Living 11 miles from San Francisco, the most overused cliche/quote I hear this time of the year is Mark Twain's "The coldest winter I spent was the summer in San Francisco." OK, in 2011 it's almost true. We had glorious weather in Santa Barbara during the first week of July, then returned to Oakland to find gloom of rare ferocity. The past five days we've had stubborn fog and highs in the mid-50s. Which reminds me of a bulletin board note I read a few days ago: "Today's Forecast: High -- 55 degrees, Low -- 55 degrees; Current Temperature -- 55 degrees." This succinctly describes this week's weather but contains one important omission: the fog is so dense, it's practically raining. On Wednesday, someone came to work with an umbrella, explaining that it was raining out in the Avenues. Except that it wasn't. It was fogging.
All of which leaves me unmovated to ride early in the morning in the dark and the dank in out misty hills. And that's why this week's riding has been all about indoor riding and commuting in the fairly dry flats. Going to brave the tiny drops of water this weekend and ride outdoors. Someone once said : "Don't postpone joy," so I'm going to ride outdoors with family. It'll be slow and lots of people will pass us, but it will be fun and I won't mind a bit.
P.S. Today's an OK ankle day, but I have a level 5-6 pain across the base of the middle three toes. As that brilliant 1970s philosopher Roseanne Rosanna Danna said: "It's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another...." and today it's toes or thereabouts.
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Friday, July 15, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Rehab X: Seven Squared and Beyond
On June 30, I was bemoaning turning 49 on Facebook, when Neil Berg remarked that all the birthday meant was that the Earth has gone around the Sun once more with me along for the ride, and I didn't feel so bad. But I was older and was feeling older because I'd been seriously injured three months earlier, losing lots of strength and fitness as a result. Bad feelings were tempered by the fact that I got a new bike, a Llewellyn, which I picked up on my birthday.
The first ride on the Llewellyn followed the next day. The bike felt wonderfully smooth and stable and springy, just as a very well made steel bike should. The next day, I hatched the idea to ride every day of my 50th trip around the Sun. That sort of undertaking is blog-worthy. So blog-worthy, in fact, that it deserves ITS OWN BLOG. I hope I'm not spreading my writing too thin, but I think riding and writing about it will be fun. The biggest challenge may be riding the day after double centuries, the days on which I usually nap and do as little as possible.
As for the other stuff, my rehab is ebbing and flowing. Two days ago I came up with a brilliant idea to come up strongly on my toes as I walk, almost doing calf raises with every step. The first day it worked very well. I had no pain in the foot at all and was walking strongly. Next morning I woke up with a sore left calf. I stretched it as well as I could, but it was still tight and I had to rush off to PT. Wayne mercilessly manipulated me, all to the good and the calf felt better than before therapy. In late afternoon, I went to continue my streak at VeloSF. After 50 minutes of pedaling nowhere fast, I rushed off to catch the bus, walking the fastest I've walked since March. This fast walking didn't feel so good, but I didn't want to miss my bus and persisted. I made the bus. When I got off the bus the foot hurt badly and I limped for the first time in nearly a month as I walked a block to my car. Yeah, hundreds of calf raises, PT, high cadence pedaling, and fast walking all piled together were too much too soon. Four Advil and some ice abated the pain a bit, but it was still sore the next morning. Things improved as the day went on, but two days ago I felt better. I live hopeful than in two days I'll feel better than I did two days ago and certainly better than today.
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The first ride on the Llewellyn followed the next day. The bike felt wonderfully smooth and stable and springy, just as a very well made steel bike should. The next day, I hatched the idea to ride every day of my 50th trip around the Sun. That sort of undertaking is blog-worthy. So blog-worthy, in fact, that it deserves ITS OWN BLOG. I hope I'm not spreading my writing too thin, but I think riding and writing about it will be fun. The biggest challenge may be riding the day after double centuries, the days on which I usually nap and do as little as possible.
