Back to the Future--Smokey Chattin

My long time friend Smokey Chattin died last Saturday on his 71st birthday. He is the first person to die that I knew and saw regularly for nearly 60 years.

I became friends with Smokey in high school when he dated my next door neighbor, Bonnie Brown. Ironically I wound up becoming friends with a lot of guys when they dated Bonnie. I didn't see much of him during my college years, but in the fall of 1968 we both wound up in Atlanta. I was on a temporary assignment with Chubb and Smokey was with Crawford & Company training to be a claims adjuster. I'd like to think that we related to each other then since we were both involved with the insurance industry, but in fact it was most likely chasing women and alcohol that bonded us. I may have those in the wrong order.

In the early 1970's I was back in Atlanta and Smokey was in our hometown (Danville). I visited Danville regularly to see my mother and we hung out together still pursuing our similar dual interests. Then Smokey met and married Liz Newton. They moved to Blacksburg and Smokey went back to school at Virginia Tech. He had started there previously but dropped out after a few semesters. He graduated, went to work in the banking business and built a new house for he and Liz. They visited me while I was in New Jersey and all seemed great.

But it apparently wasn't. The thing about Smokey was that he was intelligent, good looking, and a charmer but there was a self destructive dark side to Smokey which wound up disappointing and frustrating a lot of people who cared for him. And when things went south you really had to take Smokey's explanation with a grain of salt. I hadn't figured that out when his marriage dissolved. That pattern was repeated over the years. At times Smokey seemed like he was on top of the world and then everything would fall apart. I won't go into detail on all those episodes except to say that throughout the 1980's, 90's and beyond we remained friends and saw each other regularly since we both lived in Georgia. I may be one of the few persons really close to Smokey who never directly experienced the frustration with him that others did. He did approach me a few times asking for a favor. By the time that happened though I was pretty cautious and didn't do anything that would have cost me financially or negatively affect our friendship.

I previously mentioned our common bonds and one similarity we shared was a long term dependency on alcohol. One reason I ultimately quit drinking seven years ago was being around Smokey and realizing that alcohol was negatively affecting both of us. Once I quit it was harder to be around Smokey. In fact over the last few years the only time I spent time with him was our 50th high school reunion. We also got together for dinner with two other friends the following evening. I could tell he was not in good physical condition. Life had clearly taken a toll on him. Early last year Smokey suffered a major stroke that left him paralyzed on his right side and unable to even speak. I visited him several times in an assisted living facility here in Atlanta and for a while he improved; he could talk and use his right hand. However, it was clear he would probably never be able to live on his own. His older sister Bonnie was about the only family he had left and she lives in California; her hope was he would progress to the point where she could move him to an assisted living home out there. She visited several times and then Smokey wound up back in the hospital. He left the hospital but neither they or the assisted living home knew where he was. I checked in with Bonnie and found out Smokey was in another facility and had deteriorated to the point where hospice was coming in to evaluate. I went to visit the next day and it was tough. I wondered whether he could even last until Bonnie returned in a few days.

Bonnie along with his niece arrived to find out Smokey was back in the hospital on a ventilator. All three of us thought the end was near, but when they removed the ventilator, a decision made by Bonnie who realized he was suffering, he survived and wound up back in assisted living. On his 70th birthday last year, Bonnie came to Atlanta and organized a birthday celebration for Smokey at the assisted living facility. A lot of his Atlanta friends came and Smokey was in good spirits, but to me it was obvious by then he was never going to leave that facility alive.

I went by to see him a few times after that but he was deteriorating. He weighed well under 100 lbs, couldn't really eat solid food, and at times seemed to be in a vegetative state. To be honest it became too painful to watch the downward spiral and like several times before in our relationship I avoided going to see him. In fact the last time I visited I thought he was actually dead; finally I saw his chest barely move. He was alseep so didn't even speak to him. I found out he passed away when his daughter and some friends posted it on Facebook.

As I mentioned Smokey had huge potential and I observed him crashing, but then resurrecting himself like the Phoenix. He could have done almost anything career-wise and been successful. From banking to insurance to sales to becoming a master craftsman building and renovating homes the world could have been his oyster. There's no doubt that his lifestyle ended up cutting his life short. Godspeed Claude "Smokey" Chattin. I am grateful to have known you and happy that you are no longer suffering.

Escaping Death

If you live long enough events happen that can turn into disaster in an instant. September 10th turned into one of those days for me. Early that morning I left home heading to a cycling event. As soon as I got onto GA 400 my dash lights began dimming and my car lost power and stalled in the right lane. I couldn't even turn on hazard lights because the battery was totally dead. Fortunately another motorist pulled in behind me and turned on his hazard lights. He figured my alternator died and I had been running only on battery power which seemed likely to me. I had already called 511 to send a HERO unit and the motorist had a reflective vest and emergency hand held light to warn approaching traffic. Certainly some nervous moments until a police officer arrived.

He called to dispatch a tow truck and as the other motorist left the officer was able to push my car out of the traffic lane into the gore between the right lane and an exit ramp which led to an interstate. I breathed a sigh of relief as it looked like we could tow the car to Dekalb Tire who would open shortly. They had serviced my car many times, and I figured they could replace the alternator and I could then get on with my day. If the repair turned out to be more complicated I would simply ride my bike home and wait out whatever needed to be done. The tow truck arrived and the police officer received another call and had to leave. I later found out that at this time of morning (5:30) Sandy Springs only has two patrol cars on the road as they are going through a shift change. The tow truck driver was concerned about the officer leaving, but I figured we would quickly load my car and be on our way.

The tow truck operator raised the ramp, hooked up my car and instructed me to get in the car release brake, put in neutral and make sure front wheels were straight. I did all those maneuvers and my car was pulled up onto the ramp. The tow truck driver then told me to put the car into park and get out. I did that, opened the door and as I stepped out onto the ramp, I looked back to see headlights aimed at me coming at a high speed. I think I jumped off the ramp just as the approaching car drove up the tow truck ramp and slammed into my car. I landed in the right lane doing one of my better rolls, and faster than I had most likely ever moved in my life rolled back out of the lane. Fortunately no other car was right there in that lane then or I wouldn't be writing this. A few seconds later a motorist did pull up beside me to see if I was OK. I said I was, but asked her to stay there for just a second. She did and I reached under her car to retrieve my hat.

The tow truck driver called 911 and within minutes several police cars and emergency units were on the scene. The other driver got out of his car, phone in hand. I asked if he was OK and he muttered something about needing dialysis, sat down on a curb and began texting. A witness circled back and when interviewed by officers said he thought the other driver was texting just before impact. It made sense to me since the tow truck and my car were out of both the right lane and the exit ramp. The other driver and tow truck driver ended up going to the hospital probably just as a precaution although I figure the police wanted to check out that driver pretty carefully. The police officer who had initially responded had returned and I managed to hitch a courtesy ride back home from him. He had left to respond to a call from Northside Hospital. When he heard the dispatch about a collision at exit 4-A involving a tow truck he returned ASAP along with what seemed too be 3-5 other officers. Guess the shift change had occurred and our incident was the top story.

