One Good Question: Inside or Outside?

Its been a few weeks since my last post.  So, it is time to dive back in and tell you all what I have been doing on the fitness front while the cold has taken over the northeast.

Runners, during the winter, we have many options to stay fit.  We can run inside on a treadmill; we can run outside in the cold and snow; or we can ride a spin bike or use a bicycle trainer.  Well those a generally my options.  This past winter, as you may see by the evolution of this blog, I have started to ride more than run because of general aches and pain caused by running, and my desire to stay indoors for training because I no longer enjoy the cold, so I thought.  This is where the question above comes in, and the answer may surprise you.

Running inside is boring.  I can only stand running while staring at a TV or a wall for about 30 minutes, only enough time to get about 3 or 4 miles in depending on how I feel.  Not to mention that sometimes running indoors can be torture during the winter because the heat in the house is turned up and gets warm fast.  If you run inside on the treadmill, purchase a fan.  It makes for a significantly cooler and more comfortable run.  To tolerate the treadmill run, I added a 40 minute to an hour training bike ride so I achieve 70 plus minutes or so, depending on how I feel, to get more out of my daily exercise and increase my calorie burn.  I do like that method of training indoors best.

The spin bike was a great option for me until I broke the spindle holding the cranks in the spinners bottom bracket.  Now I wait for repairs before I can start spinning again.  I love spinning.  Its simple.  It affords me more training options than the bicycle trainer which I feel, a times, does not offer amble resistance to stand for extended periods of time.  The spin bike allows me to stand anytime and with greater resistance options it duplicates a hill climb better than a trainer.

Oh, now for the outside training... no bicycling in the snow and sub 40 degrees (much below 40 this past month) so that means running.

When I started running in 2008, I loved hitting the road in the winter. I remember running at Onondaga Lake Park (OLP) at 5am with a friend.  The wind blew off the lake cold.  The snow pelted your face.  You froze for the first 5 minutes then you would sweat for the next 30 to 40 minutes and freeze again the last ten minutes before you blasted the heat in your car for the ride home. Yet, it was a badge of honor to tell your friends and co-workers and fellow runners that you had braved the elements and beat mother nature and ran the good run under the circumstances.  Damn that felt good.

It felt even better to run outside while the snow fell, especially that first big snow.  Running the miles listening to the fresh powder crunch beneath your feet was glorious-- is glorious.  Unlike the summer, there is no need for music because the silence of a snowy night is bliss.  Sure your footing may be unstable, but the focus to pace yourself safely, the added stress to balance and push through the pain in your quads is an added benefit you can only have while running on a sandy beach in the summer.  Not all of us have that opportunity in the summer never mind the winter.

I have shied away from the winter outdoors run because I let the cold beat me mentally, mother nature pushed me back indoors and mocks me when I drive passed a runner on my way to the store.  I have had enough of that old hag; no more!  I shall run outside because I love it.  I have hit the road again in the cold.  I have suited up.  I have ran in the slush, the packed snow, and the fluffy powder.  I have ran in the sub freezing temps as low as 17 degrees again, and I like it.  I have pushed old momma nature off my stoop and twice a week I run outside while holding my head up high as the cars drive by and wonder what the heck is that dude doing tonight.  I have taken a spill, but I jump right back up.

 I do not run as I did in years past.  I run slower now.  I do not plan to run anymore marathons, but I do plan to stay in shape.  To accomplish that goal, I aim to run 6 miles minimum even in the cold, heartless winter.  I had forgotten how warm you get while running.  The tendency is to wear too many layers.  But being overheated outside, just as inside, is not good.  Its uncomfortable and messes with your head.  Dress intelligently.  I wear a base layer long sleeve wicking shirt under my half zip jacket and an outer shell up top, and I wear a base layer wicking tight under my running tights with over the calf socks and my usual running shoes.  I wear a pair of gloves, usually made of a wicking fleece and a wool cap.  On really cold nights I will wear a balaclava.

So, to answer the original question, Inside or Outside?  I choose Outside.

