Good Luck

Good Luck

Listen More

Listen More

Audacity and Vigor

Audacity and Vigor

Rather Nicely

Rather Nicely

This Needs Work

This Needs Work

Gotcha!

Gotcha!

Beachcomber, Dog Walker, Steward

Beachcomber, Dog Walker, Steward

Eight Days

Eight Days

Walking the Walk

Walking the Walk

Why Not?

Why Not?

Nothing

Nothing

Honesty and Me

Honesty and Me

Nasty Vipers in Red Hats

Nasty Vipers in Red Hats

Leave A Small Space

Leave A Small Space

A Bow for America

A Bow for America

Prove That You Know

Prove That You Know

Power Outage

Power Outage

The Worst That Could Happen

The Worst That Could Happen

The One Day Intensive

The One Day Intensive

This Becomes That

This Becomes That

A Very Happy Guy

A Very Happy Guy

The Big Three

The Big Three

Struggle of Others

Struggle of Others

Five or Ten, A or B?

Five or Ten, A or B?

That Was Good?

That Was Good?

A Lesson in Civility

A Lesson in Civility

Up Before the Dawn

Up Before the Dawn

Let's Have a Snack

Let's Have a Snack

Act it Out

Act it Out

Yes in Every Case

Yes in Every Case

Vaya Con Dios

Vaya Con Dios

Fourth and Long

Fourth and Long

That Magic Feeling

That Magic Feeling

Nice Work

Nice work

RG85

RG85

Who We Are

Who We Are

Col Hans Landa

Col Hans Landa

Very Classy Cougars

Very Classy Cougars

By Noon Friday

By Noon Friday

True North

True North

1,001 Things to be Thankful For

1,001 Things to be Thankful For

Grateful for 54

Grateful for 54

Nods in Appreciation

Nods in Appreciation

Short, short, short, long.

Short, short, short, long.

See & Do

See & Do

Hang in There

Hang in There

Three More

Three More

Tommy is Engaged

Tommy is Engaged

On Three

On Three

This Too Shall Pass

This Too Shall Pass

Handle the Truth

Handle the Truth

I Might Be Wrong

I Might Be Wrong

All Work and No Play

All Work and No Play

The Courage to be Happy

The Courage to be Happy

Singin All the Time

Singin All the Time

The Revolution Starts Now

The Revolution Starts Now

TGIM

TGIM

Swagger Some

Swagger Some

CYP

Have I told this story, here, before? The one about the Zen practitioner wanting to advance to the ‘next level'?  No? Cool. Here goes:

Once there lived a very successful young man in Boise, Idaho. He was about ready to retire from a PR firm where he directed creative services. He loved his work, the people he worked with, his clients and the daily challenges of being on the cutting edge of creativity and commerce. The girls all wondered why he had never married for he was handsome and took exceptionally good care of his body. His passions outside of work were cycling, yoga, the martial arts and the study of Zen Buddhism. As a cycling instructor his no-nonsense approach incorporated several of the best training elements from each; Endurance and power from cycling, flexibility and movement from yoga, focused strength and awareness from the martial arts and mind/body control from Zen. He was fond of saying that practice alone was not enough, that the relentless search for perfect practice was our true goal. He was famous for his intense sessions and consistent flowing training intervals. 

One day after a particularly satisfying session he sat in Zazen counting breaths. Oddly he was struggling to keep his mind from wandering, something that was usually routine. This began to bother him and the more he tried to calm his mind the more it wanted to go elsewhere. Finally he ended the session deciding to take a walk in the forest and consider other things. 

As he slowly walked through the woods, hands clasped behind his back, he heard a strange voice suggesting that the time was ripe to move his practice onward and upward, to a new level. He decided to act upon this random input and so the next day he booked a trip to Tibet to go and seek a mountaintop guru who might be able to instruct him. 

Leaving all worldly possessions, his work and his hobbies behind he set out on his trip that he felt would surely end with his enlightenment. His path was long, dangerous and challenging but after two years he finally made it to the mountain cave where he was advised lived the holiest of gurus, a Zen master of the highest order. 

After a week of climbing at last he found the cave and, bowing, entered. There in deep meditation sat the guru who could answer all his questions and instruct him on how to best advance along his noble path.

Without opening his eyes the guru asked him to sit and tell his story. Upon completion, the man asked simply and sincerely how to proceed.

The guru opened his eyes and caught the innocent gaze of the man as he sat opposite and said simply,

“Continue your Practice.”

And so it is for us. Our mountaintop is every day, our challenge monumental. We continue our practice with the goal of gracefully flowing through our daily lives with focused relaxation, awareness and gratitude. We commit to continual improvement, forgive our errors and omissions and without seeking compensation, help others as best we can. 

It applies to indoor cycling, racing, yoga, weight lifting, Tae-Kwon-Do, football, music, art and every philosophic and religious tradition. It is everything and everywhere. It is eternal, a never-ending labyrinth of work. The labour is the practice as the road is the goal.  

Continue your practice. 

No Matter Who

No Matter Who

Spending Freeze

Spending Freeze

Good Luck Amigo

Good Luck Amigo

British Invasion

British Invasion

Short Answer is No

Short Answer is No

Both Personal and Business

Both Personal and Business

And Perhaps Escape

And Perhaps Escape

My Personal Distraction

My Personal Distraction

Deadly Distraction

Deadly Distraction

Get a Rope?

Get a Rope?

Meaning of Life

Meaning of Life

Man's Inhumanity to Man

Man's Inhumanity to Man

I Like Mondays

I Like Mondays

One Size Fits All

The United States is on a steep learning curve. Because truth, factuality, and our very public sphere are under attack, our democracy (and republic) is in danger. The attack is devastatingly effective, partly because we have never experienced anything like this and thus are largely unprepared. Our task now is to save our public sphere. The way to do this was demonstrated by how the Chileans got out of the far more extreme Pinochet regime and reinstated democracy: All sides opposed to authoritarianism and committed to democracy worked together. That means they started actually talking, and listening, to one another. In the United States, this would mean that all groups that claim to be committed to continuing our democratic republic, from supporters of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to Never Trump Republicans, would need to join forces. We will likely soon find out if the nation is up to the task. 

