on the sides and down the middle. It’s actually quite pretty.
I managed to make it home without any near death experiences. That’s a pretty low bar when you think about it.
I know that I am feeling a little antsy after the election. I imagine a lot of other people are too. So I am trying my best to be civil to people who do stupid things on the road. It helps to wear lobster gloves. Nobody can tell when you are flipping them off.
When you add the election to the other brain squirrels I have, you get a real psychiatric menagerie upstairs. Thank god for bike rides.
Do you remember when we were all saying, I can’t wait until the election is over? Be careful what you wish for.
I spent most of it in Silicon Valley and San Francisco without a bike. My business trip included looking at flexible shared office space, a two-day meeting with futurists, a look see at driverless vehicles, and a demo of virtual reality.
The futurist meeting was pretty interesting because we were developing a sort of cultural business forecast when we were set upon by a yooge black swan. We were all thankful that we had lots of work to do on Wednesday.
On the way to dinner we found ourselves behind a driverless Google car. It looked pretty normal. It even cussed out a pedestrian in the crosswalk. (This was very advanced technology.)
Google Driverless Car
We also browsed in a shop with the latest toys made from tech equipment including a bike helmet with head and taillights, brake lights, and turn signals. The was clearly meant for use in an urban environment. I like the concept but I ride on unlit trails so I need a heck of a lot more forward looking candlepower.
I also saw a device that looked a bit like a narrow black visor. It wraps around your head and sends signals to your brain to improve your meditation experience. Or so they say. Seems to me a mantra or a candle is cheaper but what do I know? If you need this product, you have issues. Just sayin.’
I think the technology behind these sorts of things is fascinating, but I walked out of the shop thinking, “Why does anybody think they need this stuff?” If the economy depended on my spending habits, unemployment would be 75%.
The virtual reality demo would probably get a gamer all worked up. I tried it out and was impressed that it didn’t make me hurl. One of my colleagues was doing the demo with someone in the next room over. Their virtual hands touched. She says she faintly felt the touch on her actual hand. It turns out that virtual reality is useful for helping amputees cope with their situation. Brains are so cool.
Virtual Reality Demo
Even our rental car had odd tech on it. The engine would shut off at traffic lights then restart when the gas pedal was depressed. This drove us all nuts. I wonder how many starter motors this car will go through?
Wherever we walked we could see people typing away on laptops in offices, shared spaces, coffee shops. It seemed all rather dystopian to me. California is a foreign country.
Between meetings on Wednesday and Thursday I read Tweets of despair from my DC-based friends. More than 90% of DC voters backed Clinton. Their tweets were the “OOF” from a punch in the existential gut.
Here’s my take on the election: Certain things don’t need to be written in the rulebook. When a baseball player comes to the plate, it is assumed he is not going to assault the plate umpire with his bat. There is no rule covering this.
For elections, you should be able to assume that candidates will not be human pond scum. Apparently, not. I lived through Nixon. I saw George Wallace’s mean spirited speeches. This is worse. I don’t care how disenfranchised people feel, using the ballot box to validate hatred is unacceptable. Pandora’s box of bigotry has been opened. I hope we figure out how to close it and burn it to ashes. Quickly.
I got back home at 11:30 last night. Today, I took Deets in for a new chain and cassette. The old one had nearly over 3,500 miles on it. Then I took Big Nellie out for a nice, meditative spin. I was focused on not getting killed. Breath in live, breath out die. So relaxing!
I managed to avoid about ten cars being driven randomly on Union Street in Old Town. (Look Martha! There’s a parking space!!!) Fortunately the only police officer around was busy lecturing a bicyclist so he missed all the death defying fun.
In San Francisco Parking Signs Are Helpful
My ride took me to the Lincoln Memorial. All was calm. Then I rode a tailwind home by way of the vast and empty Pentagon North parking lot, Crystal City, Potomac Yards and Old Town.
Yesterday was the fourth annual Cider Ride, the last ride of the year for WABA, the Washington Area Bicyclist Association. The Cider Ride was the creation of Michelle Cleveland whose mission in life is to see me die of exhaustion, nasty weather, and other calamities while on a bike. I am happy to report that she failed again.
Michelle handed the reins for this ride over to Nick Russo. Every so often, a really good baseball team gets a new manager. Success is defined by not screwing a good thing up. Nick succeeded. This is partly because he went into the basement of WABA’s World Headquarters and disabled the WABA weather machine which is notorious for dialing up hurricanes, freezing rain, swamp heat, and tsunamis.
