Flying, Health, Puppy

Right, then…

Thought it was time to write a little bit about the flying lessons.

Today, like most weekends, I had a flying lesson.  Early in the process, my instructor focused on the basics:  Turning, altitude changes, taking off, etc…  Having gotten somewhat OK with those, we’ve spent the past 6 or so lessons focusing on landings.  Specifically, we’ve been doing touch and go’s while staying in the pattern.  My instructor stated that we’ll be spending lots of hours practicing these as a) they’re hard to master, and b) they’re a critical part of flying (take offs equal landings, and all…).

There’s a thing that is a little counterintuitive about this process.  Normally, we think that we control altitude changes by either pushing or pulling on the yoke, and we control the speed by working the throttle.  In fact, during most of normal flight, this remains true.  However, while landing, we’re in slow flight, which means that these actions are reversed:  The yoke controls the speed and the throttle controls the altitude.

Counterintuitive, but it does make sense.  If I want the plane to move faster, I point it towards the ground (push the yoke forward) and let gravity do the work.  If I want it to slow down, I point it towards the sky (pull the yoke back) and…well…let gravity do the work.

As for altitude, increasing prop speed (via engine speed) increases air flow over the wings, which creates lift, which then lifts the plane.  Slowing it down does the opposite.

It took me a while to process this, but I’m getting better and remembering which control to actuate when I want speed and/or altitude.  But it’s not that simple.

When landing, you are effectively flying the plane to the ground, leveling off just above the runway, and then pulling the nose up (flaring) to slow down the plane, which causes it to lower on to the main gear, and then touch down the nose wheel.  I’m struggling with the “flying the plane to the ground” portion.

Now, logically, I know that in order to land, I need to get…closer…to…the…ground.  But when I find myself on final approach, with speed maybe a bit too low, I point the nose down to increase speed.  I then incorrectly think that I’m too low, so I give it throttle to gain altitude…which gets me too high.  That, apparently is where I’m hosing thing’s up.  Part of this is my perception of how low I am, vs. how low I need to be, and part is my belief that I’m going too slow (65 Kts is fine, but always seems too slow for some reason).  Regardless, I find myself effectively pointing the plane at the ground while applying power which feels a lot like “Mother of God, I’m going to fly straight into the goddamn ground and they’ll be digging bits of me and airplane out of the goddamn marsh!”.   This feeling with followed by the thought “You’ve done some stupid shit in your life, but this one beats all.”

The good news is that the instructor feels that I am, in fact, improving and that I’m not, in fact, different than other students.  He thinks I have another 7 or so hours of flight before I can solo.  Absolutely terrifying.

One new thing today: I did some talking on the radio with ground control and the tower.  Listening to KPAO tower – or any one, for that matter – on Live ATC is intimidating, but I was told is that there’s only a limited number of things to say with a limited number of responses, generally.  So today I worked with ground to taxi to the run up area, then spoke to the tower to get clearance for takeoff.  While flying, my instructor worked the radio, as he feels (correctly) that it’s more important for me to learn how to fly the damn plane.

So I got that going for me, which is nice…

On the health front, I’ve been sick.  Started out as throat and nose, then descended to URI. So bicycling is out for a few days, which is a fucker as I’m trying to more consistently commute on the bike.  I even have a route mapped out from home to work.  Now, I wait.

Final thing:  Puppy.  It’s amazing how an 8 pound puppy can completely immobilize you.  All she has to do is lay on some part of me and I’ll be stuck for hours as I don’t want to disturb her.  It doesn’t help that she’s soft, either.

OK, enough of this…

The Random Things

Right, then…

A quick post.

I’m down in Fresno this weekend for Thanksgiving.  Having a little time this trip, I finally dragged my scanner down so I can get copies of some of the old pictures my mom has stored in a box.  While I’ve been planning on doing this for years, my brother’s passing brought it to the forefront.

While picking out pictures to scan (pics of brother, pics of me as a baby and teen to show the GF just who she’s involved in, random posterity pics from the 70’s), I came across this:

1st-bike

Unbeknownst to me, my first bike was a Mixte

That there is my first bike.  Now, if you had asked me, I would have said that my first bike was blue, and had orange and yellow pinstripes that our neighbor put on it, and had knobbies that I got one year for my birthday.  Of course, I would have been wrong.  I had forgotten about this one.  What I remember most about this is the non-pneumatic (nonmatic?) tires.  I think the rear tire had split by the time I upgraded to the blue bike (of which I found no pictures of).

