So I've been listening to the Maintenance Phase podcast, about weight, fat-shaming, diet culture, and the like, and during the most recent episode ("Doctors Have a New Plan for Kids"; no convenient way to link to it; go see the website), I was reminded of part of my most recent doctor's appointment.
I had gained seven pounds since the previous year, and the doctor gave me a (no doubt insurance-required) counseling on the dangers of weight gain.
Dude! Have you seen me?
Given the events of the week before, I'm surprised this ride went off as well as it did.
Given the events of the week before, I'm relieved this ride went off as well as it did.
Given the events of the week before, I'm grateful this ride went off as well as it did.
See, the thing is, I've been retired for about a year and a half. We're trying to have me live off only my Social Security, leaving my retirement savings (and my two laughably small pensions) for after my wife retires in a few more years.
Now, last year, I wound up with several thousand dollars in unexpected dental expenses, so I was hoping to make up for that this year. But during the week, the car started running rough, and the "check engine" light was on, and the display screen would only show warnings. So I limped into the dealership.
Diagnostics determined that rodents had gotten into the engine, and had chewed up wiring, hoses, the engine covering, and other impedimenta in there to the tune of another several thousand dollars. This additional expense just sent me into a tailspin. It's not enough that it affects my retirement; I have the savings to pay it... but all I could see was an endless line of upcoming expenses for which I could not plan and had not budgeted. Rumination and overthinking took over. The anxiety disorder (to which I've alluded in other posts) came to visit, and unpacked as for a long stay.
I almost always post rides for Sundays on the club website, and I posted a ride for today... but a friend pointed out that the route I'd posted didn't correspond with the description I'd put in. I hastily corrected the route info, and emailed the five registrants that the route would be different, and would have substantially more climb (one registrant cancelled).
I'm blaming my confusion and poor focus on the earlier events, and my poor mental health.
But I still got ten other riders for today, including two who decided to meet along the route.
Many of my readers are bike-y people, and I won't need to tell you what a salutary effect 39 miles at a reasonable pace can have on the troubled mind. The ride was like medication.
We did one of my regular routes down through Princeton, and then up into Hopewell to the Boro Bean.
Do you think we have enough pogies on all them bikes?
One rider had a flat on the ride back, and was bemoaning his poor technique, but the day had warmed, and we weren't in a hurry, and a few of us helped, and a few others told stories of more experienced riders with even worse technique.
And it turned out to be a good day. Ride page.
I do daily exercise, and, if I'm exercising in the house, I listen to podcasts. During the pandemic isolation, the Home Cooking podcast, from Samin Nosrat and Hrishikesh Hirway, was running (and they did two Thanksgiving episodes thereafter).
I'm never going to be much of a cook, but I treasured this podcast. I found Samin's voice, and her laugh, and the interaction between her and Hrishi, soothing and comforting.
I'd save up these episodes for particularly bad days. Much of my anxiety was work-related, so after I retired, I didn't need the soothing as much, and I had two episodes I hadn't listened to yet.
This week was pretty bad (I may do a post about that), and I played one of the remaining episodes today. It still worked as I remembered. My mind is better. And there's one more in the can, and I've still got all the other episodes I can replay, if I need.
Ms Nosrat will probably never know (or, likely, care) how helpful she's been. But this podcast saved me on some of my darkest days.
I do a daily (well, more-or-less) discipline about remembering what to be grateful for and what I need to focus on each day. Today, this podcast is going on the gratitude column.
A micromort is a unit of risk defined as a one-in-a-million chance of death.
According to this page, cycling 28 miles in a day incurs a risk of one micromort.
This page tells me that getting out of bed after age 45 incurs a risk of six micromorts. Going for a swim risks twelve; playing football (the American flavor, "handegg") risks 20.
You can keep your benighted high-viz-yellow cycling gear. Put that high-viz-yellow on your swim trunks and football jerseys.
