I shoulda stuck to rootchopping

Well, you see, there was this tree. A weeping cherry tree. It has s secondary trunk that was diseased and needed to be removed. It was about the thickness of a fungo bat and 12 – 15 feet long.

I sawed it off with a pruning saw then went about cutting it up so I could put it out with the trash. I was down to one last section of the trunk. It was about six feet long. I laid it on the grass and hit it several times with an axe. The last whack split it in two.

One half of the log flew up, spinning end over end, and smacked me in the forehead. There was blood. Lots of blood.

Luckily I had a clean paper towel in my pocket. I applied pressure to the wound and got it to stop bleeding after ten minutes.

It turned out that the cut was small. To be on the safe side I drove to the ER which is 1/2 mile from my house.

I’m fine. I have a headache. And a boo boo. They closed it with glue.

It could have been a lot worse.

I think I’ll go for a ride tomorrow. It’s safer.

Jumping on the Medical Hampster Wheel

Normally I wait until some mysterious affliction puts me in the hospital, thereby threatening to kill me or, worse, ruin my riding season. This year will be different.

I went to an orthopedist today to discuss my wonky left knee and hip. We began from the bottom up. He took my running, volleyball, bike crash, fall off the porch, and ride across the country stories. Then he looked at my thighs. My left thigh isn’t as big as my right. Hmmm.

Then he took xrays of my right knee. They came back normal. No obvious signs of damage. WTF. He suggested sending me to physical therapy. I pointed out that if 10,000 miles of cycling a year didn’t build up my thigh muscles, physical therapy wasn’t likely to do much.

He agreed. Then I gently persuaded him to send me for an MRI. Assuming my insurance will pay for it, I’m getting one on Saturday. Only 34 1/2 years after my knee went POP while playing volleyball. Stay tuned. The insurance company may turn it down.

As for my hip, he did a cursory exam and listened to me explain the odd mechanics I’ve been dealing with and said that, for now, we’ll assume it’s iliotibial band tightness. I can’t very much argue; my body is as flexible as a steel I-beam.

So next week I’ll try to get in to see him with pictures in hand.

Also, in two weeks I go to an ear specialist to find out why happy hours have recently been exercises in lip reading.

Just before this started, a friend asked if I was interested in hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Pichu. The tour company needs names and deposits quickly in order to line up the necessary permits.

Trail Tales

I went for a leisurely ride on the Mount Vernon Trail today. When I arrived at the access point on Northdown Road, I came upon a truck that was parked illegally and completely blocking the trail.

It takes a certain amount of chutzpah to park like this. There is usuakky a flex post in the middle of the trail at this entry point but somebody must have removed it.

After scrambling around the truck in the bushes, I took this picture. Then I called the Park Police to report it. The officer answering the phone did not know where Northdown Road was. So I told him it’s parallel to the GW Parkway. That didn’t help him. Do you know where Alexandria Avenue and the stone bridge are? Yes. Just north of there. Okay, I’ll send someone out.

He probably knows where Alexandria Avenue is because two of his colleagues are executed a man a half mile up the street. (It was caught on video.)

It’s a good thing the trail is so nice this time of year. Within a few minutes I reached the Dyke Marsh bridge. The marsh took all my frustration away.

Back to the couch

Well, it had to happen sooner or later. I can’t remember the last time my back went into spasm. Considering the effort involved in riding my bike across the country, it’s a wonder I can even stand these days. Last week I rode over 300 miles. Today, emptying the dishwasher was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

It was a minor muscle spasm in my lower back. Not a big deal. I started doing the runner’s stretch. The one where you lean against a vertical object and stretch your calves and your hamstrings. (The psoas muscle is what you really need to stretch but not while your back is out.)

The stretch calmed the spasm down but I decided not to ride to the baseball game today. Instead I spent an hour mowing the lawn. I rationalized that walking my bike up mountains out west didn’t cause me any trouble so mowing my lawn wouldn’t either. And it didn’t.

