PenteKing’s BodyBlog

After my bike ride yesterday, I was tired in body, but not in mind. I’ve been so cranked about this event, that the adreline rush wouldn’t easily dissipate. I thought I would fall asleep at 9:00 p.m. and wake about twelve hours later. That didn’t happen. I finally got to bed around midnight, and found my eyes opening this morning at my usual wake-up time (which is 6:30 a.m.) I must say that I am surprised by my body’s reaction. Here I went and abused it to no end yesterday, and today, it has bounced back and is asking for more. In fact, I felt so good today, that I not only lifted weights, but I took a one hour power walk around the harbor. (It was a gorgeous day, with plenty of sunshine and moderate temperatures.) I guess it just goes to show the miracle that the human machine genuinely is. The more you stress it, the stronger it becomes, and the more resilient to pain and illness it gets.

So, to all those who questioned my sanity and who told me that I would kill myself, all I can say is "Nyah, nyah, nyah." (Yes, it’s childish, but what the hell!)

As many of you know, I’ve been training assiduously for the Tour de Cure. This bike ride is designed to raise awareness and funds for diabetes research. Back in January, I signed up to go 70 miles in one day. That day was today.

The organizers kicked off the event at 6:00 a.m. PST. They had coffee and bagels and Vitamin Water in abundance. In addition, there was fresh fruit (banana, which are especially critical because of their potassium content) and energy bars. After checking in and signing the waiver form, we were ready to go. The century riders started at 7:00 a.m. (Yes, there were folks who rode 100 miles today, God bless them.) My group started an hour later.

The weather cooperated by being cool and overcast, and it’s a good thing because at mile 30, they threw a hill at us that had everyone singing the blues. It went from sea level to 3,000 feet on an eight degree grade over 4.5 miles. It was BRUTAL. My lungs felt like they were on fire, and my legs were rubber, but I made it to the top without stopping. (I averaged only 4 - 5 MPH on the climb, but hey, YOU try it!)

There were no mishaps, no injuries, and no lost riders. Afterward, the organizers awarded prizes (I didn’t win), fed us lunch (BBQ chicken (go figure)) and then let us go home.

Personally, I’m going to spend the rest of the day with a glass of wine in my hand and my feet up. I’m tired, I’m sore, but I’m exhilarated beyond all belief. I did it, and I feel wonderful.

Here are some of the more common mistakes made at the gym:

1. Working out without a real plan;
2. Focusing on everything EXCEPT your workout;
3. Copying the routine of the guy (or gal) with the buff body, thinking you’ll achieve the same results;
4. Lifting more weight than you can comfortably handle;
5. Using poor form (this is the number one bad habit of most gym goers!);
6. Resting too long between sets;
7. Not resting long enough between sets;
8. Not warming up properly prior to exercising;
9. Not cooling down properly after exercise; and
10. Giving bad advice to novices or newbies.

I know that no one here in the community is guilty of these bad habits, but if you know of someone who practices one or more of these bad habits, take them aside and educate them. They’ll thank you for it. (Or not, but at least you tried.)

This is my last blog prior to my bike ride this weekend. Wish me luck, guys and gals. I will need every bit of support I can get.

…since my last blog, and I have to honestly wonder how that much time has slipped by without my posting anything. On paper, I’m quite verbose, and that amuses me, because in person, I’m normally reticent. It’s not that I don’t talk. I do, but in one-sentence quips and phrases. Rarely do I expound on anything at length in public. I suppose it has to do with not being the center of attention. I don’t like having all eyes on me. I prefer to work in the background. I’m a consensus builder, and people like me rarely seek the spotlight. But I digress.

The reason for my silence has been my impending bike ride. For the past week, I’ve been training harder than ever in preparation for this Saturday’s event. I’m as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. Why I should nervous is beyond me. It’s not as though the world will come to an end if I don’t finish or if I finish poorly. Nothing except my ego will be bruised by my failure. My family will still love me (I hope); the world will continue to revolve around the sun; life will go on.

Still, I have this deep-seated burning desire to do well in this event. I not only want to finish, I want to finish in the top ten. I have no idea where this obsession came from. I only know that it is there, driving me to do my best. You don’t have to tell me I’m crazy. I already know that. For those of you who know me and have been conversing with me, wish me luck in whatever form you are most comfortable with. There is a force in the universe, and I’ll feel the good vibes that you send my way.

I’ll write again before the event. Hopefully, that blog will be a tad more structured and thoughtful than this random emptying of the mind.

