Careful, It's a Tweak

Rode 18 miles tonight in 1 hour and 10 minutes.  I was a maniac.  Way fun.  

Some things I learned:

1. All this climbing has done something good.  I kept riding up hills on 233 thinking, "THIS was the hill I struggled up before?  THIS is the hill I was weeping over?  THIS is the hill that seemed unsurmountable?"  It was so cool.  Never mind that there are mountains that must be moved in order to reach the September goal -- sometimes it's just fun to see how far I've come.

2. Adjusting both my seat and handlebars just a little bit made a huge difference.  Booty bones still hurt from the new seat, but no numbness or pain in the "nether regions", which, apparently is the girl jock way of saying crotch.  Suits me fine... crotch is one of those words that ... sounds just like what it is... and is uncomfortable to say out loud (and to type.)  It's like... phlegm.  I used to have a music teacher whose last name was Skrobis.  My dad used to insist her name sounded like a body part you weren't supposed to touch in public. 

Anyway, my fingers and thumbs also kept from going numb the entire ride -- no more bringing on the pins and needles.  Success!

And, my lower spine wasn't sore.  So the adjustments are helping.

3. Mental attitude is everything.  I finished the ride and got to the Event Center.  Adam was supposed to be there with the lights he took down from Triangle Park.  He wasn't there yet, and upon calling, I found out it was taking him longer than he had hoped, so I told him I'd ride over to the Park.  Got back on my bike, no problem.  Could have gone farther if the sunlight had cooperated. :)

4. I can do the entire ride if I do what I did tonight 18 times.  18 times, divided by three times a day is 6 days of riding....manageable.

5. I'm too tired to make any more sense of this tonight.

Night, blog.

Sticking With Plan A

Adam and Aislynn and I traveled back to Wisconsin this past week for the wedding of a former student who has grown into a truly lovely woman.  I couldn't have been prouder of all she has become, and we felt so blessed to be able to share in her joy.

While there, we decided to attend services at LifePoint, the church my cousins, Rob and Aimee, pastor.  Adam had never seen their facility, and I am always happy to support their efforts over in Mukwonago.  Rob preached a sermon that he entitled, "Plan B Syndrome".  He talked about how many of us start our spiritual journeys in Plan A, where we are passionate, joyful, committed and disciplined in our approach to discipleship.  We are faithful in our worship, dedicated to prayer, sacrificial in our daily living, and genuine in our witness to others.

But somewhere along the way we end up instead executing Plan B... where we simply "exist" spiritually rather than thrive.  We go to church, but are not truly involved in what happens there.  We talk the talk, but are not empowered to thrive in the love story that is the gospel.

It was powerful food for thought, and as I do these days, I found myself relaying the concept not only spiritually, but to all areas of my life, even my cycling.

In how many areas am I stuck in Plan B because I am not correctly planning, organizing, thinking through and disciplining myself to bring my "A" game (or Plan!)? 

I want to accomplish Plan A -- in everything.   So yesterday, my first day back home, I set out to do all things "A".  I got to work early, read through all the notes from my assistants, looked at my schedule for the week, and then got busy writing out backwards calendars for the events coming up, sorting to-do lists by priority and deadlines.  I took care of several pesky, lingering tasks -- you know the ones-- that I had been shoving aside for weeks.  Done.  There are four big community/cultural events coming up for my department in the next two months, and for each one, my team is going to be executing Plan A.

Then, after work, we made a family trip to the grocery store, replenishing our home food supply and focusing on good, nutritious foods -- lots of berries, vegetables, lean meats, healthy snacks.  Normally, once home, I would put everything away and move to the next task.  Not this time.  I sat down and divided everything from berries and nuts to gluten-free pretzels into one-portion bags and containers, writing the calories, and fat, fiber, protein carb grams right on the bags.  Now, throughout the week, I can "grab and go" AND have everything I need to track on my smartphone -- no Plan B in my eating, and no Plan B in my food journal ("I'll do it later when I can look this up...")

Finally, I got on my bike.  I didn't put it on the truck and take it to an "easier" riding route.  I just got on, faced the hills all around me and rode.  It was a short ride (just 6 miles), but man, did I ever do the climbing.  Up Canyon Road.  Up Garnet Street.  Up Dell Rio.  Up, up, up.   Instead of avoiding the steep hills, as I am prone to do, I went out of my way to find them and climb them.  You know why?  Because the route in September is full of climbs and I need to be on my "A" game.

I took a little break in the middle because as I rode past Zakotnik's house, my good friend and confidante Mary Kay was outside on her porch, enjoying her Kindle and some iced tea.  Soon I was enjoying iced tea with her.  We chatted while I cooled off, and then I admired her new countertops and was back on my bike, climbing, climbing, climbing. 