Read the entire (important) article here at SLATE.

Let it Flow

Let it Flow

Perfection

Perfection

Plenty Dumb

Plenty Dumb

A Call To Action

A Call To Action

It's OK

It's OK

We Have To Try

We Have To Try

Worse Luck

Worse Luck

Indulge Me

Indulge Me

Love Potion Number Nine

Love Potion Number Nine

Do More Dante

Do More Dante

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

Simple & Elegant

Simple & Elegant

Nice Putt Aliss

Nice Putt Aliss

Life Lived Awake

Life Lived Awake

It is Up to Us

It is Up to Us

FREEDOM!

FREEDOM!

Pat of Butter - Kick of Mule

Pat of Butter - Kick of Mule

Totally My Fault

Totally My Fault

The Law is Getting Closer

The Law is Getting Closer

Moderately Vigilant

Moderately Vigilant

Every Thirty Seconds

Every Thirty Seconds

Like You've Never Lost

Like You've Never Lost

Your Blue Butt

Your Blue Butt

Enjoy your lunch Senators

Enjoy your lunch Senators

Nothing and Everything

Nothing and Everything

Don't Despair - Compare

Don't Despair - Compare

To Have Done It

To Have Done It

Sitting with Hattori Hanzo

Sitting with Hattori Hanzo

What A Game

What A Game

Proving Ground

Proving Ground

Distraction and Reality

Distraction and Reality

Extraordinary People

Extraordinary People

The PowerBarn Manifesto

The PowerBarn Manifesto

Five Down From Friday

Five Down From Friday

Be Perfect

Be Perfect

Find The One

Find The One

Hang in there Cowboy

Hang in there Cowboy

TDI postponed

TDI postponed

The Next Step

The Next Step

Point in That Direction

Point in That Direction

RF Now

RF Now

Forgive Yourself First

Forgive Yourself First

Hope I Can

Hope I Can

Sing I Am Alive

Sing I Am Alive

Nail the Triad

Nail the Triad

Not That Day

Not That Day

Dig In

Dig In

$7.75 per hour

$7.75 per hour

O Sole Mio

O Sole Mio

College Football

College Football

Not Alone

Not Alone

The Plateau

The Plateau

Digging a Hole

Digging a Hole

Go Down Swingin'

Go Down Swingin'

Why not?

Why not?

66 Miles

66 Miles

Just One Song

Just One Song

Bring It

Bring It

Bussman's Holiday

Bussman's Holiday

Godfather IV

Godfather IV

Tools

Tools

Two Fingers to Ten

Two Fingers to Ten

U-Turn

U-Turn

Broken Records

Broken Records

Here Comes Sunshine

Here Comes Sunshine

Single Track of the Soul

Single Track of the Soul

Extreme Power

Extreme Power

Take a Hike

Take a Hike

Whose Counting?

Whose Counting?

One Encouraging Word

One Encouraging Word

Impermanence

Impermanence

Good Luck with the Wall

Good Luck with the Wall

Walk the Walk

Walk the Walk

An Odd Sensation

An Odd Sensation 

Food For Thought

Food For Thought

Tommy's Cow

Tommy's Cow

Work Hard

Work Hard

Cat in the Hat

Cat in the Hat

Amen

Amen

The Pirate of Light

The Pirate of Light

The Generator

This one stung like a bee. I am going to try in a steam of (un)consciousness essay to deliver the story. Hold on to your hat -  it is a sad one. 

Having both prepared what I thought was a killer set list and a protocol that would challenge and entertain, my regular Saturday morning spin class had just begun. I am painstakingly providing the scientific and physiological reasoning behind my choice of words, music, movements, resistance, cadence and focus all necessary for a successful session, one I expect to have great value.  All this, I explain, will come together with flow, grace and balance, as long as our commitment to the effort is optimal. This is a ‘no matter what’ drill I say, there are precious rest and recovery sections, so please use them to your overall benefit. 

Warm up is over, are you ready?

Boom, boom, boom comes the wall shaking thunder from upstairs interrupting my every attempt to transcend the studio atmosphere from the mundane to the magical. This has happened before. Every time it does I leave our room, climb the stairs and address the instructor. This usually only takes once. 

But today I see an instructor that has repeatedly defied my objections leading two people in a heavy rope drill, the weight of the thick line crashing the floor with each repetition. I look at him and say ‘you can’t use this space for this type of drill when we are in the classroom below, just can’t.’ I turn off the lights to illustrate my sincerity in protecting the rights of my classmates below. 

I return to the saddle and am provided with an update by one of the riders indicating where we left off, what had transpired and where we are in the protocol. It was surprisingly accurate so I acknowledge and thank her grace under fire management. 

And I begin to look at mine. I am wanting to put it behind and carry on, but something is gnawing at the good/bad, right/wrong, cause/effect, sinner/saint, goat/hero unbiased witness in my head. As hard as I try to recapture the moment, I am struggling with the fact that I had just lost my composure, berated an instructor in front of clients and responded in an altogether childish, unprofessional and disrespectful manner - even though I felt as if I, and more importantly my class, were the ones being disrespected.

I had told the instructor, the supervisor and scheduler about this before. When it happened again this morning I considered it a direct attack on me. And I responded as such.

We get through the class salvaging a decent session and I shower thankful no signs of arrhythmia resulted, and make my way to the front desk where I owe the staffer an explanation and an apology. I do so, find the instructor and apologize to him also. I am still feeling horrible as I sit now and try to inspect the emotions and responses that caused my overreaction.

I think it was an overreaction. I think it was also standing up for my class. I am embarrassed that I allowed my composure to be so visibly shaken. But however I choose to spin my response, it will always come down to this simple fact:

I was wrong. I am bigger than that and no matter how provoked or disrespected I felt, I should have acted with calm, understanding and forgiveness. I am the generator. 

I did none of those and truly feel more remorse than I can remember. 

I should resign to save management the duress of figuring out if this incident is cause for termination. 

The things I should have done - I didn’t. 

That error created the problem, not the provocation, the noise, the intent or anything else. I created this mess by my gross lack of presence. 

