So I've been doing my typical "end of season equipment review". This is where I decide that next year I'll try and optimize my equipment in order to utilize my soon-to-be-started training to its utmost.
In other words, how do I buy more speed?
I've been very happy with the Power Tap setup except for one thing - I don't have an aero Power Tap rear wheel, whether clincher or tubular, and I definitely don't have one that is a real race wheel. The 32H Mavic Reflex tubular rim currently on the hub is a sad excuse for a race rim and not an ideal rim for a training wheel.
I realized shortly after learning you have to lace Power Tap hubs equally on each side (precluding me lacing a 24H rim onto a 32H hub) that I should have gotten a 24H hub, and in fact, I should have gotten two 24H hubs. 24H Power Taps are hard to find though and weren't an option for me when I first ordered a hub. Whatever. One theoretical 24H Power Tap would be laced to an aero clincher, the other to an aero tubular.
This is due to two theories (of mine) about aero rear wheels:
Theory 1:
You can ALWAYS train on an aero rear wheel, regardless of wind, and since most (carbon) aero rims weigh the same or a little more than a box section rimmed rim, a carbon, deep section clincher wheel would be the obvious choice for a training wheel.
Theory 2:
You can ALWAYS race on an aero rear wheel. Wind conditions can be ignored (see Theory 1, above). The only other factor - weight. Perhaps on a steep hilltop finish, the extra 50-100 grams might be a detriment, but think of the aero savings sitting in the field leading up to the finish. Okay, so on Mount Washington there's no such opportunity so there a light wheel would be good - and probably one without a Power Tap hub jammed in the middle of it. So, if you have a Power Tap hub for racing, you should have an aero rear rim - a deep section rim.
Deep section rims need, at most, 24 spokes, so you need to get a 24H hub.
Unfortunately, I got myself a 32H hub.
According to my two rules above, the hub is unusable.
There's a corollary too.
Corollary:
For most racers (under, say, 225 lbs), you need, at most, 24 spokes in the rear with a deep section rim.
Since Theory 1 and Theory 2 illustrate why you'd never be without a deep section rim, the corollary illustrates why you'd never need a Power Tap hub with more than 24 spoke holes. As an illustration of this - my Reynolds (carbon 46mm deep) rear wheel has 20 spokes.
Exception:
As usual, there is one exception - and it's for whoever wants to buy my Power Tap. They definitely want a 32H Power Tap!
Anyway, with my two theories and the corollary in mind, I realized that, based on my current financial situation, the Power Tap won't meet my needs.
This is because to satisfy my training and racing requirements, I'll need to buy two hubs - both 24H Campy hubs. 24H - one hurdle. Campy - another hurdle. Based on eBay prices, this will set me back about $2000, and based on an email to Saris, I have to choose either wired or wireless, the latter being more prevalent at this time (and more costly). This two hub purchase will set me up with one race wheel and no training wheels. The race wheel will come courtesy of a surplus (and old) 24H Zipp rim sitting in my wheel collection. I'll have to buy one training rim to build a similar training wheel - deep section rim, $400 or so.
I'm looking at $2400, perhaps another $800-1200 if I decide to buy matching rims (meaning two clinchers and another tubular).
And after all that, I'll have just two power-compatible rear wheels.
For someone who's just started racing, or someone with two or maybe three sets of wheels, this would be an acceptable solution. Train on the deep section clinchers, race on the deep section tubulars (with the clinchers as spares, or you can do with two sets of clinchers), and you have a perfect setup - similar parts, easily switchable wheels, etc.
The problem is that I have a LOT of wheels that I use and like - my favorite Reynolds 46mm carbon tubulars, the three Specialized TriSpokes (two front, one rear), my Campy Eurus wheelset (with a second backup set), and a boatload of less exotic wheels - mainly Spinergys and conventional Campy-hubbed FiR-rimmed wheelsets.
All of which, I should point out, do not have Power Tap hubs. The exotics, by the way, do not even accept Power Tap hubs - the TriSpokes (nope), the Reynolds (20H hub? Not readily available), the Campy wheels (21 spoke with a 14/7 spoke count? You crazy?).
I've been kicking around the idea of racing a rear disc wheel in crits as well, and those are definitely not Power Tap-able.
So...
This means my Power Tap experiment is coming to a close.
I've decided to sell my Power Tap, the wheel around it (Mavic Reflex, 32H, DT 2.0 Revolution spokes, alloy nipples on the left side, brass on the right), as well as the original wheel around it (DT 1.1 double eyelet rim, 32 2.0 straight DT spokes, brass nipples, but all currently not on the hub). No tires but there's a rim strip on the DT rim I'll leave. $850 or best offer, by the way, unless I have to eBay it, in which case I'll let the market decide. That's for both rims if you know how to build wheels (you choose which one is actually built around the hub), and I even have a set of 32H FiR tubular rims that I bought sort of by accident (not realizing when the Reflex was coming in, I order other rims "just in case"). And a couple new batteries for the head.
And at some point I'll be buying an SRM crank - 175 mm, 53x39, not sure what other specs.
The big decision on the SRM will be based on Q-factor (the crankset's width, measured by the distance between the left and right pedal's vertical path). The Campy cranks have always been low - as low as 112mm, currently in the 120s. A DA SRM crank is about 139 mm - I'd feel like I'm riding a horse, not a bike. I'd need to stick with the standard SRM setup or go to the System Integration model, i.e. specific for the Cannondale frameset.
That's another thing.
Ever since someone told me their Giant felt a bit flexy, I've been obsessing over that, even if I've denied it in public. A good friend of mine works for a company that makes frames and commented on "flexy is as flexy does" as well. As a clincher, on my pre-wedding training ride, one of the guys had a 6-13, the aluminum lugged, carbon tubed Cannondale - and he loves it. Incidentally he also rode on deep section clinchers, front and rear - the perfect training setup.
So, if Cannondale's frame measures okay (I'm obsessive about fit) and I get to test ride one in some reasonable time, I'll probably be getting a Cannondale frameset, 52 cm. I'm thinking either the 6-13 (unlikely), the System Six (carbon front triangle, aluminum rear, probable), or the new Super Six (all carbon, unlikely).
This would mean getting the SI version of the SRM crankset - the best of the versions, apparently (stiffest anyway).
Then I'd be able to use my beloved Reynolds wheelset and still get power readings. Build my 24H Zipp rim around a Campy 32H hub. Use a disk wheel. All that kind of stuff.
For now though I guess that means I need to dismount my PT stuff and start training on, gasp, "normal" wheels. I suppose that'll be okay - it's how I trained until April of this year, after all.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Helmet Cam - Optimized
Somewhere I saw an ad for a "YouTube" optimized digital camcorder. I've always wondered why my clips were sort of fuzzy and other people's were much nicer when I spent all that money on a nice helmet cam etc.
Well, it ends up that uploading the best quality clips doesn't do anything for YouTube. So with a major recommendation in mind (uploading in 320x240 instead of 640x480), I'll be uploading cleaner and clearer clips of all the clips already there.
In addition I found a clip or two I'd been working on and sort of forgot to finish so I'll try and get them up at some point too.
Well, it ends up that uploading the best quality clips doesn't do anything for YouTube. So with a major recommendation in mind (uploading in 320x240 instead of 640x480), I'll be uploading cleaner and clearer clips of all the clips already there.
In addition I found a clip or two I'd been working on and sort of forgot to finish so I'll try and get them up at some point too.
Life - Wedding - Bonus Note
Out of respect for the folks that appear in the bonus (and to avoid setting an uncomfortable precedent), I'm making the post and related things private.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Life - The Wedding
Ultimately, my goal, and the missus's (now I can say this instead of "future missus") goal, was to have a fun celebration. Yes, we got married, and yes, it was emotional, but really, what took place October 6 was a way of announcing that "Hey, we love each other!" to our family and closest of friends.
We were married at the Friends Meeting House in Wilton, CT. Although we're not necessarily religious, the Meeting House had some special meaning for me - I went to nursery school there, my nephew is now going there (and my nursery school teacher was still teaching when he started although she passed away recently), and my mom's memorial was held there. I hadn't been there in forever (except for my mom's memorial where I wasn't exactly in the mood to explore), so when I went, I discovered that my favorite playground toy, the merry go round, was still there. I remember sitting on it and spinning like mad until I was ill with dizziness. Even back then I was experimenting with rotating weight and moment of inertia - I found that if I went fast on the perimeter and then scooted to the middle, somehow the merry go round would accelerate. That was great because then I'd be even dizzier.
Incredible what four year olds think about.
We had our rehearsal Friday evening. Things went pretty well and a bunch of my family spent some time arranging and rearranging things in the Meeting Room. Our sound system was primitive (laptop + subwoofer equipped speakers) and my little brother was assigned DJ duties (my other brother's wife was extremely pregnant and my sister is only slightly less so which made me reluctant to ask them for anything).