Add to this mix a dentist appointment,a cello lesson, and a devotional and there you have it -- a day chock full of making good, healthy, Plan A choices.

Not surprisingly, I woke up full of energy and excited to start the new day.  So here's to the continuation of Plan A, with thanks to Rob for the paradigm shift.

Have a great day, blog. 

Sitting Pretty

I am very proud to say that I rode my bike every single day I have been in Wisconsin.  First time ever.  I guess it goes to show that when something is a priority, we accomplish it.  I found myself fashioning my "dates" and appointments around being able to ride my bike to them. My goal was further helped by the fact that my step mom cycles regularly and was happy to ride with me several times.  And. if I can give myself a few extra kudos here, I want to add that it has been 85-90 degrees with high humidity every day. Now that is commitment!

So yes, I need to continue the trend when I get home.  And in fact, I cannot wait to get back to Kemmerer and onto my rode bike again.  Because.....

Because.....

Because I bought a new saddle (seat) today!!! Hoorah!  After reading several books on long-distance cycling, including the Woman's Guide to Cycling, I realized that we women have different sit bone needs than men, ergo the need for specialized "lady-specific" seats.  (Not making that term up... it says right on the package that it's lady-specific.)

Purchased, at Wheel and Sprocket (with a sweet "Founder's Discount" -- thanks Kegel family, and thanks Dad!), a Selle Italia DIVA gel flow seat.  Oh, man.  Oh, man.  Italian leather cover over a gel seat... my booty will thank me tomorrow, the day after, and every day of that 323 mile ride in September.  It has fantastic reviews.. lots of comments by women who were doing some major squirming after 10-15 miles on their old bike seats, but can easily endure 40-60 miles on this one.  Hopefully that is going to be ME very shortly.

I will let you know how it turns out.

In the next two weeks, I need to get majorly organized.  It's time to start creating a list of things I will need and to slowly gather them (and, learning from Cheryl Strayed, practice packing, carrying and using them!)  60 days out now -- yikes!  It's getting really close, but there is still time to get stronger, faster, better.
(Actually, I am feeling a little smug.  My friend Fred is doing the ride with me, and HE has yet to buy a bike... and here I have a bike AND a new seat. Uh huh.)

Stay tuned, and thanks blog!

Cycling as a Lifestyle

I am sitting in my grandfather's kitchen, drinking coffee and listening to the conversations swirling around me.  Heaven.  In 45 minutes I will get on my bike and ride 6 miles to Panera to meet my cousin for...well, more coffee.  But the point is, by noon I will have 12 miles in, so naturally.

This makes me wonder two things.   First, how lovely would it be to live somewhere where fitness could more easily be a part of the daily routine? (And would I take advantage of it?). And second, what would it take to incorporate riding into my normal day in Wyoming?

I'm not going to lie... It would not be easy AT ALL.  There is a lack of shoulders on roads (not to mention bike lanes), frequently the winds gust at over 25 miles per hour, which, without buildings and trees to block, is downright dangerous.  And then there are the hills...Egad.  But it is probably doable with commitment and determination.

So maybe the real question is whether I have that commitment and determination. Not sure.  It deserves more thought, though.

For now, I am going to finish my coffee and get on my bike.  Later today I am going to Wheel and Sprocket to find a better saddle for my Fuji and to look at clip ins for the pedals.  Baby steps. :)

Still Kickin'

Hello, Blog! 

Have you missed me as much as I have missed you?  Happy to say that 1) reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated and 2) the ride is still on.  (I need to do a countdown to September 15th... it's getting closer -- yikes!)

I was traveling the past week and fully intended to blog from the road but got side-tracked by an unfortunate and untimely case of dehydration and esophagitis and subsequent hospitalization.  More on that later, but for now I will say that I am way spoiled by the speedy medical attention here in rural Wyoming.  The San Francisco ER took hoooouuuuurrrrrrs, though the wait was mitigated by the wonderful care of a sweet and funny nurse named Fe.

At any rate, I am back and rarin' to go.  Heading to Milwaukee (again!) for a wedding and of course, to hold my baby niece as much as my sister will let me (if I can wrangle her away from my husband and daughter, who are as doting as I am!)  Adam and Aislynn are already there, and my lovely husband is going to have my old Trek, which has been in Milwaukee since LAST summer, tuned up and ready for me.  It will probably be a nice break from the sleeker but decidedly less comfortable Fuji.

So... more on all of this sooner than later. 

Nite, Blog.