Let Freedom Ring

Let Freedom Ring

Continue Your Practice

Continue Your Practice

Make Your Mama Proud

Make Your Mama Proud

Blue Swede Cycling Shoes

Blue Swede Cycling Shoes

Winning becomes Losing

Winning becomes Losing

Weekend Wrap

Weekend Wrap

Tomorrow is Today

Tomorrow is Today

Cowboy Up Alice

Cowboy Up Alice

Race Day -2

Race Day -2

All I Ask

All I Ask

This Darkness

This Darkness

Mozart, Fighter Pilot, Me

Mozart, Fighter Pilot, Me

Out of Frying Pan, Into Fire

Out of Frying Pan, Into Fire

Just Swim

Just Swim

Hottest Day of the Year

Hottest Day of the Year

Trip Itinerary

Trip Itinerary

Water the Garden

Water the Garden

How Tough We Think We Are

How Tough We Think We Are

Can I just say

Can I just say

Carry On

Carry On

I Sold Out

I Sold Out

13 Months

13 Months

Heroes

Heroes

Boom

Boom

USA USA usa

USA USA usa

Chocolate gelato for 5K

Chocolate gelato for 5K

OMG GOP WTF

OMG GOP WTF

Must Have Been the Roses

Must Have Been the Roses

Grey Folded

Grey Folded

I am a Journalist

I am a Journalist

Drop in Eternity's Bucket

Drop in Eternity's Bucket

Incredibly Flipping Stupid

Incredibly Flipping Stupid

Five Months Away

Five Months Away

Then There Is

Then There Is

Number Nine

Number Nine

Bow-Wow Now

Bow-Wow Now

Doesn't Matter

Doesn't Matter

Thank You

Thank You

Blue Wave

Blue Wave

VOTE

VOTE

Right Now

Right Now

Further

Further

Today I Rode My Bike

Today I Rode My Bike

Long Live the Streak

Long Live the Streak

Mt Bachelor

Mt Bachelor

Off to Bend

Off to Bend

Good Choice

Good Choice

Today I Choose

Today I Choose

Go Huskies

Go Huskies

Baa Baa

Baa Baa

As Metaphor

As Metaphor

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

165

165

Laugh a Lot

Laugh a Lot

Not Even Noon

Not Even Noon

Write?

Write?

Trial of Truth

Trial of Truth

Pea Soup

Each of us, every one, will get a certain number of days. That lifespan and the truth behind the somewhat pithy axiom that all our days are numbered, leaves us with the logical takeaway that, this being the case, it would be in our general best interests, to act as if tomorrow might be the last. Predestined, or elongated by lifestyle choices refined into high-quality habits, and regardless of one’s choice of creation stories, it seems to me that this mathematical absolute would convince even the most stubborn denier, that EVERY DAY IS PRECIOUS. 

There are, according to our management systems, 24 hours in every day, creating 1,440 minutes. What would happen, I wonder aloud, if I was to create a template, a schedule, a routine designed to honor the above shouted premise? If, indeed, those 1,440 minutes contain the micro-eternity we are compelled to observe as sacred, that would leave little time for anything else not of sufficient value to warrant consideration on this ethereal plateau of awareness. Read a dime-store romance? No time, sorry. Watch a sci-fi thriller? No. Take another stab at getting to the next level on that video game all my friends are raving about? Nope. Distract myself through disassociation and distraction? Numb the pain? Perfect my denial strategy? Run and hide? Develop another excuse with plausible deniability and a bullet-proof alibi? Project my frustrations, anxiousness and racism upon others as a way to feel power of any kind whatsoever? Hardly.

I keep the faith. I put my hope into today. I practice the sometimes seemingly impossible task of paying homage to the present moment. There is the answer all wrapped up in knowing the now. The moment knows. The wisdom, and the answer, sometimes takes every one of those 1,440 minutes to manifest as a solution. Often a series of minutes, days and eventually months, years and lifetimes. One at a time. 

Today is one of the ‘not-so-good’ days for me. I woke, again, in the middle of another atrial fibrillation episode. This one is a whopper, like the difference between a goldfish and a tiger shark. The intermittent flow of oxygenated blood to my poor brain is causing some interesting effects. Short term memory loss, lack of spatio-temporal awareness, severe stomach issues and the general malaise known, so adorably, as brain fog. I always say when asked about my current state, pea soup (further adding to the evidence as symptom syndrome), something I find paradoxically hysterical, that my brain fog is as think as pea soup. Kind of a 'Who’s on First?’ variation. 

I know that to walk out of the fog I must control my breathing, relax completely and let the pacer do its thing. Technically, what happens is that when I meditate into a heart rate of 70 bpm the pacer sends a small electrical memo to the atria asking for regularity, consistency, moderation and sinus rhythm, you know a regular heart beat. Which in turn would provide the proper mix of air, blood, nutrients and chemicals to properly spice up the soup. 

That is the now. I am here. And while grateful to have the opportunity to practice my commitment to each of eternity’s gifts, sometimes I wish a day or two could pass without another bowl of that green soup. 

Tom and Oscar

Tom and Oscar

Polar Extremes

Polar Extremes

Confucius

Confucius

Please Affirm This

Please Affirm This

I hear it

I hear it

Sisyphusian

Sisyphusian

Preoccupation

Preoccupation

Mad as Hell

Mad as Hell

Lazy Dog

Lazy Dog

How We Do

How We Do

Another Milestone

Another Milestone

Let it Flow

Let it Flow

Dazed

Dazed

Baseball, Cycling, Rock

Baseball, Cycling, Rock

ToC Bill

ToC Bill

Stay in the Game

Stay in the Game

Rules are Rules

Rules are Rules

Nine of Nine

Nine of Nine

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day

Halfway to the Moon

Halfway to the Moon

It Must Stop

It Must Stop

Charge!

Charge!

One Last Bolt

One Last Bolt

Summer of 74

Summer of 74

Suffering Has Meaning

Suffering Has Meaning

Serendipitous much?

Serendipitous much?

Truth

Truth

Remembered

Remembered

Learn to work the Saxophone

Lean to work the Saxophone

Mueller Agrees

Mueller Agrees

Chocolate Bunny

Chocolate Bunny

All Three?

All Three?

Happiness or Holiness?

Happiness or Holiness?

