More Rides with my Bride

But first a word about a charity ride!

It’s only 4 weeks away and I’m in training for it! I’m talking about the Tour de Cure of the National Capital Area, taking place June 2^nd.  I’m planning to ride the century course, which starts in Reston Town Center and winds its way out into the Blue Ridge Mountains for about 45 miles of beautiful views (and nasty climbs as I discovered last year) before returning to Reston via the W&OD trail, a total ride of 108 miles with 6,800 feet of climbs.

My goal is to raise $1500 for the cure, same as last year. If you’d be willing to donate as little as $5, click the link below and make a donation by credit card.  Chances are, someone you know has diabetes – some may not even know it – and we can make a difference.  Come on, you can do it! One less latte won’t kill you.

http://main.diabetes.org/goto/BrianKeller

MB has game!

As I’ve mentioned before, MB expressed an interest in joining in the Cap2Cap ride here in Richmond. We’re planning to ride the 50 mile loop on May 18^th.

The Cap2Cap trail is a bike trail that is currently under construction between Richmond, the current capital of the state, and Williamsburg, the first capital of the state.  It has been underway for some time and is close to completion with final parts scheduled to finish next year.  Right now, parts of the 50+ mile trip travel over state maintained roadways that are lacking in cycling amenities; little to no shoulder. This ride is an annual fundraiser to help foot the bill for building a paved cycling roadway.

Building up the miles

Over the past couple of years, I’ve gotten to the point where I can ride 50 miles at a time with little strain.  MB has great cardio conditioning but not a lot of saddle time; like most people, sitting on a bike for hours at a time is hard on the tuchis for her. To prep for the 50 miles, we’ve undertaken a couple of training rides.

Kirk Williams Wheel Out

We started a few weeks ago with a 25 miler up in Ashland, a short distance from home. This ride was another fundraiser to benefit a young man named Kirk Williams who was rendered a paraplegic about 4 years ago in a mountain biking accident. I signed us up for it as I saw it as a great stepping stone and a way to help out a cause.

We showed up at a large horse farm that volunteered its facility as a starting point, about a half hour prior to the scheduled start.  As we were queuing up with the other riders, I noticed a woman on a bike I’d never seen before. It was called an Elliptigo and was garnering a lot of attention from the gathered cyclists.  Instead of a typical pedaling motion, the rider is standing upright and moves their feet in a way that is reminiscent of an elliptical machine while holding more traditional handle bars.

An Elliptigo near the Golden Gate Bridge

I asked her how long it would take her to ride the 25 mile course and she said, “I have no idea, I’ve never gone that far before.”  MB said she was in the same boat.

And, they’re off!

At the appointed time, we saddled up and moved out the long, gravel driveway to the main road. MB had our cue sheet and was following me as we settled into a pace we’d agreed to before.  We found ourselves riding in a group of about a dozen or so riders.

After a couple of miles, MB asked if we could pass everybody. I said sure, and we swung out and passed the front of the pack and dropped everyone in no time at all.  By the time we got to the first turn at mile 3, we had put about 400 meters between us.  I settled into my cadence and we pedaled through Ashland on the back streets.

A quick lesson in the Granny Gear

About 8 miles into the ride, the trail took us down a long sloping left hander; MB pointed out a house belonging to friends of our youngest daughter.  It was then I realized that we had a pretty healthy climb coming up. 

The road turned upward and I continued to shift down to keep my cadence at a comfortable pace.  I could see MB in my mirror getting smaller as her pedals slowed down.  Finally, about half way up the hill she dismounted and began to walk.  I continued to the top of the hill and pulled off to the shoulder of the road to wait.

As soon as I pulled over, I saw Elliptigo Girl striding smoothly up the hill just passing MB on foot.  She continued steadily up the hill in her lowest gear and, as she passed me, I gave her a thumbs up of support. 

She gasped out, “I wish this damn thing didn’t weigh 65 pounds!” But she was still smiling as she said it.

When MB got to the top, she was apologizing for having to walk. I pointed out that there is no shame in that; I had to do it myself at the Tour de Cure last year. Sometimes you just have to get off.  

As we moved on down the road, she asked me about how to better use her gearing. I knew that she had been using the middle chain ring as I’d seen her in it. Turns out, she’d not yet dropped to the smallest ring.  Once I pointed this out and gave her my strategy for hills (I work to keep my cadence in the same vicinity of normal which is about 80 rpms for me but usually drops to 60, or so, on hills. Once I’ve worked through all the gears I just tough it out, occasionally standing up to change riding positions) she thanked me and immediately utilized it on the next climb which was even steeper. This resulted in a no-walk ascent and she pointed out it was a lot easier.