I spent the rest of the morning dealing with the aftermath. Trying to find a rental car on Saturday without a prior reservation took all morning and trips to two Hertz locations. Turning in a claim to my insurance company retrieving stuff from my car, and beginning the process of shopping for a another car took up the rest of my day. But in hindsight I was very, very fortunate. If I had still been in my car upon impact or if another car was passing in the right lane who knows what would have happened to me. I've had lots of encounters that could have been deadly but not since I was in junior high and wound up underneath a car after a bike/car collision had I come within inches or seconds of death. If the ramp had been lowered I don't think the other driver would have survived.

Muhammid Ali and Me

Muhammad Ali's passing reminded me of my two encounters with him. OK, the first wasn't an encounter but it was significant for me. As the second fight between Ali and Sonny Liston approached our freshman dorm at the University of Richmond formed a pool to see who would win along with the round. 30 of us each put up $10 and then we drew a name/number. In 1965 $10 was a shitload of money--at least for me--so imagine my enthusiasm when I drew Ali in round one. Well, as it turned out Ali knocked Liston down in the first round and even though the referee didn't start the count until Ali went to a neutral corner (remember the photo of Ali standing over Liston by Neil Leifer) Liston never got up and was counted out. 29 freshman started screaming that it was a fix and the pool should be disbanded with refunds to everyone, I was not to be denied. $300 was more cash than I had ever had in my life in 1965 and as I pocketed the money pointed out we had bet on the winner and ending round so whether it was fixed or not was irrelevant. To this day that outcome is still debated among boxing historians and fans.

My actual encounter occurred in 1970 right after the Supreme Court overturned Ali's conviction for refusing the draft on religious grounds. I was at the Atlanta airport on my way out of town and Ali had just come to Atlanta to fight Jerry Quarry. In 1970 the old airport had solid bathroom doors that swung inward. I pushed the door open and it whacked a man in the head who was standing just inside. It whacked him pretty hard and I immediately apologized. The man turned and said "It's my fault for stopping, I'm OK." I walked on by but noticed several guys standing in front of him; I was amazed at how big he was--he was huge. It looked like he was signing autographs for them. I kept glancing and thinking he looks like Muhammad Ali, but then surmised it can't be--that guy is HUGE. I went outside and hopped up on the shoe shine stand, and within a few minutes Ali emerged and sat down on the stand beside me. He was impeccably dressed in a black suit, white shirt and tie. I noticed the stand was now surrounded by several black men also impeccably dressed; one of them handed him something and said, "Here's your ticket, Ali." I again apologized for hitting him and he again brushed it off very cordially. I then asked him how he felt about the Supreme Court's verdict and he mentioned his faith in Allah had helped him through it all.

That was it. We parted ways and I was amazed by how cordial, friendly and seemingly humble/normal he was. In the meantime I probably became the only person to hit Muhammad Ali hard in the head and not get hit back. The one thing I will always remember about Ali was his absolute fearlessness. Inside the ring he stood up to the likes of Liston, Fraizer and Foreman all of whom looked like they could destroy him. Outside the ring he stood up against segregation and racism, His religious beliefs and opposition to the Vietnam War at great personal costs and no doubt risks.

Godspeed, Muhammad Ali.

What Goes Around Comes Around

As I reflect on my 70th birthday I am reminded how often life is a circular journey. Many times I have traveled down a path only to find myself in that same place years later. For instance almost 34 years ago I came to Atlanta and worked in a Chubb office at Piedmont Center, building 3. Now I am working part time for one of Chubb's largest agencies and I'm once again at Piedmont Center, Building 3. I grew up in Danville, VA and left there in the late 1960's. Lost track of almost everyone I knew back then. Now thanks to Facebook I am connected to many childhood and high school friends I've manged to return there several times over the past few years to attend 2 high school reunions and during the one in 2014 connect with my brother to ride bikes over many of the streets we road on years ago. I am currently back in college working on a BS in exercise science with a minor in gerontology, 47 years after earning a BA in economics. Being in school after so many years is different in many respects. The course work seems easier, I suppose because I am taking courses that interest me without having to take all the core stuff I took years ago. Age and experience also make the work seem easier. One difference is it's harder for me to memorize stuff the way I use to do in order to get through course work. Another difference is I can attend tuition free thanks to being so old and can take as many or as few classes as I want each semester. That's a huge change from when I was at the University of Richmond in the 1960's trying to get done before the money ran out.

One of the most rewarding circular experiences was reconnecting with my first true love after not being in touch for over 35 years. For about 18 months I was on cloud nine until my drinking caused that relationship to fall apart. Looking back on that it was a blessing because it got me sober after a 50 year drinking career. It's too bad I wasn't smart enough to figure that out earlier. Reflecting on that gets me wondering how many opportunities I let slip by either because of my drinking or simply not paying enough attention at the time. I remember a blind date I had back in college. Her name was Page Taylor and she seemed like the nicest person I ever met. She was certainly the most attractive blind date I ever had. However, I blew it one night by picking her up for a fraternity party completely wasted. That date lasted about 30 minutes and I never saw her again. I still remember how embarrassed I was when I called to apologize; she was cordial enough but the damage was done and irreparable at the time.

There are many other situations where I either did--or did not--take action or inaction that ended relationships and friendships In some cases I had all the right in the world to be pissed off. But now as I reflect on a 70 year life span, I wonder if those people passed by me again, would I be able to either make amends or forgive? In almost every case I would welcome the opportunity to try

Othopedic Surgery # 15

Little did I know that 2 weeks after hip replacement I would be back in Northside Hospital for another procedure. Basically a few days after my initial surgery my replacement incision began draining. No big deal at first other than changing dressings several times a day. However, when it continued the doctor saw me and recommended a possible irrigation and debridement procedure; it's the type stuff done to aggressively clean out wounds kinda like what they do when you have severe road rash (which despite all my cycling and occasional crashes I've never experienced). I was scheduled to report to Northside on Thursday morning where the doctor would examine again and decide whether the procedure was needed. Theoretically I could be out in less than an hour if not needed and maybe 2-3 hours if needed. After all aggressively cleaning out a wound shouldn't take to long I thought.

I should have known that "scheduling a surgical procedure" almost always takes a lot longer. Once I'm in a pre-op waiting room the doctor looks at my incision and says we need to "nip this in the bud and move forward." I say OK let's get it done. So then I get the best versus the worst scenarios. Best case: whatever's going on is just on the surface, we clean it out, surgery is over in few minutes, but you'll have to stay overnight until culture samples grow and can be analyzed so we can treat with appropriate antibiotics. Worst case: whatever's going on is deeper and we'll need to replace some parts. Surgery will take longer and you'll stay overnight. I've been through enough surgeries to know that infections especially deep in a joint can turn into a massive long time problem so I didn't debate just signed a bunch of paperwork.

When you wake up in recovery it's hard--at least for me--to get a sense of time. Even when they told me I couldn't remember. Likewise when I asked exactly what they ended up doing about all I heard was "it was a little deeper than normal." The surgeon will go over that with you later. When I wound up in a regular room around 5:30 I figured out they most likely did more than an irrigation & debridement. Also the fact they would not let me out of bed was different from the prior surgery. There was virtually no pain which made me think I must be on something really strong, but turned out to be Tylenol.