Please Forgive

I was never a good mechanic. My automotive troubleshooting is so hit or miss that I might as well surf Craigs List at the first sign of trouble. Anything deeper than a jump start usually means, failing that, we are in for tow, repair and bill. I currently have three vehicles all in need of repair, maintenance and/or shop time. Worse, with gas at three and a quarter, I need to make some hard decisions. Disclaimer: I would LOVE to have an all electric car or Hybrid, but last time I checked no one was offering theirs for the best solo rendition of Unchained Melody. So today is day two of wrenching.

Day one wasn’t so bad. Yesterday I vigilantly marched down the drive to where my RV has been parked for almost three years armed with my socket set, an adjustable wrench and Macbook. I figured that a podcast or one of my juicy spin sets would ease the pain surely in store. My knuckles immediately recoiled at the thought and I inadvertently scraped my soon to be soiled fingernails. Trying to be a diligent grease hack I took some ‘before’ pix with the cheap Samsung Galaxy holding a small flashlight in my teeth. Just in case I need to remember where everything that I was about to disconnect, remove and replace was designed to be once the disconnecting, removal and replacement process is completed. I have found this helpful with past projects and especially when all is done and there remains a few parts left over. It is what the mechanical messiah Robert Pirsig calls an ‘out of sequence gumption trap’. Anyone who has ever witnessed this devastatingly demoralizing drama knows of what we speak. So I got the pix. 

The chores today, the rest of it anyway, as our traditional Saturday spin session ended at 0830 and my trip to the parts store, Home Depot, Safeway and Rite Aid (gonna needs some beer for this one) all accomplished, as soon as, the very moment that I finish up with the blogging phase of the day, it is back out to the RV and hope like hell that the alternator/generator that I paid dearly for ($100) is what kept that little Chevy 454 from purring. 

If not I am hosed. I will have to remove and replace every fuse in the Blue Whale’s three fuse boxes. Good Karma will surely keep that from happening, no? 

Once the grease has been successfully cleaned from hands (arms and elbows), the new filter on the pressure washer will test the detergent flow system. This of course to wash the Whale once I can drive it the half mile to the hose spigot. 

If I fail on both, all is not lost as I have a new roll of wheed-wacker nylon that needs to be spun onto the plastic pulley of the head unit. I can then hack weeds as long as I like. Assuming it stops raining.

Lastly today, speaking of good karma, or the lack thereof, for the second night in a row I committed a social faux-pas, using a racial slur unwittingly. Which of course is the worst kind. Thursday’s nights error of judgment pales in comparison to using ‘Indian’ to describe a Native American when it really means persons from India and not The Pacific Northwest. 

I apologize wholeheartedly to the two ladies present who immediately reprimanded me for my mindless, but no less wrong, choice of words. I still feel horrible and swear on the jersey of Sonny Sixkiller that it will never happen again. 

Please forgive. 

Respect

Respect

WHAT?

WHAT?

Baseball as Metaphor

Baseball as Metaphor

East Creek and Beyond

East Creek and Beyond

The Courage to Do

The Courage to Do

A Perfect Fit

A Perfect Fit

ALL of the Above

All of the Above

More Magic

More Magic

The Magic Works

The Magic Works

Why 212?

Why 212?

A Small Price To Pay

A Small Price to Pay

Oh Black Water

Black Water got me. It was approximately 40 minutes into the morning class I was subbing, which is my old slot at 0530, when I felt the now familiar glug, plop and throb in my heart. It feels like what pumping air into an inner tube and watching it expand irregularly looks like. You can feel the potential for the building pressure to find the tubes weak point and burst through it. This is obviously problematic and the main reason anticoagulants are so common these days. The thinner the blood’s viscosity the less likely the chance of clotting. 

I am dealing with all of this as we power through this morning’s protocol. In it, 30 second sprints are always lurking in the very near future, and despite the 90 seconds of recovery earned as a result of high intensity, today it appears that I suffered a (another?) bout of exercise induced atrial fibrillation. I silently curse the crazy 0-225 heart rate readings on my heads up display, pathetically trying to assign blame to the data and not myself, and try to work through it by leveling off the intervals and keeping steady output. I drink and I try to relax but my legs are heavy from yesterdays 2 hour session and I am sinking fast. I silently curse louder to express my frustration and decide to ride it out, keeping resistance lower than the protocol requirement. We call this fakin' it and I plead the fifth. 

This has been happening way to often. My last visit to the cardiology department at UW in July was interesting in as much as my favorite electro-cardiologist, after translating the downloaded data from the pacer into layman’s English announced that if I could live with (nice phraseology doc) going into A-Fib just 4 times in a year (as was the actuality) then no additional ablation work would be necessary. I said sure not a problem, done deal. 

I have, according to my notes and this log, gone in twice that in the last 2 weeks alone. I would never say this to her, but I will to you, WTF?

As if that wasn’t enough torture for one day, my second class allowed less than an hour to recover and head back to the club. All the way I considered the option of teaching out of the saddle, something I almost dislike to the point of hatred. So I fessed up with the class announcing that we might try something completely different today so be ready for change and a challenge. Oohs and aahs erupt. The plan was to go as long as I could and then bail for the relative safety of the floor. 

Off we go in set number 2, my heart still ping-ponging like a tweaking chimpanzee. I pledge to keep a handle on the intensity and ride a smooth and groovy hour leading the class in the same protocol as the earlier session. I get through warm up and we begin. And even though I can see the numbers bound and rebound, it is OK. Sure I feel terrible and a little light headed, but we are getting through. 

And we make it. I had to ask for help a couple of times as to where were were in the progression, but we rode it out. Nobody died, there were no 911 calls and no one was required to preform CPR. 

And I am here talking about it. 

My treatment has been to lay down in that safe, quiet and warm place and relax into deep meditation. Essentially to STOP THE MONKEY GO ROUND powered by the pair of cohorts in crime responsible for this felony, my head and my heart, and allow the pacer to kick-in at 70 beats per minute as programmed. The idea being that once that rate is reached the pacer simply emits an electronic pulse to re-establish sinus rhythm. 

Oh black water keep on rollin. Wish me luck. 