At the halfway point, we took a break for a quick snack and a few moments out of the saddle. As we rested, Elliptigo Girl strode past, turned and disappeared up the road. We didn’t see her again until we got back to the farm’s finish area. Evidently, 25 miles is not that tough a ride on one of those if you’re in really good shape.

To the finish

The rest of the ride was uneventful and, blessedly, flat. We were able to keep a pace above 13 mph for nearly all of it despite an occasional headwind.  MB was pleased and ready to try a longer ride soon.

Back at the farm, we grabbed some lunch (local barbeque, yum!) and listened to a local band while we ate and sat in the sunshine, enjoying the day.  How great to enjoy a ride with your best friend!

Final Tune Up

The following weekend, MB wanted to try a longer ride. I had explained to her that I’d read somewhere that, if a cyclist can ride 60% of a particular distance without blowing up, they should be able to ride the full distance desired. Since our plan is to ride a 50 miler, she wanted to crank out 30 miles.

I suggested that we could ride one of the RABA (Richmond Area Bike Association) courses that I’d taken a few months back in a group ride.  It begins about a 10 minute drive from our house, takes place over fairly untraveled roads, and has terrain that is pretty similar to the 50 mile course. I showed her the cue sheet and, since she is very familiar with our local roads, she knew exactly where the ride took us.

Personally, I detest driving to go on a ride; I feel it defeats the entire purpose of riding a bicycle.  That said, if I didn’t do it, at least once in a while, I’d almost never go on a group ride.  So, sometimes you suck it up and do it.

We set out Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch.  After parking in the local library lot, we mounted up and headed out to the road with me in the lead. 

The first couple miles of this course are mostly downhill, a very gentle descent.  This got our pace off to a pretty fast start as a result. After the road leveled off, I put MB in front to set a pace that she was comfortable riding as this was her training ride.  (I had my own training ride that morning when I got in a 30 miler with a buddy with whom I hadn’t ridden in 6 months. I had been cranking it in the morning so this was a recovery ride for me.)

MB kept up a really nice pace of between 12 and 13 mph for most of the ride. The day wasn’t gorgeous, overcast, a little chilly, and an occasional wind gust, but the scenery on this loop is wonderful.  Lots of picturesque, rural homes, some farms of varying sizes and crops, and the occasional historic signpost punctuated the afternoon.

Just past the halfway point, we pulled off on a side road for a break and a snack.  After about 10 minutes, we continued on, turning back onto the second to last leg of, what looks like, a large rectangle on the map.  This 5 mile stretch was heading into a pretty gusty wind and it got painful at times.  I was proud of how MB was able to push on through it, holding her pace.

We made the last turn and started up the 3 miles of climb to the finish. Where the start was mostly downhill, the finish is mostly up and that makes this loop somewhat of a challenge for newish riders.  MB charged up it convincingly, continuing to hold a solid pace. I was very impressed with her stamina and heart, right then. The first time I went on this ride, there were a couple of regular club riders that just barely chugged up this last section.  When I told her that, I think she was surprised.

When we returned to the parking lot, I made a beeline to the porta pottie near the baseball field having clearly over-hydrated.  When I returned to the car, MB mentioned that when we do the Cap2Cap she needs to remember to get entirely off the bike instead of straddling when taking a break.  Evidently, she had some issues swinging her leg over the bike after being in the saddle for so long.  (I know the feeling.)

I’ll remind her of that this weekend!

Riding with My Bride

Ok, I realize I haven’t posted in a month!  It’s not like I’ve been slacking off; work has been busy, I’m on a church committee that’s taken up a lot of my time (searching for a new minister) and I’ve been working to raise funds for my first charity ride of the year, the National Capital Tour de Cure for Diabetes.

I’m working hard to raise $1500 and ride 108 miles to raise awareness for diabetes. Do you know someone that has it? Maybe you have it yourself. It’s a silent killer in the US and more people are being diagnosed with diabetes every year. Help me reach my goal and help to find a cure! As little as $5 can be donated through this website with a credit card and I’d really appreciate your help.  Come on, I’d do it for you!

 http://main.diabetes.org/goto/BrianKeller

Scattered thoughts

Old man winter is taking bloody forever to move on, here in Central Virginia.  We’re a week past the first day of Spring and the night time temperatures are still either side of freezing and I have to scrape frost off the windshield before heading to work. It seems unusual to me; my birthday is the day before the first day of Spring and I know I’m usually in short sleeves around this time of year, at least occasionally.

MB and I decided to watch the late news the other night and the local weather guy came on to tell us that, “The high for the day was 37 degrees which is 22 degrees below the normal for this year.”  Aha! No wonder it doesn’t feel right, it’s not nearly as warm as it usually is. He then went on to say that, based on the long range computer models, the temperatures would remain about a “month behind” where they should be on the spring warm up, at least for the next four to six weeks.  So, it feels like February right now, and it’s going to feel like March next month although it’s really April.  Great! 