A Second Chance at Life

When people are losing weight, there are pleasures that come from being able to do certain everyday things they weren't able to do before.  Those activities are a kind of benchmark of the progress that has been made.  One of my personal favorites is when I travel on a plane.

In my former 350-pound life, flying was the most miserable experience, for me and undoubtedly for the people around me.  Trying to squish into the little airline seats, not being able to buckle the seatbelt without cutting off the blood supply to my legs, spilling over into the seat of the annoyed slim person beside me -- the whole thing was an exercise in humiliation, shame and discomfort.

Not anymore.  My days of trying to cram myself inconspicuously against the window, watching while the look of dread crossed the face of the unlucky flyer who had the misfortune of being seated next to me are over.  These days I can stride confidently onto the plane, slide gracefully into my seat, buckle the seatbelt with 6-10 inches of belt to spare -- whoo hoo!  And I can smile sweetly at the lucky duck who gets to sit next to my sparkly personality, which is the ONLY part of me that is spilling beyond the borders of my airline seat!

But... I am not so far from those days that I have forgotten the agony.  So Wednesday, when I was flying back from my scouting trip, I felt lot of compassion toward the morbidly obese woman who was seated in my row.  She had to use a seat extender because she couldn't fasten the belt.  She refused any beverages or snacks, and I suspect at least part of the reason was that there was no way she could have put the seat back tray down because her abdomen extended within inches of it.  At one point, I glanced down at her feet.  She was wearing flip flops, her feet so swollen that no standard shoe would have fit.  Her toes were barely visible beneath the folds of flesh.  She was stuffed mercilessly into the seat, trying to push against the wall and window while still holding her Kindle, her arm propped up on her stomach.

She wore a very cute outfit and gorgeous jewelry, had impeccable make-up and really pretty layered, highlighted hair.  But I doubt many people noticed those things.

When she got off the plane, she managed the short walk off the aircraft and then plopped down heavily onto the waiting wheelchair.  All I could think was, but for the grace of God, there go I.  And I wanted so desperately to help her, to tell her that it's not too late, that there is hope.

If I can leave that piece for a moment.... my grandmother died in January of 2010.  In December, my dad called me to tell me that she was in the hospital and that "it wasn't looking good".  My daughter and I flew home that very afternoon, and I went straight to the hospital.  Grandma rallied, and I actually spent some wonderful and precious time with her during that trip.  But in particular I remember being in her hospital room with my Aunt Cheryl and my cousin, Dawn, when the doctor came in with the diagnosis.  I think my cousin Andrew and my Auntie Essie might have been there, too.

The doctor told us that grandma's cancer was now in the lining of her lungs.  He went on to say that they would do everything they could to keep her comfortable.  The rest of us sat there, not really absorbing what he was saying.  Grandma got it.  In her calm and pragmatic way, she said, "So what you're saying is that I am dying." 

The doctor made a "It's as you have said" gesture. Grandma knew.  The family, not so much.  The next two months (the final two of her life) were a heroic effort on the part of everyone to feed Grandma cancer-fighting, uber-healthy foods, vitamins and herbal remedies, all in an effort to improve her state enough that she might even be able to tolerate more chemo and extend her time with us. 

Grandma had lived 86 years of a beautiful, loving, fulfilling life of contribution.  She was at peace, but we wanted more of her.  She was a paragon of everything we valued, loved and held true, and we wanted to preserve it. She succumbed to the cancer on January 6, 2010.

Likewise, when my mother was deteriorating this past year, we put her on hospice (still somehow believing that this was maintenance more than end-of-life care).  In August, the care facility called me to tell me they thought her fever and other symptoms were caused by her beginning the process of "active dying" rather than an infection or other ailment. When a patient is on hospice, they receive comfort care, but are not given what are considered life-prolonging treatments.  That means, for example, they are not sent to the hospital or given CPR when life-threatening symptoms present. 

I, as Mom's healthcare power of attorney, chose not to revoke her hospice and send her to the hospital, in large part because I felt that her MS and dementia had made her quality of life such that it was cruel to force her, through the wonders of modern medicine, to keep holding on.  ("For what?" was the question I kept asking myself.)

Nonetheless, a week later when I was sitting beside her bed mere hours before her death, the confidence in my decision left me.  I sat, listening to her death rattle, singing, talking, reading to her -- anything I could think of, but my mind was racing.  Maybe if we gave her a super-antibiotic...maybe a respirator... maybe we could still reverse the dying process... maybe, maybe, maybe.  She passed away that evening, August 15, 2012.

Which brings me back to the woman on the plane.  I know these all seem disjointed.  I was telling Adam about all of it, tears streaming down my face, trying to connect my thoughts.  He very wisely pointed out that the connector may be the will to survive and not wanting to accept death.  "There is a reason they call it morbid obesity, Jenn," he said.  True that.   I know for sure that I was not really living at 350 pounds. 

