More for the Dogs

The PRP and I went for a run today. It was an easy run for me. Borderline boring for him. Whenever we go for a slow run, he figures out how to waste additional energy (pisses me off). He'll chase a squirrel, bunny, and/or a leaf blowing in the wind. He really doesn't care, he just wants to run at near light speed paces and needs an excuse. Apparently, tossing the his bouncy ball with the fling-a-ma-jig isn't enough work for him either.

On one stretch during the jaunt, small mammalian wildlife was surprisingly scarce. The dog was not happy and he felt the need to share his thoughts with me. It's always a surprise when he starts venting for several reasons. First, he's generally a happy-go-lucky kind of dog. Negative emotions are not his strong suit. Second, I don't think that he was giving the hunt his full attention. He has a tendency to completely ignore birdies, which I think is a tremendous error. Third, he's a dog. I typically misunderstand his conversation tone. Go figure.

So, we got to talking about his current woes- lack of tail on the trail. In order to keep him talking, I asked him what he really wanted to stalk. "Cats," he replied. I don't see the appeal (admittedly, I'm not a cat lover) but I do sympathize with his plight. We moved out to the country. In our old neighborhood, cats were abundant and he had several opportunities to force them up a tree. In our current area, all the kitties have been replaced by possum and coon. That is, of course, except for the black and white striped kitties that I refuse to let him chase. He tends to sulk at that order.

In his honor, I have found the perfect solution. He likes balls. He likes kitties. He likes athletics. Here's some athletes that have combined all 3.

Sadly, he seemed mostly indifferent to this concept. There's just no pleasing some dogs.

Cross Training- Part 2

Okay, now that I've gotten my shiny, new CycloCross rental, as per my last post, it was time to put this thing to the test. The BIL, otherwise known as the leader of this expedition, wanted us to go to Draper Mountain Bike trail.

A short note on mountain bike trails:
Many public mountain bike trails are of the 'single-track' style. This basically means that the trail is only wide enough for one bike at a time. If the BIL and I had plans to ride side-by-side while holding hands, the chosen path made it absolutely impossible (probably the reason why he was the leader and not me).

A second short note on mountain bike trails:
The presence of a mountain is optional. This is good since mountains are in scarce supply in Oklahoma.

A third even shorter note on mountain bike trails:
The presence of a mountain bike is also optional. This was evidenced by our cyclocross bikes.

Here's the description of the trails that we were riding:

Having checked out the website ahead of time, I couldn't help but giggle. They expect 13 miles to take 92 minutes while averaging 7.1 mph. Um, my PR for running 13.1 miles is (a very weak) 98 minutes. How in the world was this even possible? Biking should be significantly faster than running.

Problems from the First Minute of Riding

We unloaded the cyclocross bikes and get ready for our adventure. I had considered leaving my helmet behind because I was willing to believe no harm could come to me at our projected pace. However, biking without a helmet seems as awkward as driving without a seat belt and I planted my noggin protector firmly in place. We were ready to ride.

After my second pedal stroke, things got interesting. If you read my shpeal from the last post, my shoe cleats were supposed to clip in to my pedals. I went through the motions of placing the front end of the cleat into the groove. Then I pushed down. Normally, this would result in a satisfying 'click' as the clipping mechanism engaged and I would be firmly attached to my pedals. It didn't happen. I tried the other foot. No clicking sound. I tried standing up and jamming down on the pedals, hoping to force a click on maybe an old or unlubricated set of pedals. Nothing.

Then, something rather amazing happened: I hit a tree and promptly fell to the ground. See, unlike most paved areas of riding, mountain bike trails are purposely curvy. I was spending so much time trying to get my shoes to attach to my pedals that I had taken my eyes off the trail. Bam. Down goes the Banter.

If at first you don't succeed...well, in this case I was destined to fail again and again. I started to ride with the BIL firmly in the lead. Meanwhile, I had doubled my lifetime falling-off-the-bike totals in less than 2 minutes of riding. Here's a shot of the BIL waiting impatiently while I struggled to upright myself. After stepping to the side and really trying to analyze the cleat/ pedal conundrum, I was ready to accept my destiny that my shoes would not be attached to the pedals for the duration of the ride. This left us with 2 options: Suck it up and ride or Call it a day and return the faulty merchandise. Since there is a vast amount of evidence showing that I suck, we went with option #1.