As for the other stuff, my rehab is ebbing and flowing. Two days ago I came up with a brilliant idea to come up strongly on my toes as I walk, almost doing calf raises with every step. The first day it worked very well. I had no pain in the foot at all and was walking strongly. Next morning I woke up with a sore left calf. I stretched it as well as I could, but it was still tight and I had to rush off to PT. Wayne mercilessly manipulated me, all to the good and the calf felt better than before therapy. In late afternoon, I went to continue my streak at VeloSF. After 50 minutes of pedaling nowhere fast, I rushed off to catch the bus, walking the fastest I've walked since March. This fast walking didn't feel so good, but I didn't want to miss my bus and persisted. I made the bus. When I got off the bus the foot hurt badly and I limped for the first time in nearly a month as I walked a block to my car. Yeah, hundreds of calf raises, PT, high cadence pedaling, and fast walking all piled together were too much too soon. Four Advil and some ice abated the pain a bit, but it was still sore the next morning. Things improved as the day went on, but two days ago I felt better. I live hopeful than in two days I'll feel better than I did two days ago and certainly better than today.
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Monday, June 20, 2011
Rehab IX: Walking and Wolling
I must be better -- I jaywalked today. Crossed the street on red, then made a right turn, going across the second street before I even reached the sidewalk. Pain in the ankle is pretty much gone. Now it hurts on the top of the foot, above the toes. This pain I can tolerate. When I had ankle sprains or blisters in the past, I'd limp for a while, then the limping would start affecting my other leg and back and I'd get mad and stop limping, forcing myself to walk through pain. This inevitably led to fairly rapid improvement. Optimistically, I think I am at that point now. I can walk tolerably through this pain on top of the foot. It affects my gait, but not so much. I'm getting better.
I saw Dr. Jake last week, the rendezvous preceded by another x-ray. This one was different, taken standing up for the first time. All looks well. I finally had a good look at my third, unscrewed fracture in the back of the joint. Contrary to what I'd thought, this one is not behind my Achilles tendon, but in the back of the outside ankle bone. So, in fact, I broke that bone in two places: back and outside. The outside was fixed. The one in the back is still there. The bone did not break off, but splintered and it looks somewhat like a narrow "Y." Dr. Jake said it'll take some time before bone fills in that gap. I hope it does before I see him again -- in October.
On Saturday, I did a decent outdoor ride -- Redwood-Pinehurst, a hilly 25 miler. Three months ago, this was a warm up. On Saturday, it was plenty. I was pleased with how the ride went. I had good energy and adequate legs, considering I hadn't done a ride of that distance since March. In the afternoon, I required a two-hour nap, however, so it appears I'm some time away from even a metric century, never mind an English double. Small steps. I'll get there eventually.
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I saw Dr. Jake last week, the rendezvous preceded by another x-ray. This one was different, taken standing up for the first time. All looks well. I finally had a good look at my third, unscrewed fracture in the back of the joint. Contrary to what I'd thought, this one is not behind my Achilles tendon, but in the back of the outside ankle bone. So, in fact, I broke that bone in two places: back and outside. The outside was fixed. The one in the back is still there. The bone did not break off, but splintered and it looks somewhat like a narrow "Y." Dr. Jake said it'll take some time before bone fills in that gap. I hope it does before I see him again -- in October.
On Saturday, I did a decent outdoor ride -- Redwood-Pinehurst, a hilly 25 miler. Three months ago, this was a warm up. On Saturday, it was plenty. I was pleased with how the ride went. I had good energy and adequate legs, considering I hadn't done a ride of that distance since March. In the afternoon, I required a two-hour nap, however, so it appears I'm some time away from even a metric century, never mind an English double. Small steps. I'll get there eventually.
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Sunday, June 12, 2011
Rehab VIII: Walking and Wheeling
I had a jogging dream the other night. In it, was walking along, then I thought, "how would jogging feel?" So, I tried it, very lightly. A gentle jog, just prancing, focusing on the form, not on speed. It felt fine, just right. Then I woke up and remembered that I wasn't quite there yet. After lunch with Howie, as I told him about the dream, I tried jogging. The attempt lasted one painful step. You can fake walking -- limping, compensating, leaning, reducing the load on the bad foot. You can't fake running -- too much weight coming down on each foot. With each running step, because of the momentum and the fact that we come down from a height, there is more impact on the foot. It'll be a while before I try running again.
On good news front, I took my first outdoor ride yesterday. As much as I've struggled in VeloSF classes, I had very low expectations, hoping I wouldn't struggle too much on the five-mile climb up Tunnel-Skyline (OK, there's about one-third of a mile that's flat). It went as well as I could have expected. I tried to spin, shifting down when grade increased, focusing on keeping my cadence up because I wasn't confident about standing up to pedal -- it felt awkward and hurt a little. Spinning didn't hurt a bit. I rode at a decent clip without overexerting myself, chasing riders I could see up the road.
