One Last Ride

The last moments I got to spend with my friend Dave Mirra were on a bike ride we shared the Saturday before it happened.  It was kind of chilly, and I had delayed my morning ride until the afternoon to take advantage of higher temperatures.  Dave and I are the same when you do that – it totally gets you out of sync and it’s easy to end up skipping the workout completely.  We hadn’t ridden together in quite a while so I texted him to see if he’d join me.  Honestly I thought if he had said no I probably would have skipped it altogether.  The window was closing fast on my motivation that day, and I felt like I wouldn’t have the gumption to do it at all if he wasn’t up for it.  He texted back that he could go but not for a couple more hours.   “I could do 3 but that might be too late.”  For a half a second I thought it was and considered asking for a rain check and just going on my own straight away.  I’m so glad I didn’t. 

“OK 3 will work.”

When I rolled up on his driveway he was ready to go, aero’d out like always with that supercool custom black P5, disk wheel, and his old fallback Kask aero helmet.  And a great big smile on his face.  “Bruuuuuuuuuuuce! I don’t know, man, I’ve gained a lot of weight.  Do I still look like a triathlete?!”  I told him he could maybe pull it off.  Heh.  I knew he hadn’t ridden in a while.  We rode side by side catching up, talking about the races we wanted to do this year, just having a chill ride and enjoying being on our bikes together again.  We used to play a game called Heart Rate Wars where we’d ask each other what their HR was periodically during the ride.  The lowest number wins.  Dave made it up, of course.  Typical Dave.  Usually, we’d be within a couple beats of each other.  I had told him when we left his house that I wouldn’t call him out on it this time, but he still wanted to play anyway.  For once, I put the smack down on him!  He just laughed it off talking about how out of shape he was but swearing he’d get it back.  

He was so calm on that ride now that I think back on it.  It was just a relaxed conversation with a relaxed pace.  Dave normally is a notorious “half-wheeler,” always sticking his bike out just a hair further than yours letting you know he was open to going faster.  You didn’t dare do it back to him or it was immediately game on!  But on this day it was different.  Just two old buddies riding together enjoying each other’s conversation and enjoying a nice sunny day on their bikes. 

Whenever we would have a good ride (or swim or run), I could always count on an encouraging text from Dave shortly afterwards confirming how happy he was to have shared the workout.  I wondered if he’d do so this time.  “Thanks for the push,” I read from his text later while on my couch.  “Wudntadunnitwiddoutya!” I texted back.  I got my last “lol” from my great friend Dave Mirra after that.

I’m so glad we shared that ride together, and all the ones before that.  These are the memories I hold on to and will always remember with a happy and warm heart as I press on.  Dave wanted me, and all of us, to strive to be the best we could at whatever we put our heart into.  “Don’t live off of old accolades, Bruce, make new ones.”  How will I live my life from here on?  Making new ones.  

Thanks for the push, Dave.  Thanks for the push……

Dave Mirra
1974-2016

Just Cuz I Drive an Xterra Doesn't Mean I Can Do One

Wow, Xterra Richmond was tough!  I knew I wasn’t in it to place or anything but if I needed to find something I suck at I would have just entered a dance contest.  Turns out I mountain bike worse than I dance.  Here are my take homes from Sunday’s massacre:

1.       Why is this race so small?  There were only 145 of us blooming idiots.  I really thought this would be a much bigger event.  But I will say that the vibe is super chill rather than how you can almost slice the nervous energy with a knife at Ironman events.  

2.       That swim is by far the hardest, gnarliest, craziest swim I’ve ever done.  You have to shift your swim strategy around every buoy to adjust for the current, which was quite strong in the middle of the James River.  Boulders just under the surface force you to pull yourself over and slide off of them like a seal.  At the first turn buoy I got socked in the face, my goggles fell off, and I was in such a pickle I actually panicked so hard I started panicking because I was panicking.  Had it not been for the sand bar in front of us that we all ran on I feared I might actually drown.  We looked like a bunch of Jesus’s on the sand bar, just a’walkin’ on water!