Let's Ride
I was sincere when I said that the trail is anything but straight. Here's what the posted map looks like. The differing colors, in case you couldn't figure it out, meant different trails. We, being complete rookies at this whole off-roading adventure thing, opted to start with the Green "beginner" trail. This was perfect.

After I came to an understanding with my pedals and developed a technique that almost allowed me to ride some, I noticed some remarkable differences between cyclocrossing and real riding. You actually have to use the brakes. On my bike, braking is done maybe 3-4 times per ride, depending on the number of stoplights encountered. On the trails, braking is done 3-4 times per 15 seconds of pedaling. The turns, loops, and obstacles ensure that there is absolutely no way make the cut without hitting a tree. For the record, I hit at least 9 trees on the ride. (Aside: It was learned later that the brand of cleat that I use was the 'older style' and they put a 'newer style' pedal on the bike. That was their explanation of why I couldn't clip in. I have now learned that I need to actually check that sort of thing before leaving the shop. End Aside.)

Upon concluding with the green trail, we had to make decisions. The legend of the map above informs us of the trail difficulty. We hit all of the colors, almost in order. I believe that we missed the Orange trail (mostly because orange is for pansies and, while we definitely fit that description, we were running out of daylight to conquer the color).


Here's what the Garmin had to show for the ride. If you look at the middle of the map, you'll see a relatively straight line. That marks a link between 2 non-consecutive falls. I had stopped the Garmin after the first fall and remembered to re-start it some time after the third, which I think caused the fourth.

The Intracasies of the Wilderness
I'll hand it to the caretakers of the trail, they do a real good job of trail maintenance. The trail maps are posted multiple places. They have cute little signs that give names to certain parts of the trail. Some of the signs were silly names like "Grandma's Kitchen". This section looked exactly the same as the other sections, but I may have spied an old stove off in the bushes. Others were more descriptive like "Over and Under Bridge". This section actually had a wooden bridge that you went over, looped around on the trail, and went back under. What didn't make sense was our surprise at the presence of said bridge and the requirement to go over and then under, especially after reading the name of the section.

Then, for some reason, they had this sign (pictured right). If I recall correctly (which I don't), we were no where near any roads. I don't remember seeing any cars on the trails. Therefore, I have no idea why they placed this sign out in the middle of the forest. Plus, I'm not even sure of it's function. In other places, they actually give you advice, such as "Don't pick up hitchhikers". Here, they just warn you as to their identity as if that information means something. Further, I'm pretty sure that I couldn't pick up a hitchhiker, inmate or not, on my cyclocross bike. I was having a hard enough time pedaling and staying upright on my own without needing the extra challenge of a second person.

Getting close to the end of the day, we had conquered all but the most challenging of the trails. We could either re-do another color or choose between the Red/ Orange trails. We picked the most challenging Red trail because it was right next to where we were standing at the time and, well, see note above on Orange.

At one point, the BIL was in the lead. Our experience on the day had taught us that it was safer for him to be in front since I was apt to fall. One time, I fell off my bike while leading which led to the BIL crashing his bike to avoid from crashing into me. It was a hard lesson for us both. He led more often than not after that. The Red trail was indeed more challenging than what we had thus far experienced. It was prone to biking us down small ravines with blind turns, quick sand, jutting spikes, and poisoned arrows. The pic on the left is an example of one of the Red trail's challenges.

The BIL, being smarter than me, decided to stop and monitor the situation. Had I been in the lead, I would have tackled it without abandon. Of course, I fell off my bike in an effort to not slam into the back of the now-stopped BIL. Since I was already down, I allowed myself to scope out the obstactle. The BIL was able to make it down and catch some video of me making it through.

Ta Da!

Totals
When I crunch the numbers, it came out that we had accomplished the following:

• Distance=11.6 miles (actually, we rode a little more due to early crashing and me turning off the device)
• Time= 1:24.30
• Average Speed= 8.2 mph (take that posted average!)
• Amount of Climbing= 356 feet (not sure where the trail guide came up with 1300?)
• Number of times falling= 12
• Number of shoes ruined= 2 (one from hitting a tree, the other one from slipping off a pedal and jamming it into a tooth of the front ring)

List of visible injuries on my body

• Left wrist (pictured)- gashed from a tree
• Outside of right forearm- trail rash
• Inside of right forearm- different trail rash
• Right quad- bruise from bike landing on me
• Right upper foot- puncture wound (see note on ruined shoes) (unhealed as of this post)
• Right Ankle- bruise (cause unknown)

Don't let any of that damage/ injury talk mislead you. I absolutely had a great time. I've gone on literally thousands of bike rides, most of which I have forgotten. It was a great day. The weather was perfect. The company, IE the BIL, was amazing.