A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life

I'm Telling You Now

I'm Telling You Now

PowerBarn 2018 ToC Adventure

The Tour of California is one of Cycling’s truly magnificent events. While not a Grand Tour in the TdF or Giro tradition, it is a week of spectacular scenery, fierce pro racing, epic climbs, warm weather (mostly) and blue skies (mostly). I have been fortunate to have covered four of them since the inaugural running in 2006. And here we are one month from the start of the 2018 tour.

I say let’s go!

Taking a bit of the experience from past stages and the logistical challenges that the expansive Golden State presents, following is my proposal. Please be advised that this tour, from my end, is a three in one mission not simply a go and watch affair. My primary directive is video capture. That comes with the additional challenge of advance route intel, access to and egress from the individual stage start and finish locations (and sometimes route changes, detours or limited access roads). NOTE: This is a partial tour picking up the race at Stage Four in Stockton. We would be filming, riding and watching three stages, finishing in Sacramento on Saturday.

Secondary mission two is cherry picking the juiciest portions of the stages to ride ourselves. This represents additional support and gear issues adding to the complexity of the adventure. Anyone who has flown with a bike knows of what I speak. 

Number three is a combination of being in the proper place at the precise times to witness the racing action as fans, housing and travel logistics and anything else (side trips, dinners, communications, cross training) that can be crammed onto this already overflowing plate of adventurous delicacies. 

But there is nothing like a challenge!

2018 PowerBarn Tour of California tentative itinerary:

Wednesday, May 16. Depart Seattle: Alaska has a 0900 flight for $90

     Enterprise RAC, Full size Ford pick up for $45/day.

Drive to Stockton. AirBNB ranch house, $100

     Thursday, May 17. ToC Stockton to Elk Grove. 109 miles.

     Ride route to be determined.

     AirBNB near Folsom.

Friday, May 18. ToC Folsom to South Lake Tahoe, 122 miles.

     AirBNB near SLT.

     Possible Emigrant Loop ride, 52 miles with 4,600 gain.

     Saturday, May 19, ToC Finish in Sacramento. 

AirBNB in Sac.

     Possible final ride on Rock Creek Rd in Placerville.

     Closing ceremonies in Sac brew pub.

Sunday, May 20, Depart Sacramento: Alaska has an 0600 flight for $89.

Details, and there will be many, to follow. If you might be interested in this little slice of cycling epicness, please let me know asap. 

Operators are standing by. 

Humble & Happy

Humble & Happy

New and really important

New and really important

Tactical

Tactical

Proper Octane Mixture

Proper Octane Mixture

Knock

Knock

Say Yes

Say Yes

Better Finish

Better Finish

Put the Candle Back

Put the Candle Back

Compliment Them

Compliment Them

You Know the Rest

You Know the Rest

This is a test

This is a Test

It Will End

It Will End

Arghhhhh

Arghhhhh.

The last three times we have included sprint intensity into our Saturday sessions I have gone into A-Fib. I felt that familiar ‘plop’ in chest, lump in throat and pressure in neck veins the moment we hit the gas for the 15 second sprint. I also watched my heart rate monitor hit a high of 220 and then proceed in the usual fashion of ponging between 118 and 185 for the remainder of the set. I suppose the good news is that it hasn’t knocked me to the floor yet, but it still is troublesome, making the morning anti-coagulation medication intake ritual crucial. This is to avoid the real killer of A-Fib, stroke. There will be no go if the blood don’t flow.

For now I deal with it, used to the symptoms and (self) treatment. Should be an interesting visit to the cardiologist next month. I am sure when we download the pacer’s data it will look more like a roller-coaster than a flat stretch of track. My job at this point is just to keep the train rollin’. Get to the UDub Medical station and see what the smart folks have to say. Obviously the top spot on the disaster menu is the aforementioned stroke. But in the number two slot, and perhaps with even greater disaster potential, is the intensity trigger. If I can no longer hit speed, wattage and power levels without immediately triggering this arrhythmia response, I would be, well, disappointed. No, I would be mad as hell.

For awhile anyway. I am sure that the reality of the situation would eventually foster a review prompting a Zen approach much like the one we discussed yesterday, just more goose shit on ball cap. I was hoping we wouldn’t need to go there - but looks like we are.

For the sake of analysis (the scientific method) here is what we did this morning to launch the current situation:

10 minute warm up.
.15 second seated sprint
.45 standing @ gear 16
.60 seated GZSS (groove zone sweet spot)
.60 standing GZSS
.60 recovery @ 7/120

We then repeated that structure adding a standing gear (17, then 18) and a minute to each recovery.
Total time - one hour. My actual calorie count was the usual 500 but two class mates reported over 700. A DGWO, dang good work out.

With the A-Fib exception of course.

It is somewhat ironic that in a few hours I will be eulogizing Dad. Dad died of a major stroke the weeks ago. He had chronic A-Fib as did his Dad, who died of a stroke in 1998. The folks in the semi-assisted living facility are hosting, from what I have gathered, an informal service in the rec room at 1300. I have been invited and quite confident that I will be asked to speak. Same way that I did for Mom in 1997.

I hope to do a little better this time than I did with the last.

I am going to jot some notes here in preparation.

Dad was one of a kind. He loved helping people, whether that meant fixing their car, providing taxi service or walking their dog. I first met him on August 31,1952, he saw me take my first breath and almost 66 years later I watched him take his last. It was a good run. We did a lot of fun stuff together, he was my first baseball coach, we went fishing for albacore, he taught me how to change a tire and jump start a stalled Ford. He paid for may education for 12 years and kept a roof over my head. We golfed, BBQ’d and mowed the lawn together. We went to college football games, from California to the University of Washington together, from Paul Horning to Jake Locker. When Dad moved up from Sacramento in 2002 we had a chance to re-connect. Dad felt he owed his youngest son, Michael and his son Elliott, some simple assistance. Nothing like having the extended family around. But, as you all know, hitting 80 takes a toll, and his health began to gradually decline. He lost a step, and the knee injury, to the same knee he injured playing HS football in 1949 & 1950, dramatically impacted his mobility. And he didn’t like the idea of sitting on the couch all day, patience not being his strong suite. So today we bid George a farewell. I thank all of you for your part in his last few years at the Winslow Arms. He spoke of you all in glowing terms. Thank you for your kindness and caring, the two traits that I will always remember Dad never shying from. God Bless Roseville George and God Bless you all. Thank you.