Enjoy this horrible winter by making it the best running winter ever.  I will see you on the road.

To Helmet or Not to Helmet, that is the Question

An interesting question was asked during the Bicycle Touring Pro webinar that I listened to this evening.  Darren Aalf is the moderator of the bicycletouringpro.com, and a listener inquired as to why he, Darren, would not wear a bicycle helmet at times since it may set a poor example for children to emulate. 

I would like to discuss this question of bike helmets.  Is it really necessary?

Thinking back to when I was a child, there were no helmet laws for children. As a matter of fact, we didn't even think about wearing a helmet. We just rode our bikes. Our parents placed little to no restrictions on where we could ride never mind thinking about us wearing a silly helmet.  Hell, back then we didn't even put seat-belts on while riding in our parents car. Our parents wanted outside, playing, having fun, and being kids.
 

We rode our two wheelers to friends' homes, to the store like the 5 and 10, or the bike shop Sally's Cyclery, or other places of childhood interest such as  the pizza shop, and the ball fields.  We even rode randomly from town to town without any thought of getting hurt or struck by a car.  We lived the life of kids and used that devil may care attitude to our advantage and explored our community, the hamlet of West Islip and nearby villages. 

When we were young teens, I can even recall a trip I made with a friends across the bridges to Fire Island.  We hung out at the beach and drank a few beers while listening to AC/DC chilling in the dunes. Never, not once, did we ever think of wearing a bicycle helmet. It was silly.Could you imagine a couple of teenagers jamming to music on their boom box riding with "protective gear"?  Not me, never.  I wanted to look cool.  And believe me, I was coll. LOL.

I did get into several accidents with my bicycle.  I ran into parked cars, flipped over the handlebars while riding in dark alley ways, and I was struck by a mail jeep too.  Not once did wearing a helmet ever enter into my mind nor my parents.  I survived all collisions including that incident with the mail jeep.  Yes, a mail jeep sent me into the air landing me abut thirty feet away from where we had banged into each other.  I was bleeding bad, the left side of my face was practically gone, and I tore a huge hole on the top of my forehead.  It was horrible.  I was admitted to Good Samaritan Hospital and stayed for three days.  Over the next several years I had surgery to open my scares on my face to remove pebbles from beneath my skin that rose to the surface.  I truly had "rocks in my head."  I was twelve years old.  I started riding again and still no one, not even my mom, ever thought about putting a helmet n my head.

So where do I fall on the helmet scale?  on a scale of 1 to 10? With 1 being not to wear a helmet and ten being to always wear a helmet, I would fall in the middle.  A solid 5.

Young children learning to ride while their dad holds the back of the bike, I say it depends on the dad, but I would say, no helmet.  Its a safe environment, and the helmet bothers kids and distracts from focusing on balance and having fun.

Young, pre-adolescent children ought to wear a helmet because they start to get less cautious and begin demonstrating their independence by doing stupid things like riding off ramps and riding with little regard for the rules of the road.  While teens and adults should make the call for themselves.  For example, if you are riding to a buddies house or to the library after school, no big deal, but if you are riding for sport, whether road racing or mountain biking, a helmet, is essential.

Helmets these days are considered cool because kids want to look like the pros and parents are over protective. But the cool is what sells.  So wear a helmet.  It may be too hot, yet its cool.  Make your momma happy too.

See you on the road.

Cycleops Fluid Trainer

I was pedaling on my spin bike a couple of days ago, and it started making a noise from the crank area.  I soon was pedaling with one foot, crank still attached to my left shoe.  So, a broken hub/bolt ended my workout.

As bikers and runners, we see opportunity at each disappointment.  this disappointment was an opportunity to purchase an indoor trainer; something i have been contemplating for a while now.  Its funny how events kind of fall into each other.  Just that morning I had bumped into a cyclist friend of mine who trains for cycling events and triathlons.  He was the first person who told me about trainers and when we spoke again the other day I had asked him about the trainers he recommends and/or uses.  He said the Kinetic or the Cycleops fluid trainers.  He has a Cycleops.