The cold that I caught was a nasty beast. It beat me down, wrung me out, and left me lying limp by the side of the road. For several days, all I could do was sneeze, sniffle, whine, and ooze moisture from every orifice. (Yes I know that’s not a very stimulating picture, but in the interests of full disclosure, I felt I had no choice but to share.)

At any rate, I am now over the virus, and am feeling much better. This is a very good thing because my Tour de Cure event is a week from this coming Saturday. I’ve reviewed the course, and have discovered that I will be biking at 3500 feet above sea level. I guess my foray into Santa Fe, NM (at 7,000 feet) was a fortuitous occurrence. After cycling in that rarified atmosphere, 3,000 feet should feel like a day at the beach.

I’m one thousand, eight hundred and five dollars ($1,805.00) short of my goal. I can put up the five bucks, but where is the rest going to come from? I suppose I will have to solicit all of my friends and acquaintances (who will probably disown me after I hit them up for money.) Still, it’s all in a good cause, and the donation is tax-deductible (sadly, they have to wait until next year to get the deduction).

I will be out this coming weekend, doing the full 70 miles in anticipation of the following week’s ride. Wish me luck. I know I can do this, but encouragement and support is always welcomed. I’ll let you all know how I’ve done once the event is finished, so stayed tuned to this station. Until next time, keep throwing that iron around.

I hate colds. Absolutely hate them. I’d rather be sick in bed with the flue than running around with a cold. With the flu, the body shuts down, forcing you to take care of oneself. Not true with a cold. A cold gives you a runny nose, and (perhaps) a scratchy throat, but aside from that, you feel pretty much okay. And so your mind thinks that you can continue to do the things you are normally accustomed to doing - like working out.

Now, I don’t know about you, but for me, working out when I have a cold is the height of stupidity. Let’s face it; you are feeling less than your best. What you should be doing is resting, drinking hot tea and staying warm. What you should NOT be doing is throwing iron plates around. So why then did I do exactlly that yesterday? The simple answer is that I’m an idiot. The more complicated answer is that I have a cold, and except for the runny nose and scratchy throat, I feel pretty much okay. Which is why my mind convinced my body to work out yesterday, and why, today, it’s starting to nag at my body to jump on the bike and do forty or fifty miles. "You’ve got a big event coming up in two weeks," it whispers. "You better be ready."

The siren call of the mind is a hard thing for the body to ignore. After all, the body is the mind’s servant. In this case, however, I think it’s high time for the body to revolt and take a day off. Otherwise, it will spend a heck of a lot MORE time on the sidelines.

 I’m having a cup of tea and heading back to bed.

I visited Santa Fe, New Mexico this past week to see a relative I haven’t seen in nearly 10 years, and to take in the local art scene (which I have heard tell was fantastic). Rather than fly, I decided to drive so that I could take in the local scenery and have a means of transportation once in Santa Fe. Having decided to drive, it next occurred to me that, with my 70-mile bike event coming up, I should take my bicycle along and train at least three times during my six-day visit. So, suiting action to thought, I purchased a bicycle carrier, affixed it to the back of my vehicle and off I went.

I will have a lot more to say about the trip in general and Santa Fe in particular, but for this post, I’d like to focus on my first bike ride at an altitude of 7,000 feet above sea level.

I’ve been training very hard and very consistently, so I anticipated absolutely no trouble with hills or distance, or anything like that. What I did NOT anticipate was how very, very difficult it is to acclimate oneself to a higher altitude. Who knew? OMG! About a third of the way into the planned distance (30 miles - ha!), I felt like I did the very first day I decided to get back into shape. You know that feeling I’m talking about - where you feel as though laying down and dying is a viable alternative to doing one more set? Multiply that feeling by two and then add the burning feeling of swallowing lighted matches, and you’ll have a small inkling of the discomfort I experienced.

Good God, how do people do it? I’m not in the greatest shape in the world, but I am fairly fit now. Biking at 7,000 feet, though, humbled me like nothing else has in quite a long while. To my credit, I did train for three days as I had promised myself, but on no day did I manage to make it farther than thirty miles. I just could not do it. I’m wheeze, hack, sputter and then die - like an engine deprived of the right mixture of oil and gasoline. I returned to San Diego with my tail between my legs and a new-found respect for the denizens of Santa Fe who blew past me on their bicycles as though I was mired in cement. My hat is off to you Santa Feans. You are better men and women than I.