Ways I couldn't live at 350 pounds:

1. I didn't like to be outside in the summer because I couldn't tolerate any heat.
2. I couldn't enjoy festivals or amusement parks because I couldn't fit on the rides and I tired so easily from walking.
3. I couldn't hike up to any vistas during road trips.
4. I couldn't relax in a hot bath because I couldn't "fit" in the bathtub.
5. I couldn't lie on my back to relax because my "chins" cut off my airway.
6. I couldn't really enjoy sex or intimacy.
7. When my daughter was an infant, I couldn't nurse her well because my stomach was too big to hold her against me.
8. My back, hips, knees and ankles hurt all the time.
9. I had trouble playing the piano or doing crafts because my hands were so puffy and my fingers were so fat.
10.  All my thoughts centered around my weight, my body, and what I was going to eat or not eat.
11.  I had high blood pressure, metabolic syndrome, thyroid problems, pre-diabetes and sleep apnea.
12.  I struggled with simple tasks like fastening my bra, walking up a flight of stairs, tying my shoes, even wiping myself (I know..eww!).

And probably the worst of all...
13. Aislynn is my one and only miracle child, and it is very likely that my inability to have any other children was due mostly to the weight I carried on my body.  She is an only child and will never have siblings because I couldn't overcome my food addiction and eating problems during my child-bearing years.

So I think Adam is onto something - like someone who has cheated death and been given a second chance, I want so badly to help others who are in my situation... to see them with their own second chance at living. My brother Matt pointed out that a lot of times, how we behave in relation to others really comes back to ourselves.  I mean, Grandma was at peace -- we were the ones who wanted to extend the joy of her in our lives.  With my mom, I knew -- knew -- inside that she had long left a life worth living, and yet in her last hours I wanted her to stay for my own sake.

And maybe my feelings about the woman on the plane are also based in part on the very real fear and anxiety I have that without vigilance and daily attention and constant goals, I could return to that half-life, half-death existence I had created for myself.  That makes sense, because my other prevailing thought throughout the flight was, "I need to get home and get on my bike!"

I want to live and live well.  And maybe when I figure it all out and reach my final health goals, I can help others do the same.

Thanks, blog.

My Gorgeous Reality Check

I'm sitting in the Phoenix airport, on a layover that is experiencing several hours of delays.  Normally being stranded alone in an airport would be enough to send me over the edge, but I am sufficiently excited about what has been accomplished the past 48 hours that it would take 10 more hours of delays, loss of all power and air conditioning at the airport, the batteries on all my various electronics dying and a small hysterical child vomiting on my shoe to ruin my mood.  None of which has happened yet, knock on pleather.

Over the past two days I went from northern Washington to the Oregon border in Astoria, following the route that I will ride in September.  My friend Fred decided last minute to ride along, which was a happy and welcome addition because 1) I was able to take notes, mark mileage and plan hotel and rest stops while he drove and 2) his sister Nancy offered to drive support vehicle in September, which means I don't have to worry about figuring out how to haul 40-50 pounds of gear on this maiden long distance ride -- hoorah!

The trip was so valuable.  First, it gave a very realistic (albeit daunting) idea of what the route looks like and the training that will be needed in order to accomplish the goal.  I naively thought the hilly roads I have been traveling in Wyoming were perhaps worse or at least comparable to the climbs in September. No and no.  The entire ride endures long, steep climbs the likes of which I have never even experienced, let alone practiced.  I also found out just how long each day will be (what do you mean we have only covered 24 miles so far ?!?!?). I stumbled upon another book on long distance riding that has a training schedule for people wanting to work up to a "century" (100 miles in one day). Needless to say, I will be starting that training right away.

Despite the difficulty of the ride, I will say that it is comprised of view after view of the most stunning scenery I have ever seen, including incredible vistas of Puget Sound and the Pacific Coast.

We also talked to several cyclists who were in the process of doing the Pacific Coast Route, including one who was on day four of his two month ride from Canada to Mexico.  The discussions with these adventurists allowed us to pepper them with questions about their experiences and gave some great insight into what lies ahead.  We asked questions about the physical and the mental preparation, gear, maps, rain and weather considerations....all kinds of helpful things.

From a topography standpoint, this trip has everything... Bridges and ferry crossings, forests, farmland, lighthouses, cities...never a shortage of cool things to look at.  So at least while I am gasping and sucking wind and quite possibly weeping, it will be while looking at a whole lot of "pretty".  (Following are just a few of the sights along the way!)