The first Cider Ride took us to the wilds of Prince Georges County, Maryland in early December. It was cold. The roads were bumpy and the drivers were somewhat impatient. One of them ran over a friend of mine. So it was decided to move the ride to Montgomery County, Maryland. This ride was colder than the previous ride plus it had wind and rain. Most people cut their rides short. I took the sag wagon. (Thanks Gina!)
Then somebody got the great idea to move the ride up a month to November and to make use of all the trails running through the Anacostia River watershed. Genius! Pretty fall foliage plus minimal car traffic made for a vastly improved experience. It also imported a tradition from WABA’s 50 States Ride: the impossibly complicated cue sheet. WABA’s motto: “Getting lost is part of the fun!”
(Actual cue written by Michelle Cleveland: “Just after the little intersection but before the traffic light, take a right on the sidewalk. Avoid the light poles, loose concrete, and accumulated sand while you thread your way under the darkest overpass ever constructed until you take a right to take a left at a the Walker Road traffic light. May god have mercy on your soul.” Michelle’s motto: “I have nothing to offer but my own confusion.”)
Last year’s ride was mighty fine. I got lost. I had fun. And donuts. And pie. And I got a mug. This year’s ride was the same except that in the weeks before the ride, a new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail opened up. So the route was revised adding 5 more miles of complexity and confusion. Brilliant!!!
With no rain, calmish winds, and temperatures holding in the 50s the ride was a pleasant meander. Riders stopped to adjust their clothing. The cool air was just that sort of in between temperature that gives autumn bike commuters fits. The discomfort was minor. The foliage was major! Peak!
We endured the blinding colors.
After riding the streets of Northeast DC we hopped on the older Anacostia trails and headed north along the river. In College Park we stopped at Proteus Bikes where hot cider and doughnuts awaited. Next, we passed through the low traffic roads of the Agricultural Research complex and the National Wildlife Federation facility near Beltsville Maryland.
We headed back south and toured Greenbelt Maryland, a planned community dating to the New Deal. At a rest stop in a Greenbelt park we inhaled pie and hot cocoa. Also, a yellowjacket stung my right middle finger. It swelled up so much it was useless against obnoxious drivers for the rest of the day. (Actually, it didn’t swell up and I abstained from using my BSL, bicyclist sign language, for the duration of the ride.)
Somewhere on the return through Riverdale Maryland I lost my cue sheet. This was Michelle’s fault because I blame her for everything. Actually, I had lost my cue sheet holder thingie and forgot to bring a binder clip. So I was pulling the cue sheet out of my vest pocket throughout the ride until I apparently missed when I went to put it back in. Derp.
I followed the slowest group that ever remained upright on bicycles to another rest stop at a bakery where I hooked up with another more faster group that I hoped was going my way. It was.
We made our way to the brand spanking new section of the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail. Bravo to WABA for adding this to the route. This trail rivals the Mount Vernon Trail and the W &OD Trail west of Leesburg for scenery. Fortunately the riders ahead of me knew where to get off the trail (Benning Road) so that we could make our way to the finish. I overheard one of them say “C Street” before they rode away. No worries. I decided to take C to the 1st Street cycletrack to the Metropolitan Branch Trail. Two riders who were unsure of the route gave me their cue sheet and it confirmed that my route exactly matched the official route.
And so we rode the last few miles together.
I arrived at the finish at the Dew Drop Inn rather exhausted. Here’s why:
Suffice it to say that my legs were dead throughout the ride. But I still had a good time. And I got to see several #bikedc friends during the ride and at the after party at the Dew Drop.
After four years, the Cider Ride has really hit its stride. It’s an excellent addition to the Vasa Ride in March and the 50 States Ride in September.
Many thanks to the the volunteers, the providers of snackage and cider and cocoa. Special thanks to Nick for his hard work. And to Michelle, the Ginsberg of cue sheets, who I kid relentlessly and admire intensely.
About this time every year, various local groups hand out free bike lights. It’s like early Christmas for Trail Ninjas. I thought this would begin next week with the end of daylight savings time. I was pleasantly surprised to see people handing out lights at the intersection between the Crystal City connector trail and the Mount Vernon Trail last night. The giveaway was sponsored by the Crystal City Business Improvement District.
Last year at this site the CCBID bike light elves were rousted by the Grinches from National Park Service Police because they didn’t have a permit. This year, a Park Service person was helping to hand the lights out. You could practically hear Whos singing.