We then went over to the Tuscan Oven in Norwalk for some dinner. They set aside a room for us, it was tastefully decorated, they'd prepared a custom menu (with our names on it and everything). Great food, great time, highly recommended.
Most everyone left but my best man, his wife, the groomsman, and my younger brother were sort of hanging out afterwards. A while back I'd talked what I wanted to do but due to various logistical problems, no one had made any plans. After asking a waitress if she knew any "clubs" in the area (she knew of one), she went and got another guy who happened to know of another ("I, uh, haven't been there in a while but there's a club...". The waitress remembered it - she lives nearby - and gave us detailed directions on how to get there. So we set off on a caravan to this joint.
I won't go into details but I'll say that my little brother, for all his rather extreme music and all that, had never been in one of those clubs. And my Best Man's wife hadn't either. So it was fun because it's fun to go with someone who hadn't gone before and see their reactions to what they see. We were there till some reasonably late hour and left after the scene started getting stale.
Saturday morning, after our late night out, I woke up five hours later at something like 7 in the morning, feeling somewhat zoned-out. I could barely eat, I felt almost numb, and I struggled to get anything done. It surprised me because I thought I had dealt with (or was dealing with) any stress or anxiety - but I realize now that the morning of the wedding I was pretty stressed. Usually I'm grumbly when I'm stressed but fortunately that day I was just frozen like a deer in headlights.
In my normal life I have all sorts of lists and time schedules and stuff - but that day I had a hard time figuring out if 11:30 was too early to shower (or eat or something) for a 1:30 wedding. I'm actually surprised I wasn't sitting frozen in the kitchen till 1:15.
Somehow, I started getting ready (including publishing the post 95 minutes before the wedding), and then time accelerated uncomfortably fast. It's like sitting in a long (for me) 30 lap race and zoning out and suddenly it's 5 to go and there's a break 30 seconds up the road. I started to stress - I had this vague feeling that I should have been at the Meeting House at 12:30 - and it was about 12:30. So I told everyone I'd go on ahead to open up the House and meet them there.
Obviously I arrived there a bit late - about 1 - and there were perhaps half a dozen cars parked already. I opened up the Meeting House doors (I had the keys), and then sat in my fiancee's car (which I'd driven there), AC on high, to try and cool off. It was in the 80s, a bit high for an early October weekend, and combined with what stress or nerves I wasn't officially feeling, it felt pretty hot.
Mike, one of my two tux-suited support friends, was already there - apparently he'd arrived a couple hours before to tailgate with whoever showed up. Unfortunately no one else got there till about when I got there.
As the cyclist friends arrived, most of them commented on the accessory sitting on the roof - my bike.
"Only Aki would bring his bike to his wedding."
Well, the thought did cross my mind that leaving it on the roof unattended at the reception site might be bad (although it's in a town that you probably never need to lock your doors). Plus I really wanted to drive that particular car (it has good AC and I really, really needed it) and I didn't know where else to put the bike that was already sitting on top of it.
Unfortunately it was relatively easy to stay cool since I only had my shirt, shoes, and pants on (which means that I would get service at a store at least). I forgot the tie, vest, cuff links, and jacket at the house (oops). My younger brother and sister (and their spouses - I was the last to get married) arrived with the rest of my wedding kit, and with the help of one of my finacee's in-laws Mark, I got dressed. Melissa, wife of a good friend, pinned the flower things on our lapels. (The flower things are not buccaneers but it sounds something like that).
Her husband, David, is also an avid cyclist and returning-to-competition racer - as apparent by his second place finish in a race that morning! He had been a bit concerned about the timing of it all so had actually asked me if I felt it appropriate for him to go racing that morning. I thought about it and there was nothing really to hold him back - if it were me it'd be a different story, but him, hey, the worst case scenario might be him limping a bit with Tegaderm under his suit. I gave him my blessings and -voila- he showed up all grins after a great race.
My other brother (he's younger too, just by not as much, so I call him my brother) arrived with his wife, two point nine-nine kids (she was having contractions at the wedding and had her third son three days later), and my dad arrived. Melissa quickly pinned the buccaneer things on my dad and the oldest nephew (who's four years old and designated professional ring bearer - he'd done my younger brother and my sister's weddings in his slightly-longer-than one year career) and we were set.
We had to be since the limo with the girls had arrived something like 15 minutes before that last paragraph happened. The JP was nice, gently reminded everyone to be calm, and we got on our way.
Suddenly I was feeling really warm. The pictures I've seen caught me wiping my forehead more than a few times so it wasn't an illusion.
So, with the merry go round out back somewhere, we had our ceremony. I didn't think I'd be too nervous but I started feeling a bit something as we lined up, ready to walk in. I realized that I was actually getting really nervous, worse than wondering if we'd sell the house, worse than lining up for a race. It was a different kind of nervousness - I guess at my age (hey, I can say that) nervousness manifests itself differently. My stomach started turning circles, my mind went blank, and I asked our JP what exactly we'd be doing. She reassured me and went over what I was to do.
"We're going to walk to the front of the room together."
"Okay. I can do that." I looked at her expectantly.
"That's it," she added after looking at me.
"Okay," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. They all escaped again. I turned to the JP.
"Wait, what are we doing again?"
Alright, it wasn't that bad. But it was almost that bad. My mind went truly blank.
Then we went in and we were standing and the girls walked in and then the (still) future missus walked in and she and I think everyone else started crying.
Afterwards everyone was talking about that moment and Rich (Best Man) laughingly said to tough guy Mike (Tailgating Groomsman), "You know, I thought I heard some sniffling back there."
"Damn right, man, I didn't want to start bawling and make everyone else bawl too."
Mike's so sensitive, isn't he?
I don't remember very much other than Arianna (one of the two flower girls) looking up at me so cutely and then giving me a great, big, honest, reassuring smile in the middle of the ceremony. And my nephew, our ring bearer (in theory - the rings were really with Rich), he was sooo serious about walking up to the two angelic girls it was too cute.
My mind did go blank - while I was supposed to be repeating what the JP was saying, you know the "I, -insert name- take -insert name- to be my lawfully wedded wife". Blankness in sprints is good - it's a sort of a Zen thing - but blankness in a wedding ceremony, not good. I was struggling to repeat the lines - and as an aside, now I know why they read just one or two words at a time and then have the nervous wedded-to-be repeat after them. Within a few lines I was in trouble - I had no idea what the JP had just said.
So I looked at the JP and asked, "What was that?"
Everyone laughed and that unblanked my mind although I still didn't know what to say. Kevin, like his accurate sprint blow up prediction the day before, told me later that I was taking longer and longer to repeat things and by that fourth bit I looked to be in serious trouble and ka-blam that was the kicker.
Anyway I got through the rest of it okay. The still-future missus got through with the help of my best man (he gave her the first tissue which he had "just in case" - he was well prepared) and me (I got her tears with the stylish hankie in my breast pocket). We wrote our ceremony (which makes me blanking out even worse) and part of it asks everyone for their support in our marriage. Everyone caught on and a chorus of "We do's" resounded in the Meeting Room. And finally, at some point, we were pronounced man and wife and we kissed.
We were married.
And the future missus became missus which makes typing this blog a lot easier.
We took a nice leisurely cruise north to the reception site, the Keeler Tavern Inn. The drive was slow, steady, the driver was the epitome of perfection. We drank some of a bottle of champagne, talked and laughed, the things you do in a limo. The driver shoehorned the limo into the narrow driveway and dropped us off.
The reception itself was a casual affair catered by a wonderful person named Diane Browne - the missus had gone to a wedding (while I was training in California) and was so impressed with the caterer that we decided to use the same one - Diane. Excellent food, professional but personable, really nice crew too - they made you feel special.
The music was very cool too. In the stressful last week of the wedding planning, the last major planning hurdle ended up being deciding what music to play. We had some different ideas of what we like (for example, although I wouldn't play it at a wedding, I really like Linkin Park - the missus prefers John Mayer). One song which we didn't agree on was one we both liked but differed on its appropriateness at the wedding - Madness "It Must Be Love". Her choices I didn't even know most of them and hence I was hesitant to have them played (I'd want the music to reflect something in each of us I thought). In the end we decided to let the DJ pick the music - he claimed he had a tasteful mix of background type music and had offered up a subtle but nice background type of scene. He was really good, really understanding, and pulled off a great gig.
That DJ's name is Matt and he happened to be a designer in the real world - and has done such things as design a lot of what made Cipollini famous (the Peace thing, the Roman thing, Saeco's normal kit, etc) as well as the Carpe Diem Racing kit. He happens to be a pretty strong racer as well, racing as a Cat 2 for a long time.