This is the swim course.  You can just make out the sand bar between buoy 1 and 2, just above the direct line between the two.  On the swim back from the run on Belle Isle, the red line shows a typical age grouper's line as they fight the current, the orange shows a typical pro and the blue shows the recommended line. Photo from www.xterraplanet.com.

Swim start. Photo courtesy of Julia Bonner.

The sand bar run.  Photo from www.xterraplanet.com.

3.       I never thought Carl Bonner and I would be in T1 together, sitting down giggling and chit chatting about the fine mess we got ourselves into while we put on socks, mtb shoes, gloves, etc.  We had no idea what we were doing.  Everyone else had pretty much left.

Carl always takes forever to set up his transition area.  No designated bike placement. Just put your crap wherever you want. Xterras are super chill about rules! Photo courtesy of Me.

4.       I know I have an old Studebaker for a mountain bike, but between its crappy oldness and my crappy oldness we made for one slow-ass, all up in everyone’s way, festering turd in the middle of the trail.  I got dropped by every man, woman, child, elderly, obese and if there were crippled folks out there I’m sure they passed me too.  My heart rate was pegged and my quads were ripping.  All I could think was how great it would be if my derailleur snapped so I could quit and blame my bike.

Finishing the bike leg. I was exhausted! Photo courtesy of Julia Bonner.

5.       What the crowd support lacked in quantity it made up for in quality.  If you could hear the crowd ahead that meant you were approaching some gnarly death trap on the trail - and those folks were there to cheer you on whether you eat it or beat it.  They didn’t hike all that way up the trail to see you wuss out and gingerly walk your bike through a creek.  So, I didn’t disappoint.  At the first creek crossing I endo’d and landed on my ass.  The crowd went wild....

6.       Evidently what I think is technically challenging on a trail and what others think is challenging are completely different.  Basically, if there’s a rock the size of a cell phone on the trail I think you should turn around because it’s obviously closed from this point on.  At one particularly rocky, skull-shattering descent I stopped and got off rather than land on my melon and live the rest of my life as a vegetable.  Just as I did some chick came rolling by yelling and flung herself down the rock pile and vanished up the trail.  She just left me there holding her purse with my jaw on the ground.

Just about done with the bike leg.....

7.       By the time I started the run it looked like pretty much everybody’s race was already over.  The bike racks looked as full as they did before the gun went off!  It was a miserable 95 degree hot and humid death march.  I ran until the Mayan Ruins, which is a ridiculous climb up a wall of railroad ties.  After that I alternated running and walking as my heart rate kept spiking in the heat.  The legs were there but I just couldn’t take the heat.  I walked the Dry Way (the boulder crossing to Belle Island in the middle of the James River) since the knee is not near strong enough to take bounding from boulder to boulder.

Finishing the run with the hot sun beating down on me.  Photo courtesy of Julia Bonner.

All in all, I just wasn’t prepared for this race.  It was way harder than a half iron road tri, and I’m just not in that kind of shape yet.  And I’ve got to get better at mountain biking if I’m gonna attempt another one.  

Never Quit.....But If You Do, It's Best to Check if Any Little Girls Are Watching First

"But you just started?!"

Ouch.  I had just taken the first steps of tonight's run when I felt a pain on the inside of my knee.  I knew immediately the run wasn't gonna happen. Turning around, one of the little girls from next door was right there.  "But you just started?!"  Well, crap.  I think I just got crossed off a list of potential heroes.....

Running has been going well actually.  I've been going out for 3 mile jaunts here and there with nothing more than a little tendonitus or ITB flare-ups for discomfort - the kind that you can bear.  So at the beginning of this week I decided on a goal: I would do four 3 milers within the week, which would be a reasonable step up in mileage from where I was.  The fun thing about starting over in running is that you improve a lot.....fast.  The first 3 miler of the week took over 28 minutes.  The second just under. The third, on Friday, was just over 27 minutes.  Every run's a PR these days!