I met Howie at the top of the hill and we rode along Skyline, freezing, under-dressed for this foggy, windy, mid-50s afternoon. We descended Joaquin Miller and stopped for coffee in Montclair. Fifteen miles and the foot felt good during the ride, though it swelled quite a bit after I took off the compression sock. Wayne said it would keep swelling for six months, as blood vessels repair themselves from the initial injury and the surgery, so this was not surprising. I am very encouraged.
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On good news front, I took my first outdoor ride yesterday. As much as I've struggled in VeloSF classes, I had very low expectations, hoping I wouldn't struggle too much on the five-mile climb up Tunnel-Skyline (OK, there's about one-third of a mile that's flat). It went as well as I could have expected. I tried to spin, shifting down when grade increased, focusing on keeping my cadence up because I wasn't confident about standing up to pedal -- it felt awkward and hurt a little. Spinning didn't hurt a bit. I rode at a decent clip without overexerting myself, chasing riders I could see up the road.
I met Howie at the top of the hill and we rode along Skyline, freezing, under-dressed for this foggy, windy, mid-50s afternoon. We descended Joaquin Miller and stopped for coffee in Montclair. Fifteen miles and the foot felt good during the ride, though it swelled quite a bit after I took off the compression sock. Wayne said it would keep swelling for six months, as blood vessels repair themselves from the initial injury and the surgery, so this was not surprising. I am very encouraged.
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Thursday, June 2, 2011
Rehab VII: Tilting at Sidewalks
The second day of one-crutching around went as well as the first, and I learned something. Sidewalks in San Francisco's financial district slope from buildings toward the streets. The slope makes me pronate or suponate, depending on the direction I am walking. Pronating (foot rolling inward), which my feet do naturally, hurts. Suponating (foot rolling outward) doesn't. Now I walk on the right side of every street, suponating as much as the sidewalks allow.
Does your city have sloping sidewalks?
Living up to the blog's title, I will report that today I did a mellow and happy hour at VeloSF.
And one more thing, it's uncanny how my body reacts to things Wayne recommends. He says use one crutch and roll the foot, "It's easier to get rid or a crutch than a bad habit." I use one crutch and roll the foot almost comfortably. The foot hurts while he manipulates it and I tell him, so he presses another part of the foot or lower leg and the pain wanes. He tapes my arch with Leukotape and the foot hurts less. He gives me a compression sock, I put it on in the morning, and the foot feels better immediately. How does he know? He knows. I guess that's why he has four diplomas on his wall.
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Does your city have sloping sidewalks?
Living up to the blog's title, I will report that today I did a mellow and happy hour at VeloSF.
And one more thing, it's uncanny how my body reacts to things Wayne recommends. He says use one crutch and roll the foot, "It's easier to get rid or a crutch than a bad habit." I use one crutch and roll the foot almost comfortably. The foot hurts while he manipulates it and I tell him, so he presses another part of the foot or lower leg and the pain wanes. He tapes my arch with Leukotape and the foot hurts less. He gives me a compression sock, I put it on in the morning, and the foot feels better immediately. How does he know? He knows. I guess that's why he has four diplomas on his wall.
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Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Rehab VI: Locomotions
During my first crutch-less week, walking wasn't getting noticeably better. I was limping to protect the foot, anticipating pain with every foot fall. It hurt in the same places: across the top of the joint and below the outside ankle bone. So, today Wayne said, "use a cane." I tried a cane in his office and didn't like it -- too unstable. So, Wayne said, "use a crutch." The theory is the crutch will protect the foot by letting me take weight off of it when necessary, but also allowing me to roll from heel to toe, strengthening the calf and muscles of the foot. I went back to a crutch. It was much better. Putting theory to practice, the foot hurt less and I really rolled from heel to toe. That Wayne, he knows what he's talking about.
Last Sunday, I switched cars with my parents, going back to my Mazda 6 with a standard transmission after driving my mom's automatic Civic for six weeks. I've always known that my Mazda's clutch is tight. Driving around it's not a problem. Where it is problematic is while starting the car. The pedal feels as if it tightens progressively. The farther I press, the tighter it gets. The farther I press, the more it hurts. The pedal wants to be pressed all the way to the floor before the car agrees to start. Since I only have to do that once per trip it's not a big deal, but I have to brace myself for the upcoming stab in the foot every time I turn the key. Shifting requires about 2/3 of pedal travel it needs for starting, so it's painless. But as I sat in uphill traffic for 15 minutes in downtown San Francisco on the way home today, shifting from first to second, back to neutral, and again to first was annoying, making me pine for the Civic. My driving desires are starting to show their age; or my age?