Friday morning the doctor visited and let me know they did go into the joint and replaced a portion since there seemed to be something going on well below surface. I'm no othro doctor and can't tell you exactly what he did,but I believe what was done is the best course of action to get me up and about and prevent long term issues. The main reason I'm still in the hospital is waiting for culture results which sometime take longer a day to develop. They have installed a PICC line (central catheter line) in my right upper arm which will be used to deliver antibiotics on a daily basis for 6 weeks. I can most likely be taught how to do this myself so I don't have to go to an infusion center every day. So as of Friday night I have 2 IVs and a Davol closed wound suction evacuator device draining excess fluid from my right thigh. This is how a computer must feel like with input and output devices plugged in, but computers don't have someone coming in constantly monitoring things and also checking vital signs, almost always just after I've manged to fall asleep.

So after a very restless Friday night I wound up feeling pretty dismal about the prospects of possibly spending the weekend waiting for cultures to develop. However, the infectious disease specialist came by to let me know the cultures had not developed any sign of a specific infection which is not so good because it leaves things ambiguous as to what infection I have. However, the good news is they will treat me with an antibiotic called rocephin which should work fine over the course of time. The best news was assuming they could give me the first dose today and arrange for out patient infusions on Sunday and Monday I could go home today. By 2:00 I am getting my infusion, the out patient infusion center is open Sunday and Monday so I should be home by the end of the day All that has to be done now is the discharge paperwork which will probably take longer than surgery. I don't mind; it's like the last few miles of an ultra long ride--the end is near.

Orthopedic Surgery # 14

The past 15 months have not been very kind to me in that I've had surgery on my right femur and left clavicle as the result of bicycle crashes. When the doctor repaired my femur he mentioned my hip joint was bone on bone and I might need a rig ht hip replacement in the future. Well the future is now because over the past 12 months the pain and stiffness in that joint is reminiscent of what my left hip felt like 15 years ago. This time I am not going to wait like I did back then and have scheduled the surgery for December 17th. It will be more complicated because before my hip can be replaced the metal nails and intramedullary rod inserted last year have to be removed. The doctor in Rome GA who did the original femur repair recommended doing this in two separate procedures, but he also thought I should consider having this done in Atlanta since going back and forth to Rome would be a hassle. He even recommended a doctor I should consider.

I went to the recommended Atlanta ortho doctor who felt that the removal and replacement procedure could be done at the same time. In a pre op visit he outlined the procedure in detail. Interestingly removing last year's hardware will take as long as the replacement procedure. Nevertheless there is a good chance I will be able to go home the same day. That will be my immediate goal: get out of the hospital as fast as I can. I am very adept at figuring out how to pass post surgery protocol as home is always preferable to a hospital. As always my longer term recovery goals are measured in terms of cycling. I did a road bike ride 6 weeks after my left hip replacement and 4 weeks after each knee replacement. Each of those rides were about 20 miles. I will aim for a short road ride in 4 weeks. Hopefully that sets the stage for me to complete a 200 km RUSA event on January 30th. If I'm on target I may solicit someone to ride a tandem with me. While this may seem far fetched I did complete a 200 km event on a tandem in October, 2014, 4 weeks to the day following femur surgery.

I'm often asked why I do this stuff. The answer is always the same: given all my orthopedic issues cycling is one of the few aerobic activities I can still do. I gave up running, basketball, tennis, hiking and to a large extent even swimming and walking. About all I have left is cycling and canoeing/kayaking and it's much more convenient to cycle. Wish me luck with the surgery and more importantly the recovery.

See you on the road!!

Back to the Future--First Day at Chubb

Today my stepson Jeff sent me an email announcing the Chubb Group of Insurance Companies had agreed to be acquired by Ace Insurance. It reminded me that exactly 47 years ago today I started my post-college career at an insurance company then called Chubb & Son in downtown Manhattan. There were about 20 of us in a small training room dressed in our new business suits; most of them like me had just finished college and come to begin our business careers. We were from all over the country, and we all hoped some day that we would be the head of everything. I had been excited and nervous ever since I had received an offer from Chubb a few months before graduation. Several of us became very close friends that summer enjoying all the things New York city and the surrounding area offered. Since it was Monday we worked 3 days and then had a 4 day July 4th holiday. One of the guys, Charles Collette had a pool party at his parent's house in NJ and invited us all.

We were all in a general insurance training course for about 6 weeks, and then we we chose--or rather were assigned--to various departments. Most of us wound up in an underwriting department although a few went into Claims or Operations (1968 version of IT). I had been hired specifically for personal lines because having worked as a clerk in the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles I had some basic knowledge--so they thought--about personal auto insurance. At the time personal lines underwriting compared to commercial lines underwriting was viewed by most folks coming into insurance as a dead end for many reasons I won't bother mentioning. But it was a large part of Chubb's overall revenue and I figured if it didn't turn around I wouldn't be blamed, but if it did, maybe I would get some credit. Over the next 10 years that's exactly what happened and my career progressed. In the late 60's and early 70's Chubb was a medium sized company with about 30 branch offices and 5,000 employees. One way to get ahead was to be willing to go where ever they needed someone. I started in New York, went to Atlanta for about 4 months on a short term assignment, then back to New York. Then back to Atlanta for 3 years, followed by a home office assignment in New Jersey. In 1976 it was off to Los Angeles and then 2 years later a nice promotion took me to New Haven. In 1982 another big promotion took me back to Atlanta.

I left Chubb in 1988 after a 20 year career. I've written about that in an earlier post so won't go into it again. But looking back on what would have been my 47th anniversary (and most likely my 4th year of retirement) I can remember with great fondness the friends I made during my career there. Most of them are either retired or went somewhere, but there are a few that I talk to occasionally. In any event today is a nostalgic day for me and most likely the second most important July 01 in Chubb's history.

Happy Birthday, Mother

Today, April 23, 2015, would have been my mother’s 100th birthday. Unfortunately, she has not been around to celebrate the last 36. Katherine Marcella Pie (pronounced pee-a) was the third of 9 children of Charles William and Nora Scollins Pie. It’s pretty amazing that my grandmother had her first child in 1909 and her last in 1928. She loved the fact she was born on the same date (not year) as William Shakespeare, even though his actual birthdate has been questioned. She grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania and was acknowledged by her entire family as the brightest of them all.
After high school she attended nursing school and wound up in Washington, DC at Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital. She spent time in their suicide ward which must have been stressful. I remember her telling me about a patient who attempted suicide by swallowing 47 razor blades (they must been used because he survived). She kept a journal from 1938 for about 10 years and the early portion is filled with various adventures she and her cohorts had as single females. During that time she met my father as he was heading oversees for World War II. I’ve written about their relationship in other posts so I won’t recount it here.
I remember her as someone who was adept at many things. She could sew and knit, was very quick witted and managed the house. She also wrote two novels but they were never published. The first was titled Right Out of My Mind and was similar to the book Please Don’t Eat the Daisies The second was a novel called The Invisible Scar and drew on her knowledge as a nurse. She and my father seldom argued, I can only recall 2 instances where things escalated between them and I remember because it was so unusual.
I inherited several characteristics from my mother: her love of books and the written word, her quick wittedness. After my father died she became very depressed and that seemed to stay with her for the rest of her life. She died from emphysema and smoked right up to the end. It was very sad to watch helplessly as a very talented woman never really recovered from becoming a widow. My brother and I who had been raised too survive on our own just did not know how to help. It was awfully sad and I regret not being able to figure out how I could have helped her.
In retrospect both my parents left this earth far too early because of the choice they made to smoke. It’s too bad I didn’t have more time with them as an adult, I think they both could have helped me grow and mature better than me doing it on my own.
Happy birthday, Mother. I miss you.