I was hoping to start bike commuting a couple of days a week this month but I’m going to wait till the low is in the forties. I realize I’m a fair weather biker.  Please don’t hate.

Some people complain about the weather, others just observe it, some work in it but no one does anything about it. (Although depending upon who you believe, humankind has been doing something about it for about 100 years – mostly causing it to change for the worse.)

My dad was a bricklayer, and for him the weather was mostly about getting a paycheck.  When the temperature gets too low, it becomes difficult to make mortar which is used to lay brick. If it freezes, you get weak joints and houses fall apart.  If it’s raining, the mortar becomes too wet and you get weak joints and houses fall apart. But for the worker, the bad weather means “I don’t work so I don’t get paid.” I would have made a lousy bricklayer; I hate other things having an impact on whether or not I get to work.

At least, I’m working….

On the bright side, the last two weekends have had at least one day where the temperature snuck up to 50 degrees or so. That’s warm enough for me to ride and I even talked MB into joining me for both rides.

While having been very happily married for the last 12 years, MB and I have not really had any hobbies to share. I’m completely open to it, in fact I’d welcome it! We’ve talked about playing golf together from time to time but she says that she’d be intimidated playing with me because I’m so much better. I keep trying to explain to her that golf is the hardest game in the world, that it humbles everyone who plays it, and that you have to really work just to suck at it.  Perhaps after we retire when my game is completely gone…….

Admittedly, I have a secondary motivation for getting MB into cycling – more gear. Nearly every cyclist that catches the bug becomes addicted to the gear.  Clothing, gadgets, energy gels, and magazines are all on the shopping list. Bike shops understand this and send emails daily, touting the latest deals.

Constant temptation

And bikes are the worst. I recently read that the number of bikes any of us need is expressed in an equation B=n-1, where B is the number of bikes we need (want) while n is the current number currently owned. The corollary to this equation is B=SO-1, where B is the number of bikes we need (want) and SO is the number of bikes at which our Significant Other will leave us.  These same equations transfer over to most other addictions – classic cars, guns, pool cues, tennis rackets. I think the B integer is inversely proportional to the price tag of the addiction, too. As the price rises, the quantity decreases.

I also recognize that MB is immune to all this stuff.  She is truly a rock when it comes to handling finances and sticking to a budget. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not that she won’t spend money and won’t let me. She just won't allow us to spend it needlessly.  Dammit.

So any way, we took some rides…….

Back in the day, MB was a bicycle commuter up in Northern VA/DC. She used to commute to her job in downtown Washington from Arlington, and back, nearly every day.

DC - Where decisions are made with no thought given to consequences

Cyclists didn’t get a whole lot of slack back then, particularly from taxi drivers. She was taught to carry her bike lock in her left hand while riding so that if she was squeezed by a driver, she had something to rap on their car and get their attention. (Cars were made of pretty stout sheet metal back then; if you tried that same trick today, you might shatter somebody’s quarter panel.  How cool! Note to self: buy a lock when the next bike shop email comes out!)

The first ride we did together was on the roads near our house.  We live out in a rural suburb with lots of two lane blacktop and there are lots of cyclists out here. As a result, drivers are pretty aware and give a wide berth most of the time. I wanted to make sure she got her legs under her more than anything, before we tackled bigger rides.

We ended up riding about 10 miles or so, on a wider road nearby; it has really generous shoulder and since the road is only a few years old, the pavement is excellent.  MB got to practice her pedal stroke, try to ride in a pace line, albeit a small one, and generally get comfortable with the gearing systems of today by riding my Trek hybrid.  It was great fun and a wonderful start.

The second ride was in a completely different spot.  MB works for one of the largest employers in the state and their HQ is situated in an office park called West Creek that has a really nice road system with wide lanes, shoulders, and great vistas.  RABA, the Richmond Area Bike Club to which I belong, has a group ride in the area every week with something for everyone. MB suggested we ride those roads the Sunday following our first ride.

Now, I hate to drive my bike someplace in order to take a ride.  Seems counter to the entire cycling thing to me, somehow. But the ride over there and back would be longer than the first ride we took so I agreed. We loaded up the bikes and drove over to West Creek, offloading in one of the parking lots of her company.  MB took the lead as we pedaled onto the road since I had no idea where anything led.

We’d traveled just over a kilometer when one of the security guys pulled us over, asking for ID. We’d left everything in the car, of course, including MB’s company badge. After offering to return to the car to show him, he just asked for the make and model of the car along with the plate number to check on us and then sent us on our way. The only downside to the exchange was that I’d failed to downshift before stopping and this lead to a rather sketchy start but I quickly recovered.