You’ll also note – for posterity’s sake – the long shag carpeting that had to be raked.  Of course, not being Fancy People, we did not have a carpet rake so we used the steel rake that we had for the yard.

Another angle, showing the rest of the living room:

my-god-the-70s

The 70’s used to be slightly out of focus, it seems.

This – it should be noted – was the Living Room, where no mortal entered unless they were Company.  You can just imagine what the rest of the house looked like.

Ye Gods.

Categories: Uncategorized

Inspiration, when there is none

Right, then…

Diet and exercise has sort of shit the bed since the summer.  Strike that, since about Easter…but I was holding on for a bit, I think, until the summer, then I sort of let go of the controls.  Whatever, I’m winding out to around 260 or so and getting through it.  That said, I feel a turn coming.  As I do, I tend to be good for a while, then I lash out and be bad for a while…then I get good again.  I reckon I’ve gained and lost 500 lbs over the years.

But every now and again, something gets me to make the turn.  Either some experience or story.  A lot of times, it’s simply a visit to a national park:  Seeing all of those fit people doing active things is enough to get me to start eating healthy, or at least not eat so much. Some times, it’s a story about someone who set themselves straight.  True, I was at Glacier NP during the summer, it was shortly after my brother died, so I wasn’t exactly hitting on all 12 cylinders, so that effort died out.  So lately, I’ve been reading Scott Cutshall’s old blog – Large Fella on a Bike.

Scott gained notoriety for losing something like 312 lbs by riding and eating right.  While I’m not that far down the road, it’s still good reading to me.  While I try to at least cycle commute in once a week (more, preferably, but that doesn’t always work out), I don’t normally get out on the weekend.  After a few days of reading his blog, I went out this evening.  So that’s a turn in the right direction.

I also remember using the bike to run basic errands, like grocery shopping.  For some reason, I had stopped that.  Now that I’m at my GF’s place in the flats, its even easier.  In fact, tonight  I was going to head out to the store to get some powdered sugar (GF’s daughter and neighbor friend are making cupcakes, and they needed it for the frosting).  Upon realizing that we didn’t have any powdered sugar on hand, I was ready to ride the 1/2 mile to the local Safeway:  “I’ll go,” she said.  “Besides, you’ve been drinking.”  It’s true that I had 2 Lagunitas Little Sumpin’s but I was not blasted, just a tad buzzed.  Besides, I love riding while buzzed.  In fact, when I quit drinking 5.5 years ago, one of the things I said that I was going to miss was riding while buzzed.

Now, I’m not going to recommend this.  A bike’s natural attitude is on its side, and booze is known to mess with your trim tabs.  All you need to do is veer into the path of an oncoming car, and then you get your ticket punched.  Also it can be considered somewhat illegal, should the local authorities wish to stop you to chat.  But, I must say, it’s fun.  There’s a sort of high, fine feeling you get with the breeze passing over you, watching the scenery go by, feeling good, relaxed.  Alas, it was not to be…at least tonight:  The neighbor’s had powdered sugar.

But, I foresee myself trying to ride more.  I figure, with some cooperation, I can ride at least 3 out of five days in to work.  On those days I don’t, I figure I can right at night…something I sort of didn’t think about until reading Cutshall’s blog (he made a few references to riding late, so I figure he’s either a night owl or an insomniac). Regardless, he’s given me something new to focus on, in the realm of undoing some of the damage incurred over the summer and fall.

Now, I’m off to order some new lights.

Categories: Uncategorized

The Laddie Reckons Himself as a Poet!

Since we’re discussing Pink Floyd…  OK, we aren’t actually…

Right, Then…

This was some random thing that popped into my head.  Nothing more than a stringing together of individual thoughts or ideas that I have that somehow coagulated.  I’ve done some polishing, but not much.  I come across as a self-important twat in graf 2; I would be if I actually said that shit, but being that it’s in my head, I think it’s OK…  So, grab a snifter of brandy, settle into a wing backed chair, and enjoy…

I went to the place

To talk to The Guy about the Thing

And he said: “Fuck that.

No way.

I don’t think so.”

 

I went to the place.

And everyone was there

And I thought, “Don’t you have homes or jobs or other shit to do?

Why don’t you come here some other time, when I’m someplace else?