Hospirals & Health Care--Inside View

During the past 6 months I've been in 2 emergency rooms, 2 hospitals, undergone 2 surgeries, and am now facing time in a rehabilitation center which I think is a politically correct term for a nursing home. You learn a lot from inside this prism; here are some observations which are purely my opinions.

I have Medicare A&B, and AARP Plan F supplement through United Health Care along with a prescription drug card. The total cost is $340/month. My out of pocket expenses with this coverage have been minimal; except for co-pays on some drugs they have been zero. While I may not have access to every health care provider in my world there are plenty readily available. Having affordable health insurance, minimal co-pays and facility access eliminate lots of concern. My premiums do increase each year but they have been reasonable. Someday this system will totally implode, but probably not in my lifetime.

Health care providers have to follow many procedures, aka government regulations. It sometimes means waiting time, cant do that until we do this, etc. I also think since providers know they won't get the dollars they bill, they look for ways to increase volume with approved Medicare procedures. I've said it before, no individual really ever knows the true cost of their health care. Ever since doctors lost control no one really has control anymore. However, if the US ever completely turns it over to government control, costs will soar and quality will no doubt suffer. Ever wonder why the 3 branches of federal government completely remove themselves from traditional medical health care systems? I don't.

When you're in ER and/or move to the hospital more than one doctor may be managing your situation. That can quickly complicate matters. It is important to remain calm, ask plenty of questions as politely as possible. Usually you'll notice when they come talk to you there are 2 of them present so stuff doesn't fall through the cracks; it still can happen. Do your best to comprehend, and even when you think they are full of shit, your best response is "I'm not sure I understand the part about xxx, could you go over that again, please." I'm not the most patient person, but I am one the most stubborn so this lesson has been difficult for me. Learning to blend those characteristics into "determination" is one of my life goals.

Ever since I accidently overdosed on Vicodin to complete a century ride with broken ribs in 2007 I pay a lot of attention to pain medication management. Having overcome an alcohol problem a few years ago I don't want to develop another addiction. During the last few months I've learned that when you are in acute pain, medication is good. When needed make sure the providers know your complete health history and all medications you have been taking. Most problems arise when multiple meds, alcohol and other stuff get taken in unsupervised combinations. If possible use one pharmacy for medications and remember a good pharmacist is a valuable consultative resource, in spite of the internet. Of course being the son of a third generation druggist has somewhat prejudiced me.

Go to an ER when you wind up laying in the road after an accident or other similar potential life threatening situation. On the way, hope you will not be their top priority. Once you arrive and it's confirmed you are not, your goal is to get out of there ASAP. If you wind up in a hospital, your goal is to get treatment and get out of there ASAP. I'm sure it will be the same in the rehabilitation facility. The important goal is to move forward even if progress sometimes seems negligible.

I am anxious to get back to normal and on my bike again. It's been said this kind of stuff happens in threes; I hope my Paris-Brest-Paris incident and these 2 accidents mean I'm done with these encounters for a while.

Bike Accidents--Update

On September 9, 2013 I wrote about the bike accidents I had in over 50 years of cycling. Unfortunately that now needs updating. I've had 2 crashes that landed me in an ER; both involved fractures. One occurred on September 28th on a Randoneur ride which started in Rome. Despite a fractured femur I did a 200 km ride 4 weeks later. Details of that are in a post dated October 26.

On Saturday while doing a 115 km Rando event I crossed railroad tracks and managed to drop my front wheel into a wide gap. The tracks were at an angle and I lined up on the right side of the road to cross them perpendicular as I've done thousands of times. A car passed me going in the same direction and I was paying more attention to that than the tracks. A wide gap grabbed my front wheel and I went down on my left side. That earned me an ambulance ride to Atlanta Medical Center where after 5 hours of x-rays and CAT scan I was diagnosed with a displaced left clavicle fracture, concussion and a hip pointer.

They elected not to do surgery on my clavicle then, but a follow up discussion with the ortho doctor who has done work on me before led me to conclude surgery is the best option for me. Trying to wear a clavicle brace that I could not take off or put on myself turned out to be too uncomfortable; and this opinion from someone who knows how to manage pain. I hope to be back riding on the road soon, but will have to figure out that timetable after surgery which is scheduled for February 12.

My observations haven't changed from that earlier post, but I would add one. Emergency rooms are the place to go for true emergencies. However, your care is prioritized by the level of trauma, not only yours but in comparison to every other patient. That's not a complaint; that's how it should be. For me that translated into first class quick treatment in Rome on a relatively calm day in their ER, compared to a 5 hour wait at Atlanta Medical Center on an evening they were also dealing with 2 fatalities. I was grateful not to be a level 1 trauma.

Back to the Future--Happy Anniversary

Today would have been my parent’s 70th wedding anniversary. They got married within days after my father returned from World War II having served in the Army Medical Core in Africa. They originally met in Washington DC several years before after my father went on active duty and my mother worked as a nurse at St Elizabeth’s Hospital. My mother kept a journal from 1938—until 1948, and many of the posts express her love for him and hoping he would return and marry her. I know very little about how he felt about her though. However, from my mother's journal it's obvious they both wrote lots of letters during that time. She also mentioned many times the frustration of not hearing anything for months, then getting 6 letters. Sometimes letters did not arrive in any particular order in that she would get one and later receive another written weeks earlier. She often referred to "snail mail" which given it was the 1940's may have made her the inventor of that phrase.

They spent their first year together at Fort Meade Maryland where exactly 367 days later I arrived. From there they went to Fort Pickett in Virginia and later on after my father's discharge from active duty they moved to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania where my brother was born. Since the Fleming family drugstore had been sold while he was in the army my father went to work for Peoples Drug Stores and we wound up in Bristol for a while. Then he was promoted and we moved to Danville, Virginia. The rest of my parent's married life was spent there. Unfortunately it only lasted 17 years until my father died from lung cancer. My mother never really recovered from that loss and our family life was never the same.

These days most of my friends who are around my age have also lost there parents. Except for our next door neighbors the Browns whose patriarch died 5 years before my father, I was one of the first of my friends to lose a parent at such an early age. One of my regrets is that I didn't get to spend time with my father as an adult. My mother died 17 years later when I was 33 but in some ways she disappeared many years before as I've mentioned in some previous posts. As I reflect on this anniversary though my biggest regret is that my parents did not have many more years together.