We settled into a nice smooth pace as we rode back and forth along the one section of road, along with a large number of other cyclists. Our ride totaled just over 13 miles and we completed that in an hour. I’m pretty impressed with MB’s ability to hold a decent pace on that hybrid. We’re planning to do a couple of group rides in the next 6 weeks or so, including one of 50 miles, and I’m confident that she’ll be ready to get after them!

Now, if I could just get her thinking about new bikes………

Heart

I got to thinking about this word on Valentine’s Day. It means different things to different people, of course, but to those of us who are competitors it has a particular meaning.  Whether you’re a runner, a golfer, a cyclist, a pool player, even a competitive Scrabble player, having heart has a particular meaning. I want to talk about that but first, I have a request.

Tour de Cure

For people with Diabetes, having heart means keeping a focus on your diet, on your meds, and on your lifestyle not because it’s the right thing to do but because failing to do so will lead to your death. It’s that simple. Diabetes kills people. It kills some of them even if they do all those things properly. That’s why I’m going to ride again this year in the Tour de Cure of the National Capital Area, on June 2^nd this year.

I’m planning to ride in the century ride, just like last year, and travel over 100 miles in one day on my bike to raise money and awareness for this horrible disease. Last year, a lot of you donated money and together we raised $1500 toward the total of $800,000 raised in this one event.  This year, the larger goal is $1,000,000 and I’m hoping to get to $1800, with your help.

No donation is too small. In fact, if everyone that reads this blog donated only $5 I’d be almost halfway to my goal. (I know I can’t believe that many people read this blog but have you seen Facebook lately?) Here’s a link to my donation page for the TdC.

http://tour.diabetes.org/site/TR?px=7310819&pg=personal&fr_id=8619

Thanks! I'm riding for you!

Heart is a noun that should be a verb

Think about it.  This thing works so diligently in the human body that it should be a verb. The average person’s heart beats over 100,000 times a day, almost 40 million times a year, over 3 billion times in the average lifetime.  Damn.

To have heart, then, means that you’re always there. Hanging around until your best effort is needed and then you give it for as long as it’s needed or as long as you can give it.

Two wheeled heart

I was out on a ride some weeks ago, riding by myself and feeling pretty good although I was beginning to run out of gas.  I’d been out for a little over two hours and had ridden 33 miles, or so, with about 5 more miles left to make it home.

I was pedaling steadily up a false flat (the road appears to be flat but actually has a slight incline) trying to hold my pace when I saw them approaching in my rearview mirror. A group of three riders, in a tight pace line, was gaining on me and doing it quickly. I watched their image grow in my mirror as I continued to plod along. My cadence increased slightly, much like your foot comes off the gas pedal of your car when you see a cop on the road; you aren’t really thinking about doing it, it’s just a reflex.  As a result, I was close to 17 mph when they came alongside.

They were younger guys (at this point, most everyone is) and they were in really good shape; well defined calf muscles are a dead giveaway for serious cyclists.  And they weren’t even breathing hard, greeting me with full sentences and no gasping as they rolled past me.  I puffed out a response, pretending not to be working too hard. (Cyclists that are working in a pace line, I'm told, use about 40% less energy for the same speed. That's why you see them doing it!)

They were about twenty yards past me when my brain said to me, “Really? You’re just going to let those guys just drop you like a bad habit?” A little groan escaped my lips as I stood up and accelerated toward the last rider, intent on catching the wheel and riding along with them. 

It took me about 100 meters to catch the last rider and when I slid in behind him, I was doing just over 20 mph. I settled into a bigger gear, held my position and worked on recovering from the burst, trying desperately not to sound like I was going to pass out. The guy in front, looked back at me in surprise.

“You don’t mind if I wheel suck, do you?” I croaked.

He grinned and said, “You just have to keep up.”

From my point of view

Fair enough, that’s all I wanted. My legs were already starting to come back to me, thanks to the slipstream effect, and this was starting to feel pretty good even though we were now going up an actual hill.

In seemingly no time at all, we reached the crest and the front rider came up out of the drops and onto the hoods. Everyone else followed suit as we rolled down a slight decline.  The three in front chatted for a second, grabbed a quick drink as I did the same, and then began the next push.  I stuck to the back wheel of the last guy in line and kept my cadence at a comfortable level. My computer seemed surprised that we were going 25 mph on a flat; it’s not used to that kind of performance.

Hah! You wish, pal!

I spent the next four miles rather enjoying the feeling of flying along, just above the pavement. I was pedaling near my maximum effort but the reward was bigger than I’d ever felt before. As a result, I just kept pedaling, watching the line to ensure I didn’t do anything stupid, occasionally looking at the powerful efforts of the guy at the front and just marveling that he could do it, and that I could keep up.  I felt great!