Some time ago WABA started reaching out to the Park Service in the hopes of making it more bike friendly. Looks like it’s working. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that WABA’s Director Greg Billing and Deputy Director Nelle Pierson were on hand for the giveaway last night.
I believe that there are more light giveaways next week. There is one at the Intersection of Doom in Rosslyn on Monday night.
Since Monday I’ve ridden 150 miles. Just riding back and forth to work. The Cider Ride is tomorrow. They added a few miles to it. Now it’s over 50 miles. I think I’m gonna need a bigger doughnut.
I did my 150th bike commute of 2016 on Tuesday. One of my commutes was done on 4 hours of sleep thanks to the Cubs. I am now prepared for when the Nats win it all next November.
I have 300 days to go before I retire. Not that I am counting down the days or anything. When I became eligible to retire a few years ago, I took all the plaques and awards that I had received over my career and threw them away.
There are 15o days to go before opening day at Nats Park.
A numerologist would wet his pants reading this blog post.
The number of sightings of #bikedc commuters I know is declining. This week only Lawyer Mike and Shawn. I saw Hoppy Runner this morning though.
The foliage is pretty awesome this week. I haven’t taken a single picture. Others are doing a much better job of it.
I am not riding to work at all next week. This is not a protest. I will be away on business travel.DC to Palo Alto is a little beyond my bike commuting comfort zone.
I forgot a password at work. I called our IT help desk. They said, “Just keep guessing.” After some research online, I ended up doing just that. Only when I gave up and guessed my very first computer password (on which most of my subsequent complex passwords are based) did I hit the jackpot. When I retire, I am going to become an IT desk professional.
My boss used to use the word “oublier” as a password. It’s French for “to forget.”
Nick Hornby is one of my favorite authors. He also reviews books. He once observed that there are well-written books that are not read well. You know the kind that everyone says is the greatest but it doesn’t do a thing for you. For me, The Great Gatsby falls into this not well read category.
A friend of mine is like a good book that I don’t read well anymore. The first 7 chapters were a great read. The last 2 not so much. No matter I how much I re-read them, they don’t work for me at all anymore. I was hoping chapter 10 would turn things around. No luck. It’s very discouraging.
Friendship is a one-way street in Providence. I am not making this up.
I watched a video that claims Donald Trump is illiterate. I disagree. Based on the video and personal experience, I am pretty sure that he is severely dyslexic. As it turns out, many executives are dyslexic. From an early age they learn how to manipulate people to do things on their behalf.
I was nearly hit less than a quarter mile from home tonight. I saw it coming. The car was coming from a side street to my right. The driver was looking to her right, away from me. When she saw she had no cars coming from the right, she started her left hand turn, directly into my path. I turned to her, shined my helmet-mounted light right into her eyes, and said in a very loud and measured way “WHAT…THE…FUCK….ARE…..YOU…DOOOO….ING?” She stopped abruptly. Then she honked her horn at me. I guess she felt embarrassed at her own incompetence. Better her red face than my dead face.
What would she have done if I were a truck instead of a bike? I guess it would depend on how quickly her ambulance arrived.
Yesterday, I had a close encounter with a deer for the second time in a week on the Mount Vernon Trail. It’s that time of year. Seeing deer up close is disconcerting. Not nearly as freaky as a kangaroo though.
Tonight I saw a once well-known, local corporate executive running on the trail near Rosslyn. He sued his father in a dispute over the family business. He always looks like he just bit into a lemon. Every time I see him I wonder what his karma will be.
I often see a local sportscaster/play by play man on the trail running north as I head south toward Old Town. He was my son’s baseball coach freshman year in high school. The way he interacted with umpires cracked me up. Instead of yelling and getting mad, he’d calmly walk toward the ump, wag his finger, shake his head, and say in a quiet voice: “No. No. No.”
My high school baseball coach was a genius. One of his players screwed up a defensive play. Coach: “What are you doing?” Player: “I thought…” Coach: “Don’t think. DO.” It’s funny what you remember from high school.
My high school French teacher got mad one day when he smelled something foul in his classroom. “Fellows. Nobody gonna fart in my class.” Needless to say not a lot got done for the next half hour.
Have you ever seen a baby learn to crawl? They try with every cell in their body to move forward and they move backward instead. They haven’t gotten to the “do” part yet.
Dogs probably don’t think to much about lying down. But they always seem to spin around three times before they do.
And, because this blog is supposed to be about cycling, tonight I passed 7,000 miles for the year.