Augusta 200 K Brevet

On New Years day I did what I've done for the past 5 New Years: rode the Augusta 200 K brevet. This year the official ride was moved to January 3rd, but several folks were pre-riding it on the first so I joined them. It was chilly but no rain which was predicted for today. Since I fractured my femur I've done just over 1000 Km in RUSA rides. Except for those efforts I've only ridden about 200 miles in the last 3 months. For 2015 I managed just over 5,000 miles of cycling which is slightly below average for me.

What I have noticed is that I've gotten slower over the last 2 years. Also when I complete a 100 or 200 km ride it takes longer to recover. I think those distance rides are pretty doable but I'm beginning to wonder how many longer rides I can manage in the future. I think the biggest issue is the arthritis that plagues my lower back and right hip. Yesterday I visited the doctor who surgically repaired my femur and x-rays show that while the fracture has completely healed my right hip joint is bone-on-bone. It certainly is no where near as painful as my left hip became before I had it replaced 14 years ago, but it has aggravated me from time to time. The doctor was amazed I could ride 200 Km, and there's no question that cycling is the best aerobic activity for me if I wanted to postpone replacement.

I always set goals each year usually around keeping fit. In 2015 I want to cycle at least 7,000 miles. Breaking that down means just under 20 miles a day, 135 miles a week, around 580 miles a month. It seems easy when you start with 125 on New Years but over time it's all about consistency. I have done just over 10,000 miles in a year, but that year I wasn't working and going to school. 7,000 seems like a worthy goal for 2015. I also want to reach at least 5,000 kilometers on RUSA events. I've reached over 4,000 the past 2 years so it's also attainable but I'll have to figure out a plan for that especially if I don't do many 300 and 400 Km events. My main RUSA goal is to continue my streak of 61 straight months of at least one 200 Km event and also do at least a 100 Km event each month as well. If I can achieve all these goals I can push any thought of hip replacement further into the future.

The only other goal I set is to do something every day to take care of my body. Yesterday it was as simple as getting a massage and doing some transverse Abdominal exercises. Today it will be a weight workout. Many days it could be simply 10-20 minutes of stretching or flexibility work. The hardest part of this goal is again consistency. It all looks good on paper the third day of 2015.

Athens 200 km Ride

Yesterday I rode a 200 km Randonneur event which meant I've now completed at least one 200 k or longer RUSA ride for 58 consecutive months. This one was special because it happened exactly 4 weeks after I crashed on my bike and had surgery to repair a fractured femur. It was also special because I had tremendous support from other riders. Kevin Kaiser volunteered to ride a tandem with me even though he had never been on one before. Jeff Dilcher, John Drummond, and Wayne King hung with Kevin and I all day and helped us get through intersections with a minimum of unclipping or stopping. They also helped us with starts since we sometimes had concerns about getting going without falling. Four other riders ahead of us must have tired out all the dogs that can chase cyclists because all the dogs we encountered seemed too tired to care.

Many of my friends think trying to ride a bike 4 weeks after a fractured femur is crazy. Maybe it is, but after many orthopedic surgeries including 3 total joint replacements I believe that movement and rehabilitation along with staying in good physical condition are vital to recovery. The biggest concern is the risk of falling, but my rationale is an individual is at risk of falling at any time. The biggest part of managing that risk is to be aware of it all the time and take appropriate precautions.

The scariest thing about my injury is during the recovery process realizing how hard performing simple tasks can be. I have to negotiate 3 flights of stairs to my condo and that can be very challenging lugging groceries, walking my energetic new dog, etc. I am fortunate to have many friends who offered and provided support. However, I found myself on many occasions not asking for help and just figuring out how to get things done on my own. Maybe that comes from being 68 years old and taking several gerontology course. It make me think about what life could be like years down the road if I gave up being active and somewhat stubborn. Nevertheless, I worked hard at restoring flexibility and function to my leg, and it paid dividends.

Anyway back to the ride. It was a chilly beautiful morning as we gathered in Watkinsville for the 7:30 start. After making final adjustments to the tandem we headed out. The first few miles were nervous ones mainly for Kevin who was brand new to tandem riding. It wasn't as unnerving for me as I had ridden tandems many times both as a captain and stoker, but it had been a while. My hardest task was mounting and dismounting the bike. I was glad to be on the back where the top tube was slanted down because I could not have gotten on or off the front. As the miles rolled by we both settled in and by the end of the ride we both were much more comfortable. One issue was neither one of us were able to pedal while standing which we both do quite a lot on our regular bikes. Staying in the saddle over 128 miles left both of us with pretty sore butts. During the day it was far easier for me to ride and peddle than to walk around during our stops. Even though both Kevin and I are experienced cyclist we are constantly learning from these rides. One mistake we made was using over sized water bottles. They were almost impossible to take out of and put back into the cages on the tandem because of space.

Looking back on the ride, I am grateful to have the ability to ride a bike long distances. There is so much wonderful scenery, along with a lot of great roads without much traffic. I think the vast majority of vehicles I encounter are very accommodating. Personally I'd rather take my chances on roads than ride on multi-use paths where traffic principles are not always followed. So what's next? Another 200 k ride next month on the Silver Comet Trail.

4 Years Sober

As of July 8th I have abstained from alcohol 4 years. That's quite an accomplishment for someone like me who drank pretty consistently for well over 45 years. i certainly tried to control my drinking over the years, even stopped completely for a few months at times, but always went back to drinking. I'm grateful for the friends I have met in AA meetings, along with the insight I get from going to an average of 5-10 meetings each month. When I initially quit I worried that friends who knew me as a drinker would give me grief over not drinking, but that just did not happen. At social functions it's clear to me that no one really cares what I drink (or don't drink). Family reunions, post ride parties, and my recent high school reunion are just a few experiences that I've weathered without any real temptation.

I have over 20 cousins and as I've spent time with many of them it's clear that alcohol was an issue on my mother's side of the family. Several cousins like me no longer drink, and there are at least a few who still do but probably should not. In retrospect genetics plus building up a huge tolerance were the main reasons behind my addiction. The comments I originally posted after 15 months still ring true today. Whenever, I think about whether i could drink normally it's easy to remind myself that I can't and the urge passes fairly easily. However, I have learned that it is very dangerous to get too cocky or complacent about this since I've seen individuals with much more sobriety than me slip off the slope.

Back to the Future--High School Reunion

Last weekend I drove to my hometown of Danville, Virginia for my 50th high school reunion. This was the fifth reunion for the class of 1964 and I have attended all but one. I enjoyed reconnecting with classmates, and there were a few at this reunion that i had not seen since high school graduation. There are several though that seem to have disappeared and about 50 have died. My brother mark also came back and we had a chance to ride bikes all over town on the roads we road on so many years ago. Whenever i visit Danville I'm reminded that it's a better place to be from than at. The Dan River runs right through the town and it has always amazed me that the town has never really taken advantage of that. on the north side of the river there is now a paved bike path/trail that is pleasant but otherwise the river is wasted. Now that Dan River Mills is gone there is a lot of river space that could be developed especially near the old downtown area. Danville just doesn't seem to be able to take advantage of it, but that's always been one of the problems with Danville.