With only a half mile to get home, I realized that I was going to need to peel off from the group and turn down the road where my house is located.  As we came up to it, I yelled, “Thanks for the pull, guys!”  All three of them looked over in unison, appearing totally surprised that I’d kept up.  I waved.

Fortunately, it’s downhill for the last quarter mile to my house.

Heart on the Table

A couple of years ago, at the Virginia State 9 Ball Championships, I saw an example of heart.  Of a completely different sort.

Jordan is a player of some repute in the Richmond area. He’s been playing at a high level for at least the last 15 years or so. He’s a big guy with a sledge hammer break, excellent shot making skills, and plays very tidy safeties.  He’s been known to play for some healthy cheese, too. (For all non-pool players, that means he likes to gamble.)

In this particular tournament, Jordan won his first three matches on the winners’ side before getting knocked to the one loss bracket.  From there, I watched him as he won four matches in a row to reach the semi-finals of the tournament. Plenty of players do that but how he managed those four wins was what made it so special.

In each of the race to 9 matches, Jordan’s opponent made it to the hill (8 games going to 9) first. In the first one, he was down 8-3 before winning 6 games in a row to win the match. He was down 8-5 in the second match and did the same thing. It got easier the third match as he was only behind 8-7 before winning the last 2 games. In the fourth, it got harder again as he was down 8-6 and still managed a win. At no time during these matches did Jordan appear to be any differently focused or driven; he simply kept pushing forward, giving each shot his full attention and nothing more or less.

No one that I spoke with could remember this sort of thing happening in the tournament before and we also haven’t seen it since.

In the semi-final match, Jordan was down 8-6 and won the next 2 games to make it hill-hill again. Some of the sweators were trying to get people to bet against him to do it again and they were having a hard time getting action, too. But Jordan had gone to the well once too often and lost when he broke dry and his opponent ran out for the match.  Just the same, it was an example of tremendous heart from a competitor refusing to give in until the last ball dropped. His performance that day is still talked about during the annual State Championships.

Final words

I have few heroes but one who comes close is Theodore Roosevelt. TR was many things including a snob, an intellectual, a rancher, a hunter and naturalist, a warrior, a father, an asthmatic, a raconteur, and a loving husband. He was also a man of letters, writing over 50,000 of them, along with several dozen books, during his lifetime. I don't believe he was a cyclist but I know he did play pool. 

Theodore Roosevelt
26th US President

This passage from one of his speeches is, in my opinion, one of the all-time great descriptions of heart.

The Man in the Arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. 

I’ll leave it there.

Road Warriors – Unite!

I get to travel on business quite a bit and have been doing it for about 25 years or so. When you’ve been doing it for that long, you tend to get numb to the stupid stuff that happens; patience is a virtue when you’re traveling. While patience isn’t one of my virtues, I’ve gotten to be pretty easygoing about it as long as a few, simple things are handled.

First, keep me informed and don’t BS me.  I’m not looking for all the answers, just let me know what you know. That way I can make my own decisions about what to do next (stay here or get another hotel – stay on this flight or look for another one) and feel, at least slightly in control.

Second, if you’re the hotel in which I’m staying, make sure the bed is comfortable and the water is hot.  Seriously, most of the time spent in a hotel room is either sleeping or getting ready to leave. If you get these parts correct, everything else is just gravy for me.

A few weeks ago, I was in the Dallas area and got an example of how not to do it. Several of my friends found my recollection of the events humorous so I thought I’d drop it in here.

That 70’s Show!

I was co-facilitating a class for managers, held at the American Airlines Training and Conference Center. I’m guessing this facility was initially built in the early 1970s, when the airlines were in their heyday, and American needed a place to train all its flight attendants, pilots, etc.  It’s now a revenue stream for the parent company by renting it to companies looking for a place for training/meetings for groups of all sizes.  We had about 20 people. Here's the entrance.  Maybe a tad dated, no?

Welcome to The Lodge

There have been additions to the campus over the years.  The newest additions are probably less than ten years old, are nicely furnished, and are really good for holding a training course. As a result, our class was very productive, focused, and engaged. A great deal of learning took place and we received rave reviews for the content.

The issue was the “hotel” side of our stay.

Nice shiny conference center on right

Cozy Rooms

I’m always nervous when I read the review of hotel and rooms are referred to as “cozy.” These weren’t described that way, at least not any place that I saw, but they could have been. It would have been generous. They’re cozy in the same way that your first dorm room was cozy.

These were actually old dorm rooms, left over from the early years. I’m guessing that, back then, there were two twin beds to match the two tiny closets on one side of the room. Fortunately, management has decided that you can’t put two business travelers in a room this small.  They’ve left the two closets but changed to a single, queen bed.

