running through airports

I often hear about the dry, re-circulated air in airplanes and how one should make an effort to stay hydrated during a flight. And I generally try to follow this advice, although, there’s also the downside of having to crawl over your fellow passengers too many times so you don’t really want to over hydrate either. So, as with so many things in life, finding the middle ground in this situation seems appropriate. Drink some water but not too much and you should be fine.

Unless your flight arrives late into SLC and you’ve only got 5 minutes to make your connection which, of course, departs from the other side of that fairly massive air complex.

Customer service isn’t what it used to be in airports. When we got off the plane we asked “a representative” what gate to head to and if she could let them know we were on our way. E63. And, no. You’ll have to run.

Um, run? I mean, I’m fine with that. Hil’s fine with that. But who else in this world in an airport is going to respond to that with enthusiasm? Something seems wrong with the system.

But we ran. With our heavy bags and coats flung over our shoulders – because no one can afford to check a bag anymore. I was wearing heavy hiking boots. Hil was wearing clogs. Hil said I looked like Santa Claus. I felt more like John Muir (having just spent the flight reading his book.) We both did our best OJ impression. Lots of dodging in and out of the many holiday travelers blocking our passage between the B and E concourses. No hurdling though – that seemed a little excessive. Some things only really happen in the commercials.

It was sort of a fun run. Challenging. Probably about 3/4 of a mile. Towards the end of the run I noticed my first symptom: cotton mouth. That’s weird, I thought. Not normal. We tried to compose ourselves as we arrived at E63 but soon encountered the next symptom: dry cough. Now that’s even weirder. We could barely speak. Half a sentence to the gate agent… interrupted by wheezing breath and searing throat and cough cough cough… second half of the sentence recovered by Hil or me back and forth – tag team communication.

It was crazy. The coughing just wouldn’t stop. I was convinced we’d run through some sort of chemical gas cloud leaking in from a jet refueling hose or some kind of industrial strength airport deodorizing agent.

Recovery was slow and agonizing. Water gargle beer water gargle beer, repeat.

The only explanation I’ve yet to come up with here is that we had severely dehydrated lungs and throat from the hour and a half plane ride in. We lived. Barely. But what would have happened to someone else? After this experience, despite the novelty and classic moment-ness of running through an airport, I have to advise all passengers against it no matter how much water you’ve been drinking or how fit you think you are. It’s just not worth it.

And besides, we missed our connecting flight.

you know you’ve been riding a lot lately when…

…you find yourself unconsciously track standing in the left hand turn lane of busy intersections…

…people tell you they saw you riding in the rain a you hardly understand why that’s significant…

…you really can’t remember the last time you sat in a car…

…there’s bald spots on your thighs from shorts/pants slowly shaving off the hair with each stoke of the pedal…

…you’ve stopped thinking it’s weird to wear your helmet to the ATM…

…you know exactly how many groceries you can squeeze into your basket…

…you fine tune your brakes with the barrel adjusters while at stop lights…

…your neighbors all seem to recognize you even though you may have never seen them before…

…you think helmet-hair is stylish…

salty tomatoes

My newest, bestest run recovery snack is a sliced tomato with lots of salt. You get calories, fluids, salt, and deliciousness. It’s really the only thing that feels appetizing to me after a long run. Even if I’m dehydrated, which I often am, I often don’t feel like drinking right after a run even though that’s what my body needs most. The advantage to the salty tomato is that it makes me want a big glass of water right after eating, thereby forcing the re-hydration process.

currently reading

Listening to Cougar
by Marc Bekoff and Cara Blessley Lowe, Editors

and

Steep Trails
by John Muir

sunset at sunset

I like riding Sunset Blvd at sunset. Like yesterday, riding from “the cornfields” to Silver Lake after Tour de Fat, which by the way was freakin coolio.

the unbearable lockness of being

One of the coolest moments from this past week went down yesterday evening as I was pedaling to the pub. Lately I’ve been taking the long way there. It saves a couple beers ‘cause if I get there first there are no distractions. “Ticka, ticka, ticka… athousand, athousand, athousand…” Yesterday, though, I took the long way with additional purpose – returning to the scene of the ankle-river-tumble-splashdown incident. Well, the trailhead anyway. When I left there a few days ago after my fall I was less than mindful. I was more just thinking about my foot – footful – and I somehow rode away without securing my coil lock to the bike. I had remembered setting it on the rear rack but discovered the next day that it had gone missing. Not a huge deal – a low-dollar item – five bucks at the pharmacy/general store down the street. But useful and used a lot over the last couple/few years. I carry the D-lock around with me, too, but sometimes it doesn’t span the available lockup. At this trailhead I lock to the oak tree. The tree is huge, neither of the locks span the trunk but there’s a low branch that I wrap the coil lock around. And, lately, I’ve been a bit paranoid in town so I double lock – D and coil. So, I missed my coil lock. I thought about it a lot during our time away. I wondered, would I ever find it? What would become of it? Where was it spending the night? My mission in taking the long way uptown last night was one of rescue. I got to the trailhead and looked around. Also looked along the roadside as I approached. I wasn’t sure where it had fallen off. I looked under and around the oak tree. I looked in the trashcan – thinking maybe someone had thrown it in as trash. But, no. Where was it? Then, there it was, right there coiled up and resting quietly on a knot on the oak branch. Did I set it there? Did someone else set it there, recognizing the loss? It looked like it had spent the night out in the rain on the ground, a little sandy. But maybe that was oak dust. Thankyou, Tree, for watching over my lock. Back on the bungee and holding down the bag in the basket, we rode away, happily together again, into the darkening foggy evening.