I enjoyed cycling with my brother and another classmate (Dick Smith)and was reminded that since there's a river in the middle of town there are plenty of hills on either side. it also seemed like I could ride from one end of town to the other in a matter of minutes. I saw virtually no other cyclists the entire weekend except on the river trail. It reminds me of how many folks in Atlanta favor cycling on the Silver Comet Trail which like the trail in Danville is fairly narrow. The difference is that there are a lot fewer folks on Danville's trail which makes it somewhat more tolerable.

So it was an overall good weekend ecept for the actual drive up and back. It was my first road trip without Greta and it was pretty lonely. Even now i'm still adjusting to life without her.

My Girl Greta

Greta showed up in my life on March 01, 2002. I had recently lost a great dog named Shadow to liver cancer (see Papa's Little Girl post from 02/13/2005) I was torn over losing her but missed the companionship of a good dog. A friend who volunteered at Atlanta Pet Rescue asked if I would foster a puppy named Greta they had just picked up from the Spalding County Shelter, but couldn't offer for adoption until she was spayed. I picked up Greta on a Friday after work, and within minutes knew I would keep her.

Greta was exactly 4 months old that day, weighed 19 pounds, and was full of energy. At first she loved to chase squirrels and once she treed them she would stay at the base and bark at them as if to say "why wont't you come back down and play?" Of course I worried she would chase one into the street but in parks trees were the preferred escape. One day I noticed a dead squirrel that must have just died. It looked like it was taking a nap. I called her attention to it and she charged over expecting it to flee. When it didn't move Greta kept circling it and barking at it. When the squirrel still didn't move she began nudging it with her nose and barking incessantly.

Fortunately we discovered a more enjoyable activity. I started tossing a tennis ball and of course Greta would fetch it, actually bring it back and drop it at my feet. If I didn't pick it up she would pick it up,toss it at my feet again, and bark at me to toss it until I did. One day it bounced over a neighbor's fence out of sight. Just like with the squirrel she sat there and barked, but when I tossed her a different ball she caught it and immediately spit it out. Not until I climbed over the fence and retrieved the one we started with would she be happy. Whatever ball we started with was the only one Greta would retrieve. If we were walking in woods I could threw the ball into the deepest brush or even in a direction when she was looking elsewhere not seeing the actual throw and Greta would starting working her way around until she located it. Sometimes that could take 15-20 minutes, but she almost always located that ball. Of course tennis ball retrieval became her favorite activity for her entire life. She especially loved retrieving it from ponds, lakes, and rivers and became a very strong swimmer.


Since Greta loved riding in a car road trips were memorable times together. The longest one was to Oklahoma for a family reunion in 2009. It was 870 miles each way and of course Greta had a great time chasing tennis balls and swimming in the lakes on my cousin's property. She also could recognize many places we frequented and as we got close she would stand up, wag her tail and bark excitedly. She was extremely friendly with every person she met, but there were some dogs she just did not like. Most of the time they were dogs big or small that wanted to jump at or on her, and she would let them know that was totally unacceptable. I never saw her back down from an aggressive dog either but she would ignore them if they weren't close.

Greta followed my orthopedic journey with two canine cruciate ligament surgeries on her rear legs. The procedure is called Tibial Plateau Leveling Osteotomy. When she injured her left rear leg in 2010 she was referred to an orthopedic vet surgeon. He told me she would not be able to walk up or down stairs for several weeks after the operation. Since Greta weighed 45 pounds, hated being picked up and lived in a 3 story condo this looked like a challenge. I ordered a special leash for dogs with hip issues; when it arrived I brought the package into the living room where Greta was resting. I opened the package,she took one look at it, hopped up on the couch and gave me a look that said "don't even think about using that thing on me." As it turned out she was able to negotiate stairs with just a normal leash. After 12 weeks Greta gradually resumed all her normal activity including ball retrieval. I was jealous; her surgeries and rehab were more successful than the many I've undergone. Two years later she injured the other rear leg but again still chased the ball, but wanted time outs more frequently. I think her age also began to slow her down. Nevertheless, trips to the forest trail and river were meet with excitement, tail wagging and ball retrieval.

Last November Greta developed a sinus infection which was turned out to be cancerous. I consulted with 2 vets; because the treatment was invasive, and the prognosis was not great, I decided to just keep her comfortable. She remained comfortable and normal until the very end. I went to participate in the Race Across America and left her with a friend who always kept her whenever I was gone and could not take her with me. Two days later I got a call that she was at the vet and seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. While driving to California I consulted with the vet and made the painful decision. In a way it was a blessing since I have always had a difficult time being present. My friend Jeannette was there and it was a peaceful passing. I also had 2 weeks of being involved with the Race Across America (RAAM) to help divert the pain.

Now I am home and about to embark on a road trip that Greta made with me several times. Reality has set in. I miss Greta's companionship, but she will live the rest of my life in fond memories. To again reflect on the quote in the book My Dog Skip, "she's not really gone; a part of Greta lies buried in my heart."

400 km Brevet--Mind Game

As a member of Randonneurs USA (RUSA) I've completed a RUSA event of at least 200 km or more for 44 consecutive months through August. Probably not a big deal compared to some other RUSA members but it is the longest current streak among Georgia members. More importantly to me I had never accomplished cycling a 100 mile ride in 12 straight months before joining RUSA, and that had been a life goal for at least 10 years.

For September I targeted a 400 km event riding from Dublin GA to Clarks Hill SC and back. Again not too big a deal since others were doing either a 600 or 1000 km ride during this event, but 400 km would be my longest ride so far in 2013. I drove to Dublin very early Friday morning arriving in time to eat breakfast and prepare for a 5:00 am start. Why not drive down the day before and get a decent night sleep at some motel? Mainly because I never sleep very well the first night on the road. I figured 5 hours of sleep in my own bed would be better than a restless night on the road.

8 cyclists started promptly; I wasn't sure who was doing 400 or who was doing 1000. Those doing 600 would join the 1000 k riders Saturday morning. It didn't matter though because pretty soon I was all by myself. Except for a few sightings on the portion of the course that was out and back I never saw another cyclist. For several reasons the 400 km distance can be hard, especially from a mental perspective. First it's too short a distance for a drop bag or motel room on the course so I ride with no sleep. On longer rides there's a chance to stop somewhere, shower, sleep a little, put on fresh clothes and continue riding. Second since I am use to riding lots of 200 km events, that moment when you reach 125 miles (or so) you realize you have to do the same distance again, most likely a lot of it at night.

I was comfortable in the clothes I had on at the start, and once daylight and warmth arrived I could easily adjust my wordrobe. The first 50 miles were flat and easy but later the wind picked up (headwind) and the rolling hills showed up. Nothing steep, but they were enough along with the wind to take some energy, not so much physically but mentally. My mind starting wandering as it usually does on rides like this where I am alone. I thought about two birthday cards I'd just mailed, one to my ex-fiancee, the other to my stepson. I reflected on the ups and downs about both relationships--won't bore anyone with the specifics except to say those reflections filled up a lot of miles.