The room isn't much larger than this.

The walls had relatively new wall paper on them. The furniture (desk and nightstands) looked like standard motel issue. The carpet was clean and fairly new. And a flat screen TV hung on the wall, too.  I sat down on the bed and realized it was a top of the line model, outfitted with high end bedding.  Good! The sleeping part was covered.

The rest of the room w/TV

I began to unpack. When I took my toiletries into the bathroom, I was a bit surprised to see that the fixtures hadn’t been upgraded since, well, opening day.  (I’m not talking about the baseball season, here.)

The toilet was very institutional, with the plumbing pipes proudly coming out of the wall at chest height. The shower head looked like something from the Bates motel. And the basin sink fixture was so old that all of the chrome had been scrubbed off of it.  Seriously, I’d never seen that before; scrubbed to the point of “no longer shiny.”  Whatever, at least it all looked clean.

I changed into workout gear and went to the fitness center, which was last upgraded in the early 90s. How do I know? Age of the equipment coupled with some pictures showing women in that era workout clothing (think Flashdance) and a poster with an invitation to an “aerobics class.” All the equipment was in sound working order, though, so I got a very satisfying hour in.

The 1^st Shower

Back in my room, I hit the shower before meeting my fellow trainer for dinner. It took about forty five seconds for the water to get warmish and it never really got hot. I finally took a quick, warmish shower, got dressed and headed out to eat.

In retrospect, I should have gone to the Front Desk right then to ask for another room. No hot water at 5:00 pm is a really bad sign. There just aren’t that many people using hot water then. But, hey, I was thinking about a beer not a shower!

Baby, It’s Cold Outside!

My alarm went off at 5:30 but I was already awake. I shut it off, turned on the TV to catch the headlines, and then headed to the bathroom for my morning routine. (MB laughs at me because I’m so routinized. Honestly, if I didn’t do it this way I’d forget what I was doing. I’m barely awake for the first half hour of my day.)

I reached into the shower and turned the water to the hottest setting.  Plenty of water, but no temperature change; it felt like a water fountain. I let it run for another minute or so and felt it again.  Nope, still cold.  I waited another couple of minutes, walking back out to look at the TV before checking again.  I walked back into the bathroom, expecting to see the mirror steaming up. No dice. Cold as a gravestone.  Great.

I turned off the water and called the front desk. On the third ring I heard, “Good morning, Front Desk, this is Kelly. How can I help you?”

“Kelly, has anyone called to report that there’s no hot water?” I was trying to sound angry at the hotel without sounding angry at her, she sounded so happy.

“No one else has called, sir. Should I send Maintenance up to your room?” (For what? To tell me there’s no hot water? I already got that part.)

“I don’t see how that would help. Please just tell them to fix it.” I slammed the phone down. (Have you noticed that you can’t do that with a cell phone? You can’t even hang up on someone anymore and make it sound like you mean it! I really miss those big, honking Ma Bell telephones. When you slammed one of those down, everybody knew you were pissed!)

It's a weapon, too!

Enough time had been wasted by this point that I’d need to gut out a cold shower. I made it as brief as I could, thankful that I’d showered the night before after my workout. I also managed a cold water shave which, for me, is just as pleasant as running my fingernails on a chalkboard. But I tried to do it with a smile on my face because you should never shave, or send an email to your boss, when you’re angry. I did notice that it’s hard to be pissed off when you’re taking a cold shower; you can’t help but giggle while you’re doing it.

The Front Desk

I stopped in the meeting room and talked to my co-trainer. She said there was no hot water in her room, either. From there, I went into the ballroom where breakfast was being served. There were probably fifty or so people, from other companies, eating together. I overheard a number of laughing conversations about cold showers.  Evidently, this was a big deal.

After I ate, I walked to the front desk where I found the aforementioned, Kelly, who greeted me with a smile.

“Hi, I’m in 2317. There’s still no hot water.”  She looked down at a note on the desk.

“Mr. Keller, I’m so sorry.  Maintenance and our VP of Operations are working on it, right now. Should have it fixed in a jiffy!” She gave me her biggest smile.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure someone was on it. I hate cold showers!” I was trying to sound stern. I’m sure it sounded more like Howard Stern.

“Oh, I do too! Don’t you worry, we’ll have it fixed quickly! Have a good day!” She said this last line as another person approached and I was dismissed.

When our meeting convened, I polled our attendees and found that all but three of us had taken a cold shower. Nice.

The good news was that everyone was wide awake.

Later that night…..

After class, we all went out to dinner as a large group. We returned to the campus around 9:00 and I stopped by the front desk. The night clerk told me that “the hot water problem has been repaired and that we should have no further issues.”