I spent the rest of the day in a recliner and on the couch listening to the game. (The Nats lost; glad I didn’t go.) Then I read some of Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything. It’s a humbling book. He studied every kind of science that I can think of and barfed it up into a humorous tome. The big take away is we, you and me, are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. And one of these days we will be wiped out in a flash from one of a number of ugly catastrophic events. (A volcano eruption that would make Mount Saint Helens look like a suppressed burp. A lethal microbe that passes from one person to the next. A rock from space that we never see coming. A humongous solar flare. Just to name of few. Sweet dreams, baby.)

Then I listened to an Offcamera interview with William H. Macy. (Go to Offcamera.com. The hour-long interviews with artists are pretty terrific.) It was filled with wisdom and laughs. One insight about playing bad people: even the biggest asshole you know thinks they are the hero of their own life. That’s how decent people can play evil characters. (Just think of Macy in Fargo and it makes sense.)

I plan to take it relatively easy this week so that I don’t die with my cycling shoes on during the 50 States Ride on Saturday.

Murals of Alexandria Ride

My friend Josephine puts together theme rides occasionally. She did one all about George Washington earlier in the year. Today’s ride wended its way around Alexandria Virginia in a tour of the city’s murals. These things are intended to be intimate but this one caught on. The participants were split into four groups. I started with the third group and ended up with the second group.

The last time I knew this many people at a bicycling related event, we were mourning the death of a friend. It was pretty nice to see people without tears for a change. I ended up riding with Yasmeen, a friend from social media that I met for the first time at last week’s Friday Coffee Club, and Emilia, a native Venezuelan who rode the 50 States Ride with me in 2014 and 2017.

Because of the large turn out, the ride began late. The narrow streets of Old Town kept the pace to a crawl. At each mural, I had Emilia pose for a picture. I didn’t realize until I got home that she was posing in character for each one.

Once through Old Town we made our way to the artsy Del Ray neighborhood. It’s thick with murals, on businesses, houses and public buildings. Along the way, and despite riding at 7 miles per hour, we got ahead of our group. So we tagged along the back of the group in front of us.

After Del Ray the ride goes about six miles to the West End of the city for one last super long mural. It was nice to stretch my legs out. I love riding with Emilia but a recurring theme of our rides is my ignorance of Spanish. My friend Chris who is fluent in Spanish pulled up along side her and the two had a yak fest in Spanish.

After the West End mural we rode a couple more miles to Port City Brewing where the ride ended and the bike and beer crowd could wet their whistles. Many of my friends don’t drink much if at all so they took off. I had a beer last night at the ball game then rode home in the dark. This resulted in a late bed time. A beer a little afternoon would have been the death of me. So I rode the 7+ miles home. Ate lunch. Turned the ballgame on the radio and fell fast asleep in my comfy chair.

Not a bad way to spend a Labor Day Sunday.

Thanks to Josephine and all the volunteers who made this happen. Thanks also to my riding buddies Yasmeen and Emilia.

As a reward for posing, I gave Emilia the camo shirt I picked up at the game last night. I don’t think it goes with the Kermit shirt though.

A full set of my Emilia and the Murals pix can be found on my Flickr site.

August – Dis id nad a bike toor

For a guy who’s not on tour, I sure rode a lot in August.

I rode 29 out of 31 days for a total of 1,105.5 miles.

Dang. My long ride was 104.5. I did 306 miles on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday with the little wheels that beat my body up. When it got too much for my back I switched the Mule and rode 324.5 miles in seven days. All but 35 of the remaining miles was on my CrossCheck.

The only other months this year in which I exceeded 1,000 miles were May and June when I was riding across the country.

I blew by 7,000 miles for the year. I’m at 7,551 so far. I doubt I’ll top 11,000 like I did last year, but I’ve got a decent shot at 10,000 miles.

My Crosscheck reached 13,000 miles and The Mule topped 54,000.

For the last two days, my left knee has not been sore. No wonder I’ve been gazing at the Adventure Cycling interactive map of US bike routes.

How many states can I pick off in 2020?