As I reached the 100 mile mark I saw 2 cyclists already heading back from the turn around in South Carolina. A few miles later I came across 2 more riders and saw Kevin Kaiser who is the RUSA brevet administrator and organized the event. I asked him if there was any place to get a decent meal further out on the course and he told me the only places were 2 restaurants across the street. I decided to catch one of them on the way back. That happened to be at mile 125 and a sit down vegetable plate with time to take off my shoes was most welcome. I have gotten use to eating very little on 200 km rides, but I knew this ride would require more solid fuel. I'm grateful for Kevins' advice because there wasn't another place to get a decent meal until mile 225.

Refreshed and slightly rested I pushed on for a while until sunset around 7:15. I put warm clothes back on, turned on lights and kept pedaling reflecting on passing the half way point. Darkness brought a chill and it seemed colder than it had been when we started that morning in the dark. Unfortunately I didn't bring anything warmer so I resigned myself to being cold at times. Those times mainly happened on down hills where I could make up time by going fast. I began wondering whether I'd rather have up hills which became slower as the night progressed, downhills where I felt cold and sometimes could not see much of the road in front of me, or the flats where I felt like falling asleep on the bike.

Although it was incredibly dark I had plenty of lights on my bike and helmet to guide and keep me visible. The nice thing about night riding on rural roads is the absence of any vehicle traffic; the disadvantage is that sometimes there are rural dogs you can't always see until they appear out of nowhere. I got several chances to practice how fast I could sprint after a long time in the saddle. The other unnerving thing can be where you hear dogs barking ahead of you and don't know if they're loose or restricted. At one point riding through a small community the dogs started barking in what became a chorus line as I cycled. At least this time none were loose, but you never know.

As the night wore on I became less meditative and more focused on my aches and pains. Earlier in the day I had thought about doing the 400, taking a nap and then heading out with the 600 so I could claim a full super randonneur series (200, 300, 400, 600 during 2013). Now I just wanted to be off the bike and asleep. I was really tired, but potential road hazards, dogs, and fear of going off course kept me alert. At 4:00 am I stopped at the last control (Waffle House) for a grilled cheese sandwich and coke. I hardly remember the last 40 miles, except that upon turning onto the road back to the start/finish I encountered the worst road conditions of the entire ride. That coupled with Saturday morning Dublin traffic and my own weariness made the final 3 miles pretty dicey.

I reached the hotel at 7:00 am, loaded my bike in the car, and headed for Kevin's hotel room for a shower and nap. When I first laid down the aches and pains made it hard to sleep, but fatigue prevailed and I got 3 hours of sleep. Over breakfast with Kevin I discovered that 3 of the 8 starters did not finish the 400. One of the major skills in rando riding is being able to follow a cue sheet and they had gotten lost and couldn't find their way back on course. Kevin ended up picking them up. So of the 5 cyclists who finished, one like me had only planned on doing 400, and the other 3 had left just before I arrived to do another 600 km ride along with a few more who started the 600 on Saturday. All 3 of the 1000 k riders finished along with the 3 who did the 600.

There is a RUSA mantra that says "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey." On this journey I made it 45 consecutive months completing a RUSA event of 200 km (or more). I learned that completing a lot of 200 km rides without more 300 km rides did not prepare me for a 400 km effort--at least not without some pain and suffering. But I also learned that mental fortitude and stubbornness can overcome potential physical limitations.

Bike Accidents--50 + Years

Last Saturday August 30th, I was involved in a minor mishap on my bike. Another cyclist drifted into me, our handlebars and front wheels collided, he bounced off and hit the road, another rider hit his bike, and in the meantime I was forced off-road onto a grassy down hill. Despite best efforts my wheels slide out and I hit the ground. Stunned but fully conscious I laid there several minutes trying to determine if I was injured. The other two cyclists were taken to the closet ER. They both road rash, and one of them ended up with fractured scapula and rib although not confirmed until he followed up with ortho doc. I wound up somewhat sore and my helmet was toast which put on end to my ride that day. Spent the rest of the morning and afternoon helping the cyclists who went to ER and drove one of them home.

I found out that two days before a cycling buddy had been water skiing and sustained a very serious head injury. He's currently in an intensive care unit and even though early signs are good, he's probably facing a long physical therapy road. These events got me thinking about how lucky I've been over my long cycling career. I've had a few accidents--it's said that if you cycle enough it's not a question of whether you'll crash, it's simply a question of when. Besides last Saturday I've had a few whens. Including last week I've had a total of 11 bike accidents going all the way back to 1960. Four of them required trips to an ER, the other seven I manged to finish my ride. I won't bore anyone with details as a few of them are already mentioned in previous posts. The very first one though in 1960 deserves a mention since that event is closest I have ever come to facing death--and escaping. It was September 1960, I was in 8th grade and riding my bike home from school. I was trying to catch my brother who was ahead of me. I was going as fast as I could down Grove Street when I approached a car going in the same direction at an incredibly slow speed. I decided to pass on the right at the same time the driver decided to pull over in order to park. I glanced off the car, hit a curb, and tried to grab a tree near the sidewalk in order to stop my momentum. My bike went out from under me, I was spun around the tree, and thrown completely underneath the car. The only thing I remember was seeing the right rear wheel resting just off my right shoulder. Fortunately the most serious injury was severe road rash--actually tree rash--from my wrist all the way up my arm to my sleeve. Obviously I've been fortunate to have cycled as long as I have with only 11 mishaps.

Here are some observations I've learned over the years from my own crashes and having helped some other cyclists. These are not in any priority:

Don't be in a hurry to move. When you hit the pavement or road hard some level of shock sets in. While the tendency is to immediately move to a "safe place" you may have an injury where movement is not a good idea. Even in urban areas when a cyclist goes down and stays there others spring into action quickly. They should be able to keep you safe from other vehicles. Let the shock settle down before you try moving potentially injured limbs or body. If you suspect a serious injury or fracture let others assess the situation. During my crash last week, even though I was fully conscious I experienced some shock. I remained still until I was sure I could move and even then I was very careful to assess things beforehand.

Experience is huge. I've ridden a lot of miles, in cities, traffic, on rural roads, at night, and in all kinds of weather. I've avoided countless crashes because I ride defensively, assume I'm virtually invisible, and anticipate actions of others on the road--dogs include. I don't keep great records of my annual mileage--no one really cares except me and then only when I'm trying to make a point. Probably over 250,000 during my life so far. So for me cycling on a street is no more dangerous than crossing it on foot, driving a car (no matter what car you're in there is always something bigger). We all do some things with confidence because we have gained experience, but we also know deep down inside that something serious can go wrong in any of life's activities.

Wear a helmet. This is an obvious no brainer now but I never wore one until 1984 when I did an organized ride. Back then the only people wearing helmet were football players--and no, they weren't leather. On some accidents my head never hit anything, but whenever it has the helmet saved me from potentially serious injury. Not only should a cyclist always wear a helmet they need to make sure it's the right size and fits properly.

Enough writing about riding--time to ride.

