Gumpin' It

Wherever I was going, I was runnin-g.

With winds steady at 35 mph and 43 mph gusts, it's quite possible on my running commute home last night somebody was yelling, "Ee too windy fo dat" but I wouldn't know.

And so I say again, is that the best you can do, old man winter? Ha!

Distance:
* 5 miles

Conditions:
* 28 F with Heavy winds and blowing snow
* Packed snow and black ice

Clothing:
* Thermal
* Tech shirt
* Mittens
* Tuke
* Reflective Vest & backpack
* Nylon shell pants

Welcome to Iowa

Today I had a few firsts on the afternoon bike ride with Munson and Bryan.

For instance, it was the first time that I rode my bicycle in Iowa. Yeah, that's some braggin' rights. As the crow flies, Iowa is only six miles from my house, but the thought of going there is like traveling into Eastern Europe. For one, you have to ride nearly 20 miles to get to a bike friendly bridge to cross the mighty 'Mo. What's funny is that bridge requires bicyclists to pay a toll (another first) to cross it. Um, could you stamp my passport too, please? To top it off, after crossing the bridge, you're greeted by a go-go bar in a corn field. Awesome! It's no wonder that former Mayor Hal Daub labeled Iowa a Triple-X rated state.

It was also the first time I crossed a major river (Missouri) on a bicycle, and I did that one twice. Yee-haw!

However, it wasn't the first time that I bonked. That happened about five miles before paying the troll at the bridge. I remember at mile 52, right after Munson announced that we'd take the next few miles easy into a stiff head wind. Moments before, I had just ridden a longish stretch in a pre-bonking panic. You know, the type of panic where your brain is telling you if you just ride a little faster, you can somehow get done quicker, eat like a pig and sleep the sleep of the dead. Heck, when the brain is in that fragile state, it makes sense. What a rookie.

So thereafter, I was struggling to hang on to the wheel in front of me. I think Munson was riding no hands while Bryan was doing wheelies. Meanwhile, I'm back there in a stupor of self-doubt while the quads are a raging 5 alarm fire. We were only going like 11 mph and then the tiniest of tiny hills leading up to a graded RR crossing pushed me over the red line.

BOOM!

Mike and Bryan were gracious to slow to allow me to latch on their wheel again. Then, the next three miles and a hellish climb to the bridge loomed. I snarfed down my final Gu and gulped the remaining Gatorade. That sugar lasted all of 30 seconds, or enough to clear my head to fully comprehend the doom that awaited. It's sad. It's funny. Whatever it is, blow up #2 happened about 200 meters before the climb at the bridge.

Oh, the agony. The suffering. Yes, I'm going to wake up in a cold sweat tonight remembering this one, fellas. Guaranteed.

So there it is. 69 miles in 4 hours. The heart rate monitor recorded 2900 calories. Dang!

There aren't too many things that I enjoy doing for four hours. Or three. Or two or even one for that matter. OK, let's be real. There aren't too many things I like doing for more the three minutes. But somehow, this four hour ride to Glenwood, Iowa was a lot fun.

Thanks for the ride, Bryan and Mike.

Eee Too Co Fo Dat!

While running home from work yesterday, this dude slows his car to yell out the window, "Eee too co fo dat!!"

Fortunately, I was raised right. With a proper viewing of Airplane! to my creds, this cracker replied, "Ain't nothin' but a thaaang!"

Truly, it wasn't that bad yesterday afternoon. At 11°F it was certainly cold outside, but it was 15 degrees warmer than earlier that morning. And with the amount of heat generated when running and dressed adequately, it can actually be enjoyable.

But I can remember a time when I probably would've thought the same. Habitually walking in extremely cold temperatures without a hat and gloves will quickly reinforce the attitude that winters are not to be trifled with. But it doesn't have to be this way! Dress appropriately and the attitude will soon change.

It's also somewhat relative. What's uncomfortable to me is more likely bearable for a Minnesotan, and for a Minnesotan, an Alaskan, etc... Also, motivation has a lot to do with it. Plenty of people go skiing in much more extreme conditions, but ask them to consider going for a run outdoors in the winter? Forget it. It's like, no way, man...IT TOO CO FO DAT!!

Well that's all this honky has to say on this subject.

Golly!

Mutually Omaha's Wild Kingdom

Today on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, we have traveled to one of the dismal regions of the Midwest: Omaha, Nebraska, where the temperatures started out at -6°F with -35 wind chill factor.

We have been tracking this bipedal male who has chosen to go against the grain of civilization. On this bitterly cold winter morning, he has opted to leave the comfort of a warm bed and venture out into the godforsaken cold.

Our good fellow Jim Fowler has caught up with him as he's trudging along...