Double Double Nickels

A double nickel is 55. The first time I heard this expression was when Jimmy Carter imposed a national 55 mile per hour speed limit during an “energy crisis.” Back in the 70s an energy crisis existed when you couldn’t find gas for your tank. Driving 55 on a wide open highway clearly designed for speeds of 70 or 75 miles per hour is enough to make you crazy. I once got a ticket for going 65 on I-66 in Virginia. The very same highway now has a 70 mile per hour speed limit. I should ask for a refund.

The energy crisis also introduced us to right on red. I am willing to bet that thousands of bicyclists and pedestrians have been mowed down by cars that don’t both to stop when making a right on red. It happened to me when I was on a bike trail.

I wonder if the lives saved from the double nickel exceeded the lives lost from right on red. Personally, I think these two changes began the erosion of the public’s regard for traffic laws. We got rid of the 55 mile per hour speed limit decades ago. We should do the same with right on red.

Screed over.

The contractors working on our house were not nearly as noisy as usual but their choice of overwrought oldie latin ballads on their boombox was getting pretty irritating. How long is this singer going to hold the vibratto note on “quiero”? Fortunately today was an absolutely perfect day for a bike ride.

I hit the road with the intent of riding to Bethesda for some pizza for lunch. Bethesda is about 25 miles from home so in my mind this makes sense. Your sanity may vary. I rode the Mount Vernon Trail to Crystal City. Then rode by a scenic and vast Pentagon parking lot before cruising around the north wall of Arlington Cemetery. I circled around the Iwo Jim Memorial (forever fixed in my mind by a nincompoop radio news reader who called it the Statue of the Two Jimas). Next I took Lynn Street through Rosslyn and the Intersection of Doom which is doomier thanks to construction. (I cannot even begin to describe the Intersection of Doom other than to say a bunch of roads, trails, and on and off ramps to I-66 and the GW Parkway all converging at one end of the Key Bridge over the Potomac River into Georgetown. Look up “hot mess” in the dictionary. You’ll se a picture of the Intersection of Doom.)

Over the Key Bridge then up a side street into Georgetown where students meandered with big smiles on their faces, a sure sign that classes aren’t underway yet. I managed to miss a turn but soon found myself headed west-ish on Reservoir Road past Georgetown Hospital (and more construction) and the Bauhaus-y German Embassy.

Reservoir took me to MacArthur Boulevard which I planned to take to Persimmon Tree Road then up to downtown Bethesda. By the time I got to Persimmon Tree Road, I had already clocked 24 miles. Downtown Bethesda seemed a bit too far away so I decided to continue on MacArthur to the Old Anglers Inn where I could get something to eat.

Did I mention it was a perfect day for riding a bike? Well, it was. I got to the Old Anglers and I didn’t want to stop. So I refilled my water bottles and cut over to the C & O Canal towpath and headed back home. The towpath was bumpy in parts but after about a mile things smoothed out and I was cruising along with a tailwind.

There was plenty of evidence that this has been a hard year for the towpath. The towpath was narrow where it runs along the top of a huge wall near Carderock. (It’s a long way down.) The Billy Goat B Trail was closed. And crews were out clearing large trees that had fallen across the towpath.

After a mile of repairs the canal became blissful. Low humidity. Warm temps. A tailwind. Shade. The crunch of tires on the towpath. Ahhhh…..

My bliss was interrupted by an ominous sign. It’s a good thing the sign is there because this part of the river looked really inviting.

Eek.

No skinny dipping for me.

Other than being all kinds of messed up under the Beltway, the towpath was in pretty good condition. About three miles before the end of the canal, I cut over to the Capital Crescent Trail. This took me to a protected cycletrack on K Street along the Georgetown waterfront.

Next I took the side path along the Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway and Ohio Drive past the Watergate, the Kennedy Center, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Jefferson Memorial. (For you out of towners, this is pretty typical of DC. You can’t go a mile without seeing some famous building or other.)

I crossed the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge and headed home on the Mount Vernon Trail. About five miles from my house the first double nickel happened. The Mule turned 55.

Dang, The Mule abides.

I pulled into my driveway with the second double nickel. I had ridden 55 miles.

Did I mention that it is perfect weather for a nap?