But the last half mile of Friday's run came with a little bit of that medial knee pain, right where Mr Peabody's golden cartilage donation is, and I thought about walking.  But the PR was in sight and I just didn't want to beat myself up all night if I gave in.

I was surprised but not all that disappointed when I felt it flare up again at the start of tonight's run.  I hate I fell short of my goal for the week, but I'm happy I'm just setting goals again!  I'm sure by Wednesday I'll be ready to give it a try again, and I still get another shot at completing that goal......before I make newer, bigger ones! Heh.

I've been asked now that I'm running again if I cherish each step I take.  Of course I do!  But no more than I did before I found out I had a turd for a knee. I honestly in those final years of running better and better, of 55 mile weeks, burying myself in training, and realizing my dream of qualifying for Kona, finished every run with the exact same sequence: as soon as my foot hit the concrete of my driveway I thumped my chest twice, put my hands together, lifted them up, looked to the sky and thanked God for allowing me the gift to run.

I still do.  Still a runner.......

Still a Runner, Even If It's a Bit Ugly and Slow

Cleared to run!

But that doesn’t mean I just strap on the sneakers and start rolling.  It’s painful.  Ugly.  Slow.  And I have to walk a little bit between each ¼ mile jog.  And if I make a full 2 miles of that I’m really having a good day.  Today was a good one.......10:13 for the second and final mile in the grass.  I made it through the last mile and a half without stopping even.  Cheers to small victories.  

 Off for a jog...walk.....run thingie in my Ronald McDonald shoe thingies and my bionic knee brace thingie.  It evidently takes lots of thingies to get the knee moving again.

I've mapped out a route that goes for a mile in my ‘hood, and noted landmarks at every quarter mile.  I try to jog to a landmark then walk to the next one.  I turn around at the mile mark.  The jogging hurts.  My IT Band hurts.  And the medial side of my knee hurts, which has been the scary one since the pain is right at the site of my cartilage graft.  But from today’s x-rays everything looks good in there.  It’s just still a messed up area of my knee, and the cartilage is still trying to grow, and there’s no way to know for sure at this point if it’s really fixed or not.  So I’m to keep the mileage low, monitor the pain, and run through it when I can or back off when I have to. 

More x-rays today!  My "Screwed Up Knee."  Heh.  All looks great at this point.  Mr. Peabody's donated bone and cartilage is all mine now. 

I hate that it’s so vague and nothing is definitive yet.  It makes it very difficult to proceed and feel like I’m progressing to anything.  It just seems like floundering around, trying to run, telling myself it doesn’t hurt or at least not that much.  I wish I could sign up for a race – even if it were next summer – so I could have a goal to train for and get my fitness back on track but I have no idea how I’ll progress in the next month, let alone year.

But at least I do have hope.  The door to being able to compete again in triathlons hasn’t been shut yet.  So, I don’t know what else to do but get out there and run.  So here goes nuttin'.  Time to go put my big ass knee brace and Hokas on and get this fun over with!!!!

The Coolest Thing Ever: Dave Mirra and the P5

A week ago from last Wednesday night, Angie and I were chilling watching tv.......right about the time when you start asking yourself how much longer are you gonna stay up before you go to bed.  There was a faint knock at the door and we exchanged that look that says, "Were you expecting anybody?"  Angie ran to the bedroom to get a bra on.  I was in my boxers, but I figured if anyone was willing to knock on our door at that hour they probably could handle a man in his drawers.

Maybe I should have put something on over those drawers.  It was Dave Mirra's wife and daughters!  With fresh baked muffins!  Thrilled as always to have a bite of the Mirra's tasty treats I invited them in and after I went to my room and put some shorts on we all sat around casually chit-chatting.  And then like a bull in a China shop here comes Dave busting through the front door with his Cervelo P5 and booms, "Here ya go, man!  She's all yours!"  What do you think you would look like if that happened to you?  Might I suggest this:

My jaw dropped and I could taste the cat hairs in the carpet.  A P5?!?!  You're giving me your P5?!?!? Who does that? 