I finished my day and jumped on youtube to see what I could find about these two trainers.  Both are simple to use and provide exhaustive workouts with a real road feel, and both trainers accommodate beginners and experienced riders.  I looked at the manufacturers websites and reviews on Amazon.  There were no glaring differences.  So I went to the bike store first thing the next morning.

It was a cold morning, and I had many things to do, but I drove over in the snow and freezing cold to Syracuse Bicycle just before opening.  Within ten minutes I had purchased the whole kit and caboodle of the Cycleops Fluid Trainer with floor mat, sweat guard, remote holder, and two front tire mounts.  Yes!  I was ready to start working out.

My first workout was just a up and down interval ride.  I did not keep track of calories/HR, only cadence. It was a tough one hour.  Lots of sweat.  I followed that up today with another hour more intense intervals while wearing a HR monitor and I burned 711 calories according to the monitor.  Not too bad.

As I continue my indoor training, I will let you know my thoughts about the Cycleops performance.

I will see you on the road.

The Truth About Bicycles

I saw this video on youtube and just had to share it.  Its short, sweet, and to the point.  I love my bicycle and so does this young man.  Brush the dust off that saddle and hit the road.

Tragedy Before the Southern Tier

 

This story ought to be known among all cyclists across the United States of America since not all touring rides are happy stories.  The ride of my cousin, Mark Boyd, never started before two thugs lured him away from a bus station in Fayetteville, NC, stole all his belongings, and brutally murdered him in the street.

Although bicycle touring stories are generally positive and the communities cycled through greet riders with curiosity and often times with generous offerings such as food, and places to sleep, it ought not go un-noticed when a tragedy befalls our riding community.

No where, except for this story in the LI Newsday did we learn of my cousin's demise after traveling the world over by foot and by bicycle.  In a time when Fergusen, MO took to the streets and the media displayed support for a bad individual, a criminal, Michael Brown, little was known about Mark Boyd who hurt no one, and who lived a humble life and sought only to enjoy what each day could bring.

I write of this story knowing little about my cousin.  I am 14 years older than he.  I lived much of his childhood life in Florida. I missed many opportunities to actually know him.  When the family celebrated holidays in New York, I was in college or working in FL.  The one time I remember him most was when he was about 12 years old when he visited with his parents to my parents house outside Orlando.  He and his two brothers at the time swam with my oldest son.   Any other knowledge of Mark came from family members who discussed Mark in terms of being "somewhere" in the world.  He lived and worked in S. Korea for a time; he lived and traveled in the Middle East and even in Rochester, NY.  I guess you could say that Mark lived an adventure everyday.

Many of us "grow up".  We "settle down".  He lived where he traveled.  I would say he knew the people because he trusted them.  Some folks may say that his trust of strangers betrayed him at the outset of his southern tier bicycle tour while in Fayetteville, NC.  He had hoped to catch a bus from Fayetteville to St. Augustine and start his journey across America's southern tier to San Diego, CA.  Wow! What a ride that would be although he had completed a transcontinental ride several times before.

I read about cycling the southern tier across country on crazyguyonabike.com a few days after attending Mark's funeral on Long Island.  It takes a strong man to accomplish such a task.  Strong in character-- heart and mind-- not to mention in good health.  Mark had to be strong.  His entire family, parents, brothers, and sister are all athletic and well disciplined individuals.  I don't know any of them to be anything less than accomplished and talented in sport, song, or mind.

What is my point?  My point is threefold:
1.  The world lost a wonderful person, a free spirit who loved and trusted people enough to travel the world without fear.  Yet, he was stolen from us, from our family before we could actually know him as we should have.  It was a loss that no one, other than the LI Newsday mentioned while a criminal like Michael Brown is celebrated by the media through lies and misinformation. It's a shame. Mark, and the people like him, deserve a memorial reminding the world of how we should be; free and able to travel safely in what is surly supposed to be a nation upon a hill.