It's an old quote that golf is a good walk spoiled. The quote is old enough that it's the title of at least two books, and that it's been falsely attributed to Mark Twain. So if golf is a good walk spoiled, I decided that a hike around the golf course at Tom H's over-55 community, at which there would be neither golf nor golfers, is a good walk unspoiled.
Tom decided it was cold enough today not to call for a ride, and suggested the hike around the golf course, which is closed for the winter. He said it would be five miles; The Excellent Wife (TEW) insists it's more like six, and I have not enough information (or interest) to take sides. I've had years of ongoing back pain that affects me on long walks, but with one of my collection of canes, I gimped along just as if I were as able as any of the rest.
Tom invited members of his Insane Bike Posse and our spouses (which I think was a factor in the large number of us agreeing to attend), as well as one of his neighbors at the community. The course is a pleasant, not-demanding walk, and there are breaks at the clubhouse at a few points so that plumbing and central heating could be utilized (and yes, it was cold enough that your correspondent was grateful for the latter).
After, Tom popped for pizza at his house; TEW and I brought some non-alcoholic bubbly that had been purchased for a holiday dinner and went unused. If you're not gonna ride a bike, this is a pleasant enough way to get together and get some exercise... but a bike is still better, if only because you get to sit down.
So I made all of the fat-shaming, ableist, pretty-privilege resolutions that I'm not gonna tell youse about, but I made one more: that I was going to lead Club rides at a pace that I could do, and that I, and people I ride with, could enjoy. The Club's "B pace" is 15.0-16.9mph (average; cruising speeds on the flats, and especially descents, can be faster), and that's the pace I've been listing my rides. I could sometimes keep that pace, but sometimes I could not, and even when I could, I wasn't really having fun.
So for this ride, I posted a "C+ pace", 14.0-15.9mph. I got a number of registrants, some of whom were clearly able to maintain a faster pace, and some for whom the C+ pace was a better fit.
One of my registrants was Tony G of the beautiful bikes, who, last year, had had such a mishap on the descent on Dead Tree Road that he was hospitalized. I understand he's just gotten back to riding (I'd seen him registered for some other rides, but I don't think he's been out). I was delighted to see him.
We had, as I mentioned, a range of abilities on this ride, and some rode ahead, but the main part of the group stayed together. I'd posted the route in advance, and a number of the riders had it on their devices, but the few that went ahead waited at turns for the rest to catch up. There was only one place where we got separated (I changed the route, not to confound the rider in front, but to save some traffic), and we got back together shortly thereafter.
I make a practice of telling riders that they can join along the route, and three of them - Laura OLPH, Rama, and Madhu - decided to do so. Rama told me he'd noted it on the comments section under the "Emergency Contact" question when he registered (and he had), but I didn't pay attention and missed it (gotta look ANOTHER place for info now!). Madhu registered after I'd printed my copy of the list, and was a bit late on the road... but caught up with us anyway. She's complaining that she's slowing down, but after her catching up with us on the route, I'm not sure her protestations bear credibility.
But perhaps the most memorable moment for me: at Dead Tree Road, where Tony had had his incident, I stopped at the bottom, off the road, because I wanted to see Tony go through. At the bridge, he slowed to a stop, kissed his fingertips, and then placed them on the bridge wall, an obvious homage to the god of the bridge for letting him pass. It was my favorite moment of the ride; I wish I'd gotten video.
Above: Ricky swept for this ride. I haven't seen enough of him on a bike recently; I'm very glad he came out today.
So this pace definitely worked for me. And for the time being, the C+ rides are what I plan to do. We'll see if I feel differently later in the season, when I may be stronger, but for now, this resolution is working. I had a great time. Thanks to all who came out.
Today was predicted to be sunny, with highs in the 50's. Tom H decided this would be a good day for a not-too-hilly 40+ miles between Mercer Park and New Egypt, and he was right.
The emails went around to the Insane Bike Posse, and seven of us decided to go out. It started cold, but we knew that the day would warm up, and there was some discussion about the proper clothing for a day like this... and then there was discussion of the proper way to refer to it. "Outfit"? "Suit"? We decided "kit" was the proper appellation. Let it not be said that the Insane Bike Posse is inexact in cycling terminology.