Today, I went to VeloSF for the second time since the injury. Did 50 easy minutes with a minute of one-broken-legged pedaling every five minutes. One-legged went pretty well, I pedaled pretty smoothly and circularly. I ventured briefly into low Zone 2 (165 watts) to see how that would feel. Two months ago that barely caused me to break a sweat. Today, I broke a sweat and was almost out of breath. In March that didn't happen until I got into mid Zone 3 (~220 watts). Deconditioning, thy name is trimalleolar fracture. But I am glad to be back on the bike and glad to be able to do 50 minutes. Will try to replicate the effort tomorrow.
No boating, horseback riding, or skating (god forbid) tales to tell, just the above three ways of getting around.
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Last Sunday, I switched cars with my parents, going back to my Mazda 6 with a standard transmission after driving my mom's automatic Civic for six weeks. I've always known that my Mazda's clutch is tight. Driving around it's not a problem. Where it is problematic is while starting the car. The pedal feels as if it tightens progressively. The farther I press, the tighter it gets. The farther I press, the more it hurts. The pedal wants to be pressed all the way to the floor before the car agrees to start. Since I only have to do that once per trip it's not a big deal, but I have to brace myself for the upcoming stab in the foot every time I turn the key. Shifting requires about 2/3 of pedal travel it needs for starting, so it's painless. But as I sat in uphill traffic for 15 minutes in downtown San Francisco on the way home today, shifting from first to second, back to neutral, and again to first was annoying, making me pine for the Civic. My driving desires are starting to show their age; or my age?
Today, I went to VeloSF for the second time since the injury. Did 50 easy minutes with a minute of one-broken-legged pedaling every five minutes. One-legged went pretty well, I pedaled pretty smoothly and circularly. I ventured briefly into low Zone 2 (165 watts) to see how that would feel. Two months ago that barely caused me to break a sweat. Today, I broke a sweat and was almost out of breath. In March that didn't happen until I got into mid Zone 3 (~220 watts). Deconditioning, thy name is trimalleolar fracture. But I am glad to be back on the bike and glad to be able to do 50 minutes. Will try to replicate the effort tomorrow.
No boating, horseback riding, or skating (god forbid) tales to tell, just the above three ways of getting around.
.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Rehab V: Pedestrian and Cycling Musings
Back to on-topic matters.
You know how when a good thing happens you think that it will happen again and again and become the norm. With my rehab I have a good day and think the next day would be just as good, maybe better. Alas, not necessarily. A good day often means: "Oooh, the foot feels good, let's try more and new things on it." Inevitably, this results in overdoing and more pain the next day than the day before. Though the day after is better still. The foot is improving, but it's not straight-line improvement, more of a jagged line with a general upward trend. Sort of like Dow Jones average in a bullish market.
I tried wind trainer twice over the weekend, then did not get on the bike for the next three days because things have been busy at work. Yesterday, I finally managed to go to VeloSF for a class, my first class in eight weeks and two days.
People there are like a family; you don't get that in other gyms. We know each others' names and we bond because we suffer together. So, Dave and Jeff and Danielle and others were glad to see me and asked how the ankle was. It was a tough 90-minute class with some Zone 4 and 5 riding. I was not going to ride in Zones 4 and 5. I was firmly entrenched in Zone 1 and I stayed there for 45 minutes. After a 15-minute warm-up, every five minutes, I unclipped my right foot and rode one-footed for a minute to build up my weak side. After four or five of those the foot started hurting, so I stopped. Rode for another 10 minutes, then decided 45 minutes was enough for a first time in two months and two days. I climbed off happy that I managed 45 minutes and that the 45 minutes felt pretty good.