Like all good hostages, I wanted to bond with her and believe every little thing she said.

I thanked her for the update and went to the bar for a nightcap with some of the trainees. By the time I got to my room, it was around eleven. I jumped into bed without even thinking about it and went right to sleep.  Poor dumbass.

Groundhog Day

I woke up before the alarm and lay very quietly, listening. I could hear the sound of water running. At first, I thought it was the air handler but, no, it was water. I didn’t like the sound of that as it was very early. Were people trying to beat the rush? Was Maintenance still “working” on it? Was I still asleep and just peeing the bed?  (Did I mention I’m not very awake when it’s early?)

I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom, turning the shower to ”Hot” before I even got in the tub. The water began as barely warm and then went cold in less than five seconds. Great. I left the water on and went out to watch TV for a few minutes while it “warmed up.”

After ten minutes, I went back into the bathroom to test it. Nope, cold. I walked back out to the phone on the desk in my room and called the Front Desk, again.

“Good morning, Front Desk, this is Kelly. How may I help you?”

“Kelly, I still don’t have hot water.”

“Oh, dear! One other room reported that, too. Have you tried letting it run for a while?”

“About 20 minutes.”

“Ok. Maintenance told me to tell you that you should turn it to Hot, then Cold, then Hot again, then Cold again, and then back to Hot and see if that works.”

“Seriously? In that case, send a Witch Doctor up because the Maintenance guy is an idiot. That’s got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, shall I send Maintenance up?”

“Yes, please.”

I put on a towel and sat down to start on my email while the water continued to run. After about three minutes, there was a knock at the door and I heard a voice say, “Maintenance.”

I made sure my towel was secure and opened the door.  A Mr. Roper lookalike with a Texas drawl, I’ll call him Sparky, looked up and said, “No hot water, huh?”

Sparky, ready to please the customer
"No hot water?"

I nodded and said, “You got it. Fix it please.” I walked back to the desk and he walked into the bathroom.  From there, I heard him turn the water off, then turn it back on, then off again. Then he turned on the sink, turned on the shower again, and flushed the toilet.

“You definitely don’t have any hot water.” I turned around from the desk to see Sparky had come out from the bathroom.

“Admitting there’s a problem is the first step, Sparky. What’s the next step?”

“I’m working on the room next door, too. Gimme a second, I’ll be right back.” He went out the door of my room, leaving it ajar, and was back in about 30 seconds.

“Got that one fixed! I should have this one in a jiffy.” He said, as he re-entered my room and went back into the bathroom. Evidently a “jiffy” is the hot maintenance term in Texas.

I heard him go through his ritual of off, on, off, on, sink, flush, two or three more times.  Then he left the water running and came out.

“I’ve got plenty of hot water next door. I can’t understand this. We are having some problems with the mixing valves in some of these rooms, they’re kind of old. We were working on it over the holidays, too. I just can’t understand it.”

“You’re telling me this has been going on for over a month and yet these rooms are still being sold to customers??? Ok, Sparky, how soon do you think you can fix it?”

“Well, let me try a few more things.” He went back into the bathroom.

I heard him go through the same ritual, again, and I desperately wanted to ask him if he knew the definition of insanity.  A few minutes went by and he came back out.

“My boss is asking me to meet him down the hall so, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He made as if to leave.

“Hang on. You’ve been at it for 30 minutes and nothing has changed. Your boss wants to see you and leave the customer alone to fend for himself?!?!  I have to be witty and charming in about 15 minutes and that means I’ve got take a cold shower, right now. So, don’t bother coming back in a few minutes. Come back after I’ve left. And please tell your boss, for me, that you need to fix this shit. Today. Have a nice day!” He left rather quickly.

I hate getting pissed off at guys in the trades, nearly as much as I hate taking a cold shower. I know the guy was doing his best with shoddy, old, broken down equipment. I know it wasn’t his fault, although I do question his “technique” for fixing the hot water. (Maybe it was poor training. How deliciously ironic!)

I took the quickest possible shower and went off to my class where I found that only four of us (both of the trainers, of course) had suffered with no hot water. At least they were making progress. One of my trainees made sure to point out that his water had been so hot, he had to turn it down so as not to burn himself.  Bastard.

Aftermath

I managed to avoid going to speak with someone else on the hotel staff about the issue. My co-trainer got our Meeting Planning team, which had arranged the site, on the phone and let them have it. They promised to re-negotiate our deal.

After class, I went back to my room and discovered that the water was now blazing hot. Overjoyed, I changed and went to work out in the fitness center. When I returned to my room, there was still plenty of hot water and I took a luxurious shower before heading off to dinner.  The hot water continued the next morning and I was able to complete my class without stinking up the joint.