His DJing skills are like his design ones - he knows his stuff, is fluent in his environment, and works with a quiet, confident authority. He started things off with some of the big band things that the missus liked (and everyone else apparently) but as he promised, the music was really there as a backdrop, not as a focus. His music grew a beat as the afternoon wore on, eventually culminating in some fun music. During the course of the day the missus and I ended up apart from each other as we talked with various peoples. At some point we ran into each other - just as "It Must Be Love" was playing.
"Hey, it's the song!"
We both had silly grins plastered on our faces.
Coincidentally our photog's name is Matt too. Like our DJ, he was dressed in very chic all black (he sort of resembles one of the Madness guys actually). He too was fluent in his environment, quietly secure, and exuded confidence that things were going great. He used the Keeler Tavern's garden with its various walkways and such to great effect, including a somewhat, um, hilarious shot of me and the garden's little water spout. He saw it, thought of it, and then had me replicate his pose - worth a laugh for sure.
If I ranked his photography as a cyclist might, he'd be an Elite or Cat 1 at worst. He was everywhere, cheerful, great to work with, never bossy, just excellent to work with, and to top it off he took a lot of great shots.
Yeah, like I know right?
Well, actually, I do know. He'd show us some of the shots right after he took them, but then what's a shot or two if you can't get everything? Exactly - which is probably why, before he left, he'd set up a laptop playing a slide show... of the wedding and the reception, all to music.
Incredible.
When it got to be that time we started closing shop. My various brothers and in-laws helped break things down (they had already done the same at the Meeting House) and stuffed a lot of gear in the missus's car (which one of them drove up, bike and all). My sister was excused of course as she's well into her first pregnancy (due December). We were interrupted by someone coming to check out the place for some gig (a reception?) - I don't think you could have gotten a more enthusiastic recommendation, and the two women drove off talking about booking the place now.
And that, as they say, was that.
We wrapped up the day at the Tuscan Oven bar - after the great dinner there the prior evening, we decided to go back for drinks. Us newlyweds were pretty exhausted though and called it a night sort of early on. We retreated to our room after biding everyone a good night.
We really enjoyed working with the folks that helped us celebrate our day so I'd like to give them some credit here -
AfterHours Formal Wear, Nationwide (good if your best man lives 3000 miles away)
Wilton Friends Meeting House, Wilton, CT (non-denominational weddings welcome, I'd say a 100-120 person max)
Regency Limo, Wilton, CT (they've been around about as long as I've been cycling and now I know why)
Tuscan Oven, Norwalk, CT (our dining room was for about 25 or so people, excellent service and staff)
Diane Browne at Good Food, Good Things, 203-656-1920 (no site so they get a tel#), Darien, CT
Keeler Tavern Inn, Ridgefield, CT (up to 80 or so people, you can get a guided tour for very little more)
Matthew J Wagner Photography (can't say enough about him, great photog tricks, and he has a blog)
Mary Pugh, Justice of the Peace, Norwalk, CT (for CT only; she takes some pics too, and highly recommended if you're looking for something smaller and/or non-denominational)
We were married at the Friends Meeting House in Wilton, CT. Although we're not necessarily religious, the Meeting House had some special meaning for me - I went to nursery school there, my nephew is now going there (and my nursery school teacher was still teaching when he started although she passed away recently), and my mom's memorial was held there. I hadn't been there in forever (except for my mom's memorial where I wasn't exactly in the mood to explore), so when I went, I discovered that my favorite playground toy, the merry go round, was still there. I remember sitting on it and spinning like mad until I was ill with dizziness. Even back then I was experimenting with rotating weight and moment of inertia - I found that if I went fast on the perimeter and then scooted to the middle, somehow the merry go round would accelerate. That was great because then I'd be even dizzier.
Incredible what four year olds think about.
We had our rehearsal Friday evening. Things went pretty well and a bunch of my family spent some time arranging and rearranging things in the Meeting Room. Our sound system was primitive (laptop + subwoofer equipped speakers) and my little brother was assigned DJ duties (my other brother's wife was extremely pregnant and my sister is only slightly less so which made me reluctant to ask them for anything).
We then went over to the Tuscan Oven in Norwalk for some dinner. They set aside a room for us, it was tastefully decorated, they'd prepared a custom menu (with our names on it and everything). Great food, great time, highly recommended.
Most everyone left but my best man, his wife, the groomsman, and my younger brother were sort of hanging out afterwards. A while back I'd talked what I wanted to do but due to various logistical problems, no one had made any plans. After asking a waitress if she knew any "clubs" in the area (she knew of one), she went and got another guy who happened to know of another ("I, uh, haven't been there in a while but there's a club...". The waitress remembered it - she lives nearby - and gave us detailed directions on how to get there. So we set off on a caravan to this joint.
I won't go into details but I'll say that my little brother, for all his rather extreme music and all that, had never been in one of those clubs. And my Best Man's wife hadn't either. So it was fun because it's fun to go with someone who hadn't gone before and see their reactions to what they see. We were there till some reasonably late hour and left after the scene started getting stale.
Saturday morning, after our late night out, I woke up five hours later at something like 7 in the morning, feeling somewhat zoned-out. I could barely eat, I felt almost numb, and I struggled to get anything done. It surprised me because I thought I had dealt with (or was dealing with) any stress or anxiety - but I realize now that the morning of the wedding I was pretty stressed. Usually I'm grumbly when I'm stressed but fortunately that day I was just frozen like a deer in headlights.
In my normal life I have all sorts of lists and time schedules and stuff - but that day I had a hard time figuring out if 11:30 was too early to shower (or eat or something) for a 1:30 wedding. I'm actually surprised I wasn't sitting frozen in the kitchen till 1:15.
Somehow, I started getting ready (including publishing the post 95 minutes before the wedding), and then time accelerated uncomfortably fast. It's like sitting in a long (for me) 30 lap race and zoning out and suddenly it's 5 to go and there's a break 30 seconds up the road. I started to stress - I had this vague feeling that I should have been at the Meeting House at 12:30 - and it was about 12:30. So I told everyone I'd go on ahead to open up the House and meet them there.
Obviously I arrived there a bit late - about 1 - and there were perhaps half a dozen cars parked already. I opened up the Meeting House doors (I had the keys), and then sat in my fiancee's car (which I'd driven there), AC on high, to try and cool off. It was in the 80s, a bit high for an early October weekend, and combined with what stress or nerves I wasn't officially feeling, it felt pretty hot.
Mike, one of my two tux-suited support friends, was already there - apparently he'd arrived a couple hours before to tailgate with whoever showed up. Unfortunately no one else got there till about when I got there.
As the cyclist friends arrived, most of them commented on the accessory sitting on the roof - my bike.
"Only Aki would bring his bike to his wedding."
Well, the thought did cross my mind that leaving it on the roof unattended at the reception site might be bad (although it's in a town that you probably never need to lock your doors). Plus I really wanted to drive that particular car (it has good AC and I really, really needed it) and I didn't know where else to put the bike that was already sitting on top of it.
Unfortunately it was relatively easy to stay cool since I only had my shirt, shoes, and pants on (which means that I would get service at a store at least). I forgot the tie, vest, cuff links, and jacket at the house (oops). My younger brother and sister (and their spouses - I was the last to get married) arrived with the rest of my wedding kit, and with the help of one of my finacee's in-laws Mark, I got dressed. Melissa, wife of a good friend, pinned the flower things on our lapels. (The flower things are not buccaneers but it sounds something like that).
Her husband, David, is also an avid cyclist and returning-to-competition racer - as apparent by his second place finish in a race that morning! He had been a bit concerned about the timing of it all so had actually asked me if I felt it appropriate for him to go racing that morning. I thought about it and there was nothing really to hold him back - if it were me it'd be a different story, but him, hey, the worst case scenario might be him limping a bit with Tegaderm under his suit. I gave him my blessings and -voila- he showed up all grins after a great race.
My other brother (he's younger too, just by not as much, so I call him my brother) arrived with his wife, two point nine-nine kids (she was having contractions at the wedding and had her third son three days later), and my dad arrived. Melissa quickly pinned the buccaneer things on my dad and the oldest nephew (who's four years old and designated professional ring bearer - he'd done my younger brother and my sister's weddings in his slightly-longer-than one year career) and we were set.
We had to be since the limo with the girls had arrived something like 15 minutes before that last paragraph happened. The JP was nice, gently reminded everyone to be calm, and we got on our way.
Suddenly I was feeling really warm. The pictures I've seen caught me wiping my forehead more than a few times so it wasn't an illusion.
So, with the merry go round out back somewhere, we had our ceremony. I didn't think I'd be too nervous but I started feeling a bit something as we lined up, ready to walk in. I realized that I was actually getting really nervous, worse than wondering if we'd sell the house, worse than lining up for a race. It was a different kind of nervousness - I guess at my age (hey, I can say that) nervousness manifests itself differently. My stomach started turning circles, my mind went blank, and I asked our JP what exactly we'd be doing. She reassured me and went over what I was to do.