Like Tuesday afternoon, when I’m at work…

You fucking people.”

 

And the Thing and the Guy and the Place

Are too fucked up to handle

And the Motherfuckers are Motherfucking it

Every chance they get.

So fuck ‘em.

 

I went to the place

And they were closed…

And I thought “good for them!”

But I still had shit to do

And when I come back

Everyone will be there, just like before

And The Guy will still be a pisser

 

Categories: Uncategorized

Can’t Keep My Mind from the Circling Skies..

Reference:

Right, then…

Apparently, this song is a metaphor for David Gilmour’s feelings about being the new leader of Pink Floyd after Roger Waters left/got booted.  I can live with that, I guess.  But let’s talk about me, now…

Growing up, my father used to talk about flying.  When he was young, my uncle – his older brother – had a Piper Cub…this was in the 1940’s, after the WWII, I assume.  Dad would talk about how it was true seat-of-your-pants flying and that it was better than sex.  My brother disagreed with the latter statement…but that was when he was in his 20’s; I’d reckon he’d have had a different take in his 50’s.  But, I digress…

About 25 years ago, I signed up for an introductory lesson from Tradewinds Aviation in San Jose.  This was back when they were located at SJC, and SJC – like OAK –  was a “not SFO” airport.  I think back then, the intro flight was something ridiculous like $25.  When the day came, I got a call from the instructor – he had to reschedule due to weather.  I think back then, I was working 30 hours a week and taking 8 units, so rescheduling never really happened.

Then, my brother died.

My last post talked about this and how – most importantly – it was rather unexpected.  Some years ago, I saw Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman give a lecture.  Adam responded to a question about what words of wisdom he had and – amongst others – it was “You have more time than you think.”  Which is true, I guess, until you don’t.  So that sudden change got me back to enjoying alcohol again.  It also got me back to the airport.

25 years of inflation and – more importantly – rent, I assume, jacked the intro flight up to $159.  Fortunately, I make more than I did back then, so I was able to swing it.

The flight was cool, surreal and nauseating.  Cool, because – wow, I’m actually doing this.  Surreal, because when you do this, you’re in the left seat and sort of flying the plane (with lots of help of the instructor in there right seat).  So, you’re going down the runway at 60 kts, and then you’re flying, just like that.  Our path took us over Stanford to a stretch of coast between Ano Nuevo and Half Moon Bay, where we practiced ascents, descents and turns.  Also, I was instructed to bring a camera as there was going to be some good scenery to be seen.  Which gets us to nauseating – much to my dismay, I started getting motion sick.  I think it was a combination of general disorientation due to looking through the viewfinder on the camera as well as not expecting some maneuvers that the instructor did.  But, I kept my cookies about me, and once things leveled off, and I put down the camera (and took off my sweatshirt) I started to feel better.  We were  on approach to Palo Alto Airport and just like that, we were on the ground again.  Surreal.

I must have liked it, as I signed up to join Sundance Flying Club, two days later.  That was three weeks ago.  I now have a grand total of 3 hours of flying time – 1 in a Cessna 172, and 2 in a Piper Cherokee Warrior II.  The reason for the shift is due to availability – All of the clubs C172’s are currently scheduled or in for maintenance or inspection; an anomaly, my instructor assures me.  But, not wanting to wait, I scheduled the Piper to continue my lessons.

Overall, I like the Piper and Cessna equally.  The Cessna is high-wing, so you get a good view of the ground when you’re aloft.  The  Piper is low-wing, so you get a good view of the sky when you’re flying.  The both seem to handle about the same.  With the Piper, you have to remember to use the electric fuel pump and primer to start the engine, as it has to pump fuel from the wings up to the engine; with the Cessna, fuel gravity feeds to the engine.  I’ve noted no difference in performance, in my limited experience.  One gripe about the Piper – it only has 1 door.  So you have to crawl across the right seat to get in and out.  Also, there’s only a small port window next to the pilot; contrarily, the Cessna has big fold-down windows to let air in.

Before my first flight, I did some light Googling and found that one can expect a loss of approximately 4F, for every 1000 feet of altitude.  So, if it’s 76F at sea level (which KPAO is, or at least close enough for this conversation), it should be 64 at 3000 feet.  I’m sure it was outside of the plane…but inside that goddamn greenhouse, it was winding out to the low/mid-80’s.  Flow through ventilation only does so much to fix that.