The road rash has healed. The bruises have faded. The puncture wound will close (hopefully). I'm not sure if I'll ever do this whole cyclocross thing again (certainly not on my own). Having said that... This was one of those experiences that I will remember and cherish forever.

Cross Training- Part 1

Cross training is supposed to be good for you. The theory is that when you mix things up, the new exercise sort of shocks the system in a positive way. You work different muscle groups in different ways. The old muscle groups, which are probably tired, get an opportunity to relax and recover. With cross training, it's hailed as win-win.

I have not really done much cross training. See, I'm a douche triathlete. I've got enough of working in different sports as I'm gonna need. I get to relax from running by biking. I get to recover from a ride by going for a swim (not yet happened in 2013). I get to give my shoulders a break from the tension  by going for a run. It's a never ending circle of awesome that I don't need to do much else.

The BIL disagrees. My evidence: This email message, which arrived shortly before my trek to the middle of the toilet bowl Oklahoma.

I'll be renting you the same cyclocross bike that I have in the garage so that we can do something interesting while you are here.

This bike is called a "CycloCross" bike in OKC. I had heard about the existence of such bikes and event read about competitions involving these machines, but I had never witnessed one first hand. I was willing and ready to give it a try.

At the Bike Shop
The BIL has found a pretty good bike shop. Unlike several bike shops that I have experienced, this one was large, cozy, and staffed by blokes that actually ride. Exactly like pretty much all bikes shops I've been in, the shop is geared towards roadies with small cubbies dedicated to niche sports that just happen to involve a bike AKA triathlons.

While the BIL took care of some business, I checked out the sale racks in search of tri-gear. As expected, not much. I found the inventory of tri-bikes and saw that the shop was quite privy to Cervelo. Sigh, I guess Oklahoma people are just destined to be slow.

I brought in my bike shoes so that the blokes can match pedals. Just in case you didn't know, bike pedals have this technology inappropriately called 'clipless' pedals. You take a cycling shoe and attach a cleat to the bottom. You also have a special pedal that matches the cleat. When you ride, you 'clip-in' to your clipless pedals. (Makes sense, right?)

I own 2 different sets of bike shoes. Roadie bike shoes, which have a ratchet strap system designed to hold you foot in place. The ratchet adjusts tension to allow a snug feeling. Any slack in the shoe leads to an energy loss as you spin. Therefore, you want the shoe as tight as you can while retaining comfort. These shoes are slower to put on and take off. Hence the reason for my second pair of bike shoes, triathlon bike shoes. Tri-shoes are pretty much exactly the same in under carriage features and construction. The major exception is that the top of the shoe is laden in velcro. Velcro is very quick to adhere and you don't need to waste 4 seconds lifting your finger up-and-down to get that snug feel as with the roadie shoe. Plus, adjusting tension mid-ride is much easier.

As it turns out, I left my roadie shoes back in NY with my bike trainer. I was coming to Oklahoma to train for triathlon with triathletes. What I didn't count on was the bike shop being emburdened with roadies. That is a complete miscalculation on my part and I take full responsibility for my shortsightedness in bringing my velcro-strapped old triathlon shoes into the den of the road cyclists. When I showed them my shoes to match the pedals, the man did a quick up-and-down with his eyes and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The rift between the roadie and triathlete grows.

(Aside: In hindsight, I'm pretty sure now that the look was from the smell. Another major difference between roadies and triathletes is the wearing of socks. Roadies do. Triathletes don't. My shoes have been permeated with so much sweat, and umm, other stuff, that I'm sure they are in a state of perma-reek. Since I don't make a habit of sniffing my shoes, I just assumed that the bike shop guy was being a snob. It turns out that I probably deserved that look of disgust due to questionable foot hygiene. End Aside.)

The BIL and I left the shop for a quick lunch while the bike shop guys went to work on preparing my rental. When we came back, I got a chance to inspect the bike.