If you’re scoring at home, that’s a comfortable bed all three nights and cold showers two out of three days or 67% approval.  In most public school systems, even with No Child Left Behind, that’s a failing grade.  But in twenty five years on the road it’s just another road story. 

Like the time I walked into a hotel room and flipped on the lights to find three people in bed together, but not sleeping, in the room I’d just rented……..

I’ll leave that story for another time.

Wait, what? Lance cheated???!!!

It's not the fall, it's that sudden stop at the bottom....

Lance Armstrong doped while he was winning all those Tours de France and, in addition to being a cheater, can also be called a liar.  

What do you mean, you don't believe me?

In other news, scientists reported the Earth is still categorized as “round.”

Yep. Still round.

I watched the interview from start to finish. I’m not typically a voyeur on this type of thing, generally believing that we all have to stew in our own juices. But Lance was so adamant for so long, and had so many high quality people stand up for him, that I just had to see what he had to say. Admittedly, I have also been a fan of his for a long time and there was a part of me that just had to hear it with my own ears.

I saw a man that had the look of, “Oh shit! I’m caught. Now, what?” in his eyes.  I truly don’t think he believed he would ever be caught, not after getting away with such a vigorous denial for over fifteen years.  Now that his big breakaway has been finally run down, he’s trying to work his way back into the peloton with a sheepish look on his face.

"Eff it. I'm caught. Thanks, again, God."

But it’s so much worse than that. The guy cheated, as did nearly everyone else of any consequence at the time, and that was bad. (I've read one source that said in the 2005 Tour, they would have to go back to 23rd place to find someone that wasn't caught doping during their career in the peloton. Damn, that's bad.) The fact that "everyone" was cheating doesn't give anyone a pass, in my opinion. Just because everyone is driving 75 in a 55 zone, doesn't mean the cop can't write you a ticket. You're the one he stopped!

And then, he denied it, sued over it, and generally screwed a bunch of people with higher moral fiber over it, too. He inveigled reporters, business people, and cycling fans to buy into the crap he was selling about his performance so that they would take his side and help defend him. 

He lied while under oath to various organizations and committed perjury.  He deserves whatever punishment he accretes at this point. I’m not sure I can forgive him for all that he did but then, he ain’t asking me either.

I’m disappointed in what he did and the way so many people had part or all of their lives ruined by his behavior. (He was never a hero to me; I have very high standards for my heroes and you've never heard of most of them but I was a fan so I am allowed to be disappointed.) His “win at any cost” mentality obviously has no boundaries. What served him well in fighting cancer, when added to questionable ethics and morals, served to sink him as a legend in a sport. 

I continue to hear additional comments about him and his behavior during the interview. Seems he behaved in such a way that many folks, who have seen him in action, believe this is simply the next step in his protracted effort to impart the belief that he is better than everyone else. I can’t speak to that as I just don’t know him very well.  To me, he looked and acted very similarly to other people I’ve seen get caught lying. He said he was sorry, kind of, recognized that he had no credibility, and stated that he’d spend as long as it took to pay back what he’s done wrong.

There may not be enough time left to do that. He’s only 41.

My youngest brother is very glad to say that Greg LeMond is the only American to win the Tour de France and he won it three times. Two of those were after being accidentally shot, and nearly dying, while hunting.

"Want to race, Lance? I'm in!"

On the Other Hand

Lance Armstrong, through his LiveStrong foundation, raised an enormous amount of money to help folks that are battling cancer. Last I heard, the number was over $500 million and growing.  I also know of a number of little things he did for individuals, on so many occasions, that would lead one to believe he’s a good person. His charity work did a great deal of good for a large group of people. For that, I’ve always admired him.

In the grand scheme of things, LiveStrong is far bigger than Lance ever was and the good work they’ve done, and will continue to do in the future, will have a much larger impact. Yes, he started it, and was the CEO of it for a long time but most of the heavy lifting is being done by the foundation. I saw a post on Fatcyclist.com the other day where he asked himself if the foundation would have been founded if Lance wasn’t Lance. Fatty’s reply was that need usually brings about solution so it probably would have happened, regardless. That may be true but Lance did found it and, for that, many of us are thankful.

In the end he’s a combination of all that he’s done right and wrong, just like all of us. Lance just has to add it all up in front of everyone, unlike most of the rest of us, and there are a lot of people that want to watch this accounting take place. I intend to continue donating to LiveStrong because of what the organization does, not because of what Lance did.

Final Irony

The interesting irony to me about the whole interview -by-Oprah thing is that the “King” of a sport that can only occasionally be found on the least watched TV channels (if at all), confessed to cheating on one of the least watched channels of all, thereby giving that channel its second highest rating of all time. 

Pop culture in action.