Arghhhhh.

Like Anything Else

Like Anything Else

Under What Conditions?

Under What Conditions?

Sadness to Acceptance

Dealing with sadness.

When the Buddha suggested that the first nobel truth should be ‘Life is Suffering”, upon learning this my first reaction was shock. A ‘no duh’, bada-bing rim shot. Looking back upon its sagacity and direction, it makes more sense to me than, say, ‘I am the Lord thy God, thou shalt have no other gods before me,’  commandment.

Because many times (many, many times) we are in the imperfect position to not so much seek a religious solution as a practical, non-secular one. Worldly, not heavenly. Here, now in this place and at this time.

After a few million years or so, we tweaked the message into a more contemporary slangy meme advising (not pointing or directing) that ‘shit happens.’

Hey there howdy does it ever!

As a result of these philosophical observations we find ourselves wishing for a little more detail, additional insight or even a new interpretation or two. Shit happens and THEN what? Life is suffering, yes, but what do we do with that? I am the Lord they God…OK, OK, OK I get it.

I am going out on the tree of life limb here in the hopes of answering a timely question for someone near and dear to me. Someone I have known for almost sixty years. My sister.

Dad died two weeks ago. Unlike Mom, his passing was quick. As I relayed to my lawyer, ‘he fell off his bar stool, banged his head on the floor and was gone in less than 36 hours.’ Good news - bad news to be sure. No longer will RG have to deal with failing health, dementia and the loss of his driving privilege. He won’t have to deal with his son and wife insisting that he take his medication regularly and in the proper sequence and dosage. His departure was fast, dramatic and final.

And now we deal with the emotional fallout as best we can. Everybody has their own style and pace. I admit to being slow, lethargic and calloused. I already miss the old guy tremendously and confessed to my younger brother that I feel guilty of not doing more during our 65 years together. This haunts me.

So many things I could have done to positively add to the mix. Yet after a time, the fog clears and the light streams down onto the lawn in my backyard. I hear the waves fall and the woodpeckers knock. I find that place in my heart where the tintype memories of the good times hang. I laugh aloud as his voice responds to mine in the same way that I gently sob when my request for him to hand me the 9/16 open end wrench will go unanswered. He is gone. I need to cope. I am in need of support. I need a hug.

If I feel this way - how my sisters must hurt.

If there is anything I can pass along to help, it might be simply this: It will pass. When we feel overwhelmed with sorrow, play back the funny tape, the memories of all the good times we had, the laughter we shared, the hills we walked, the dragons we slayed. Welcome the opportunity we all had to play a part in his life and be grateful he had 85 years in which to experiment. And then, take a deep breath and commit to your remaining time, pledge to go, see, do all those things that, perhaps, he didn’t. Learn from his life the things that will augment yours. What a great gift he has left us.

The memory of a better tomorrow.

Life is suffering.

Until we enlighten ourselves with the next step, that once we realize and truly accept that life is suffering, it no longer is. We grow from suffering to accepting.

I can see Dad saying Shit Happens.

That image makes me laugh. He never spoke truer words and for that, as much as anything else, I choose to let the sadness go and carry on (fully cognizant that there will be more suffering and more shit will happen) with a light heart and grateful smile. That is my reality.

Thanks Dad. Hang in there my brothers and sisters.

Listen Up

I see it as a gift.

I am tasked with leading indoor cycling sessions three days a week at one of our Island’s two gyms. Five nights, M-F, I facilitate operations in our boutique facility offering fitness enhancements and group training. Again using the stationary bicycle as the cornerstone of activity.

Especially with the former, as I sit on an elevated platform facing the group, I am expected to choreograph, lead, motivate, instruct and inspire. All this as we move through our progressions and strictly adhere to the protocol du jour.

My opinion, steeped in humility, and based upon my personal history with cycling, indoors and out, exercise physiology, music, motivational speaking and race preparation, is that the combination, the mix, the farrago, of all these elements is what creates a positive and enjoyable experience. You can execute the most difficult session known to man, but in a group setting, if you fail on the musical accompaniment score, post workout doubts creep in like a smelly red tide. Or one can succumb to peer pressure and play nothing but the current hits of the day sacrificing any flow or deeper dynamic available only through experimentation, operatic trial and error the fat lady might say.

All this is secondary to the main issue today. The issue of finding that delicate balance of the combination of all of the above. One must talk the talk and walk the walk, or in this case spin the spin. I have been doing this for a long time and deeply enjoy the freedom to ad-lib as the mood, music, magic and endorphin flow dictate. I look at every class as a teaching moment, not so much as sharing the many secrets gleaned from thirty years of riding, but more from sixty years of living. It is a powerful combination. Toastmasters on wheels. Buddha on a bike.

Truth be known (always our goal here) sometimes I don’t get it quite right. Heck, sometimes I miss by a mile. I am willing to take that chance however, because when I DO get it right, it is VERY right. Like Jerry used to say about the Grateful Dead’s extraordinary and dedicated fan base, ‘our fans are like people who like licorice, not everybody likes licorice, but those that do REALLY like licorice.’

And so it was with great interest and appreciation, awe actually, that I watched Emma Gonzales speak in front of the White House on Saturday. She did what I could never do in front of an audience. The lesson was of power. And silence was the tool. Profound. She stared down a crowd of half a million for 4 minutes and 22 seconds to illustrate a point. Please allow me to put that in perspective, it is something I cannot do in front of a crowd of a dozen. To put it even more bluntly, it might have been the most amazing ‘speech’ I have ever witnessed. I was that moved.

The gift I practice, the opportunity I have almost daily to motivate through speaking, has been shown by a teenager to be totally inadequate. I am, we are, capable of so much more.

I do not mean to compare what I do to the courageous actions of the Parkland kids. I preach a choir of like-minded professionals simply wanting some early morning camaraderie and exercise, not hostile republicans blinded by blood money from the freaking NRA (the intended audience - not the actual live audience).

In closing today, let’s mix a metaphor or two and see how they roll.

