gil l's blog

Dispatch from the Blast Furnace

We just got back from the ride.

 

32 miles.

Me & my bike.

Yes, I did

.

 

Bike

 

I completed the 32 mile Tour de Cure bike ride in about 4 hours I think. Time was kind of a blur at the end. Most of the ride the temperature was at 98 deg F.

 

Every hill in America must have been on the route we took. All uphill. In the snow. OK, not snow. You know, what they say is true. It’s really not the heat. It’s the humidity.

 

I was counseled by a co-worker that runs marathons, Dave Vause, to not take a purist approach. He suggested that I actually stop or coast or even walk. Dave did not realize that my plan was to attack EVERY climb up a hill, pedal hard down EVERY hill, and put pedal to the metal when the road before me was flat. That plan lasted for about 5 miles into the ride and ended after the first hill. By the 10^th mile I decided it was best to not look the hills directly in the face and to make no sudden threatening moves lest I make the hill angry and it get steeper and longer. Head down in first gear was the new plan. I mean 1^st gear on both gears. Rides downhill were enjoyed with wild abandon and no pedaling. That’s called coasting. Rides on level ground were filled with prayers of thanks.

 

As I wrote in text messages to some of you, dragging a 225 lb butt up a hill ain’t easy. It’s hard out there and all. There were 2 rest stops at 10 miles and 25 miles. Shock and awe is the only way I can describe how I felt as I rode toward the water stations. Shock, that I was still alive. Awe, by how good bananas and pretzels taste. That’s fine cuisine. BOY! THESE PRETZELS ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY! (for Karen – Seinfeld Addict).  

 

Before the second rest stop there was a hill. I’m sorry. That was disrespectful. Before the second rest stop there was a Mountain. A Mountain that I lovingly named Death. Somewhere near the 20 mile mark, I must have mistakenly looked directly into Death’s eyes. It grew into a Rider slayer. There were people strewn all along the sides of the road. Most of them letting their bikes fall hard to the ground as they dismounted, just wanting to sit down out of respect for the behemoth that few conquered. I have a better understanding of the thousand mile stare I heard talk of that war vets get after a gruesome battle. My only victory on Death was that I did not throw my bike down, but let it down as gently as I could before I stumbled to a spot in the shade and sheepishly sipped my Gatorade.

 

A friend of mine, Barry Wynn, sent out an email about a year ago that described a new type of therapy for athletes. It was called the Glove. You stick your hand in this Glove (a coffee pot looking thing) and it cools your body down by cooling your blood. Afterwards you feel completely rejuvenated. I am heading to the closest thing I have to the Glove, my freezer. I am going to climb in and take a nap.

big wheel keeps on turning

I started bike riding again around this time last year. It has been years since I did any consistent physical activity. After I almost died at my last physical during the stress test on the treadmill, the Physician's Assistant told me that I should do 30 minutes of aerobics at least 3 times a week.

Months after that near death experience on the treadmill set at a whopping 3 miles an hour and an incline of like 1, I finally decided that if I could find an half hour a day to work out that would be a good thing. The local gym was about 20 minutes away, so just traveling there and back would take too long. I am married with three daughters so I don't have a lot of time. I was no longer in any kind of shape to start running again, so that was out. And then I remembered my bike. We bought bikes for the whole family from Sears about 7 years ago. The bike is heavy, not anything like a high performance bike, but I figured that would just make for a better workout. So, I pulled it out of the shed, pumped up the tires and hit the road.

To keep it simple I figured I would ride 15 minutes one way and 15 minutes back. Piece of cake. Sadly, I didn't plan the trip out real well. The going 15 minutes was actually kind of fun. The first hill on the bike path down Annapolis Road was cool. It even had a little bend about midway through. The second hill was even better right up until I realized I had ridden down into a valley that had a going up hill at the end. Being a stubborn old coot, I vowed that I would not punk out, get off the bike and walk up that hill. I made it to the top after what seemed like an hour of zigzagging up that hill. As with most things there was a cost to my stubbornness, my legs. There were rubber. Worst there seemed to be no power in them. As I looked down at this part of my body failing me, I realized that I was okay. I could coast down the other side of the hill I now stood on. After a while I finally reached my 15 minute point and turned to go back home.