don’t go jump in the river – wade

Unless you’re up for a night (and counting) of R.I.C.E. combined with a heaping dose insomnia inducing pain. I’ve been continuing with my repetitions of Devil’s Gate Trail. Yesterday evening was gloomy and drizzly. It had been raining (very lightly – 6mm) all day. A trail run seemed like a nice idea so I rode up there and got started.

When I got to the creek crossing it was semi-flooded. I was surprised by this because the rain was super light and this section of the creek is just below the dam. Maybe they were letting water out from behind the dam for some reason. I managed to pick my way across the first ribbon on some rocks with only minimal amount of water lapping up on the shoes.

The second ribbon (do people call separate paths of a creek a ribbon? I guess I am, here) was a bit more challenging. Had to sort of hang over from a tree trunk hoping to leap across at just the right moment of lean but lost my grip and had to go for it prematurely. A little more lapping there but mostly a solid mud landing.

Then the third ribbon – a lot of ribbons for such a small little creek. I decided to jump it. I didn’t have any run-up space so it was a standing long jump, which I haven’t practiced much since 5th grade gym class. I was pretty sure I didn’t have enough spring in my legs to clear the distance and I was right. I landed two feet full splash down onto the sloping mud bottom just below the surface of the water about a foot short of the bank. Shoes, socks, shorts all soaked.

It’s okay. Carry on. Squish, squish for a short while but eventually fine. Up the rocky steep section of trail that leads over and through the dam. Down the other side to the turn around. Now do it all again in reverse.

I realized that I got a bit lucky on the outward bound crossing the first time and considered taking an alternate route back to the bike but that route is not as enjoyable and adds too much road.

So there I am back at the creek – the ribbon I’d just (almost) leaped across. This time, going the other direction, I had about a one step run-up so I thought maybe I’d clear it. And if not, well, my shoes were already soaked so what’s to lose? Well, again. I didn’t clear the distance. This time coming down on one foot which landed hard on an unexpectedly steep slope under the murky water. Crush.

The ankle only bends so far straight back, toes up until it stops. But all that energy of motion keeps going and smashes everything tighter together. It doesn’t feel good. It makes me feel really stupid. Obviously, I waded slowly through the remaining ribbons of the creek which is what I should have done to begin with, thereby avoiding a jacked up ankle and ending my running week and a sleepless pain-filled night.

Somehow (maybe endorphins) I was able to run the last mile back to the bike without much trouble although now that I think about it that last bit of running probably did the most to start the night’s pain cycle.

Miraculously, the ankle feels a lot better already this next morning. I can put weight on it again. No plan for a visit to urgent care. It’s not ready to be tested in any significant way but I might consider a one-mile ride to the farmer’s market this evening. As for the 10-mile ride across town tomorrow – eh, we’ll have to wait and see – the ride would probably be okay (piano pace, of course) but not sure about the landscaping job at the other end. Not to mention the ride back afterward. I should probably reschedule.

Stupid boy. Too much Mule, not enough Mindful.

The Leveler (stolen from Bike Mag? and Fyxomatosis)

autumnal overlap

Wool again – sweater and gloves (fingertip-less)
for the ride to the trailhead, lock up to Oak Tree.
Cold toes already.
Not sure what the name of that trail is but I’ve been enjoying it lately.
Call it Devil’s Gate Trail as it goes over the dam of the same name.
Short run around Johnson Rock (J-Rock).
Jeans shorts, cotton t-shirt – when it’s cool you can run in anything.
Cloudy, cool, might rain a little more this afternoon.
So hungry – last chance to fatten up before winter.
First day of winter today. Last day of summer this weekend – forecast for 88 degrees. Don’t mind the overlap – nor the lack of autumn.

first rain!

First big drops and thunder and a rainbow! A good omen! It’s going to be a beautiful fucking winter! Drum bun!

currently reading

The Gypsies
by Jan Yoors

and

One Life at a Time, Please
by Edward Abbey

message snippet

What's that guy's name that has ridden with CICLE a few times that you may ride with occasionally on Meridian in South Pas? (Not Nate or Noah.) I've run into him on Meridian a few times lately but can't recall his name. This will probably help you identify him better: he's been wearing a helmet with the plastic shell removed - just the black foam - it actually looks pretty good that way - he may start a new trend - I may be the first to follow it - since my plastic shell is cracking off anyway. Also, looks like he's riding Shimano 600 era aero brakes and downtube shifters. It's no wonder I can't remember people's names and hardly their faces when I'm always staring at their bikes - "hey! eyes are up here, buddy!"