Money Talks and Silence is Golden.

Listen up.

New Theme?

New Theme?

Protect the Kids

Protect the Kids video

ENOUGH

ENOUGH

Do It Quick

Do It Quick

Be there in 20

Be there in 20

RIP RG

RIP RG

Teach your Children

Teach your Children

Make it a Crime

Make it a Crime

Day One or One Day?

Day One or One Day?

Red Chair

Red Chair

Coyote Calls

It was harder than I thought it would be.

Talking about our spin set this morning and not the vilely oft-quoted what's 'is face.

I was up late laying in bed listening to the hound under my care answering the call of a pack of coyotes. I have yet to decode that call as sometimes it sounds like an orgy invite and other times like the wail from a thousand lashes. In the response my dog, half bloodhound, was either baying an 'I'll be right over', or 'run like hell'.

As this call and answer medley played on, I thought I would use the time wisely and work up a new protocol for this mornings session. With fait acompli confidence, I worked out the details even ending with a suitably pithy moniker. And the Speed, Power for about an Hour set was welcomed to the world (as coyotes cry). Here it is with my notes in parenthesis:

10 minute warm up (standard).
60 second seated sprint. Your choice on gearing and cadence (Levels playing field).
60 second standing hill push. Again your choice (But attack).
60 second seated recovery at 7/120 (Again the standard)
60 second standing "survival" climb. (See if you can recover while climbing out of saddle).
60 second second recovery at 7/120. (Make it count).

Repeat this format ten times. (Fifty minutes plus warm-up provides its titularity).

This one killed. By the third set my power was heading South faster than a snowbird in November.

But then an interesting thing happened. As I monitored my heart rate, fully expecting to go into A-Fib at any second, I was presented with a timely and most welcomed gift. A wonderful present aka Second Wind. Wondering almost aloud who was presenting this mysterious and magical bequeathment I was shocked to find….it was me. Giving something back to myself in the form of enthusiasm, energy and hope. I had earned it, after all, our base fitness comes at the expense of countless repetitions, hours of practice and a dedication to continual improvement that might make a Navy Seal proud. I freaking deserved this almost as much as I needed it. And so I said a silent note of thanks to my spirit for having the tenacity and motivation to ensure that we all arrived (my body and mind make three) at the same time, grateful and full of life.

It matters little how much speed and power we generate, the brass ring is the experience of witnessing all this coming together, recognizing it and being thankful that we have the opportunity to grow and learn from the effort.

It was harder than I thought it would be.

As it should be.

Ahhh-ooooooooooooooow.

Go for a Ride

Go for a Ride

Tools of the Tirade

Tools of the Tirade

OMG

OMG

Would You?

Would You?

Boys will be Boys

Boys will be Boys

Bravo

Bravo

Wrong Answer

Wrong Answer

Pie

May I continue?

Again yesterday we discussed the fascinating relationship between what we do (specifically indoor cycling) and why we do what we do. The meta-cognition involved in thinking about our thinking of this incredibly important activity intrigues me like a moth to the flame. For a couple of reasons. Rightfully first is the search for as deep an understanding as possible. This is what artists, researchers, novelists, musicians, teachers, athletes, parents, and anyone interested in the mastery of their passion seeks. Therefore I seek the bottom line. I search for meaning and a depth of understanding that will allow a more successful retelling of the details necessary to properly, or more adequately, answer the questions that my clients may have. You know, the 'why do we do is this way?' questions.

Secondly, and I have no shame in this admission, is the simple fact that anyone in possession of these secrets will find themselves going to the bank quite often in the capitalistic fast-track of profit. Consider, humorously, the 30 days to washboard abs, the 'I lost 30 pounds in 30 days' conceit, our obsession with body image, or even the South Beach Diet, and, once you finish rolling your eyes, quickly see what I mean. Here is the caveat:

I am interested in increasing our quality of life. Starting with the way that we exercise. This absolutely simple as pie recipe is filled with goodies like kinesiology, nutrition, recovery rates, gastrointestinal malfunctions, cellular bio genesis, liver function, electrolyte replacement, sarcopenia, mitochondria, biochemical fatigue, proprioceptors, and even your hypothalamus, all filling that simple pie with a mash-up of individual tasty parts. Combined, they create the sweet you that you are. Or would like to become. Yet we have found that this is not nearly as simple as merely adding sugar.

All meaning that the baker, the candlestick maker or the exercise physiologist in possession of the appropriate amount, the precise details, the scope of understanding and the ability to capsulize it all into a formula, stands a very good chance of success. Success in this case meaning the sharing of  'the pie' with others. If a humble profit comes from that effort, one can forgive ordering the pie ala mode, as a scoop if French Vanilla is a small price to pay for a desert of this value.

In closing, sipping an espresso, we feel we have (a part) of that formula. What we do in the PowerBarn, is not rocket surgery or brain science, it is a proven, safe and supportive facility for folks to squeeze a workout into their busy day. We try to make it fun but most importantly it has to work. We all like results. I will offer this as food for thought: Last night I did a 10 mile TT in a very mediocre 27 minutes and change, actually taking heart rate, something I pay close attention to, to a new high in the process. Afterwords, as I sat in recovery feeling oddly empowered by my effort (not the time - the effort), I finished a cheese sandwich and thought how good a slice of my fave, strawberry rhubarb, might be.

And passed.

The Artist as Indoor Cyclist

The Artist as Indoor Cyclist

Super Eights Today

Super Eights Today

Motorcycle Maintenance

Motorcycle Maintenance

There is Hope

There is Hope

A Good One

One of our regulars, a charter member, operates a very successful conflict resolution center.  Over the years I came to recognize in him a rare commodity commonly known as wisdom. I say rare for two reasons, one is that in our current frenzied, superficial and short attention spanned society, anyone demonstrating a deep understanding of reality is a hero in my book, and two because most wisdom these days is dummied down to pithy memes on one of the social media sites. So it is a rare occurrence when one has the fortune to mix it up with someone in firm possession of this deep a grasp.