October is done and another 819 miles are behind me. Of course, I am right where I started so the universe remains as nonsensical as ever. I rode to work 15 times this month. I rode Little Nellie once for 21 miles while on a business trip. Otherwise it was all Deets, my Surly Cross Check.
Poor Deets is starting to wear down. He clearly needs a new chain and cassette. I’ll keep riding him until I get through Saturday’s Cider Ride. Then it’s off to the bike shop for some TLC.
For the year, I have logged 148 bike commutes for 4,300 miles. I have also done weekend rides and an 832 mile bike tour which bring my year to date total to 6,975 miles. So, with any kind of luck, I’ll break 7,000 miles tomorrow on the way home from work. Somehow Deets has managed to become my favorite bike. I have ridden it for 2,654 miles, nearly 600 more than The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia.
October has also seen several deer sightings on my rides home. Tonight there was a young buck with a rather feeble looking set of antlers standing right next to the Mount Vernon Trail at the turnoff to go around the Slaters Lane apartments north of Old Town. We looked at each other. I don’t know who was more surprised. As I came even with him, he bolted into the woods along the river.
I spent my weekend going to sporting events. Of course, I rode my bike to them because cars are bad and the weather was exceptionally good.
Frogs Win – At Long Last
Before our son went to high school at the Maret School, Mrs. Rootchopper and I vowed never to let him play football. This was long before concussions were such a big concern. We changed our minds because the new football coach was the antithesis of raging lunatic coaches. Soft-spoken Mike Engelberg told us before freshman year began, “I will never yell at your son.” He kept his word. (He whined a hell of a lot, though.) He didn’t so much coach football as he taught it.
For years under Mike, Maret came oh so close to winning its conference. In my son’s senior year, the team nearly pulled it off but lost in a monsoon to Flint Hill School in overtime. That was 7 years ago. On Saturday, I rode to St. Albans School (Maret is so small it does not have its own field) on the grounds of the National Cathedral to watch the undefeated Maret Frogs play Flint Hill. Maret led 14-7 at half time then stepped on the gas and left Flint Hill in the dust, winning 43-14. The Washington Post called it “a thumping.” I swore I could hear Al Michels in my head.
So congratulations to Coach Engelberg and his Maret Frogs. It’s been a long time coming. It was a great way to spend a splendid fall afternoon too.
Trail Sightings
Some sightings on the Mount Vernon Trail are inspiring. Others not so much. On my ride to Maret, I spotted a huge bald eagle in the branches above the Belle Haven nest. Maybe its feathers were fluffed up but it looked bigger than any other eagle I’ve seen this year.
As I approached the Dyke Marsh bridge on the Mount Vernon Trail this morning, I saw an ambulance and fire truck pull off the adjacent parkway and park. At the middle of the bridge there was a cluster of people. As I rode by, I could see at their feet a man, probably in his 60s or 70s, lying on the bridge deck on his side. He had a hat on his head and his head was turned to one side. He appeared to be unconscious. Given the abundance of help already there, I rode on. I hope he is okay but I am not optimistic.
About a mile later I was passed by an approaching runner. It was Running Mom, one of the regular people I see on my commute. This morning she was not pushing her son in his stroller. (He’s over a year old. How she runs so fast pushing him, I’ll never know.) We don’t wave to each other. Usually one or both gives and awkward smile. That’s what we did today. I was a little disappointed that she wasn’t running in the marathon.
Security Nonsense
I got a dose of stupid security theater today. I rode to the 14th Street Bridge. I rode up the grassy slope so I could stand on the guardrail of the closed I-395 and watch the runners at the 19 mile mark as they headed into Virginia. Except today, two police officers told me I couldn’t stand there. Closed to spectators. “You have to leave.” I said, “I’ve been coming here for over 20 years, what are you talking about?” No use. So I left.
I rode to the 14th Street Bridge trail that goes across the Potomac River to the Jefferson Memorial in DC. A group of spectators were standing on the ramp shaking their heads. They told me the trail was closed. So I rode up onto the bridge and spotted the police officer. He was standing on the trail as hundreds of cars rushed by on the roadway a few feet to his left. “Trail is closed.” “Why?” “I don’t decide these things. It’s closed.” He told me the nearest bridge that was open was Key Bridge two miles away.
I understand the Tsarnaev Brothers. I understand terrorism. But there is really only about 100 feet of the bridge that poses a security concern. Why not ban people from standing on that part of the bridge? And if you are going to ban pedestrians and bikes, why allow cars and trucks? And if you are going to have police stationed to close these places why not have them just provide actual security (like bag checks) to the spectators instead?
