Early Morning Swim - Ouch

One eye cracks open.  It appears to be dawn.  Coulda sworn I just went to sleep.  The eye closes again.  I hear coffee getting started in the kitchen.  I might have a chance at verticalness if only I can get both eyes open and move some part of my body.  Not happening.  Breathe and try again, I tell myself.

The same eye reopens.  Both eyes attempt focus, fail.  Need glasses, grope for glasses, find them.  Odds are against me being able to get arms and legs going; they are arguing hard against the idea.  They know deep in their bones what is ahead of me.  That is, day four of a new semester of competitive swim workouts at the local community college, and I am far from being fit.  Very far.  

You'd think the idea of jumping into a pool early in the morning would put me off, but no.  Somewhere inside of me is a kernel of determination. The difficulty lies in the summoning of energy, and trying to find enough of it in order to move from lying to standing.  It seems like a ridiculously huge task.  Oh my, am I sore and stiff.  It feels like I have to reach out all over the bed, gather up energy that leaked out of me during my sleep and stuff it back into my body so I can move again.  Like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz groping around for his straw after the flying monkeys tore him to bits.  

I get myself to stand up out of bed.  It feels like a monumental achievement, standing up.  Before standing, I have to convince myself that it's going to be a better idea to heave up out of bed than it is to lie sprawled and comfortable, horizontal to the world.  This takes some real negotiation.  The deal is that if I will move really slowly now in exchange for a nap later, I can remain standing and get on with what's next.  Odd parts of my legs, shoulders and arms are popping, making funny little noises.  I am Rice Crispies in human form.  Just add milk? Coffee will be better.

I restarted swimming this week and have been working out harder than I have for a long time.  As a result, muscles and joints are saying no when my mind says go.  The wags say misery loves company, and I take solace in that.  At the pool, I find satisfaction in hearing about my friends' sore muscles and tired bodies.  At least it's not just me feeling tired and shot.  Knowing that they'll be at the pool again today helps.  We'll suffer together and compare stories about traffic getting to the pool, the cold weather, our knotted and tired muscles.  

The theory is that you get in better shape when you work out regularly.  Experience tells me it's going to be about three weeks before I feel human again.  Experience is a good thing, but you really ought to learn from it right from the start.  I knew that taking off a few weeks in May was going to cost me in lost fitness and aches and pains when I started back up again.   I'm about as trashed as I've ever been.  The coach is relentless, murderous, sick.  She laughs at our struggling bodies floundering in the pool every day, doles out no pity whatsoever.   

The coffee is a pleasure to sip.  I kind of stare at the morning paper, read and reread a couple of paragraphs five times, instantly forgetting what I've just read.  A little bit of granola; I'm trying to be good and not think about Pavel's cinnamon rolls, which on a good day I can smell from my front porch when I go outside in the morning.  I feel my body sagging in the chair, hoping to return to bed, feeling pathetic, beginning to whimper, but I also feel my memory stirring up images of being fit and capable.  

My gym bag is waiting for me by the door and the clock is saying go swim, go swim, go swim.  All right, all right, I'll go, my mind is made up.  It's more important to me to go than to stay, so I go.   

Tomorrow, day five.  I can do this.  I just need a massage really badly.  Owww.  

  

Ride That Bike

By the time you read this, it will be or will even have been Bike To Work Day.  CycleAware, in Pacific Grove is offering a free breakfast for bike commuters who take part in the effort to ride to work instead of drive.

I used to ride my bike everywhere.  I carried a lock, stuffed what I needed in a backpack and pedaled my way around town, to and from every destination I could imagine.  I didn't get my driver's license until I was 21.  For a long time, I couldn't afford to have a car.  Even so, I thought riding my bike everywhere was cool.  I saved money and was really healthy.  What's not to like about that?

These days, I drive for 10 minutes to go four miles to the community college.  On my bike it took me 15 minutes.  I wasn't racing to get places; I rode steadily and did just fine.  When cars are stuck in commuter traffic, a bicycle can outdo a car by quite a lot.  Certainly, a bicycle is virtually silent in comparison to cars and motorcycles.  You definitely know more about the places you ride through; your senses are more alive.