Tom's route was mostly flat in the first half (see the ride page). Our pace allows for conversation, and it was good to talk to the other riders... especially Ricky, who hasn't ridden much after a mishap earlier this year*.
*I'm a person in recovery from substance abuse (holy bananas; that post was ten years ago), and I've more recently posted about my mental health problems. Sometimes, in order to keep going, I have to do goofy stuff because it works. I've recently started a project of writing down each day a few things I'm grateful for, and one of those things today was that Ricky was coming out on the ride. There's a saying that if its dumb, but it works, then it's not dumb... but I still feel goofy about the gratitude list thing. But I can't deny it's been beneficial.
We stopped in New Egypt. The luncheonette there no longer allows us to use the toilet, and the Wawa doesn't have one... so when we passed one in a local park, we screeched to our various halts so that those of us who needed could enjoy its hospitality. Ahem.
On the way back, Tom put in Hill road "the easy way" (it was tough enough for all practical purposes), and somebody was having this erected in their front yard:
The concrete rearing horse is currently supported on blocks. I suspect there's a piling that goes down beneath, because the concrete rear legs alone won't support it (and nothing might be enough to support it in adverse weather). It's certainly dramatic and arresting.
It's also a sign that someone has too much money.
We proceeded to Walnford, where...
... because of course there was.
I'm carrying a bit more holiday weight than I wish I were. I'm trying to manage that, and I think I didn't eat enough today, because a bonk threatened in the last five-or-so miles. Ricky was kind enough to give me a pull for much of that distance. It was good to ride with him again (as it was good to ride with the whole group today).
I've posted a club ride for New Year's Day. None of my favorite stops are open, so it will be a no-planned-rest-stop ride, and at a slower pace than past rides (part of an experiment). We'll see how that goes. As for you, I wish you a happy new year, with peace and prosperity, and a little fun every now and then.
Trigger warning: discussions of mental health and suicidal thoughts below.
People who know me, know that I’m in substance abuse recovery. I don’t drink or do drugs, and haven’t for over forty years. I don’t keep that a secret.
I also need to “come out” on my mental health problems. I thought of waiting to do a reveal in Mental Health Awareness Month, but that’s not until May.
I’ve also had problems with suicidal thoughts. So I considered Suicide Awareness Month, but that’s September, so I missed it. There are reasons I don’t want to wait (some of those reasons are pure egotism, but there’s also some discomfort with trying to hold this stuff in), so I’m putting it out there now.
I’ve been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder by a psychiatrist who has the credentials to do so, and I’ve been on medications to manage it (the ones I used didn’t reduce the subjective feeling of anxiety much, but I’m still here, so they may have been effective in reducing the suicidal thoughts to a manageable level). Now, I’m fairly sure that some neurobiologist is gonna come along and tell me, “No, it’s impossible for things to work like that; the biology of your brain doesn’t allow that to be true.” But this is the way I think my anxiety disorder works:
To have an anxiety disorder flareup, I think you need two things:
The event or condition that causes the anxiety, and
The psychiatric condition that inflates the anxious feelings to an unmanageable level.
I suspect most people get some anxiety sometimes; things occur to cause worry in most lives. I don’t know what the subjective experience is like for others; I only know my own experience. Sometimes, the worry is not so bad for me; I am able to continue with my daily life without much dysfunction. Other times, when the disorder flares up, I have suicidal thoughts, pain in my thighs and the backs of my upper arms, insomnia, either poor appetite or overeating, diarrhea and (rarely) vomiting. I ruminate through the night and can’t sleep. (The worst time is often 2:00 or 3:00am, because I don’t feel like I can call anyone, and there are few things I can do at those times to distract myself or get help.)