I could now deal with the sinking feeling that I had been trying to ignore as I rode down the first two hills. The way back was not going to be nearly as much fun. Those wonderful winding hills going down now turned into the death hills I used to run in JV football in high school at the end of practice. Like most football coaches, my JV coach was crazy and sadistic. He loved to have us run hills at the end of two a days in August in DC. Those were the days when drinking water during practice was for sissies. Anyway, the return trip was all stubbornness and ego. The reprieve I got coasting down that last hill was over. The first hill was tough. It was not long but steeper than the second. By the time I reached the top I was standing, struggling to keep the bike moving, my rubber legs had returned. I made it to the top victorious. I was 15 again. I was Rocky at the top of the steps. Reborn, I pushed one last time to start the coast down the other side of the hill. Hill #1 was mine. I owned that hill.

The second hill waited for me. It actually had a little small rise before the main part of the hill that I deluded myself into thinking would propel me up this long winding hill like a Hot Wheels Power Pack. Delusional, I started pedaling like a madman. There is a certain sensation when riding a bike uphill that overcomes you when you’re pedaling and you basically stop moving forward and feel like you are going backwards. Or maybe I was about to pass out. Again stubborn ol’ coot was not getting off the bike. I was going to will myself up that hill, rubber legs and all. I have never had a heart attack, but I do have a vivid imagination, so that’s like the same thing. Out of breath, rubber legs, heart pounding, I made it to the top alive. I broke out the water bottle and drank the tepid water like I had never tasted anything so satisfying before. The water was tepid because it was like 80 degrees at six in the morning. This is the DC area after all.

Rocky once again, I had conquered the last hill. I pedaled on home convinced that I would do better tomorrow. After about a week the rubber legs disappeared. I was able to really conquer the hills without stopping at the top to catch my breath. I rode in the rain and blistering heat. Nothing could stop me. I love riding.

$5 dolla bill y'all

An elderly African American woman walks into the CVS in SE DC on Pennsylvania Ave and gets in line behind me. I'm paying for my stuff and she reaches past me for a flag that's made out of a magnet. It's the type that you can put on your car. While I am trying to keep the CVS guy's attention so I can pay for my stuff and get out of there, she starts to ask this guy about the flag that she now has in her hands. Before I got in line I spent about ten minutes frantically running around the store trying to find one of those instant ice packs and Benedryl and anything else I can think of for yellowjacket stings for my oldest daughter Morgan.

As we were leaving the internment for the mother of one of my wife's oldest friends, Morgan was stung by a yellowjacket at least twice. The thing had gotten into her dress somehow and was not happy with her trying to sit down in the car. I had the exact same thing happen to me when I was maybe ten, without the dress.

I was at my Grandparents in Dunn, North Carolina visiting a relative that had a honeysuckle bush in the front yard. I have always been partial to honeysuckle bushes. When I was growing up in SE DC

5th St SE Washington DC

one the homes behind my apartment had honeysuckle bushes lining one side of their yard. I used to grab a couple of the honeysuckles every time I walked past those bushes and suck the honey out as I headed to my Aunt & Uncle's house who lived down the street or to the #11 Boy's Club next to St. Elizabeth's Hospital (yeah, the one where Hinckley resides).

So I'm standing in Dunn at a Great Aunt's house and pull off a couple of honeysuckles. After the first couple it feels like my back has caught on fire. I'm sorta thinking these honeysuckles in Dunn aren't so good. Then my arms light up. It was at this moment that I invented the Prince dance. I start spinning (no heels), arms flailing wildly in the air, around my face, stomach, back. Again and again. Then with Prince-like precision I take off my shirt and toss it in the air. No splits, just running and spinning and flailing. My Grandma thought I was crazy and everyone else standing around me just stared in shock. Did I mention I screamed this high pitched little girl screech. Not very manly for an eight year old.