2.  Cyclists must know that there are bad folk out there on the road although violent crime is at its lowest points in decades.  Be careful. Choose to trust while discerning to stay put when being led astray. Nothing good can ever come of turning yourself over to thugs hoping to survive by doing as they say.  Unfortunately, appearances do speak volumes; after all, we must acknowledge the value of personal safety above offending someone we do not know.  Toss the false idea of racism out the window and hold tightly to the reality of the danger that can snuff the out the light of your soul.  Just be careful out there.  Don't fear others; be aware of bad intentions and take first impressions seriously.

3.  I wanted the world to know that Mark has inspired me to bicycle tour.  I was introduced to road cycling by Mark's dad, my uncle, a few years ago.  Cycling has replaced running as my best form of exercise and recreation.  Although I had always wondered about long distance cycling rides, Mark's story has pushed me to give it a whirl since life is so short.  I want my experience of learning how to bike tour to help me learn about my cousin and to try to see the world in a more positive light rather than through a skeptic's lens.  Ultimately, as a way to honor Mark's legacy of living each day as an adventure and to spread the love of cycling.

Mark's story will not end.  I will carry it every day of my life.  I think about him often.  I think about his adventure in India sitting on the top of a train like the regular folk, who cling on to the rails hoping to reach their destination.  I ponder what it he must have thought about as he rode passed the many natural wonders of the world.  He actually rode a camel and saw the ancient pyramids of Egypt.  I will not accomplish all that he did, many of us won't, but if we can only have a taste and spread that flavor for adventure and shared experiences, it may be possible to make an even safer world.

I will see you on the road.

Central New York on a Bicycle

I have started reading this book, Around the World on a Bicycle.  The author, Thomas Stevens wrote a few pages regarding his brief ride through central New York that I wanted to publish on the blog because I found it rather cool that he included our region, not only as part of his "most excellent" journey, but as part of his book.

Although Tom Stevens made his bike tour over a hundred years ago, his ride is a testimony that bike touring can be done by anyone.  His bicycle was not a Surly LHT.  He did not wear special clothing nor did he travel with lightweight gear.  All he had were his wits, a few essentials, and the kindness of strangers who he met along the road.  Mountain passes, dirt and stone, or grass was where the rubber tires of his two wheeler rolled upon.  Without a doubt, his record, in volume one, of his journey from the Pacific to the Atlantic is inspiring.  I have read up to his arrival in Massachusetts.  I love it so far.  Its more than just a journal. Its a story of perseverance; its a discussion of a nations culture and its varied peoples.  The concept of diversity today is nothing as it ought to be. Political correctness and the false idea that differences of  opinion and differences in preference as being a blight on America has created an atmosphere of forced similarity (actually a forced denial of reality and truth) and declarations of racism at the slightest comment concerning stereotypes and conversations of American Society.

Thomas Stevens book, Around the World on a Bicycle is free of our modern sensitivities of national differences.  Its a fun, simple read of interactions among people from coast to coast.  I am looking forward for the rest of the story.  So, below is an excerpt concerning his ride through Central New York.