But even when I don’t have the triggering event or condition that causes the anxiety, sometimes I think the “disorder” part manifests. I can feel a general sense of unease; I get anhedonia (nothing feels right or tastes right, or “sparks joy”); I have poor concentration; I have a hard time focusing on responsibilities, or even listening to what people I care about have to say.
I’ve been going through a bout of that recently.
Some of it has to do with my suicidal thoughts. Now, except for a short time one night a few months ago, I haven’t had a serious episode of the anxiety problem since I quit working (much of my anxiety problems are tied to either work or relationship issues luckily, the latter appear to be in good standing). Suicide screening is something I know something about (I was a mental health screener for a few years – ironic, right?). And when you’re screening for suicide, one of the things you ask about is whether the person has a plan, how close or easy to achieve that plan is, and whether the plan is likely to be fatal. For example, a person who says he or she wants to suicide by overdose, but doesn’t have the pills, and doesn’t know which pills are likely to actually be fatal, and hasn’t done any research into either question, actually has a comparatively low likelihood of suicide (although that doesn’t mean you don’t take the issue seriously). The person who intends to shoot himself (usually) or herself, and has the gun and ammunition, is a much more worrisome case.
When it was really bad, my plan was to jump off a bridge. The Morris and Donald Goodkind Bridges are the bridges that carry Route 1 over the Raritan River: the northbound bridge is named for Morris and the southbound for his son Donald. Morris has more-or-less convenient parking, and does not appear to have suicide-prevention fencing or other measures in place. That’s the bridge from which I was going to jump when I was in the worst of my anxiety.
I’m not in that anxiety anymore, and have no intention of pursuing suicide. But the plan doesn’t evaporate just because I no longer have the intention. So the answer to the question, “Do you have a plan?” is yes, and the plan is both proximate and likely to be fatal… which will make the inexperienced screener commit me. But the truth is, my life is good now, and I have no intention of suicide, which is why I’m still at large and not on unpleasant medications.
Further, most of the times I cross either Morris or David, I’m reminded that, while things were bad once upon a time, they are not so, now. Every crossing of those bridges is a reminder that I’ve successfully survived this long, even though, at times, it was not clear that I would. Every crossing is a little triumph.
And the reason I didn’t want to wait for months to post this stuff, is that I was fairly sure that writing and posting it would relieve some of the craziness I’ve been feeling – and it has worked; I’m much better for having this out there. I’m lucky in that I’m retired, and my livelihood would not be affected by my honesty about my mental health condition (and, having worked in mental health and substance abuse, I’m sure that even then, I had more flexibility than most in the workaday world, although even among my peers in that field, there is some stigma to having the same problems we treat in our clients). I know that not everybody can be as honest as this about a similar condition.
But I want to be “out” as a person who has suffered from mental health problems. It’s possible that my having been honest about this might be a disincentive for some people to seek help. But if it’s possible that my experience might get another person closer to getting the help they need… then isn’t it pretty much my responsibility to do it? Especially when I now have so little at stake?
*The most compelling argument for me against doing hundred-milers came from Tom H, who said something along the lines of, "I've never been 80 miles into a ride, and said to myself, 'Y'know what I could really use right now? Another twenty miles' ". It continues to make sense to me.
Here we are meeting up at Etra Park:
With the ride being about fifty miles one-way, Laura has sensibly planned rest stops at the quarter-way point in both directions. We picked up Tom H at the Jackson Minit Stop.
It was just the best day: not hot, clear, a slight breeze.
We pass the Manasquan Reservoir on the way out.
And the next thing you know, we're in Belmar.
One of our number is visiting from Germany, and decided we needed a picture of all of us at the shore. I didn't get a copy yet (it's on someone else's phone), but here we are, either assembling for the picture, or disintegrating afterwards:
And back. On the way back, we stop at a Dunkin Donuts on Monmouth Rd.
One of our number had a bit of a bonk on the way, so we were careful to keep the rider escorted (and pulled into the wind, when necessary). There may have been a car ride back to the rider's car, where they started, from Etra. I might have been involved. I might have been driving.
Ride page. Long, but a great day.