"We're going to walk to the front of the room together."
"Okay. I can do that." I looked at her expectantly.
"That's it," she added after looking at me.
"Okay," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts. They all escaped again. I turned to the JP.
"Wait, what are we doing again?"
Alright, it wasn't that bad. But it was almost that bad. My mind went truly blank.
Then we went in and we were standing and the girls walked in and then the (still) future missus walked in and she and I think everyone else started crying.
Afterwards everyone was talking about that moment and Rich (Best Man) laughingly said to tough guy Mike (Tailgating Groomsman), "You know, I thought I heard some sniffling back there."
"Damn right, man, I didn't want to start bawling and make everyone else bawl too."
Mike's so sensitive, isn't he?
I don't remember very much other than Arianna (one of the two flower girls) looking up at me so cutely and then giving me a great, big, honest, reassuring smile in the middle of the ceremony. And my nephew, our ring bearer (in theory - the rings were really with Rich), he was sooo serious about walking up to the two angelic girls it was too cute.
My mind did go blank - while I was supposed to be repeating what the JP was saying, you know the "I, -insert name- take -insert name- to be my lawfully wedded wife". Blankness in sprints is good - it's a sort of a Zen thing - but blankness in a wedding ceremony, not good. I was struggling to repeat the lines - and as an aside, now I know why they read just one or two words at a time and then have the nervous wedded-to-be repeat after them. Within a few lines I was in trouble - I had no idea what the JP had just said.
So I looked at the JP and asked, "What was that?"
Everyone laughed and that unblanked my mind although I still didn't know what to say. Kevin, like his accurate sprint blow up prediction the day before, told me later that I was taking longer and longer to repeat things and by that fourth bit I looked to be in serious trouble and ka-blam that was the kicker.
Anyway I got through the rest of it okay. The still-future missus got through with the help of my best man (he gave her the first tissue which he had "just in case" - he was well prepared) and me (I got her tears with the stylish hankie in my breast pocket). We wrote our ceremony (which makes me blanking out even worse) and part of it asks everyone for their support in our marriage. Everyone caught on and a chorus of "We do's" resounded in the Meeting Room. And finally, at some point, we were pronounced man and wife and we kissed.
We were married.
And the future missus became missus which makes typing this blog a lot easier.
We took a nice leisurely cruise north to the reception site, the Keeler Tavern Inn. The drive was slow, steady, the driver was the epitome of perfection. We drank some of a bottle of champagne, talked and laughed, the things you do in a limo. The driver shoehorned the limo into the narrow driveway and dropped us off.
The reception itself was a casual affair catered by a wonderful person named Diane Browne - the missus had gone to a wedding (while I was training in California) and was so impressed with the caterer that we decided to use the same one - Diane. Excellent food, professional but personable, really nice crew too - they made you feel special.
The music was very cool too. In the stressful last week of the wedding planning, the last major planning hurdle ended up being deciding what music to play. We had some different ideas of what we like (for example, although I wouldn't play it at a wedding, I really like Linkin Park - the missus prefers John Mayer). One song which we didn't agree on was one we both liked but differed on its appropriateness at the wedding - Madness "It Must Be Love". Her choices I didn't even know most of them and hence I was hesitant to have them played (I'd want the music to reflect something in each of us I thought). In the end we decided to let the DJ pick the music - he claimed he had a tasteful mix of background type music and had offered up a subtle but nice background type of scene. He was really good, really understanding, and pulled off a great gig.
That DJ's name is Matt and he happened to be a designer in the real world - and has done such things as design a lot of what made Cipollini famous (the Peace thing, the Roman thing, Saeco's normal kit, etc) as well as the Carpe Diem Racing kit. He happens to be a pretty strong racer as well, racing as a Cat 2 for a long time.
His DJing skills are like his design ones - he knows his stuff, is fluent in his environment, and works with a quiet, confident authority. He started things off with some of the big band things that the missus liked (and everyone else apparently) but as he promised, the music was really there as a backdrop, not as a focus. His music grew a beat as the afternoon wore on, eventually culminating in some fun music. During the course of the day the missus and I ended up apart from each other as we talked with various peoples. At some point we ran into each other - just as "It Must Be Love" was playing.
"Hey, it's the song!"
We both had silly grins plastered on our faces.
Coincidentally our photog's name is Matt too. Like our DJ, he was dressed in very chic all black (he sort of resembles one of the Madness guys actually). He too was fluent in his environment, quietly secure, and exuded confidence that things were going great. He used the Keeler Tavern's garden with its various walkways and such to great effect, including a somewhat, um, hilarious shot of me and the garden's little water spout. He saw it, thought of it, and then had me replicate his pose - worth a laugh for sure.
If I ranked his photography as a cyclist might, he'd be an Elite or Cat 1 at worst. He was everywhere, cheerful, great to work with, never bossy, just excellent to work with, and to top it off he took a lot of great shots.
Yeah, like I know right?
Well, actually, I do know. He'd show us some of the shots right after he took them, but then what's a shot or two if you can't get everything? Exactly - which is probably why, before he left, he'd set up a laptop playing a slide show... of the wedding and the reception, all to music.
Incredible.
When it got to be that time we started closing shop. My various brothers and in-laws helped break things down (they had already done the same at the Meeting House) and stuffed a lot of gear in the missus's car (which one of them drove up, bike and all). My sister was excused of course as she's well into her first pregnancy (due December). We were interrupted by someone coming to check out the place for some gig (a reception?) - I don't think you could have gotten a more enthusiastic recommendation, and the two women drove off talking about booking the place now.
And that, as they say, was that.
We wrapped up the day at the Tuscan Oven bar - after the great dinner there the prior evening, we decided to go back for drinks. Us newlyweds were pretty exhausted though and called it a night sort of early on. We retreated to our room after biding everyone a good night.
We really enjoyed working with the folks that helped us celebrate our day so I'd like to give them some credit here -
AfterHours Formal Wear, Nationwide (good if your best man lives 3000 miles away)
Wilton Friends Meeting House, Wilton, CT (non-denominational weddings welcome, I'd say a 100-120 person max)
Regency Limo, Wilton, CT (they've been around about as long as I've been cycling and now I know why)
Tuscan Oven, Norwalk, CT (our dining room was for about 25 or so people, excellent service and staff)
Diane Browne at Good Food, Good Things, 203-656-1920 (no site so they get a tel#), Darien, CT
Keeler Tavern Inn, Ridgefield, CT (up to 80 or so people, you can get a guided tour for very little more)
Matthew J Wagner Photography (can't say enough about him, great photog tricks, and he has a blog)
Mary Pugh, Justice of the Peace, Norwalk, CT (for CT only; she takes some pics too, and highly recommended if you're looking for something smaller and/or non-denominational)
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Sick
btw I'm still sick and spent virtually the whole day in bed, dead to the world. I even missed a couple of the missus's calls (unusual for me). I'm coughing and hacking now but hopefully I'll beat this stupid thing down. Normally it's not a big deal to be sick (other than being sick) but I have a physical type thing on Saturday so I absolutely have to be better by then. Plus we want to visit my brother's family and the new baby - being sick probably isn't the best way to visit. Arg.
Training - Day Before the Wedding
I've alluded to the fact that I went for a ride the day before the wedding. Not only that, it was just before the rehearsal. My best man Rich and I went to a local (to my dad's house) shop Cycle Center to meet up with two of my good friends Kevin and Greg. Mike (my groomsman), who all of us desperately wanted on the ride, was unable to attend, having to finish a beautiful Aston Martin by Sunday - for a show, I guessed, and it ends up there was a high end car show Sunday morning.
One of the problems in getting a ride set up was the fact that Rich and Kevin both live really far away - California and Colorado respectively. So neither had a bike out here and Kevin didn't even bring pedals. Seeing as Greg is about the same size as Rich and Kevin, I'd asked him about borrowing some bikes from him (he usually has a bunch of bikes or friends who can loan him bikes). He told me he'd take care of it and said to talk to Nate at Cycle Center.
Cycle Center? Was he storing his bikes there?
No.
It ends up that when Nate heard of our predicament, he volunteered us two bikes - his own and a demo. They fit Rich and Kevin perfectly after Nate did some seat adjustments. Kevin bought some pedals, I bought some Enervit stuff, and eventually we kitted up and headed out.
Rich got Nate's personal 'cross bike and although he was initially skeptical of the various "shock absorbing" things on the bike, he seemed quite at home on the bike and eventually admitted the bike was pretty comfy. His Indurain-like pedaling style put the hurt on Kevin and myself on the first big (up) hill. My heart rate was starting to rise.