Regardless, thereabouts of mid-September, a few of the planes should be back from their annuals, so I might switch back, depending on availability and cost.  Now, the Piper cost me $123/hr.  This is in line with most of the Cessna’s, but some of the newer ones run about $145/hr.  Add $144 for 2 hours of the instructor time, and that’s a spendy afternoon, for not having any booze.  But more practically, part of the romance of flying is being able to take friends/girlfriend up for sightseeing and/or trips and part of that involves seeing the ground…which the 172 is better suited.

As for the student, he’s slowing progressing.  When I started, I had a hand in getting myself airsick.  That subsided on the second lesson (I bought a pack of ginger candies, just in case).  Last week, I was spending too much time looking at the gauges, taking my hand off of the throttle during maneuvers and not using enough rudder.  This week, I’m still spending too much time looking at the gauges – to the point he said that he’ll resort to blocking the gauges, if necessary – but I’m a little better.  I did much better keeping my hand on the throttle and was better using rudder.  Now, I need to adjust how much input I give to the plane – some turns were too steep, some not enough.  Also, I overshoot my heading and altitude marks, so I need to figure out when to actually stop the turn or climb/descent.  But this is all in due time, I’m told.  The good news is that – in the instructors words – I’m “nothing special”; everyone goes through some of this.

So that’s it for that.  I’m looking to have at least one lesson/week.  Some say it’s better to have two/week, but that gets real spendy real quick.  I often wonder how some folks with pilots licenses are actually able to afford it.  This is a hobby that makes boats and motorcycles look cheap, by comparison.

But back to the issue my father posed:  Is flying better than sex?  Me, in my mid-40’s – would say that both are zesty enterprises, but I would not be wiling to give up one for the other, just yet…

Burn Out, Vacation, Dying and Drinking

Right, then…

One helluva title, no?

NOTE:  This is a rambling, unedited stream of consciousness post, so apologies for that.

Things have been…well…things…since the last post.

The diet went to shit.  I sort of knew this would happen, so it’s not that surprising.  I can only do low-carb for so long without it snapping back at me. So, lotsa weight came back.

The eating was also in part due to stress/burnout/depression over work.  I’m in sort of a losing situation and I get like that when I realize that I’m hosed.  The pisser is that it’s a good company, but my reporting structure is wrong – the way it’s set up creates a conflict of interest and my department is on the losing end.  Of course, we are facing increasing standards and scrutiny, with limited to decreasing support.  So that sucks.

Fortunately, I already had vacation scheduled that happened to coincide with my 1 year anniversary.  This was 5 days/6 nights bicycling through Glacier NP, up to Waterton Lake Park in Canada and back down again.  Overall, it was a good trip, gorgeous scenery and a total of ~160 miles.  Originally, I thought we would be doing 300 miles, but there were different options that – considering my deteriorating physical state (see diet/eating, above) and emotional state (see burnout, above and another development, below) my mental state was very much off-step, so the “fuck it” option was selected more than I had originally planned.

So, burnout.  In addition to work burn out, I got burnt out on  riding about 6 weeks before the trip.  To be honest, this could be more related to work than riding, as I was not pushing huge miles, in my opinion.  There were other things – mainly schedule (assholes scheduling 8:30am meetings, having to be on call at a different campus, etc…) that contributed, but in the end, my heart was not in it.  Oddly, now that the trip is over and there’s no real pressure, I’m sort of looking forward to riding again.

Now, the “new” development that helped my mental game deteriorate:  My brother died, rather unexpectedly.  One week before his 51st birthday.  He was already in the hospital to get a cancerous tumor removed from a kidney, but that had a great prognosis.  In fact, no cancer had actually gotten into the kidney tissue; it was all on the surface.  But, something got botched up during surgery and he started throwing blood clots, so when he came to, he had lost mobility from he waist down.  That was fucked.  The doctors figured that he had a stroke in his spinal cord above where the anesthesiologist put in the needle for the epidural (which caused bruising).  So, again, fucked, but everything from the waist up was just fine, just he’d be facing the next 20 to 30 years in a wheelchair.  I last saw him in the ER on a Tuesday (he was admitted, but they could not move in upstairs as there were no beds).  I had taken a couple of days off to be down there for the surgery and was heading back up to work.  The plan was to come back down on the weekend to get a bead on the situation, and then tell mom (who knew about none of this).  The last thing I said to him was “see you later.”   On Thursday afternoon, I got a call from my sister in laws phone – it was an ER nurse saying that my brother was having trouble breathing.  When I asked what they think it was, she replied that they thought he was having a heart attack.  I tell the nurse to let my sister in law know that the cavalry was coming, shut down, let my boss know, and got on the road.