Walking is funny. When healthy, I am a very fast walker. I daresay, I am the fastest walker on the sidewalk. Seriously. I am competitive when I walk the streets. By no means am I as fast as race walkers, the best of whom can do 6:30 miles for 30 miles, but among people walking to work and around town, I am the fastest. But not now. It hurts to walk fast. It used to hurt on the outside, under the ankle bone -- stabs and jolts. Thanks to my PT-ist Wayne, that pain is gone. Now I have duller, but still significant pain across the top of the ankle, where it flexes, in the place where the shin become the foot. If I try to walk fast, the foot flexes often and it hurts more often. As the doctor in the well-known joke says, "don't do that." So, I don't do that, at least not often, and, as a result, I walk slowly. I am the slowest walker on the sidewalk. Pedestrians zoom past me walking at a pedestrian pace. I am a sub-pedestrian. Instead of trying to scurry across the intersection as the light timer counts down the seconds before it will change to "DON'T WALK STUPID!" I look at the time, calculating how long it would take me to reach the street and slow down instead of speeding up. Slowing down has an additional benefit of allowing me to focus on my technique -- rolling the foot from heel to toe rather than dragging it along in balletic First Position, which I do when I am in a rush. (First Position walking minimizes flex and pain, but is a bad habit.) I stand there, waiting with patience of a philosopher, for the light to change with no cars in sight, while everyone else jaywalks. Then the light changes and I start across, hoping to make it to the other side before the light goes back to red, treading the thin line between speed and pain.
I reach my car, get inside and suddenly feel completely whole -- I am moving painlessly -- forgetting about my injury. Then I park and realize that I will have to stand up and walk and remember...
.
You know how when a good thing happens you think that it will happen again and again and become the norm. With my rehab I have a good day and think the next day would be just as good, maybe better. Alas, not necessarily. A good day often means: "Oooh, the foot feels good, let's try more and new things on it." Inevitably, this results in overdoing and more pain the next day than the day before. Though the day after is better still. The foot is improving, but it's not straight-line improvement, more of a jagged line with a general upward trend. Sort of like Dow Jones average in a bullish market.
I tried wind trainer twice over the weekend, then did not get on the bike for the next three days because things have been busy at work. Yesterday, I finally managed to go to VeloSF for a class, my first class in eight weeks and two days.
People there are like a family; you don't get that in other gyms. We know each others' names and we bond because we suffer together. So, Dave and Jeff and Danielle and others were glad to see me and asked how the ankle was. It was a tough 90-minute class with some Zone 4 and 5 riding. I was not going to ride in Zones 4 and 5. I was firmly entrenched in Zone 1 and I stayed there for 45 minutes. After a 15-minute warm-up, every five minutes, I unclipped my right foot and rode one-footed for a minute to build up my weak side. After four or five of those the foot started hurting, so I stopped. Rode for another 10 minutes, then decided 45 minutes was enough for a first time in two months and two days. I climbed off happy that I managed 45 minutes and that the 45 minutes felt pretty good.
Walking is funny. When healthy, I am a very fast walker. I daresay, I am the fastest walker on the sidewalk. Seriously. I am competitive when I walk the streets. By no means am I as fast as race walkers, the best of whom can do 6:30 miles for 30 miles, but among people walking to work and around town, I am the fastest. But not now. It hurts to walk fast. It used to hurt on the outside, under the ankle bone -- stabs and jolts. Thanks to my PT-ist Wayne, that pain is gone. Now I have duller, but still significant pain across the top of the ankle, where it flexes, in the place where the shin become the foot. If I try to walk fast, the foot flexes often and it hurts more often. As the doctor in the well-known joke says, "don't do that." So, I don't do that, at least not often, and, as a result, I walk slowly. I am the slowest walker on the sidewalk. Pedestrians zoom past me walking at a pedestrian pace. I am a sub-pedestrian. Instead of trying to scurry across the intersection as the light timer counts down the seconds before it will change to "DON'T WALK STUPID!" I look at the time, calculating how long it would take me to reach the street and slow down instead of speeding up. Slowing down has an additional benefit of allowing me to focus on my technique -- rolling the foot from heel to toe rather than dragging it along in balletic First Position, which I do when I am in a rush. (First Position walking minimizes flex and pain, but is a bad habit.) I stand there, waiting with patience of a philosopher, for the light to change with no cars in sight, while everyone else jaywalks. Then the light changes and I start across, hoping to make it to the other side before the light goes back to red, treading the thin line between speed and pain.
I reach my car, get inside and suddenly feel completely whole -- I am moving painlessly -- forgetting about my injury. Then I park and realize that I will have to stand up and walk and remember...
.
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