The Cyclocross Bike

Upon first appearance, the CC bike is very similar in appearance to a traditional road bike (which some people call the common 10-speed). They have the same:

• bull-horn style handlebars
• exposed cables
• gear shifting system
• frame geometry
• lack of suspension
• sperm-reducing seat

There are some glaring differences between this bike and what respectable people ride. For example, the CC bike has:

• fat, studded tires
• wheels with 8x the normal number of spokes
• a funky braking system
• low gear ratios
• no aero-bars
• 30 pounds of dark matter (At least, I think it was dark matter. The frame was, I believe, aluminum. However, it was remarkably heavy. If astrophysicists want conclusive evidence of the substance rumored to make up 80% of the universe, I suggest they rent one of these bad boys.)

The bike was possibly a smidgeon too large in the frame. The next size lower would have been obviously too small so we opted to modify the larger frame for comfort. I hopped on the bike in the shop with the intention of getting the seat adjusted. One dude held the front of the bike while another grabbed my hips from behind measured my knee angle at various stages of the pedal cycle. The fit seemed comfortable enough for an afternoon of cyclocrossing (whatever that meant).

I was ready to leave the bike shop but was left with a small warning:
Everything should be fine as long as you don't fall off.

The base bar was a little higher than common for a homunculus of my stature. Slipping forward could spell an end to the Banter's line of genetics.

In all of my years of riding, I have fallen off the bike exactly twice. The first time was on my very first ride with clipless pedals. My first set were adjusted so tightly that I couldn't remove them from the pedal at all. I had to bring the bike, with shoes still attached to the pedals, back to the bike shop for an adjustment. They ended up giving me new pedals. The second time was years later when I had to stop suddenly on a hill and didn't clip-out in time. Both falls were done at a speed of roughly 1-2 mph and no damage (other than that to my ego) was apparent. I was confident in my skills as a cyclist to be able to ride this bike and still bear children (should the need ever arise).

It is at this point that I would like to tell you that I did not waste all of that writing about bike falling and clipless pedals for nothing. There's some foreshadowing in the above and much more to the story. Come back in the very near future for part 2 of this exciting tale.

WW- Ode to OKC Tri-Geeks

I'm hanging out in central Oklahoma. Home of the Sooners. Home of the BIL. Home of not much else. In a effort to socialize me, the BIL set-up a play date with some of the members the OKC Tri-Club. I got to be the odd man out by being the only person in our small group ride NOT on a Cervelo P2. Unlike them, I choose to ride an American-made Giant.

We set out on a 30 mile rolling course. I spent a lot of time riding with IronMan Piers (so named 'cause he's a once and future IM finisher). Up and down we went on a route littered with short/ steep rolling hills and featuring over 1000 feet of climbing. The quads don't normally experience such resistance changes on the trainer back home. We also got knocked around quite a bit with a mighty batch of wind.

(Aside: Since I've been in the great OK state, I've had the following burns: wind burn, sun burn, trail burn (more on this later), and today, freezer burn. Second aside: Today was cold and snowy. It's as if the state wanted me to feel right at home, ya know, weather wise. End second aside. It sure is an interesting place to train. End aside.)

Before the ride, the clan had planned to go out for a run. The original goal was to go for an 8-10 mile transition run. When the ride was over, that plan was promptly modified to for a 6-8 mile easy run. I love hanging out with triathletes. Who was I to argue with shortening a run? I thought it was a swell idea. We set out at a comfortable pace and ended up getting in 6.25. It was time well spent.

During the run, we got to chatting. This is new for me. The only times I ever exercise with people are during races. Chatting is generally kept to a minimum since I am working on crushing the dreams and egos of my fellow competitors with marginal levels of success. Idle conversation doesn't seem necessary during those times. However, that day's workout was a social experience and conversation was good. At one point, Realestate Rob ('cause he's a real estate guru) made a joke to me and Bug Doc Katrina ('cause she's a genius PhD scientist in bugs). The joke was about Germany's solar dominance over the US. So, not only am I hanging out with triathletes, but also people who get the irony of American's popular media's penchant to get the facts wrong (FYI- Germany leads the industry in solar power usage and significantly trails the US in available solar energy. Hence, the reason Realestate Rob's joke was hysterical.)