Luckily the road leveled and the three of us commented on Rich's steady but spirited pull. Rich was modest about it - it's hard to judge pace when you aren't looking around all the time. Nevertheless he backed off a bit on his pulls after that. With him a bit out of the "attacking" picture (in other words, this was a ride for me, not a hammerfest ride), Greg or Kevin ended up pulling ahead here and there.
Me, I was sitting in like usual, except when I wanted to go fast on the more thrilling parts (descents and a curve or two). I rode in a familiar zone because these guys and I go back a long way. Before Gene helped me with the Bethel Spring Series, it was Rich who was there, week after week, year after year. He worked with me as well, and as a friend, he's offered advice and observations, at times quite pointed. But that's what friends are for, right? Because if they don't tell you the real deal, no one will.
And just like Gene would work hard for me in my most important target races (like the 2005 Bethel Spring Series final where Gene absolutely rode his legs into the ground to support me), so too did Rich work his heart out for me on the bike. In one of my posts I detail his work as the then-unidentified Primary Leadout. What was incredible (and for which I felt bad) was whenever any race we were both in started winding down to its last laps, he'd always be looking for me, looking to pull me to the front, drop me off in a prime spot for the dash to the line. It seemed that he never thought to go for it himself.
Kevin was just like that before he moved out west. He, too, helped at the Bethel Spring Series. Similarly, he also helped me with my shop (again, making some pointed observations). In races too he'd look to lead me out - one race in particular sticks out as he was racing for a different team - I had two leadout guys competing to lead me out! And way back when, he helped me simply by being my second roommate during the first few years I had my house (and was dying for a paying roommate). He even found my third roommate after my first one moved out after she got married. His helpful nature manifested itself as he couldn't resist calling with offers of assistance the day before this ride
These "help your friend" habits die hard it seems. Towards the end of the ride, when the missus called to check where I was, I had to ease up to pull the phone out of my pocket. Kevin eased with me and watched as I flipped open my phone. I answered with "I'm running a bit late," and then made sure I knew what to wear, etc.
After I hung up Kevin looked over and commented that perhaps a different opening might have been better - the "I'm running a bit late" could have been improved to something like "Hi honey, how's it going?". Nonetheless, with the reasonably tight schedule in mind, his helpful mind turned to the task at hand - he asked me if he should go to the front to up the pace.
I felt like I was in the Yellow Jersey in the Tour.
Minus any doping allegations of course.
Greg too somehow always wanted to help out. I've known him a while - and if you've followed the posts, I've written a few bits about him, my favorite being the Purple Jersey post. Even at the peak of his riding he'd ask if I wanted to ride with him (imagine being asked by a Chris Horner if you wanted to ride with him - nice, yes, but how much good would it do Chris to have to wait for me everywhere?). Whenever we rode, he'd talk about "Oh man, I should lead you out for Gimbles" or Bethel or whatever ride/race we happened to be talking about at the time.
He's a lot younger than me - in fact, I was already an "adult" when I met this scrawny 12 year old kid. And like most kids, he had his issues - one that bugged me was his lackadaisical attitude towards time.
A long time ago he told me he'd ride with me at a particular time. When he didn't show up for a while (perhaps 20 or 30 minutes), I called him up and let loose with a lot of choice words. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, etc etc etc. Although it dampened our riding (and talking) for a bit, we smoothed it over like friends do.
Well, it seems that life has taught him a few lessons. Rich and I were running late with the car swap taking a bit longer than expected (ditto the physical). We'd told Kevin and Greg we'd be there at 2. I was driving my brother's Honda as fast as I could, meaning slightly above the limit on non-highways but accelerating hard (and faster on the highways). At the same time I was trying to listen for some indescribable "axle noise" reported by my brother (I didn't hear it). I'd been talking to Rich about Greg, how he's matured as he's gotten older (don't we all?), and I told him that Greg would probably call as we're running late. As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced at the time before I answered it - 2:00:55.
Greg, it seems, gave us about 55 seconds leeway. Not bad for someone who used to show up 30 minutes late for stuff.
"Hey, where are you guys?"
I grinned.
Anyway, we were riding, I wasn't pulling much (basically never), and I used my lower frontal area and equal weight to descend like a rock. Greg (the only one who still lives and rides around the area) led us around on roads I'd forgotten about and it was nice to rediscover (and remember) the various descents, fast curves, and fun stuff on the ride. The whole time I was conscious of the fact that I had a rehearsal and dinner, and I knew we were already pushing the time envelope. This meant riding conservative, working hard on the hills, and letting the guys do the work on the flats.
You know, like old days.
That was until a little truck went trundling by at about 30 mph. I looked at it lovingly - an absolutely perfect leadout truck.
But no, this was my pre-rehearsal ride and I didn't want to show up at the rehearsal absolutely shattered.
That was when the back end of the truck went by - and the trailer it was pulling started past me.
The trailer pushed my self control out the window. I glanced, made sure I had some room (I did, barely), and jumped like the finish line on the Champs Elysee was 200 meters away. The car following the trailer tried to pass me (i.e. nudge me away from the back of the trailer since I was all of ten feet behind the trailer, not enough room for the car to actually pass me) but I doggedly stayed on the trailer, shifting up a few times until finally I was in my 11T, flying along at what the Power Tap claimed to be 42 mph. For some reason I kept going as long as I could and then ka-blam I blew sky high.
I coasted down and realized that I'd just done what I didn't want to do - totally annihilated myself. Luckily there was a light and stuff but we turned right and started up a hill.
Oh crap. I remembered this hill. It's long (and it's why I usually turn left at the light, which is what I was assuming we'd do). You know what assume stands for right?
Anyway, my back had gone numb (it does that after big sprints), I felt pretty queasy, and my legs were totally spent. I could barely bend my legs to turn the pedals - Mister Power Tap says I rode at about 6.5 mph for the next 10 minutes or so. This was a bit slow for the guys so they stopped and waited (sort of like old days again) and we went at a much reduced pace while I recovered (again, like old days).
Kevin was chuckling. Apparently when he saw the truck he just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Of course I went flying by - and after the three of them watched me scamper away, Kevin turned to the other guys.
"Just wait a second... wait.. wait... There! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That was Aki exploding."
Chuckle chuckle and all that.
When they stopped at the top of the hill to wait for me, they had enough time that they were busy examining the two loaner bikes and comparing notes on them. We headed back at, our time for riding quickly vanishing, Kevin doing some good pace making, even gapping Rich and Greg at one point accelerating through the last hard turn of the ride, but as we headed down the last stretch of road to the shop, Greg rocketed off. We sat up as he looked back with a big cheeky grin plastered across his face.
Some things, it seems, never change.
Of course, if I had the legs, I'd have gone. Of course. But I was already in a decent amount of hurt and decided I didn't want it bad enough. That looming rehearsal and all that. Right.
We got back, said some thank yous, I learned at that time about Nate's reason for helping so thanked him profusely. It was a great ride - great weather, great company, and a fun route. The distant guys (Rich, Kevin) caught up with both each other and with Greg. I'd been in reasonably contact with all of them so I suffered quietly - or not, I suppose you'd have to ask the guys. Kevin was so happy after the ride that later on he suggested to his (shocked) wife that perhaps they should move back east.
I wish that more of the guys could have made the ride, but with work and all that, I know it'd have been difficult. The lack of a definitive plan didn't help - we only solidified the ride time the day before because, frankly, I didn't know my own schedule. I suppose that when we move into a house we could do a BBQ/training ride thing - we'd have more than the two parking spots we have now, hopefully we'd have more than one shower, and I think it'd be a great day to spend a day, doing a fun ride and then hanging out with a whole bunch of friends.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. The ride couldn't have happened without Nate at Cycle Center on High Ridge Road in Stamford, CT. He explained it away as saying that since it was a special weekend for me, he wanted to help in whatever way he could. He did, we had a great ride, so my thanks go to him.
One of the problems in getting a ride set up was the fact that Rich and Kevin both live really far away - California and Colorado respectively. So neither had a bike out here and Kevin didn't even bring pedals. Seeing as Greg is about the same size as Rich and Kevin, I'd asked him about borrowing some bikes from him (he usually has a bunch of bikes or friends who can loan him bikes). He told me he'd take care of it and said to talk to Nate at Cycle Center.
Cycle Center? Was he storing his bikes there?
No.
It ends up that when Nate heard of our predicament, he volunteered us two bikes - his own and a demo. They fit Rich and Kevin perfectly after Nate did some seat adjustments. Kevin bought some pedals, I bought some Enervit stuff, and eventually we kitted up and headed out.
Rich got Nate's personal 'cross bike and although he was initially skeptical of the various "shock absorbing" things on the bike, he seemed quite at home on the bike and eventually admitted the bike was pretty comfy. His Indurain-like pedaling style put the hurt on Kevin and myself on the first big (up) hill. My heart rate was starting to rise.