This meant I was trying to cover 165 miles, 50 of which are in Bay Area traffic, at 3:30 on a Thursday afternoon.  I gave him even odds that he’d be alive when I got there.  I called my girlfriend and let her know that I would not be coming over that night.  I called another close friend of mine, who – coincidentally enough – had just lost her niece in a car accident and was still dealing with that.  About an hour later, as I was driving through south San Jose, I got another call from my sister in law’s phone.  It was my brother’s boss (he had been visiting earlier in the day; SIL had called him back as soon as my brother had trouble breathing).  He introduced himself.  In the background, I could hear my sister in law sobbing.  “Well, judging by the sound of my sister in law, I’m guessing you have some bad news for me.”  And that’s when he  told me that my brother had died.  He offered his condolences and I told him that I knew this was a hard call to make and that I appreciated that he did so and thanked him for working with my brother for many years.  I can’t remember how I ended the call.  I called my girlfriend.  She happened to be in Gilroy at the time, so I agreed to stop and see her before continuing on.  I called my friend.  The day before, I had reached out to our company EAP to line up time with a therapist to talk about my brothers paralysis as it was weighing heavy on me.  In addition to getting in-person sessions, they also said that I had access to 24×7 phone counseling, if things got heavy.  This qualified, so I called them.  I was still numb, but I knew that I’d have the chore of telling our mother that her son had just died.  I called another friend.  I called another friend.  I was on the road for most of the trip down.  I got to Fresno and told mom.  She was numb; she didn’t really believe it at first.  Not that she thought I was lying, but it just didn’t sink in.  I spent most of Friday on the phone – fielding phone calls from family and talking to the hospital and coroner, trying to get an autopsy lined up.  I was spent by 4pm.  My girlfriend came down on the weekend and helped out.  My sister in law and mother thanked her and said that I really needed her.  I didn’t feel that way, but I guess that I was telegraphing things that I wasn’t aware of.  Not that I wasn’t happy for her to be there, but I thought I was holding my own. I spent Monday trying to sort out his financial affairs.  Being the opposite of me, he spent a little more than he made, so some things were past due.  I made sure that the utilities and house payments were current for the month.  I reached out to lawyers.  I instructed my sister in law to contact his HR department for life insurance.  We went to a mortuary and lined up cremation.  I did not cry once, through all of this.

The following Tuesday, I was a back at work.  I figured there was nothing to do in the time being, and we had a global department meeting that I wanted to attend.  One of the managers said that she was surprised I was there.  The senior manager said the same, but said that he was happy to see me there.  I resorted to humor “Do you think I’d miss an opportunity to editorialize about our programs?  It’s very therapeutic!”  We had a good laugh.  If I could stay focused on work, then the numb, heavy pressure on the front and top of my head could be kept at bay.  Once my mind was no longer occupied, the heavy numbness would increase.  During a break, my manager handed me a sympathy card signed by everyone in my department.  I started to open it, and saw the front and felt the tears coming up:  “I’m not going to do this now” and closed the envelope.  Later that night, I read it at my girlfriends house and was fine.  Waiting for my flight to SEATAC, I re-read it with the same effect.

I saw a therapist the Thursday before I left for vacation.  She said that going on the vacation was a good thing, as well, so I was happy to be validated.  This is a new person I got through the company EAP, so she’s not used to my sense of humor.  But she did note that I do have one and said “When someone asks you how you are doing, I can see you saying ‘I’m sad, but I don’t know it, yet’.”  Shit, she got it in one.  That’s how I feel.