Just in case there are any other geeky triathletes out there, I've got some memes that you'll appreciate:

A big thanks to the OKC peeps for inviting me into their inner circle for some fun in the Oklahoma sun. IM Piers and I had some great Darwin talks and the importance of science history education. Realestate Rob helped me understand better the seedy underground of the Oklahoma housing market. Bug Doc Katrina (shown on the right) volunteered her time to take me and the family on an incredible behind-the-scenes tour of her work at the museum. All y'all are the epitome of awesome Southern Hospitality at its finest. Good luck to you and your up-and-coming endeavors!

Driving Into Spring

I really would like to know how in the world people came to base season change on a small rodent. It must have taken years of careful observation coupled with, and I'm pretty sure about this, plenty of ethanol. To make the leap of faith, and to practice it yearly, that a groundhog seeing its shadow or not will dictate the arrival of spring is completely fascinating in a disgusting sort of way. (Plus, if you've ever watched the video, I'm pretty sure the whole thing is rigged, further negating any hold in reality.)

I know that there are those who enjoy the winter wonderland (the Wife being at the top of that list). They see pictures like this and think, "It's so beautiful." I look at this shot of a path near my backyard and all I can see is a world that has had its color removed and replaced with white and gray. It's like taking a talented artist, maybe the pbs guy named Bob Ross, and asked them to paint a couple of happy little trees. But, in a cruel joke, they gave Ross only white, black, and gray paint. I suppose I don't actually hate looking at the snow but my world dictates that I must interact with said substance.

It's right around this time of year, in case you haven't noticed, when I loathe living in the northeastern end of the country. Spring will NEVER arrive early. At this point, I'm pessimistic that it will arrive at all. But, like any semi-intelligent bloke, I took matters into my own hands. Since spring won't come to me, I'll go to spring.

So I packed up the Wife and dogs and headed south. For those of you who didn't know, there is a semi-inverse relationship between latitude and temperature. As a rule of thumb, not dogma, the lower the latitude the higher the temperature. I live at around 45º north latitude. The Banter-in-Law lives at around 35º latitude. As I said, the relationship is only semi-inverse. Back home, the temps were in the 20's. Upon arriving in central nowhere, AKA Oklahoma, the mercury had to the mid 40's.

The above shot is a pretty good representation of the entire state. As you can see, there is absolutely no snow on the ground. The white/ black/ gray has been completely replaced by the representative colors of brown and red. I haven't checked in to it, but I'm pretty sure those are the official state colors, mostly because there aren't any other colors available. (Aside: Rumor has it that just I missed a big snowstorm than pummeled the locals and delivered a good 3/4 of an inch. Shut the city down for 12 days and some people had to ration supplies because they were caught off guard by the heinous precipitation. The National Guard was leaving the state as we drove in. End aside.)

Further analysis of the picture will reveal the extremely low water levels in what passes for a 'lake' around here. Obviously the BIL's neighborhood planning committee was not composed of triathletes or they would have better removed the tree stumps from the 'lake' bed and made it available for swimming. No such luck. In the background, you can see that the state's representative colors are worked directly into the brick construction. Almost all of the homes celebrate the brown and red motif. In the foreground of the shot, you can clearly see that I am a horrible photographer who cannot remove his finger from the frame, thus negating any criticism I may have about the landscape.

You will also notice the lack of any deciduous trees or forests, further angering the spirit of Bob Ross. This fact continues for miles and miles through Texas down to the Gulf. Wind speeds and gusts have nothing but a couple of rogue cows to slow the circulating air.

I am not complaining about any of this. Upon arriving into Sooner country, I said my hello's and promptly went for a run. Remember, this is Lent season and the 20 hour drive was non-conducive to Lenting. The thermometer said 43º at 9:00 pm. I put on my shorts and did a 4 mile jaunt in relative comfort. I had stepped out of the car into a different state. And into a different season. I had arrived in spring.

Characteristics of a Good Runner (A case study)

I've been in kind of a running block lately. I'm on my 4th week in a row of ~30 miles per week. I plan on doing this indefinitely, which means absolutely nothing as I am a horrible planner. It's still nice to have aspirations.

One of the reasons for my increased mileage lately is that I would like to work on my weaknesses in the sport of triathlon. Out of swimming, biking and running I have biking and running weaknesses. Due to work/ holiday/ pansy scheduling, running gives me the highest rate of return on my time investment. Therefore, I run.