Luckily the road leveled and the three of us commented on Rich's steady but spirited pull. Rich was modest about it - it's hard to judge pace when you aren't looking around all the time. Nevertheless he backed off a bit on his pulls after that. With him a bit out of the "attacking" picture (in other words, this was a ride for me, not a hammerfest ride), Greg or Kevin ended up pulling ahead here and there.
Me, I was sitting in like usual, except when I wanted to go fast on the more thrilling parts (descents and a curve or two). I rode in a familiar zone because these guys and I go back a long way. Before Gene helped me with the Bethel Spring Series, it was Rich who was there, week after week, year after year. He worked with me as well, and as a friend, he's offered advice and observations, at times quite pointed. But that's what friends are for, right? Because if they don't tell you the real deal, no one will.
And just like Gene would work hard for me in my most important target races (like the 2005 Bethel Spring Series final where Gene absolutely rode his legs into the ground to support me), so too did Rich work his heart out for me on the bike. In one of my posts I detail his work as the then-unidentified Primary Leadout. What was incredible (and for which I felt bad) was whenever any race we were both in started winding down to its last laps, he'd always be looking for me, looking to pull me to the front, drop me off in a prime spot for the dash to the line. It seemed that he never thought to go for it himself.
Kevin was just like that before he moved out west. He, too, helped at the Bethel Spring Series. Similarly, he also helped me with my shop (again, making some pointed observations). In races too he'd look to lead me out - one race in particular sticks out as he was racing for a different team - I had two leadout guys competing to lead me out! And way back when, he helped me simply by being my second roommate during the first few years I had my house (and was dying for a paying roommate). He even found my third roommate after my first one moved out after she got married. His helpful nature manifested itself as he couldn't resist calling with offers of assistance the day before this ride
These "help your friend" habits die hard it seems. Towards the end of the ride, when the missus called to check where I was, I had to ease up to pull the phone out of my pocket. Kevin eased with me and watched as I flipped open my phone. I answered with "I'm running a bit late," and then made sure I knew what to wear, etc.
After I hung up Kevin looked over and commented that perhaps a different opening might have been better - the "I'm running a bit late" could have been improved to something like "Hi honey, how's it going?". Nonetheless, with the reasonably tight schedule in mind, his helpful mind turned to the task at hand - he asked me if he should go to the front to up the pace.
I felt like I was in the Yellow Jersey in the Tour.
Minus any doping allegations of course.
Greg too somehow always wanted to help out. I've known him a while - and if you've followed the posts, I've written a few bits about him, my favorite being the Purple Jersey post. Even at the peak of his riding he'd ask if I wanted to ride with him (imagine being asked by a Chris Horner if you wanted to ride with him - nice, yes, but how much good would it do Chris to have to wait for me everywhere?). Whenever we rode, he'd talk about "Oh man, I should lead you out for Gimbles" or Bethel or whatever ride/race we happened to be talking about at the time.
He's a lot younger than me - in fact, I was already an "adult" when I met this scrawny 12 year old kid. And like most kids, he had his issues - one that bugged me was his lackadaisical attitude towards time.
A long time ago he told me he'd ride with me at a particular time. When he didn't show up for a while (perhaps 20 or 30 minutes), I called him up and let loose with a lot of choice words. He claimed it wasn't a big deal, etc etc etc. Although it dampened our riding (and talking) for a bit, we smoothed it over like friends do.
Well, it seems that life has taught him a few lessons. Rich and I were running late with the car swap taking a bit longer than expected (ditto the physical). We'd told Kevin and Greg we'd be there at 2. I was driving my brother's Honda as fast as I could, meaning slightly above the limit on non-highways but accelerating hard (and faster on the highways). At the same time I was trying to listen for some indescribable "axle noise" reported by my brother (I didn't hear it). I'd been talking to Rich about Greg, how he's matured as he's gotten older (don't we all?), and I told him that Greg would probably call as we're running late. As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced at the time before I answered it - 2:00:55.
Greg, it seems, gave us about 55 seconds leeway. Not bad for someone who used to show up 30 minutes late for stuff.
"Hey, where are you guys?"
I grinned.
Anyway, we were riding, I wasn't pulling much (basically never), and I used my lower frontal area and equal weight to descend like a rock. Greg (the only one who still lives and rides around the area) led us around on roads I'd forgotten about and it was nice to rediscover (and remember) the various descents, fast curves, and fun stuff on the ride. The whole time I was conscious of the fact that I had a rehearsal and dinner, and I knew we were already pushing the time envelope. This meant riding conservative, working hard on the hills, and letting the guys do the work on the flats.
You know, like old days.
That was until a little truck went trundling by at about 30 mph. I looked at it lovingly - an absolutely perfect leadout truck.
But no, this was my pre-rehearsal ride and I didn't want to show up at the rehearsal absolutely shattered.
That was when the back end of the truck went by - and the trailer it was pulling started past me.
The trailer pushed my self control out the window. I glanced, made sure I had some room (I did, barely), and jumped like the finish line on the Champs Elysee was 200 meters away. The car following the trailer tried to pass me (i.e. nudge me away from the back of the trailer since I was all of ten feet behind the trailer, not enough room for the car to actually pass me) but I doggedly stayed on the trailer, shifting up a few times until finally I was in my 11T, flying along at what the Power Tap claimed to be 42 mph. For some reason I kept going as long as I could and then ka-blam I blew sky high.
I coasted down and realized that I'd just done what I didn't want to do - totally annihilated myself. Luckily there was a light and stuff but we turned right and started up a hill.
Oh crap. I remembered this hill. It's long (and it's why I usually turn left at the light, which is what I was assuming we'd do). You know what assume stands for right?
Anyway, my back had gone numb (it does that after big sprints), I felt pretty queasy, and my legs were totally spent. I could barely bend my legs to turn the pedals - Mister Power Tap says I rode at about 6.5 mph for the next 10 minutes or so. This was a bit slow for the guys so they stopped and waited (sort of like old days again) and we went at a much reduced pace while I recovered (again, like old days).
Kevin was chuckling. Apparently when he saw the truck he just knew I wouldn't be able to resist. Of course I went flying by - and after the three of them watched me scamper away, Kevin turned to the other guys.
"Just wait a second... wait.. wait... There! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That was Aki exploding."
Chuckle chuckle and all that.
When they stopped at the top of the hill to wait for me, they had enough time that they were busy examining the two loaner bikes and comparing notes on them. We headed back at, our time for riding quickly vanishing, Kevin doing some good pace making, even gapping Rich and Greg at one point accelerating through the last hard turn of the ride, but as we headed down the last stretch of road to the shop, Greg rocketed off. We sat up as he looked back with a big cheeky grin plastered across his face.
Some things, it seems, never change.
Of course, if I had the legs, I'd have gone. Of course. But I was already in a decent amount of hurt and decided I didn't want it bad enough. That looming rehearsal and all that. Right.
We got back, said some thank yous, I learned at that time about Nate's reason for helping so thanked him profusely. It was a great ride - great weather, great company, and a fun route. The distant guys (Rich, Kevin) caught up with both each other and with Greg. I'd been in reasonably contact with all of them so I suffered quietly - or not, I suppose you'd have to ask the guys. Kevin was so happy after the ride that later on he suggested to his (shocked) wife that perhaps they should move back east.
I wish that more of the guys could have made the ride, but with work and all that, I know it'd have been difficult. The lack of a definitive plan didn't help - we only solidified the ride time the day before because, frankly, I didn't know my own schedule. I suppose that when we move into a house we could do a BBQ/training ride thing - we'd have more than the two parking spots we have now, hopefully we'd have more than one shower, and I think it'd be a great day to spend a day, doing a fun ride and then hanging out with a whole bunch of friends.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. The ride couldn't have happened without Nate at Cycle Center on High Ridge Road in Stamford, CT. He explained it away as saying that since it was a special weekend for me, he wanted to help in whatever way he could. He did, we had a great ride, so my thanks go to him.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Life - Day Before the Wedding - Physical
This is a bit post-dated as the wedding took place October 6 and I'm writing about the 5th and the 4th. With that in mind...
Thursday was a chaotic day with lots of small, miscellaneous things to do. It was the last day for us to get things done before the whirlwind of an already planned out Friday. Since Thursday was really us getting down to the southwest corner of Connecticut, I'll skip the "And then we ate breakfast - coffee and eggs for me" kind of post.
Friday morning we were up reasonably early to go pick up my best man. He flew in on the red-eye after a busy schedule back where he lives - on the other coast of the US. Because he'd be without a car, he joined us on our first round of errands (his wife would later join him/us driving her mom's car). At about 1 in the afternoon we'd swap cars (the missus would keep her car, we'd borrow my brother's), and go meet up for a ride with a couple of the boys from back in the day.
But I get ahead of myself.