I’m reliving this flashback while Karen's trying to reach our kid's doctor office by phone. Morgan has never been stung before so Karen is worried she may be allergic. Which is reasonable since Morgan has bad reactions to mosquito bites. I'm driving through SE DC trying to find a store. We come upon the CVS and I make one pass through the parking lot looking for a place to park. Nothing. I pull up in front of the store and do my best Batman move out of the car and into the store. OK. I didn’t jump over the hood or anything, but it was pretty smooth.

She says "How much is the flag?" in a SE DC drawl.

CVS Guy - "I'm not sure, uhm, I don't know, maybe $5?" He's busy ringing up my stuff and trying to stay focused.

"5 dollas?!?!  5 dollas?!?! The whole damn store ain't worth 5 dollas. How the hell can it be 5 dollas?!?! 5 dollas."

Dolla Dolla Bill Yall

CVS Guy – “I’m not sure. I’ll have to check.” He says with a slight chuckle and a grin slowly spreading across his face.

I’m making sure he uses my CVS savings card so I can save 10 cents on my purchase and increase the number of telemarketers that call my house during dinner.

“Y’all need to go back to Peoples Drug. These prices are crazy. 5 dollas. The whole store ain’t 5 dollas.”

As I am finishing up my purchase and walking out the door, she says in the raspiest, slightly alcohol tinged voice possible, “Give me 2 packs of Kools. 5 dollas. Damn.”

just because i can

CosmicSlop

just figured out how to include music samples from amazon

everything

My family and I went to Howard's Homecoming Gospel Concert in 2005. Mary Mary was the featured artist and there were also two Howard Student Gospel groups. Great concert, but the best part was the freebies. Mary Mary is a Sony Music artist so they gave away free CDs. One of the CDs was a sampler. I probably waited a couple months before I even listened to the CD.

One day on the way to work I finally had a listen. The first three songs were up-tempo Mary Mary type Gospel. And then I heard what sounded like Prince cranking up Purple Rain. Prince is not what I expected on a Gospel CD.

 

 

Everything (Live Version)

 

 

 

Everything. You're everything to me"

“LIfe and breath
You're my peace
Joy in sorry
Hope for tomorrow”

“Help us go down the list”

“Master”, cue the horns & drums.
“Savior
Ruler
Redeemer
Provider
Shelter
Healer
Deliverer
When your parents weren’t there, HE was your Father.

Anybody have to live without their Father. HE was your Father.
Savior”

"Everything" is by Tye Tribbett

 

My Mom was always there. She fought for me. She pushed me to get ready for the future.

My Dad was not. Dad had demons that he could not always fight off.

I felt pain and relief as I heard the passage about Father. Time does heal wounds, but I felt pain at the memory of an absent Father. Relief at the knowledge that GOD has never left me

 

plum memory

Each bite into a plum gives me the sensation of being back at my Grandparents' house in Dunn, North Carolina. Especially the ripe ones. I spent a few summers at my Grandparents when I was maybe six or eight.

I remember hot weather, riding with my Granddad (James Robinson) in his old pickup truck. My Grandmother's (Louise) homemade biscuits. Sitting on the porch of their home and watching storms roll in before my Grandmother would make us get in the house before the storm hit. Her singing psalms to GOD during the storm. You had to be still and quiet while GOD "did his work".

Slopping the hogs. Getting haircuts. Visiting family. Getting stung by bees and doing the Prince dance before Prince thought of doing the Prince dance, spinning wildly (no heels), hands flailing, trying to fight them off. Listening to stories of my 12 aunts (9) and uncles (3) growing up in Dunn, of my Grandfather and his brother, Uncle Johnny keeping the KKK at bay with shotguns on the porch. Stories of integrating Dunn schools.

Plums and those memories, often sweet, but sometimes a little tart.