I unloaded on the cop. We’ve come to this? There are probably a half million people lining the marathon course and you pick these two isolated spots to shut down. Really?
I back tracked two miles to Crystal City. There were Marines and the occasional police officer but nobody was checking bags or barring people from standing on the side of the road. I saw one bomb sniffing dog. Once. In about two and a half hours.
Porous security isn’t security. It’s security theater. It makes nervous people feel better. It pisses everybody else off. If you live in DC, you really get tired of this nonsense.
Spectating
I parked myself at the 20.9 and 22.8 mile mark on Crystal Drive.The runners were headed south on the opposite side of the road toward the 21 mile banner. Then they turned a corner and disappeared from view before heading north on Crystal Drive on my side of the road.
It was getting quite warm. In marathon running, 65 degrees is warm. It was already in the 70s. A misting machine was turned on at the corner. Many runners were cramping up. It did not look like much fun, to be honest.
Misting MachineCramping – Are We Having Fun Yet?
I had planned to cheer on my friend Heather and twitter peep Teresa. Teresa posted a picture of her clothing and a selfie at the 9 mile mark. Red shirt. White baseball cap with blonde hair. Camelback. Purple running shoes. So I knew what to look for. Strangely enough I saw three people running at a similar pace to her planned pace wearing the same thing. What are the odds? So I may have seen or or not. If not, there are three women wondering who the heck was that guy yelling “Teresa!”?
Heather is a petite Chinese woman. Unlike Teresa who I only know from her pictures on line, I’be known Heather for 20 or 30 years. I spotted her on the far side of Crystal Drive headed south. I yelled and she turned and waved. Then about 10 minutes later she came running down the edge of the road in full view. I took her picture. With pain all around her, she was smiling. She apologized for being sweaty and gave me a hug then continued on.
Heather in Purple in the Bike Lane
After that, I rode home. In a t-shirt and shorts. On the 30th of October. I am writing this on the deck. It is 80 degrees. Good thing the race ended when it did.
Well, today’s the day for my colonoscopy. It’s a routine test. I have no symptoms to indicate anything is wrong, but you never know. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood.
Just to let you in on the fun, here is what’s went down this week.
Monday to Wednesday: My diet was restricted in preparation for the big event. I could not eat peas, corn, nuts, popcorn and other small foods that might not be fully digested by my stomach and small intestine. So I changed my diet for a few days. Pizza for lunch! (My advice is to add jalapeno peppers to the do not eat list. You’ll thank me for this.)
Wednesday: No solid food today. Just clear liquids. Breakfast was a can of Sprite. Through the rest of the day I drank four cups of coffee, a jumbo Gatorade, an Arnold Palmer (may he rest in peace), a Mountain Dew, and lots of water. I had chicken broth for dinner. (And, yes, I still biked to work.)
The stuff
Wednesday evening: I began drinking what my mom called “the stuff.” This is a liquid laxative that flushes your system out. Years ago this meant drinking two gallons of really nasty tasting fluid. Now the stuff is a six ounce bottle of clear laxative topped off with 10 ounces of water. This is followed by two pints of water. I cheated. I had two cans of broth and some water left over from my bike bottle.
Based on my experience, there is no telling when the laxative will start flushing you out. So you would be wise to do this at home. This time it was about an hour after I drank the stuff. Basically, your stomach starts feeling like Vesuvius, then you hightail it to the WC where you sudden are doing a rather good imitation of the launch rockets on a Saturn 5.
This continues at random intervals for the next two and a half hours. With each “launch” the flow is clearer. This is good.
It did not hurt. At all.
Thursday morning: At 8 am I take my second dose of the stuff. Drink two pints of water. We have liftoff!!! After three trips to the Kennedy Space WC, I have achieved clarity. Mission accomplished.
My next task was to avoid any thought of food. Chocolate chip cookies. Pizza. Tater tots. Beer. Burritos. Ice cream. I have a three-hour wait until I go to the hospital. I take a nap a and dream of all the foods.
Thursday afternoon: Mrs. Rootchopper drives me to the hospital. I already paid by phone and gave the hospital my medical information but I still go through check in and registration because hospital redundancy makes the military look like amateurs.