Have a nice weekend.
Have a nice ride.

currently reading

Beyond the Wall
by Edward Abbey

Down the River
by Edward Abbey

why they call them Mary bars

After test riding the flying mule a bit I’ve got an idea of why they call them Mary bars. When they’re upright you feel like you’re flying up above everything – you feel like Mary Poppins. And yes, you do catch a lot more wind, but so far I don’t care – I’m just enjoying the hilarity of it.

the flying mule

Can you ever have too many posts about handlebar grips? Probably not. So, triple layer cake didn’t last very long. It just didn’t feel right. It was mildly uncomfortable. I don’t exactly understand why. My hands are comfortable on the road bars with bar tape, but not on the Mary bars with bar tape. So I peeled all those layers off and I’m back to the old Ergon grips. But not everything is back to normal. While I was tinkering around with the grips I decided to flip the bars upside-down – which in reality flips them upside-up as I’ve been running them upside-down since I got them a few years ago. The difference is that now they are pointing slightly up-wise versus down-wise – you can’t possibly be following this, but oh well. Essentially, my hands are riding higher and my riding position will be more upright. It looks like Mindful Mule is flapping its handlebar/wings and ready to lift off. Ever morphing…

triple layer cake

This might be a window into my insanity but I’ve now got three layers of bar tape on the Mary bars. The top layer is white and about an inch and a half in diameter! It looks like two broken wrists. Maybe I should get people to sign my handlebar casts. It’s pretty ridiculous. It’s pretty awesome.

it’s still good

So I’ve got this old U-lock (actually, I kinda prefer the more English, Canadian, Australian term, D-lock – makes more sense) and it’s been acting up on me. The key gets stuck a lot in the keyhole and takes some effort and patience to get it unlocked. I’ve been a little worried that I’d end up locking my bike to a post forever if I couldn’t get it unlocked. Also, the plastic coating is falling off the lock. I was thinking about getting a new lock – maybe one of those short, thick, single-loop cable locks just slightly larger in diameter than the u-lock. They seem pretty versatile. But if I go to a bike store I’ll also end up getting a new rear light because my current light is extremely Jimmy-rigged with tape and zip ties and sometimes takes a few minutes to turn on or off. Totally frustrating. And I’d probably get new grips even though I’m liking the double wrapped bar tape. And, well, I’m sure I’d find something else I’d really need and end up spending a bunch. So instead I put a few drops of oil into the keyhole. Why didn’t I think of this before? It works perfectly now. It’s still taped up where the plastic coating is falling off and looks like hell but at least I should be able to lock/unlock at will. I should replace that rear light though. It’s just that it’s sometimes amazing to see just how far totally decrepit equipment will hold on.

old white bar tape

The handlebar grips on Mindful Mule are getting a little worn. Not a big deal. It’s not like they don’t work. They’re just a little broken down and grimy. Especially with this heat. Not that it’s been hot. It’s been quite a cool summer. Although it’s “supposed to be” 98 degrees tomorrow. So with the heat rubber grips get a little soft and sticky. I’ve been using the Ergon grips for a couple years now I guess. They’re kind of flattened out to provide a nice platform to rest your hands on that they say is better for your hands and that may be. I’m not sure but I liked them. I took them off today though. And although mtb handlebars have a smaller diameter tube than road bars I wrapped the Mule’s bars (On*One Mary Bar) with old white bar tape from the fixie. It makes for a little bit of a thin handle but seems like it will be okay. It looks and feels okay. Maybe even good. So what else is there? I may add a second wrapping if they’re too thin. I don’t know yet.

currently reading

Earth Apples
by Edward Abbey

and

The Adventures of a Cello
by Carlos Prieto

goatheads!

Two flats yesterday. One on Hil’s bike. One on Mindful Mule. I guess it’s goathead season again (just kidding)(and a pun!). But these were on the road. Three in each tire it seemed. At least I’m getting my tube patching skills refined.

Went into a park to fix the first flat. Got the rear tire and tube off but then couldn’t find the leak. But I know that park well and so walked over to the fountain on the other side. Tube under water makes bubbles at the leak.

Didn’t want to put the rear wheel back on to roll the hundred yards though so just held the wheel in one hand and the bike in the other and walked it over rolling on the front wheel. Reminded me of that Pippy Longstockings scene when they ride partially assembled bikes. How’d they do that? Was she a witch?

Anyway, I guess walking across a park with a disassembled bike draws some attention. Most of the people that hang out (it’s sort of a hangout) in that park probably recognized me as I do some reading and waiting there often, so weren’t too concerned by me. However, just as I was dunking the tube in the fountain a cop car pulled right into the park up on the walkway next to me. Maybe they thought I was stealing the bike or drowning a duck in the fountain, I don’t know. I didn’t look over at them as I wanted to let them try to figure out the situation for themselves without explanation. You know, practice their police work.

It was kind of fun to be under suspicion and be completely innocent. In the end they must have figured it out as they never got out of their car or talked to me. Or maybe they were just like, “There ain’t no law against stealing bikes. Hell, one less bike’s what I always say.” And drove away.