I get trapped in this net all the time. What I think I know, on any subject, for today let's focus on one, motivation, is constantly challenged by updated data, new research, professional testimony, or actual user experiences. I am constantly amazed at how a simple spin of accepted information, as a strategy, tactic or goal, can be so humbling and inspiring. We all know, as an example, that perfection is not the best goal to seek in training or, well, pretty much everything, not so much because it is impossible but because it can beat one to senselessness and toss them from the getaway car leaving them in the ditch bloodied and bruised. Instead we strive for the more tolerant, measurable and supportive "continual improvement' concept. Taking this ride we feel the wind in our hair and reach for the volume slider. It is more joy-ride than getaway.

What then is the secret? This point is addressed most eloquently in Greg's post. The checklist of why, how, what and when, is poignant and precise. His take on getting outside of our comfort zones hums like a well tuned 350 short block. I use this one regularly in spin class, where motivation as entertainment is important, but leave it to the acumen of the individual in the PowerBarn. If you don't get it now, continue on, one day you will. And if you get it now, work it towards improvement.

Motivation is tricky. Not enough and one quits, too much and one burns out, so we seek relentlessly any affirming or validating opinion on its use.

This was a good one, thanks Greg.

Not Bad

Not Bad

10 n Out

10 n Out

I Used to Love the Snow

I Used to Love the Snow

Talk About It

Talk About It

The secret message uncoded

The secret message uncoded

Island Life

Island Life

Most Importantly

Most Importantly

Unacceptable America

Unacceptable America

Put it ALL Together

Put it ALL Together

Born Romantics

Born Romantics

Go Get 'Em

The plethora of activities one could preform by noon today, would (should?) include the three categories considered by many to be of priority status. Assuming that the 'vital basics' of food, shelter and clothing are satisfied, where do we go from there? Community, safely, security, education, meaningful (and successful) employment, family. All noble. However, this fine winter Monday morning I would like to present three wholesome and valuable activities for your consideration. Because they fit the requirements necessary for balanced participation in our chaotic world of the current age, aka today, more specifically, now.

Right now.

Three things one can do in preparation for the larger, more demanding tests of 'later today' are these:

1) Before your feet hit the carpet, count breaths. One to ten, deeply inhaling and calmly exhaling. Our fickle, trickster minds will wander like Kwai Chang Caine through the desert, so when you find yourself in 1849 San Francisco digging for the instant gratification of striking it rich bring your thoughts back to the mother-lode of your breaths. That is where the gold is. It may take a while a first (it takes a while now) but the practice is invaluable to calming the mind and developing inner peace. How cool to make this ritual habitual grasshopper.

2) Get your blood flowing. Exercise can be intense or meditative. We, me and Spike the dog, walked this morning (after counting) well before sunrise. It was brisk and clear. As Spike searched for empty soup cans in the neighbors trash, I watched the stars sparkle. In twenty minutes Junior and I will do yoga, stretch, and lift. At 0845 I will have the pleasure of leading a spin class at our club. Dynamic blood flow, cardiovascular development and muscle enhancement. Truly critical for current health and fitness as well as future mobility, flexibility and the defense against the ravages that time extols on us all.

3) Do something creative. I write. As a discipline. I realize I make mistakes, but every time I sit and add this unassuming font to a blank screen, something larger than my ego assists. It is something I must do. Same with video, same with screen writing. If one can consider this tiny duty art, why not make everything we do in the creative imperative?

There are three. Try them and see. Count your breaths, take a walk, lift some weights, mix it up in spin class, start your bio or take some pictures. The art of your life includes balanced elements of mind, body and spirit.

Go get 'em. Share results. Be kind.

A Better Rainbow

A Better Rainbow

The Spinning Strat

The Spinning Strat

Four-for-Four

Four-for-Four

It is 0904

It is 0904

Ask Your Dad

Ask Your Dad

Black Beans

Black Beans

Go 99ers!

Go 99ers!

Engage

Engage

A Lasting and Honorable Peace

A Lasting and Honorable Peace

Showers, Breakfasts, Buses

Showers, Breakfasts, Buses

A Bigger Plate

A Bigger Plate

The Thickening Plot

The Thickening Plot

Fire in the Hoh

Fire in the Hoh

Stacking Stones

Stacking Stones

Bread

Bread, or lack thereof

Somewhere Between

Somewhere Between

Warm up

Warm up

Hurts like Hell

Hurts like Hell

Lucy

Lucy

You a Doctor now?

You a Doctor now?

Heart News

Heart News

The Clock

The Clock

Groovatude

Groovatude

H3N2

H3N2

Mug Shot

Mug Shot

A Big Joke

A Big Joke

Closure

Closure

The Debate

The Debate.

We Can Do This

We Can Do This.

Talk about Shitholes

This happened today

Good Choices

Good Choices

The chain of stress solution

Stress buster

So it goes

So it goes.

From PowerBarn

I'll get this figured out.

Inconvenience

Of course it is inconvenient. So what. One does what one must do. Sure I have prior commitments, but I will get them all taken care of.

I lost my best friend. The guy I literally grew up with. The guy I learned how to throw a baseball, fly a kite, catch a fish, ride a bike, capture a flag and hang out with. How could I not attend his celebration of life gathering next Saturday?

It's only a couple thousand air miles away. I can arrange a sub, catch the first boat out, ride the light rail, have an Uber driver waiting and get there a touch late, but at least I'll be able to live with the decision. I owe him AT LEAST that.

I have never met his wife or kids. The last time we saw each other was around 1984. As I mentioned earlier, we were in contact back in August as my brother, also a baseball lifer, being the President of the same Babe Ruth League that produced several kids, polished and ready to the minors and then a few to The Show, including the infielder pictured above, ran into him at a clinic for inner city kids, sponsored by MLB, that provides structure and more importantly a glimmer of hope to at risk youth.

The two of them talked and Robbie asked my brother Chris as to my whereabouts. He is still outside of Seattle. Phone numbers were exchanged and I got a call later that evening with the info. 

So I gotta go any pay final respects, because that is what it truly will be. Never have I respected anyone as much as Rob. From the day we met as neighbors in 1955 to a few days ago when I got the sad news, I have wanted to do something, anything, to show my respect and admiration for this incredible man.

So the hell with the inconvenience.

Picture is Rob from the 1982 Milwaukee Brewers, American League Champions.

I am also blogging here now as well. Join us.