Absolutely amazed.  This is mine?!?!?!

Dave and I have become great friends over the last couple years, but I haven't saved his daughters from a burning building yet.  I never performed an emergency trachiotomy on Rex or Rocky, the Yorkies.  What an unbelievable gift from an amazing friend, model father, and phenomenal athlete.  If you have no idea who Dave Mirra is, you can Google him.  It probably won't say "Bruce's Friend" but I wish it would.

The muffins.  One's already missing.  That didn't take long.....

Wait!  We gotta get a shot together with the bike.  Lemme put some real clothes on!  Lemme put my race wheels on the bike!!!!

I so wanted to wear the Cervelo shirt they handed out to those that rode #SimplyFaster at the Ironman World Champs but I couldn't squeeze into it.  I was in a bit better shape last October......

I suggested Dave puff out his belly like this for the shot to make me look smaller but I couldn't convince him.  Lauren was pretty quick with the camera of course so this little shenanigan kinda backfired on me.

To put this in perspective, a Cervelo P5-6 is my dream bike.  I was actually quite jealous when Dave bought it.  Not only did he get one but he had it spec'd out with every option I had dreamed of.  Conveniently, it was exactly my size.  I won't say how much this bike costs.  You can Google that too.

So, since the Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram world is probably sick of me posting pics of the Cervelo P5 I'll post a few here.  Cuz it's my blog. 

I have gone on a few rides with it so far and all I can say is it's every bit the rocket ship that it looks.  I'm not near in shape enough yet to warrant such an awesome ride, so I kinda look like a poseur on it for now.  But I'm coming back.  Not to worry......

 Ready to roll! These are Dave's Dura Ace wheels from RAAM (Race Across America - which he and 3 others won the 4 Man Division of as part of a team called Legends of the Road) that I'm borrowing until I get something 11 speed compatible.  All my race wheels and components for the Cervelo P3 I've been riding are 10 speed.  I'm a little behind.....

The front end is super aero.  The brakes, which are hydraulic, are hidden behind carbon fiber covers.  The shifting is Shimano Dura-Ace Di2 electronic - just push a button and the derailleur moves accordingly.  No cables anywhere!

 I love the Rotor crank and aero disk chainring.  Just behind it and inside the carbon fiber frame is a compartment for the Di2 battery that runs the shifters. No pedals shown at the moment.  They were on my Cervelo P3 during the taking of these pictures.

Dav'es nametag from RAAM is still on the top tube.

 Dave had put Ceramic Speed pulleys on the rear derailleur.  Ceramic bearings reduce friction just that little bit more to make it extra slippery fast!  Me likey!

Enough talking about this rocket ship!  Time to go ride!

Thanks, Dave.  I know you had all kinds of options that you could have done with this bike yet you shared it with me out of the kindness of your heart.  It's been a long journey for me these last few months and I hope you're just as eager as I am for me to be back in shape and ripping down the roads with you as we train for the next adventure.  I am always amazed when I read how many comment about how much of a role model you are to them.  And I see it.  The P5 is something I will certainly respect and cherish, but nowhere near as much as the friendship we've put together.

Back on My Feet Again (11 Weeks Post-Op)

On my last day of crutches, a really sweet lady at work approached me with a look of sincere concern and asked, "So how much longer until you are all better again?"  I told her that it was my last day on crutches along with a few other details and then added, "The worst part is that the doctor says I'll never be able to wash dishes again or fold clothes or do stuff around the house."  She just looked at me with a blank look and then said, still concerned, "I am so sorry.  I feel really bad..." Uh oh.  She's buying this.  To let her in on the joke I added, "But I'll be able to run and swim and bike and stuff, so that's good, but I just won't be able to do chores ever again....."  Still that blank look, then, "Well, bless your heart.  I feel so bad for you!"