"...Inquiring the best road to Geneva I am advised of the superiority of the one leading passed the poor-house.  Finding them somewhat intricate, and being too super-sensitive to stop people and ask them the road to the poor-house, I deservedly get lost, and am wandering erratically eastward through the darkness, when I fortunately meet a wheelman in a buggy, who directs me to his mother's farm-house near by, with instructions to that most excellent lady to accommodate me for the night.  Nine o'clock in the morning I reach fair Geneva, so beautifully situated on Seneca's silvery lake, passing the State agricultural farm en route; continuing on up the Seneca River, passing through Waterloo and Seneca Falls to Cayuga, and from thence to Auburn and Skaneateles, where I heave a sigh at the thoughts of leaving the last- I cannot say the loveliest, for all are equally lovely-- of that beautiful chain of lakes that transforms this part of New York State into a vast and delightful summer resort.
" 'Down a romantic Swiss glen, where scores of sylvan nooks and rippling hills invite one to cast about for fairies and sprites,' " is the word descriptive of my route from Marcellus next morning.  Once again, on nearing Camillus outlet from the narrow vale, I hear the sound of Sunday bells, and after the church-bell-less Western wilds,it seems to me that their notes have visited me amid beautiful scenes, strangely often of late.  Arriving at Camillus, I ask the name of the sparkling little stream that dances along this fairy glen like a child at play, absorbing the sun-rays and coquettishly reflecting them in the faces of the venerable oaks that bend over it like loving guardians protecting it from evil.  My ears are prepared to hear a musical Indian name-- "Laughing-Waters" at least; but, like a week's washing ruthlessly intruding upon love's young dream, falls on my waiting ears the unpoetic misnomer, "Nine-Mile Creek."  Over good roads to Syracuse, and from thence my route leads down the Erie Canal, alternately riding down the canal tow-path, the wagon-roads, and between the tracks of the New York Central Railway.  On the former, the greatest drawback to peaceful cycling is the towing-mule and his unwarrantable animosity toward the bicycle, and the awful, unmentionable profanity engendered thereby in utterances of the boatmen.  Sometimes the burden of this sulphurous profanity is aimed at me, sometimes at the inoffensive bicycle, or both of us collectively but oftener is it directed at the unspeakable mule, who is really the only party to blame.  A mule scares, not because he feels skittishly inclined to turn back, or to make trouble between his enemies-- the boatmen, his task master, and the cycler, an intruder on his exclusive domain, the Erie tow-path.  A span of mules will pretend to scare, whirl around, and jerk loose from the driver, and go "scooting" back down the tow-path in a manner indicating that nothing less than a stone wall would stop them; but, exactly in the nick of time to prevent the tow-line jerking them sidewise into the canal, they stop.  Trust a mule for never losing his head when he runs away, as does his hot-headed relative, the horse; who never once allows surrounding circumstances to occupy his thoughts to an extent detrimental to his own self-preservative interests.  The Erie Canal mule's first mission in life is to engender profanity and strife between boatmen and cyclists, and the second is to work and chew hay, which brings him out about even with the world all round.  At Rome I enter the famous and beautiful Mohawk Valley, a place long looked forward to with much pleasurable anticipation, from having heard so often of its natural beauties and its interesting historical associations.  " 'It's the garden spot of the world; and travellers who have been all over Europe and everywhere, say there's nothing in the world to equal the quiet landscape beauty of the Mohawk Valley," enthusiastically remarks an old gentleman in spectacles, whom I chance to encounter on the heights east of Herkimer.  Of the first assertion I have nothing to say, having passed through a dozen"garden spots of the world" on tour across America; but there is no gainsaying the fact that the Mohawk Valley, as viewed from this vantage spot, is wonderfully beautiful.  I think it must have been on this spot that the poet received inspiration to compose the beautiful song that is sung alike in the quiet homes of the valley itself and in the trapper's and hunter's tent on the far off Yellowstone-- "Fair is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides, on its clear, shining way to the sea."  The valley is one of the natural gateways of commerce, for, at Little Falls-- where it contracts to a mere pass between the hills-- one can almost throw a stone across six railway tracks, the Erie Canal and the Mohawk River..."

There it is.  A short excerpt from Thomas Stevens Around the World on a Bicycle.  The writing is not spectacular and the sentence structure is not perfect, but it communicates a nice tale of a man's trek across country, in this case CNY.  I hope this excerpt may provide a glimpse of motvation to step outside your home and begin a personal journey in your neighborhood.  Run, walk, or ride.  I can't wait to start my journey along the Erie Canal and then the Adirondacks State Park.  Riding my Surly LHT around the state, maybe the USA one day.  You never know where curiosity may guide you, but you will never know until you take that first giant step.

See you on the road.

Winter Cycling

I love running in the snow, but cycling can be just as much fun... slipping, sliding, and reason to get some new gear.

Be safe out there and wait for the snow to stop and the roads to be clear.

Til then, run or spin. See you on the road.