My progress has been slow. There are a few reasons for this.

1. I am not a good runner.
2. Okay, I'm not even a mediocre runner
3. Okay, okay, I'm not even a runner (if there is any argument, see pic at right)
4. Even if I were a runner, running progress would still be slow. Such is the nature of the sport.

I, like most Americans, would like to take short cuts in becoming a better runner. If only there were a pill I could take and magically become a runner. (Aside: I'm pretty sure there are pills. I'm also pretty sure that they would be on the USADA banned-substance list. Since I also want to compete, the pill idea is out. End Aside.) In addition to running more, I've taken a more scientific approach to my running. My goal- to learn what good runners do differently than dolts like me.

My scientific studies are in their preliminary stages. I admit that a larger sample set would be needed in order to make my research more valid. Allow me to explain. See, I don't have much money (another reason I'm not on the pill) and therefore couldn't recruit large numbers of volunteers ('cause you're supposed to pay volunteers, right?).

As a fiduciary consequence, I recruited only those that are really close to me. However, I'm not that popular of a guy (which makes sense since triathlon is not that popular of a sport). Given that I have limited my resources to those willing to work for free and those who actually like me, my selection pool is not as large as I would have hoped.

In the end, my options for study (based on the criteria above) netted just 3 individuals: The Wife, The Big Dog, and The PRP. The Wife has been plagued by a knee injury. That and she is quite unwilling to get up at 5:00 am in sub-freezing wind to do a 7 mile tempo run. She declined the invitation to be involved in the study.

The Big Dog is a 120 pound Newfoundland. He is as cute and as furry as could be imagined. He is also the reason I own a second dog. Way back when the Big Dog had just concluded his puppy stage, I wanted to take him for a run. Dogs like running, right? He seemed excited when I got out the leash. He was even able to keep a decent pace. For about 58 yards. (I measured.) That's when he stopped. As in, he utterly refused to run another step. He sat down and dug his massive paws into the concrete. I tugged on the leash. Nothing. I yelled at him. He panted back in defiance. I tried to force him to go. Key word is 'tried'. He was willing to move from his spot the moment we turned and headed back home. His message was clear- He will not be running. In our household, he is affectionately referred to as "Her Dog."

That's when I announced to the family that we will be getting a proper running dog. Granted, I had ordered a pure bred Golden Retriever.  My previous dog was a Golden and he was great. The Amish guy, who also made us a high quality kitchen table, told me it was a pure GR. He was clearly not correct. By our best guess, the PRP is half Golden and half Yellow Lab. He is easily the best runner I know. Therefore, all of my conclusions are based on observations made of the dog. His dog. (It's true, we have his and hers dogs.)


Characteristic 1-Take Care of Business Early
I have noticed a significant change in behavior of the PRP during the beginning of the run to the end of the run. Whether it's going potty or getting in some squirrel chasing, the business of the run is taken care of during the first half of the workout. He does a little bit of running to loosen up, then he expends his excess energy.

I have learned that if I have hills or intervals planned for the day, I will do those in the first half of my run. My energy is higher and therefore I can make my sets more intense.

Characteristic 2- Steady as She Goes Late
The PRP somehow knows when we have entered the second half of the run. I don't consult with him about the workout ahead of time. He doesn't ask questions. Yet, he has this clairvoyance about the route which translates into reduced bunny hunting and more of sitting at my heels kind of running. He is clearly happy keeping at this pace and distance (which I don't understand given that dogs have a heightened sense of smell and I stink when I run).

I have learned that the last half of the run is a great time to work on pacing. Keeping a steady gait will yield endurance dividends.

Characteristic 3- Speed Work in the Afternoon
Morning times are for distance in the Banter household. Once the mileage is achieved, I go off to work and try to convince the young minds of the world that social studies sucks science is the key to our future. Upon my return, the PRP is ready for some sprinting. He grabs his bouncy ball and leads me to the Chuck-It. I toss the ball and he races after the orb as it he were saving the planet. Each and every time.

I have learned that no good running program can do without the speed work. You cannot get fast with just miles and miles alone. Sure, once you get started, mileage-only will generate speed. But, this is a law of diminishing returns. Speedwork is best accomplished in the afternoon when the core body temp is up, along with (hopefully) the sun.