After 11 weeks of barely lifting a finger around the house, today I finally got some things done and scored a couple cool points with the wife.  Some of you won't believe anything in that last sentence that happened after the comma.  To that..........well, I've worked hard on this reputation and I'm not about to ruin it now.  The way I run my house is that women should know their place........and just because I'm sitting in the corner in the fetal position doesn't necessarily mean that Angie's just put me in mine.....
 

Viewing on an iPad?  Hold this up to your chest, look down and spell "attic." Heh!

I got back on the bike this week!  The first ride was not at all how I remembered it being:

- Did my belly always scrape the top tube?
- I've never been out of breath before right after coming out of my neighborhood.
- Something is definitely wrong with the bike computer.  For a while there I was flying!!!  Yet the computer said 12 mph.  I need to check that it's it's reading the satellites right.
- 11 miles at an average of 15 mph.  Good thing my bike is really aerodynamic.

Back on the roads putting in some mileage!

Actually, I managed to get 108 miles in this week (The Strava screen capture above includes the 11 miler from last Sunday) and there's been great progress.  Today's ride was 31 miles at 18 mph.  I've got a lot of work to do, especially on this gut thing.  If you knew nothing about me and I walked up to you completely naked, handed you a picture of me from a year ago, and said, "I had surgery.  Guess what they did," you would probably guess, "Evidently they gave you a belly implant.  But why did they go in through the knee?"

Physical Therapy continues, but now with New and Improved Methods of Finding Pain since I am weight bearing.  Kevin and Lauren of Young's PT have been good about accompanying the pain with appropriate music too ("Where the Bullet Meets the Bone," "Bad to the Bone," "I Would Walk 500 Miles," and my favorite one during the ice cool down, "Ice Ice Baby").

Walking once again, I'm back to where it hurts to do so, just like after the Microfracture surgery I had last October.  But they tell me this is normal and that I need to suck it up and tuck the string in, and I can live with that.  But walking around the factory at work is a bit much for me so I try to wear comfortable shoes (Hey, Hoka One One people, how about make one of your goofy pairs of shoes that go with slacks and a polo shirt?) and rely on the crutch on the longer treks.

What a High Tibial Osteotomy does.....comparing the blue line of the new tibia to the red line of the old one you can see about a 5 degree difference in angle.  So, I'm not as bowlegged as I used to be.  The cartilage allograft (I call it "My Precious") from Mr. Peabody the Unknown Donor is just above the gap that the arrow is pointing to, but you can't see it.  That's where the pain is, and all I have to do to feel it is take one measly step.

I'm happy where I am on this road to recovery.  The road is long.  Really long.  But I can do stuff now.  Cooking and biking will keep me sane for a while.  I have no goals or races I have one eye on.  I'm just focused on getting better, finding my fitness of old, and I'm really, really interested to see what running will be like when the time comes.  It appears that will be on August 26, sixteen weeks post-op.  And I'm fully aware it probably won't look like running either.  But for now, baby steps cuz every day I'm shuffling........

 I'm the one with the big butt.....

 On a separate topic, Angie and I were delighted this morning to run into Jose and Anita that used to run the Taqueria just up the street from our house in Simpson.  We've missed their authentic Mexican cuisine for several years, and were so excited to hear they opened up in a mobile unit on Greene St in Greenville.  Please stop by their stand and give it a try.  The food is amazing and they are the sweetest couple, always ecstatic when a gringo stops by for a bite.  It's right on the Thursday night group ride route, just past the grain elevators, so call in before the ride starts, order a chalupa, and surprise your riding buddies when you get the hand-off while they're all ripping into their boring vanilla bean gel packs......

Week 9: Gentlemen, We Can Rebuild Him. I'm Just Not Sure Why We Should Bother.....