We had breakfast at a diner which has a special meaning for the missus and myself. Although not a five star restaurant, it is where the we pretty much established our relationship over coffees and breakfasts. I think those kinds of meals are good for illuminating some of the other's traits - how one handles money, a mistaken order, cold coffee (or no coffee), even how one opens a door. It should be apparent that over the three or four years we ate there we decided we liked the person sitting across (and sometimes next to) us.
After this nostalgic meal (completely lost on the Best Man), we went to the doctor - I had a physical scheduled for late that morning. A little crazy as the office is 1.5 hours away from where I now live, but I like my doctor. More importantly, I trust him.
I trust him because he was the one that told me about my heart problem - some backwards thing on my EKG. He told me that if he'd seen my EKG with no other information, he'd figure he was looking at a guy having a heart attack. As a favor to me and any EMTs that might find me unconscious, he gave me a copy of the EKG with some appropriately illegible notes. A teammate who is also a doctor deciphered it quite easily (I guess doctors have their own secret handbook, just like I know Cat 2s have them). Basically it says that "This is normal and this guy is NOT having a heart attack and don't defibulate him."
I carry a reduced copy of it, laminated, in my wallet.
Here it is, with Tiger present for scale.
He told me that if I ever wanted a day off, I should wander into an emergency room rubbing my chest. I wouldn't need to say a word, he told me, and I'd be detained for a day or two for observation.
I haven't done this so far.
Anyway, the missus had some questions for the doc, my best man had no vehicle, so the three of us tramped into the office together. I felt like Britney Spears with her posse trailing her.
Minus the blond hair. And bare midriff. And with a much reduced posse. And... well, you know.
We were shown the waiting room, a circular bit with a bazillion medical pamphlets, all proclaiming how you might be afflicted with something for which they have a drug, and ask you doctor about it.
The best man (I'll name him - let's call him Rich) is a subtlely mischievous kind of guy. He managed to find a testosterone test - an electric one - and tried to use it. It had a gauge and a bunch of yes/no phrases, and it would tell you if you might be suffering from low testosterone. To his (and our) dismay, the batteries were so dead they were bloating. I went to the nice receptionist and asked for both batteries and wondered out loud if we could keep it. She said yes to both and got us some batteries. Properly armed I returned to the waiting room.
We found a couple Yes answers got you the prize - "You might have low testosterone". I started wondering if perhaps my "deterioration in my ability to play sports" (an actual yes/no phrase) was perhaps related to low testosterone.
I may have low testosterone.
Of course this test could be customized for specific professions. Like, let's see, maybe, um, bike racers?
Imagine the bike-specific phrases.
"I feel tired 14 days into a 21 day stage race"
"I can't outsprint Bettini"
"My name is Flo.."
I hate when the ink rubs off and you can't read the whole phrase. I suppose if your name is like that Florence Griffith-Joyner and most of it is rubbed off...
The nurse called me in for my prelims - weight, blood pressure, things like that. I was 184 lbs (aye caramba), bp was 120/80 (seems high but I wasn't feeling quite myself), and pulse 56 (not bad, but then again, I think I was a bit sick). The last time I went she weighed me, and when I hit over 180, she looked at me in surprise and said "You don't look that heavy - I thought you were 165 or so."
"I'm just dense," I replied, straight-faced.
She gave me a look like "Do you know what you just said?". I didn't elaborate and giggled inside. When I mentioned that from the last visit she told me that she'd laughed when she left the room. This time she didn't wait till she left - she was chuckling walking out the door.
The doc came in, said my cholesterol was high again. I forget the number but it's back over 200 (bad stuff) and I think almost 300 total. Since I'd gotten the bad stuff to 135 and my total to around 200 before, I figured it was the lack of exercise and lots of cholesterol type food that contributed. See, before the blood test I was eating 5 or so enormous hamburgers a day, meat loaf, and not a lot of veggies. The beef was leftover from my birthday bash and was so good I felt obliged to try and finish a whole Costco bag of ground sirloin patties - I couldn't eat the last two.
That makes it almost 16 1/3 pound patties in a week or so - about five pounds of beef. To be fair the missus had some meatloaf (but not any burgers). So maybe I had 4.5 pounds. Whatever.
The missus asked her questions and reminded me of mine - in no particular order "Why am I getting sick more than before?" and "Are there any issues with a guy 45 or so having kids?". I forget the other questions but the missus asked them - that's why she was there.
I asked about testosterone and the electronic test in the waiting room. Hey, if I have a TUE (Therapeutic Use Exemption) for androgen... But my plans for winning the Green Jersey in the Tour were smashed when the doc dismissed the test - "They all want you to medicate" or something to that effect.
Foiled.
Most important to me though was my hematocrit. It's quite high naturally and I was hoping for a 50%. It's like getting a speeding ticket on a bike I guess - if my 'crit was over 50% I could take two weeks off from racing. And I figured the five pounds of beef should have helped - all that iron and other red blood cell stuff. So I quickly looked at the sheet.
46%
My heart sank. Lower than before - in my last four physicals I'd gone from 49 to 48 to 47 to 46. Overall though, except for the cholesterol and my weight, things were reasonably fine. Of course I want to lose weight (getting up that hill at Bethel is a real pain when you're carrying 20 or 30 extra pounds), I'd like to lower my cholesterol so it's not something I have to think about, and I really, really want to break that magical 50% barrier for my hematocrit.
Hm.
I wonder if they have an electronic test for anemia.
Thursday was a chaotic day with lots of small, miscellaneous things to do. It was the last day for us to get things done before the whirlwind of an already planned out Friday. Since Thursday was really us getting down to the southwest corner of Connecticut, I'll skip the "And then we ate breakfast - coffee and eggs for me" kind of post.
Friday morning we were up reasonably early to go pick up my best man. He flew in on the red-eye after a busy schedule back where he lives - on the other coast of the US. Because he'd be without a car, he joined us on our first round of errands (his wife would later join him/us driving her mom's car). At about 1 in the afternoon we'd swap cars (the missus would keep her car, we'd borrow my brother's), and go meet up for a ride with a couple of the boys from back in the day.
But I get ahead of myself.
We had breakfast at a diner which has a special meaning for the missus and myself. Although not a five star restaurant, it is where the we pretty much established our relationship over coffees and breakfasts. I think those kinds of meals are good for illuminating some of the other's traits - how one handles money, a mistaken order, cold coffee (or no coffee), even how one opens a door. It should be apparent that over the three or four years we ate there we decided we liked the person sitting across (and sometimes next to) us.
After this nostalgic meal (completely lost on the Best Man), we went to the doctor - I had a physical scheduled for late that morning. A little crazy as the office is 1.5 hours away from where I now live, but I like my doctor. More importantly, I trust him.
I trust him because he was the one that told me about my heart problem - some backwards thing on my EKG. He told me that if he'd seen my EKG with no other information, he'd figure he was looking at a guy having a heart attack. As a favor to me and any EMTs that might find me unconscious, he gave me a copy of the EKG with some appropriately illegible notes. A teammate who is also a doctor deciphered it quite easily (I guess doctors have their own secret handbook, just like I know Cat 2s have them). Basically it says that "This is normal and this guy is NOT having a heart attack and don't defibulate him."
I carry a reduced copy of it, laminated, in my wallet.
Here it is, with Tiger present for scale.He told me that if I ever wanted a day off, I should wander into an emergency room rubbing my chest. I wouldn't need to say a word, he told me, and I'd be detained for a day or two for observation.
I haven't done this so far.
Anyway, the missus had some questions for the doc, my best man had no vehicle, so the three of us tramped into the office together. I felt like Britney Spears with her posse trailing her.
Minus the blond hair. And bare midriff. And with a much reduced posse. And... well, you know.
We were shown the waiting room, a circular bit with a bazillion medical pamphlets, all proclaiming how you might be afflicted with something for which they have a drug, and ask you doctor about it.
The best man (I'll name him - let's call him Rich) is a subtlely mischievous kind of guy. He managed to find a testosterone test - an electric one - and tried to use it. It had a gauge and a bunch of yes/no phrases, and it would tell you if you might be suffering from low testosterone. To his (and our) dismay, the batteries were so dead they were bloating. I went to the nice receptionist and asked for both batteries and wondered out loud if we could keep it. She said yes to both and got us some batteries. Properly armed I returned to the waiting room.
We found a couple Yes answers got you the prize - "You might have low testosterone". I started wondering if perhaps my "deterioration in my ability to play sports" (an actual yes/no phrase) was perhaps related to low testosterone.
I may have low testosterone.Of course this test could be customized for specific professions. Like, let's see, maybe, um, bike racers?
Imagine the bike-specific phrases.
"I feel tired 14 days into a 21 day stage race"
"I can't outsprint Bettini"
"My name is Flo.."
I hate when the ink rubs off and you can't read the whole phrase. I suppose if your name is like that Florence Griffith-Joyner and most of it is rubbed off...