Of course, riding is work at times, especially if you have to go up a few hills.  You need to account for time to regain your composure after you've just pedaled a few miles to your doctor's office or the movie theater, and you need a safe place to get your bike secured.

Things have changed for the better in a few ways for cyclists since I was riding a lot.  For instance, my bike then was heavier than the one I have now.  Biking products are sleeker, lighter and better looking compared to what was available back in the day.  Just for an obvious comparison, when I first began riding habitually, there were no hardshell helmets for cyclists.  Then, first-generation helmets looked like plastic buckets with stupid red stripes on them.  Not so cool.  Now, they are all colors of the rainbow and weigh about three ounces.

If riding is so darned cool and makes so much sense, why are you and I not riding our bikes hither and yon?  

As I look back over the past few decades, it's pretty simple:  Cars seduced me.  I gradually yielded to the forces of automotive allure, cultural peer pressure.  Face it, the sound of a big engine rumbling under the hood of a really fast car is fun.  I liked getting somewhere without being sweaty.  I got there faster.  I could get there on dark or rainy nights, and I could carry a lot more stuff with me, and I could get somewhere with my stereo playing cool songs on six speakers.  I could temperature control my world and ride in cushioned comfort.  I could take a few people with me if I wanted to.

Cars, as I don't even have to tell you, are bubbles of insouciance, insulating us from the world.  We hear what we want to hear, do whatever we want to do or say, and no one can penetrate our blissful cocoon unless we want them to.  We are separate, aloof, unconcerned, disconnected and just fine with that, thank you very much.

It definitely has been a trade-off, this switch away from cycling under my own power to powering along rivers of asphalt, encased in a steel-and-rubber universe, although it does seem like overkill to employ a one-ton machine to move a 150 lb. human around.  I can convince myself I'm independent and cool as long as I forget that I'm not as fit and I weigh more now.  I spend a lot more of my income on my transportation costs like insurance, maintenance, fuel, and parking fees.  My car takes up a lot more space.  And it pollutes.  You don't think your car pollutes?  Go breathe the exhaust and see how you like that.  A few hundred million cars all doing that to the air every day and you begin to feel sick.  At least I hope you do, because then I know you have a conscience about your effect on nature and your fellow creatures.  I know that my car-driving habits contribute to foul air and oil slicks that pollute the waters of the world, which is not only heartbreaking but murderous on so many levels I can't even list them.  So, add guilt to my list of reasons not to drive.

The humble bicycle is the most efficient man-made form of transportation ever invented by mankind.  Period.  Beats a car by a country mile.  Walking and running aren't even as efficient.  You are born to run or walk, but it takes a lot longer to get somewhere, and besides you can't coast downhill like you can on a bike.  

There are so many reasons to ride a bike.  So, why don't I do it?  Habit, or lack of it.  Well, I have to admit, there's a little bit of fear involved, too.  There you go:  It's hard to break old habits or form new ones, and there is fear of injury.  But, stop a minute.  Statistics tell us that driving around in cars like we do kills a large number of our citizenry every year.  It's a large number equivalent to a 747 flopping down out of the sky every single day, killing everyone on board.  So, maybe fear of injury is not a good argument after all.  But, still.  It's a concern.

There are quite a few more cars on the road now than when I was a young frisky cyclist.  Lots of those cars are driven by people talking on cell phones who are paying, at best, 50% of their attention to the road.  I want them to notice me when I'm out there riding my bike, and go around me, not over me. That is my concern.

The balance sheet showing the pros and cons relating to riding my bike is heavily weighted in favor of riding.  These days, I walk for most of my errands.  I drive to work, four miles uphill.  At the peak of my fitness 30+ years ago, I even rode there, too.  I'm not thinking I'll be ready for that anytime soon, but I think I can do my part and use my bike instead of my car for most trips.  I'm willing to give it a go and work up to rides of a more ambitious nature little by little.  

Might as well walk the talk, as they say.  Maybe that should be ride the talk.  One way or another, it's a win-win solution.