Zzzzzzzzzz

The Mule’s Still Got It. My Knee Not So Much.

After two days of beautiful weather, The Mule insisted on going for a long ride. The Mule was jealous because I went hiking with friends yesterday. The Mule gets like that sometimes. The Mule would have killed me in my sleep if it had seen this view from the White Rocks overlook on Sugarloaf Mountain in Maryland.

Image may contain: sky, mountain, plant, outdoor and nature

And so I found myself heading northwest along the Potomac River. For 12 miles I rode into a headwind on the Mount Vernon Trail to DC. I crossed the river on the 14th Street Bridge and headed to Georgetown. Next, I took the Capital Crescent Trail along the north side of the river. I had a choice of routes. Either follow the C&O Canal towpath or switch to the somewhat hilly roads. I chose pavement since the towpath was a mess the last time I rode it.

After 30 miles I reached Potomac Village where gas costs more than top shelf single malt scotch.

I turned left onto River Road and partook of the massive rolling hills, views of stupefying mansions, the tony Bretton Woods Country Club, a Buddhist temple, a one-room schoolhouse, and fields of corn. After over 20 miles I had no choice but to climb Mt. Nebo Road. It goes up steeply, three times. Maybe four. However many times, the last one hurt.

I had a headwind leaving DC but now I could tell the wind direction had changed. I was riding effortlessly, except for the steepest hills. As every cyclist knows this either means you put performance enhancing drugs on your Wheaties or you have a tailwind. Since cinnamon isn’t a PDA, I knew it was the latter.

A few miles later I picked up the towpath, expecting there to be only one mile to get to Whites Ferry, where a privately run cable ferry shuttles travelers across the Potomac River. Somehow the one mile was actually four. Yeah, well. At least the towpath was in excellent condition. I spun along merrily and spooked a couple of deer who were hanging around looking for trouble. They put out their cigs and hightailed it into the woods.

I only had to wait five minutes for the ferry. There were a handful of cars on it coming and going so I was off the boat in under two minutes on the Virginia side of the river.

Did I mention that the weather was nice?

I rode to Leesburg and picked up some snackage. Then headed back home along 35 miles of the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. Into a headwind. Sadly, the snackage contained only chocolate and other sugary delights, not anabolic steroids.

I estimated that the ride would be about 100 miles, but my calculation error on the outbound portion of today’s excursion meant it would be a bit more.

All in all, it was a very pleasant day on the bike, except for the last 20 miles which I did on fumes while trying unsuccessfully to ignore a screaming left knee and shoulder. The left knee has been getting worse by the month and will require some medical intervention this fall. The shoulder has a rotator cuff impingement. (Impingement is a fancy medical term for “messed up”.) I could have surgery on it as well.

Did I mention my sore left hip?

Ugh.

This ride, my longest of the year, was well worth the pain.

Away and home

60 miles a day for days on end while carrying 40 pounds of gear. This is a normal day on tour. At home this would be torture.

I’ve ridden carrying no more than 5 pounds for 17 days in a row. Mostly on flat terrain. I am beat up and tired. I cannot figure it out. Partly, the fatigue has to do with riding Little Nellie. The small wheels on my Bike Friday beat my body up. It’s fun to ride because it’s twitchy and nimble but after a couple of weeks my back starts going into spasm.

I had intended to exploit today’s perfect weather here in DC by going on a monster bike ride. Last night I had a couple of minor back spasms. Then I went to sleep only to wake up with stomach cramps. This turned out to somehow be connected to my ingestion of sour dough bread last evening. I know this because I had sour dough toast for breakfast and my stomach went nuts.

After lazing about for the entire morning, I set out on The Mule to see if my body would respond favorably. It did. I was riding about 10 percent faster. I could barely feel the tree root bumps in the trail. The weather was perfect. The only negative thought I had was whatever will I do when The Mule dies? It fits me so perfectly.

When I got home, I sat on my deck with a glass a merlot. I did the crossword puzzle while listening to a baseball game (Nats won 7-2 over the Cubs) on the radio I received for my birthday. Bliss.