Characteristic 4- The Importance of Recovery
It doesn't matter workout set we have just completed- from a 3 mile recover run to a mile 6 mile tempo run to a 10 mile long run, the PRP's behavior is exactly the same upon our return. He goes into the house, drinks enough water to sate his thirst, then finds a nice soft place to lay down and take a nap. In fact, he stays in napping mode for most of the day while I'm at work trying to convince the young minds of the world that fashion is dead biology and chemistry really are worthwhile fields of study.

I have learned that napping after a good run is a great way to recover. Your body increases it's production of naturally made HGH while allowing the muscles to repair any exercise related damage. In fact, on off days, I make it a point to do as little movement and work as possible. Ya know, purely for the recovery part and no, um, other reason.

So there you have it. Four simple, yet easily attainable characteristics that nearly anyone can mimic. I admit that I struggle with the last one on a regular basis (a fact that I would like to remedy). If you, too, are interested in becoming a better runner, those characteristics will help you on your way.

Oh, and just because they are so cute, here's one of my favorites.

Happy Veterans Day

There's this guy whose a friend of the family. I've known him all of my life. And, like most friends of the family, I actually KNOW very little about him. Here's some facts, at least what I think are facts:

-He's in the Army
-He's been in the Army ever since I was little
-He's been to bad places many times over
-He doesn't have to still be in the Army, he chooses to stay
-He may have graduated to a rank beyond private

I get a daily email message from him. This is to say that I'm on his jokes email list, meaning none of the messages are actually to me. One or two of his submissions have made the blog.

Here's an example of one of his joke pictures that have not yet worked its way into submission. The subject line of this message was, "So, you think you're having a bad day?"

Cringe Worthy

Anyway, this morning I received this completely unfunny message that I thought was worth sharing:

To all my friends,

If you like your freedom thank a Veteran.

Veterans Day, United States holiday honoring armed service veterans, observed on November 11th. It coincides with other holidays such as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day, which are celebrated in other parts of the world and also mark the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. (Major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice.)

Veterans Day is not to be confused with Memorial Day; Veterans Day celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans, while Memorial Day is a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving.

And you know what, he's right. I certainly don't do enough to thank those countless people that do important yet thankless jobs. I drive my car, browse the net, and live in the relative comfort that they have provided for me. 

So, to my friend, Thank You!

To all of those who choose to serve for our country, Thank You!

And, just so all of you bacon cheeseburger lovers know what you are getting, I'll leave you with another of his submissions.

Secret to a good bacon cheeseburger

WW- Buy My House

If any of you are loyal fans of the Banter, you'd know that I changed residence during the spring. As a consequence of that decision, I own 2 houses. Here's the thing: I don't need 2 houses. I may regret that statement should the Wife ever come to her senses and kick me out. Since that doesn't appear to be likely, I'd like to get rid of my old house.

 To be clear, my old house was/ is a great house. It has 4 bedrooms including a master bedroom on a separate floor from the guest/ kid rooms. Since we moved in (2003), we added a new roof, new windows, new boiler, new hot water tank, upgraded the electricity, refinished the basement, added insulation, and much more. We never actually intended to leave.

That was when we realized that we are idiots 4 bedrooms is much more space than a married couple without children- whom have no friends and family that never visits- needs. The dogs are not even allowed in the bedrooms. So what is the point of having all of that space if we weren't using it. There was a time last winter when we went 3 months without venturing to the upper level of the home.

Our new house is a significant downgrade in living space. We are happy here. The only problem is that we are struggling to convince someone else that the old house is a worthy investment. We contracted a real estate lady to help with the process. She has posted it on all of the websites. And the house locator apps. And the newspaper. And the magazines. I even think the house was on TV once.

I think that we are running out of ideas. I believe that the only thing left is to post the house on CraigsList. CraigsList is a complicate place in which you can buy or sell pretty much anything. If these people can tackle the CraigsList, maybe it's good enough for selling my house.

P.S. If you're interested, or know anyone who's interested, in purchasing a house in the area, please let me know. It really is a good house.

40 Days of Working Out- Update

The New Math
Having usurped some philosophies from contemporary lines of thought, I, a few weeks ago, decided to take on the notion of adopting a Lenten perspective towards working out. Having limited exposure to the concept and educated by the popular media, I decided that I would give up 'not working out'. Or, stated positively, I would workout daily during the 40 Days of Lent, which I have entitled "The 40 Days of Working Out" or 40 DOWO.