Jim: Like the stoic emperor penguins of the Antarctic, who travel over 70 miles to feed and who endure the brutal -50 degree temperatures and 60 mile an hour winds months on end, who is this man and why does he run through Elmwood park? What mysterious reason is his motivation? Is it for survival of the species? For sex drive? Food? Here he comes now...

Brady: Ah! Is that Jim Fowler?! You scared the crap out of me about that emperor penguin jabber!

Jim: (teeth chattering) What brings you out on this epic trek this morning?

Brady: Epic? This isn't Beowolf, Jim. I'm just out for a simple run to morning swimming practice. It's not too bad if you bundle up and keep moving. Hey Jim, don't you have anything better to do with your time?

Jim: (huffing) Yes, but it was Marlon's idea to get me out here in the cold. Anyway, you could be at home sleeping in the warmth of your abode. Instead, you venture out into the frozen world with angst like polar bears on melting ice caps.

Brady: Angst? Jim, really, who writes your scripts? Listen man, I just heard an owl hooting in the woods about a quarter mile back. Why don't you save some of your rhetoric for the lonesome plight of the horned owl in search of emaciated winter field mice? I think Marlon will still be satisfied with your suffering, I mean story. Tudaloo and enjoy!

Jim: Well, that's all I got here, Marlon. A strange fellow indeed. I'll see you back in the studio in a few minutes to wrap this up over hot coffee. Back to you....

Marlon: That's a good idea he had about the owl. Why don't you go look into that?

Jim: ...

Marlon: Jim? What do you say old boy? That owl...

Jim: (muttering incoherently) Right! What the hoot? Let's go check on that bird. That's all for now, back to you!....my fricking nuts are frozen. Oh shit! Is the mic still on? Sorry, Marlon!...Marlon?

Marlon: Er, ah....Until next time, I'm Marlon Perkins and remember: each and every creature, including the horned owl and my good man Jim, is a valuable and irreplaceable part of.. the wild Kingdom!

How bout dat 500 Cooter!

I find it interesting commentary about our society that in the midst of high fuel prices, we blissfully ignore the pain at the pump and tune in mass numbers to watch the superbowl of NASCAR.

I like racing, just not auto, motorcycle, snowmobile or tractor racing. I'm still a fan of old school Speed Racer, and the recent Pixel Animation's Cars was entertaining. In fact, it's scary how many of the references to the auto racing I caught in that movie and I'm not even a fan. But the racing I enjoy are those powered by the human heart as opposed to machine.

But don't get me wrong. It would be frivolous to suggest 50+ cyclists riding silently around the Daytona track with a crowd on the edge of their seats, waiting for a bike #5 being nudged into the wall or spinning out into the infield. As if.

It's just that yesterday's race was yet another reminder that the whole "green" thing is exactly that: green. It's quite clear that America cares relatively little about carbon footprints as we drool over race cars going 500 miles in a gratuitous display of American strength and excessive fuel consumption. You would never know that so many people are struggling to make ends meet, considering the hundreds of thousands that drove their cars at least 10 miles each to attend yesterday's race. And then there's the rest of us who plopped down after driving the five miles or so for a bucket of KFC's best to stuff our faces while watching the big race on the boob tube.

Yes, I say: WOE TO YOU, EXCESSIVE GASOLINE BURNERS! Don't you care that we're destroying our environment with our not-so-green footprint? C'mon, man, it's time to wake up and smell the fermenting soybeans!

And speaking of going green, the Smithsonian recently had an interesting piece about the troubles of the bio-fuel industry. While some of the efforts are legitimate, many "bio-fools" are throwing stupid money at this fledgling industry. For example, burning coal to produce enough heat to ferment corn creates more pollution than refining gasoline alone. That, and it takes like 10,000 acres of corn fields to produce 50 gallons of corn fuel -- enough for a modest 4 cylinder car's weekly consumption. In Indonesia, the world's most biologically diverse rain forests are being burned to create palm tree plantations for bio-fuel. It's bad enough that these areas are disappearing, but burning the peat moss ground cover produces more pollution per square foot than the air quality inside your crazy cigar-smoking uncle's Escalade. That ranks developing country Indonesia #3 on the worst polluters scale, right behind China and USA.

So go Green! Woooo!

By the way, did you see the race 'cause I chose to do a 13 mile run instead. I missed all of the adrenalin pumping wrecks. I missed all of the tributes and mantras reminiscent of Fight Club -- "His Name is Dale Earnhart" -- chanted by the scores. And I missed the spectacular finish with the rubber burning peel outs. Dang.

But c'mon, did I really miss that much?

Well, I am curious to know how Dick Trickle did...