My last day of a week's worth of vacation squandered away.  I would have much rather waited to take this vacation when I'm back to being a true biped and can bike, run, jump, and pirouette, but our factory shuts down for a week every 4th of July and it is what it is.  In my boredom, my biological clock seemed to align with our cats, Maverick and Goose, as I found my daily schedule morphing to theirs:

7:00 am to 7:00:05 am: Try to scarf down breakfast before my brother can so I can get a few bites of his.
7:00:05 am to 9 am: Self grooming followed by staring outside the window.  I wonder what's for dinner...
9 am to 12 pm: Nap.
12 pm to 1 pm: Chase the fly that got in the house.  Myeh, I'll just go poo.
1 pm to 4 pm: Nap.
4 pm to 4:02 pm: Hack up a fur ball on the carpet.
4:02 pm to 7 pm: Stare outside the window.  Reflect on that awesome fur ball.
7 pm to 7:15 pm: Try to trip mom up and meow at her repeatedly until she feeds me.
7:15 pm to 7:30 pm: Self grooming.  Perhaps a poo.  Nope, my brother's in there.  I'll try later.
7:30 pm to 9 pm: Knead dad's leg until it's soft enough to sleep on.
9 pm to 7 am: Pounce on mom all night. Put my butt in her face. Meow a lot.  I don't know why she's sleeping.

We were all pretty bored at times.  Maverick and Goose, having more experience, were far more creative about what to do with their boredom though:

 

Last weekend I realized I hadn't tortured myself near enough after watching both Raleigh and Eagleman 70.3 triathlons, so Angie and I went to watch and support the racers at the nearby Washington Oly and Sprint races.  It turned out to be one of the more exciting triathlons to spectate at with dog fights and people fights in the crowds.  The Tricredibles were well-represented on home soil and I secretly hated every one of them for sweating it out there on the course, but by the end I found my torture tank thoroughly filled with jealousy and was ready to go wallow in my misery at home again.

Various Tricredible sightings at the Washington Sprint and Oly.

Tuesday the wheelchair and one of the crutches were fired and I started to enjoy a tad more freedom than the last 8 weeks had afforded me. 

Could you please hold the door for me?  I'm deformed.

I could now tote my own wine glass, so that was pretty important.  No longer did I have to slide it along the kitchen counter, go into a sort of "drinking giraffe leg stance" with the crutches to transfer it to the top of the liquor cabinet, grab the fireplace mantle and balance while moving it from the liquor cabinet to the coffee table, then ease it to the couch while sliding on my butt across the living room carpet.  It was like reaching a new level in a video game where the goal is depleting yourself of dignity.

My left crutch and I enjoy the breeze through our leg hair.  Neither of us wanted to bring up that the right crutch, once always within reach, was now amongst the rest of the junk in the garage. 

I did get some swims in this week, and that felt great.  The imminent shift towards cycling is causing a bit of a struggle internally though.  I've been cleared to pedal easy - let's quantify it at about 100 watts - but the consensus seems to be indoor pedaling only.  I like my odds of staying upright on a bike ride on our Eastern Carolina country roads but the consequences of getting brought down by something (a couple dogs and one elusive but incredibly ferocious cat seem to be the latest culprits within the confines of Pitt County) would be pretty devastating if it dislodged the late but revered Mr. Peabody's cartilage donation from surgery.  And Mr. Peabody - I imagine watching from his cloudy perch in Heaven - would be very upset if I disrespected his generous donation.  So, I'll be a good sport and try to confine myself to pedaling nowhere on my horribly ancient trainer in my pain cave in the garage.......at least until I can stands it no more.

I love cycling, but this is just plain boring.  What you can't see on the computer screen is a real-time graph of how much I suck, artfully detailed out in units of wattage, speed, cadence, and amount of useless drivel I may have written about on my blog.

I've got to suck it up and mount that ugly pink stationary MBK steel turd though.  I had to buy a couple new pairs of shorts yesterday as my gut is threatening to bust through the threads of my old favorites.  Since Kona last October, I've gained 15 pounds through all this in and out of surgery stuff.  Still a long road ahead, but progress is progress no matter how tiny the baby steps I suppose.

 The amount that the right leg is now skinnier than the left is inversely proportional to the amount that the gut has swelled up since pre-op.

Well, there's still a little time left in this vacation to go stare out the window with Maverick and Goose.  I better go make sure I'm not missing out on anything.  See ya next time!