I wanted to touch back on drinking, before I wrap this up.  Back in February 2011, I wrote this.  When I wrote that, I did not know how long I would not have a drink.  At the time, I think it was a temporary stop; just a pause to chill out, regain composure and not make an ass of myself.  That temporary stop lasted almost 5 1/2 years.  5 years, 5 months and 3 days later, I had a drink.  We were sitting in the Glacier Lodge in Glacier National Park on our second night of the trip.  Earlier in the day, they made reference to whether or not I  would want a beer, to which I gave them my “Well, that has merit” face.  This led to the discussion that I was the only one really making me do this; it’s not like there was a judge that made me.  So, before dinner, my friends wanted champagne: “Would you want some, if we ordered it?”  I thought for about 5 seconds:  “You know what?  Why the fuck not.”  My reasons were simple:  1)  I missed the taste, generally, 2)  I missed being able to have a drink, and 3) after my brother had unexpectedly died, I realized that things can end just like that, so I should enjoy the things that I enjoy.  Mind you, I’m not looking to get hammered, and I’m avoiding drinking when I’m experiencing emotions.  But, I have been having a beer or a scotch or a glass of wine, without getting drunk.  I look forward to meeting with friends that I used to drink with in the future for a beer or two.  I haven’t told my girlfriend yet, but I think she’ll be OK with it because I’m going to be OK. And that’s how 5 years, 5 months and 3 days of being completely sober ended.

I’m tired, now.  I’m still on Mountain time – 1 hour ahead – and want to go to sleep.

 

Categories: Uncategorized

Diet and Exercise

Right, Then…

Nothing really exciting, today…

I’ve been following a couple of different eating plans – for lack of a better phrase – since the start of 2015.  At the beginning, I was off of all foods that knowingly had added sugar.  I say knowingly as it seems every goddamn thing has high fructose corn syrup in it – even stuff that isn’t sweet – and I’m intermittently good at reading labels.  So candy was out, but tomato sauce makes it past the censor.  The only sweets I ate were fruit and carrots; everything else – pasta, bread, meat, corn chips, etc… – were fair game.

That sort of worked for the first 6 months of 2015 – I lost about 20 lbs.  Then what happened was life stresses and a job change.  So while I was still avoiding added sugars, the stuff that I was allowing myself to eat was increasing in volume.  Eating in volume is something I’m really really good at.  If I’m lucky these periods coincide with compulsive exercising so – at worst – I maintain my weight.  In this case, 10 lbs came back on.

At the start of this year, I went low carb.  Pasta, bread and chips are now exiled and eggs, bacon, cheese and meat meat – in their various luxurious forms – are in, as is low-carb candy (no sugar, but artificial sweeteners…which is probably going to give me cancer of the spleen, or something, but you gotta go sometime).  This came about due to two things:  Some friends did low carb and lost weight, and I read Eat Bacon, Don’t Jog, by Grant Petersen.  The low carb/weight loss correlation does not surprise me as I did the Atkins diet in the early 2000’s, and it worked.  So, I initially dropped about 15 lbs, I think (I didn’t weigh myself exactly on January 1, so I had a few days to lose water weight).  Anyway, the last few weeks, I haven’t been so good – at least on the weekends.  The first weekend was Easter which there was a thing at the Girlfriends brother and sister-in-laws…I had some chips.  Then we went to a big wheel race party in SF…and I had everything else.  But I got back on the plan on Monday (if not Sunday night).  Then last weekend was Carmel and this weekend was…this weekend.  No real occasion to speak of.  OK, to be fair, we went to a child’s birthday party – a friend of my GF’s daughter; they had cake.  And chips…and therein lies the rub.

Like the last time I did a low-carb diet, I certainly was not hungry.  But then, I don’t normally eat for hunger.  I mean, I do, but stay with me here:  I eat for most other reasons in addition to hunger:  I’m happy, sad, tired, well-rested, stressed, relaxed, etc…  But the thing that low-carb lacks – the thing that I start to crave – is crunchy food.

Don’t start in about almonds and celery and such, either; you know what I mean.  I want chips.  Corn chips, tortilla chips, potato chips, you name it.

Also – as I’ve intimated above as well as probably in earlier posts – I don’t stick with any one thing over the long term.  I can be great for 8 months and then BANG!  It’s over.

So, that’s how I’ve been doing with that.

As for riding, the past two weeks have been low on mileage.  Naturally with Easter and being out of town, I did not get my normal weekend ride in.  Also as I was on call last week, I could not realistically cycle commute.  But today, we did a 34 mile training ride and I noted that I can spend a lot more time in the big ring…something that I rarely ever spent time on.  This tells me that – despite having slacked off the past two weeks – my fitness is increasing.  So I’m thinking that my commuting on the fixed gear might be paying off.

It might be time to do more weekend rides on the fixed gear to see how well I do.

Enough of this.

MIMW2

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