Tomorrow is another perfect weather day. Mrs. Rootchopper and I are joining a couple of friends for a morning hike on Sugarloaf Mountain in Maryland. I get to try out one of my birthday presents, a new Osprey backpack. (I tossed my WalMart fall-apart backpack. I hated that thing.) Afterward, I shall retire to the deck for more radio baseball. (Our TV is out of commission as a result of the renovation to the man cave.)

Next week I have nothing planned and some awesome weather. I think I shall take The Mule out to the country for a long stroll.

So much going on

The home renovation project is proceeding. We are in Week 4 of having our family room and a chunk of our basement refurbished. Framing and electrical are done. The plumbing awaits the fixtures. Insulation is in. Next week will add more drywall, install a new exterior door, and do more work on the bathroom in the man cave. I think we are past the unpleasant surprises stage. Knock wood.
I have been collecting golf balls on my athletic excursions for decades now. Yesterday brought the biggest one day haul ever.
Nine golf balls! They were scattered about on the outside of a golf course fence near a green and its adjacent sand traps. There must have been a parade of rank amateurs recently. Among the balls I found a beat up iPhone. I took it to a local phone store. They found that it was missing its SIM card and concluded that it was stolen and tossed out a car window. Phone thieves are the worst.
For two years, I have been working on my application for Irish citizenship by birthright. Just before I left for my tour in May, I sent off a request for documents to the New York State Vital Records office. I paid $30 extra for expedited, 60-day treatment. I should have received the documents in July, but it took them a month to cash my checks. So the clock on my expedited treatment didn’t start until mid-June. (Unscrupulous credit card companies use a similar tactic. They sometimes sit on mailed payments then charge late fees. My wife had this stunt played on her twice.) Despite giving themselves a full month leeway, it still took the folks in Albany 2 1/2 months to process my request. I had lost all hope until I checked today’s mail. Bingo!
With my grandmother’s wedding certificate now in hand, I now had all the necessary documents in support of my application. As I went to mail it, I noticed that the form listed one address in Dublin and the Irish government website listed another. A lovely lady at the Irish embassy in DC told me to use the address on the website and to send the documents with tracking. As I left the house it began to rain as if I was in Castlebar, County Mayo on a dreary winter day. I drove to the nearest FedEx office. They couldn’t deal with the lengthy address. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get this thing out of my hands. A competent bloke at a nearby UPS store set things right and my application and documents are now winging their way to Dublin. Now I wait a year. Yes, a year.
On my way home I was stopped at a stop light. A big silver sedan pulled up behind me and nudged my car. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw a bun of white hair and two eyes peering over a steering wheel in the sedan. The little old lady had a death grip on the handlebars. It’s a good thing that I drove. That nudge would have knocked me ass over kilter had I been on my bike.
My left knee is really unhappy with me. When I exert force on the pedals, it barks and sends painful electrical signals to my hip which then joins the pain party. When I sit with my leg elevated the knee stiffens up. No bueno. If this doesn’t clear up, I am afraid I will go under the knife this fall. What’s winter without a medical mess to deal with, I say.
Congrats to
- Ed and Mary, the King and Queen of Caffeine, on completing Paris-Brest-Paris yesterday. They rode their tandem 750-odd miles in under 3 1/2 days. Mon Dieu!
- My friend Chelli and her daughter Shivani. They both climbed Kilimonjaro in Africa. Over 19,000 feet. Chelli is taking some friends, me included, for a hike on Sunday. We are so screwed.
- The French sisters who completed their ride across America in New York City this week. I only talked with them for a few minutes in Boulder, Utah but their energy was inspiring. In the process, they raised over $4,500 for Rose Altitude, a breast cancer charity
- Dan Hurwitz who I met near Sapinero, Colorado. He was scheduled to reach the Atlantic Ocean at Revere Beach, Massachusetts today. He started in San Jose, California over 100 days ago.
Cassy is riding 50 States with me this year. When I asked her to join me for the ride, she said she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep up. Today she passed me on the way to work. Left me in the dust. Suffice it to say, I am going to get my ass kicked in a couple of weeks.