The nurse called me in for my prelims - weight, blood pressure, things like that. I was 184 lbs (aye caramba), bp was 120/80 (seems high but I wasn't feeling quite myself), and pulse 56 (not bad, but then again, I think I was a bit sick). The last time I went she weighed me, and when I hit over 180, she looked at me in surprise and said "You don't look that heavy - I thought you were 165 or so."
"I'm just dense," I replied, straight-faced.
She gave me a look like "Do you know what you just said?". I didn't elaborate and giggled inside. When I mentioned that from the last visit she told me that she'd laughed when she left the room. This time she didn't wait till she left - she was chuckling walking out the door.
The doc came in, said my cholesterol was high again. I forget the number but it's back over 200 (bad stuff) and I think almost 300 total. Since I'd gotten the bad stuff to 135 and my total to around 200 before, I figured it was the lack of exercise and lots of cholesterol type food that contributed. See, before the blood test I was eating 5 or so enormous hamburgers a day, meat loaf, and not a lot of veggies. The beef was leftover from my birthday bash and was so good I felt obliged to try and finish a whole Costco bag of ground sirloin patties - I couldn't eat the last two.
That makes it almost 16 1/3 pound patties in a week or so - about five pounds of beef. To be fair the missus had some meatloaf (but not any burgers). So maybe I had 4.5 pounds. Whatever.
The missus asked her questions and reminded me of mine - in no particular order "Why am I getting sick more than before?" and "Are there any issues with a guy 45 or so having kids?". I forget the other questions but the missus asked them - that's why she was there.
I asked about testosterone and the electronic test in the waiting room. Hey, if I have a TUE (Therapeutic Use Exemption) for androgen... But my plans for winning the Green Jersey in the Tour were smashed when the doc dismissed the test - "They all want you to medicate" or something to that effect.
Foiled.
Most important to me though was my hematocrit. It's quite high naturally and I was hoping for a 50%. It's like getting a speeding ticket on a bike I guess - if my 'crit was over 50% I could take two weeks off from racing. And I figured the five pounds of beef should have helped - all that iron and other red blood cell stuff. So I quickly looked at the sheet.
46%
My heart sank. Lower than before - in my last four physicals I'd gone from 49 to 48 to 47 to 46. Overall though, except for the cholesterol and my weight, things were reasonably fine. Of course I want to lose weight (getting up that hill at Bethel is a real pain when you're carrying 20 or 30 extra pounds), I'd like to lower my cholesterol so it's not something I have to think about, and I really, really want to break that magical 50% barrier for my hematocrit.
Hm.
I wonder if they have an electronic test for anemia.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sick
So we're back.
I'll have more to report once I'm feeling up to it. To summarize - we got married, we had our reception, and we went on our honeymoon. All those things went really well.
Except that I'm sick.
Luckily the symptoms manifested themselves on the trip back so our honeymoon wasn't affected.
I'll have more to report once I'm feeling up to it. To summarize - we got married, we had our reception, and we went on our honeymoon. All those things went really well.
Except that I'm sick.
Luckily the symptoms manifested themselves on the trip back so our honeymoon wasn't affected.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Life - Wedding and Stuff
So the wedding is imminent (90 minutes away). Although we'll be stateside the night following, we'll be gone for the duration of the following week.
It's been a great couple days with lots of memorable moments but the fact that I've been busy hanging out with various friends and family means that computer time dropped to nil.
And although I'd love to drag all of you around virtually, that's probably not a great way to spend a honeymoon.
So, with that in mind, I'll be signing off until, at the earliest, Oct 15th.
It's been a great couple days with lots of memorable moments but the fact that I've been busy hanging out with various friends and family means that computer time dropped to nil.
And although I'd love to drag all of you around virtually, that's probably not a great way to spend a honeymoon.
So, with that in mind, I'll be signing off until, at the earliest, Oct 15th.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Life - Dope Testing
So today I went to a local lab to get blood and urine samples taken for an upcoming physical. Although there's no particular reason for the physical (other than to get an "good job" from the doctor), I've been more aware of testing procedures recently.
First off, I hate needles.
The nurse at the lab took no pity. Normally I request (and they'll use) a pediatric needle - a needle for little kids. They're so small you can barely see them (one nurse showed me the difference). But this one, she looked at me, scoffed, and whipped out the mother of all needles. I cringed and probably jumped as the lab technician softened her approach.
Okay, I have to admit that the mother of all needles is about an inch long.
Nevertheless, I realized that dope testing would take a lot of commitment by racers - especially yours truly.
(On a related note, I can't imagine jabbing such a thing in my arm voluntarily - epo/'roid injectors and heroin addicts alike).
I didn't look at the needle (I didn't mean to even look at it at all, she just took it out before I could turn away). My veins, normally popping, slunk away, trying to get away from the needle. Mercilessly the tech asked me to make a fist, rubbed a rebellious popping vein, and I closed my eyes and scrunched my face.
There was some sharp pain, a weird sensation, and then, thankfully, that was over.
Then I had to pee in a cup. I was left on my own in the bathroom, peed in a cup, and someone was going to "take care of it" (the cup, not me) and I was to simply leave it in the bathroom.
Man, if this was the dope testing lab no one would have been found guilty of doping. Talk about uncontrolled whatever (the chain of possession term that I forget). I left and I didn't know what happened to that cup. It even had my name on it - what if I was a John Smith? There could have been another John Smith that day.
So it made me realize that dope testing is a bit intrusive in your life. The person making sure the sample really is you is supposed to see you pee in that cup. You can't be left alone to sprinkle laundry detergent in your urine (wipes out testosterone) or whiskey (negates some other test). Not really the most comfortable situation.
Actually, I'd be more comfortable giving blood. You don't have to get naked, it's quick, and the testers are more careful (AIDS, hepatitis, and all those terrible blood borne diseases). The same is sealed from the get go and there's no confusing if someone else tampers with the tube.
In a few days I'll get the results - and perhaps I'll have to "voluntarily" take two weeks off from racing due to a hematocrit over 50%. That's my goal but with a 47.x% last time, I don't know what it takes to get it up to the 49.x% I had a few years ago.
I know that you're not supposed to emulate dopers. But I just think it would be cool to get a 50% 'crit level, just like it would be cool to get pulled over for speeding on a bicycle.
Although the one time I almost got pulled over, it didn't seem like too much fun.
Ah well. Hematocrit doesn't jack up your car insurance rates.
Here's to 50%!
First off, I hate needles.
The nurse at the lab took no pity. Normally I request (and they'll use) a pediatric needle - a needle for little kids. They're so small you can barely see them (one nurse showed me the difference). But this one, she looked at me, scoffed, and whipped out the mother of all needles. I cringed and probably jumped as the lab technician softened her approach.
Okay, I have to admit that the mother of all needles is about an inch long.
Nevertheless, I realized that dope testing would take a lot of commitment by racers - especially yours truly.
(On a related note, I can't imagine jabbing such a thing in my arm voluntarily - epo/'roid injectors and heroin addicts alike).
I didn't look at the needle (I didn't mean to even look at it at all, she just took it out before I could turn away). My veins, normally popping, slunk away, trying to get away from the needle. Mercilessly the tech asked me to make a fist, rubbed a rebellious popping vein, and I closed my eyes and scrunched my face.
There was some sharp pain, a weird sensation, and then, thankfully, that was over.
Then I had to pee in a cup. I was left on my own in the bathroom, peed in a cup, and someone was going to "take care of it" (the cup, not me) and I was to simply leave it in the bathroom.
Man, if this was the dope testing lab no one would have been found guilty of doping. Talk about uncontrolled whatever (the chain of possession term that I forget). I left and I didn't know what happened to that cup. It even had my name on it - what if I was a John Smith? There could have been another John Smith that day.
So it made me realize that dope testing is a bit intrusive in your life. The person making sure the sample really is you is supposed to see you pee in that cup. You can't be left alone to sprinkle laundry detergent in your urine (wipes out testosterone) or whiskey (negates some other test). Not really the most comfortable situation.
Actually, I'd be more comfortable giving blood. You don't have to get naked, it's quick, and the testers are more careful (AIDS, hepatitis, and all those terrible blood borne diseases). The same is sealed from the get go and there's no confusing if someone else tampers with the tube.
In a few days I'll get the results - and perhaps I'll have to "voluntarily" take two weeks off from racing due to a hematocrit over 50%. That's my goal but with a 47.x% last time, I don't know what it takes to get it up to the 49.x% I had a few years ago.
I know that you're not supposed to emulate dopers. But I just think it would be cool to get a 50% 'crit level, just like it would be cool to get pulled over for speeding on a bicycle.
Although the one time I almost got pulled over, it didn't seem like too much fun.
Ah well. Hematocrit doesn't jack up your car insurance rates.
Here's to 50%!
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