Athens 300 Km Brevet Analyzed

I began randonneuring cycling just over 3 years ago to qualify, train and complete an event called Paris-Brest-Paris in 2011.  In this blog there's a ride report on that, and it reflects on how I did not complete that 1200 km event because of a crash resulting in a fractured clavicle along with torn rotator cuff and biceps tendon.  That was one of only 3 events out of 44 that I did not successfully complete--until last Saturday. Technically I did finish 2 of those 4 just not within the time limit.  The Athens 300 km brevet was a finish outside the time limit; here's how it unfolded for me.

At 6:00 I set off from Watkinsville GA with 13fellow rando riders in 35 degree darkness.  It didn't take long before I fell behind the group, but I felt pretty comfortable despite the light freezing rain that soon began to welcome the day.  I passed a rider at the first control about an hour into the ride who was changing a flat.  I asked if everything was OK and he said it was, but I found out later he DNFed since he could not successfully mount a tubular tire.  Another rider just ahead of me cruised out of sight, but about 10 miles later passed me because he had missed a turn.  This is one of the aspects about randonneuring that makes it special:  basically you are cycling on roads you haven't ridden with only a cue sheet to guide you.  Also there isn't any support, you pretty much have to be self sufficient.  Sometimes cue sheets have a way of being confusing, more often a rural road is either not marked--or the sign is missing.  No big deal if you live out there but it can add miles and time to a ride if one isn't careful.

I got to the control in Carlton GA at  10:00.  I saw one of our riders sitting in an open SUV changing clothes.  It looked like a friend was simply meeting him at a control to bring out dry clothes.  It turned out he had simply had enough riding and was also DNFing.  Another aspect of this type event is you carry a card with designated control points along the course.  Usually they are stores where you can replenish fluids and food.  You get your card initialed with the time you came through.  There are designated times for the control to be open:  Carlton opened at 8:14 and closed at 11:04.  I was there an hour before the close time so while not setting any speed records I was ahead of schedule.  Note:  to get there at 8:14 one would have to average about 25 mph not including having to stop at 2 prior controls. 

The weather got better, in other words it quit snowing, and I rode on the the next control.  This control was an information control.  Information controls are inserted where there aren't any stores and to make sure riders don't take a short cut.  This particular control was the Georgia Guide stones which are 5 massive granite structures containing 10 principles written in 8 different languages.  We had to write down the translation--just kidding--all we had to note was the number of granite monuments.  From there I road towards Richard Russel State Park where there actually would be a live person with refreshments.  As I headed that way I began to see the faster riders since this portion of the course was an out-and-back portion.  The event host Jim Shanni was at the park entrance with refreshments and since he was at the entrance it cut off about 4 miles of the official route (which was OK since it was actually 196 miles which is more than 300 km.  Most riders were not complaining although 2 cyclists followed the official route through the park probably to keep their GPS devices from going crazy.

At this point I was at mile 83 and nearly 2 hours ahead of the control closing.  Leaving the park I encountered a new challenge--strong headwinds which manged to remain directly in front of me regardless of the route direction.  I got to Royston GA at 4:00 still almost 2 hours ahead of cutoff but had to get something more substantial than fruit and frozen power bars.  I stopped at McDonald's and tried to eat 2 hamburgers, fries and a coke, but could quite eat every bite.  Although I felt hungry food just would not go down easy and that turned out to be critical.  That was the last solid food I could stomach for the rest of the ride and I paid the price down the road.

Leaving Royston the wind abated and was replaced by a more climbing than on the first half of the route.  Once darkness settled in, temperatures started to drop, and I began making some mistakes.  I drank some fluids but not near enough.  I could not stomach any solid food even though I had a long way to ride.  Then I missed a turn because I misread mileage on the cue sheet.  When that happens and it's dark you tend to get skittish about every next turn.  I began stopping to check road signs, and when I realized my helmet light was OK for reading a cue sheet but not very effective when I looked at road signs I had to stop and replace batteries.  Seems like a simple task but try it at night when your fingers don't have much feeling.  I was losing time big time now and began to wonder if I would finish by the 2:00 am time limit.

I rolled into the last control before the finish 25 minutes ahead of closing which left me with 80 minutes to cycle 16 miles.  Then I realized I had accidentally cut off about 4 miles of the cue sheet directions.  I was smart enough to carry a spare, but by the time I dug it out, studied it avoid getting lost, I had wasted too damn much time.  Jim drove out to check on me and I was 12 miles out with 35 minutes left.  Although I knew I couldn't ride 25 mph for 12 minutes much less 12 miles.  But having ridden that far I wasn't about to quit.  I rolled into the hotel at 2:30, a half hour too late to receive official credit for completing the brevet.  My consolation was riding over 200 miles, and getting good training for circumstances I'll probably encounter during my 1200 event in June. 

The most painful moment though happened during the shower at the hotel when I ran warm water over frost bitten toes and fingers.  Over breakfast one of my fellow riders said his mother recently asked him "when are you going to start riding just for fun again?'  Many of my friends wonder the same thing about me.  There are a few reasons why I do these type rides.  I have always been passionate about cycling from the days when I was a kid and enjoyed the freedom a bike offerred.  Now as a 67 year old with 11 orthopedic surgeries and 3 artificial joints it's one of the few athletic aerobic things I can still do.  It's also immensely satisfying to take on a challenge and stubbornly see it through in the face of pretty tough circumstances.  To me it represents what life is all about.
See you on the road.

Lance Armstrong--My Reaction

Lance's confession was to me like The Godfather confirming the olive oil business was not his true line of work.  Similar to Santa Claus and the Easter bunny, Lance denying use of PEDs was something most avid cyclists began to doubt as the evidence piled up even though we really wanted to believe him. For me the doubt really began during a Tour de France short  time trail when Lance caught and blew by Jan Ulrich.  It was hard for me to believe that anyone could do that to Ulrich over such a short distance without doping.  Anyway the confession's public.  Lance seemed contrite but at times he still put his own controlling spin on things.  Even though he apologized for being a "bully" sometimes he sounded defiant and fighting back.  Tyler Hamilton's reflection that when a person initially confesses it's still hard to be completely open about the past deception is very accurate in my opinion.

Many people still doubt aspects of Lance's confession, and only time will tell whether there are other secrets to be revealed.  I may be one of the minority that believe he did not dope during his comeback.  Any intelligent person--and Lance is very smart--would surely not take a chance on losing it all over a failed test post comeback.   I hope I'm right because his life story over 40+ years is pretty amazing to me. Last week's interview is only a first step and redemption will take a long time and may not be possible.  There are many who will despise him forever.  I think Lance's confession demonstrates to elite athletes that unlimited money and resources do not guarantee immunity.  If Lance can get caught anyone can so perhaps this will help clean up cheating in all elite competition not just cycling.


So what's to become of Lance Armstrong?  While his confessions perhaps are the initial step of a long redemption process, he stands to suffer financially.  Of course collaborating with someone like a David Walsh in a "tell all" memoir would put serious funds back in his bank account.  However, I wouldn't surprised if some years down the road you may see Lance running for governor of Texas.  After all look what 12 years redemption has done for the likes of Ray Lewis and Bill Clinton.  And if that happens--your read it here first!