Yellow Sticky Sox
I walk to the prep room. Mrs. Rootchopper is sent to a waiting room. I put on the standard hospital gown, open in the back, of course. And some yellow sticky socks. Then I climb on a hospital bed. I am covered in warm blankets. I am given a binkie. (No, I just made that up. But it was super comfy under the blankets.) My prep nurse reviews my medical info because redundancy. Another nurse starts an IV for fluids. The fluids are cold, but that’s just the contrast with my body temperature.
The prep nurse sees my pulse is 44 to 46. “Do you work out?” I love when they ask this. I’m a bike commuter! The nurse anesthesiologist appears. I tell him I’m a barfer. He starts me on an anti0nausea drug. He says the anesthetic is pretty short acting but I won’t feel anything during the procedure. I am also given something to raise my heart rate. This is just in case the anesthetic causes my heart rate to drop unexpectedly. It gives him room for error.
Another tech nurse comes in. He positions me for the procedure. I move to the right edge of the bed. Then I roll onto my left side. My knees come up near my chest. My feet and shins are cushioned by warm towels. The doctor will, um, see you now.
Then the doctor shows up. All set? Let’s do it. The anesthesiologist starts the anesthetic. It’s 2:00 pm.
I wake up. Another nurse is there. She tells me it’s over. I look at the clock. 2:15. I felt absolutely nothing. I am lying on the same bed that I started on. On my back. Under warm blankets. The nurse starts asking me how I am doing. My mouth is incredibly dry. She brings me some ice water. Ahhhh! She confirms that my prep was done properly and that the doctor had no problems doing the exam.
The doctor bursts in. Stinking of gin. No, I made that up.
The doctor comes by. He has pictures from the procedure. He found two polyps. In different parts of my colon. He says they both look benign but they are being sent to pathology for confirmation. I’ll know more in a week. The doctor is unconcerned. I think he will keep me on the three-year screening cycle because of the polyps and my family history.
Mrs. Rootchopper comes in. The nurse gives her my post-op instructions and she signs the release form because I am still legally not allowed to do so since I am still groggy from the anesthesia.
I feel fine. Drink some more ice water. I stand to get dressed and stagger back against the bed. I start putting on my underpants backwards. Then I start doing the same with my sweatshirt. Mrs. Rootchopper gets a laugh out of it. Okay, I’m gonna chill for the rest of the day.
A volunteer comes and gives me a wheel chair ride to the car that Mrs. Rootchopper has pulled up to the hospital door. In five minutes I am home eating a light meal.
Post Op Comfort Food
That’s it. Easy peasy. I should be fine to ride to work in the morning. Rachel “Don’t Call Me Bob” Cannon has offered to buy me a cookie at Friday Coffee Club. I just might take her up on that.
I was going to include pictures from the procedure but that might gross you out. They are of the inside of the colon. The irregularities are obvious which is why this screening is so useful to doctors. I think the pictures are really cool, but I know some people find this sort of thing off-putting. (I used to like looking at my father’s medical journals. My colonoscopy pictures are pretty boring by comparison.)
I encourage you to talk to your doctor, especially if you have an immediate family history (mother, father, syblings) of colon cancer. Or if you have any abnormal symptoms that might involve your colon.
Last week my friend Katie Bolton asked me to talk to her about strategies for watching the up coming Marine Corps Marathon. Her article hit the interwebs over the weekend:
I met Katie through Friday Coffee Club. She is an unassuming soul who is infinitely more talented, likable, and bright than she’ll ever know. She is between careers and blogs about the travails of finding the sweet spot in the work/life world, a topic that seems to consume so many of my young friends in DC.
I used to run. A lot. One year I ran 3,000 miles. My marathon best is 3:04:29, good for 24th place at the Heritage Trail Marathon in Troy, NY. No brag. Just fact.
Then I hurt my left knee playing volleyball. Sad face.
I miss running, especially on days when it is just a little too cool for bike riding. That’s prime long distance running weather.
You might think that runners don’t appreciate the cheers from the crowd in a marathon. You’d be wrong. The energy boost that the crowd gives is potent. I’ll never forget the boost I got from the crowds in Newport RI during the final run through downtown in the Ocean State Marathon. (Too bad they weren’t around when I hit the wall three miles later!)
Of course, a great way to cheer your friendly marathoner on is to ride a bike to various spots along the course. In DC you don’t even need a bike. You can use the bike sharing system. Any bike will do.
I know a few people runing Marine Corps so I’ll ride up to DC to cheer them on. if there is a marathon in your neck of the woods, check it out. Make some noise. The runners will definitely appreciate it.
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 