From the get go, the process was flawed. First, I fully believed that the Lenten season, start to finish, was 40 days long. That's what I've understood since the early days of observing the Lenters through my own personal looking glass. There have even been movies made about the concept of 40 days. Hollywood wouldn't steer me astray, right? Well, even a poorly trained monkey could go to a calendar,  start on Ash Wednesday, count until Easter, and get a number a full week longer than 40 days. According to my spiritual advisor, the BIL, apparently Sunday's don't count. This puts a kink into the system rendering the title 40 DOWO completely inaccurate. If only there was some sort of manual, a book that had these guidelines (amongst others), a word that explained how to live and behave, then I might have gotten this correct. Alas, I'm unaware of any such novel. I'm sure if it existed, it would be bought by millions and might even be a best-seller of all time. Hopefully, someone will pen a few chapters and make it available for the masses.

Second, I started the process with an understanding that the Winter Training Season might end soon. A short 10 days plus some hourly change after the Lenten Season began, winter was supposed to end with the solar rays finally crossing over into our hemisphere. This is usually met with the re-migration of several species of animal and the arrival of warmer temperatures. We had one day in which the mercury (for those of us who haven't traded the mercury for dyed-alcohol) stumbled over the 50º plateau, only to be met with a polar air chaser. The snow has reappeared and the bike has remained in the basement.

The Mark Against Me
Despite the challenge of increasing my workout total from 40 to 47, I have been faithful to the original rules. You can read them here. Thus, I've done some form of SBR for at least 30 minutes a day for the past 18 days (as of this writing). One day, a nasty form of belly rumbling turned a normally spry Banter into the fetal position for several hours. I cut it close, bravely climbing out of bed, and started a run at 9:40 pm (bed time in the Banter household is typically 9:30). The streak was still alive.

After 2 full weeks into the 40 DOWO, I entered a recovery week in my training schedule. Having planned this recovery week months before incepting the Lenten workout philosophy, I was conflicted. Fortunately, 30 minutes of cardio is not enough to ruin a good recovery day and my original schedule was not compromised. But, lurking in the shadows was a hidden force that might prove to end the streak.

See, smack dab in the middle of Lent this year lied a special day. Actually, it was a milestone of a special day. Here within happens to be my wedding anniversary. Not only was it my wedding anniversary, but my 10th wedding anniversary. And by 'my', I really mean ours. The Wife is nothing short of amazing and the most spectacular supporter of all things Banter. The fact that were still together is evidence of her superiority. Anyone who can tolerate me for even brief periods of time deserves an award. Ten years? The Noble Prize committee is currently reviewing the situation and we are expecting a call from the King of Sweden any time soon.

On the morning of the special day, I had the proverbial Angel/ Devil on the shoulder kind of inner chatter. The right brain was telling me to get up early and hit the pool before work. The left side was saying "don't you dare." Now, I don't normally listen to the left side of my head. But on this morning, the left side was closest to The Wife and it was making more sense. I'm sure I'd be lost without her and therefore the 40 DOWO was in jeopardy.

Foresight
I didn't pay attention to the anniversary date when calculated the 40 DOWO. However, I was smart enough (for once in my life) to recognize that I'm not in this whole life thing alone. The Wife got her own rule, which I enacted on that day. She got the priority. We slept in. Went to work. Returned. Went to hibachi. Drank some wine. Ate some hibachi. Then we got home. And can you guess how we celebrated our 10th Anniversary? Correct! And it was awesome. We ate 1/2  a 9x11 cake. We drank some more wine. We were in bed by 9:30. Great night. Anything else that may have happened in the mean time is just hearsay and your imagination.

So, here we are, right in the middle of the Lenten season. I've exercised on all but one, in which I'm giving myself a free pass. My house and my rules. I'm comfortable in my commitment to both The Wife and the 40 DOWO. Only 22 more days (or 27, depending on which number you use) for the DOWO and going strong. Only a lifetime left for the Wife. Life is good.

Lucky 7s

Here's all the details that I know at this time...

It happened on the 7th day.
It happened during the 7 o'clock hour
It happened to be in the 7 pound range

There is a new Banter in the family. My little sister gave birth to the first nephew on my side of the family. Introducing Baby-Banter. Congratulations little sis!!