I generally take a GPS for athletes with me when I get some exercise. Beyond my position, it records my heart rate, my cycling pedal cadence, and one of these days I'll buy a foot pod so it can track my stride cadence.

Anyway, here's the graph of my heart rate during today's ride:

I don't recall being chased by any large predators during the opening stages! At a guess, some radio interference messed up the communication between the heart rate monitor and the GPS unit.

Posted by: Boviate at 10:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 87 words, total size 61 kb.

Last semester, I was meeting a fellow student at the gym twice a week to get some exercise. However, he liked to start very early, and if I wanted to be doing PT before dawn, I'd still be in the Corps! (Strangely, he was a night owl. He worked out early because he was still up most days.)

For the spring semester, I've been continuing to commute to campus by bike, but it's a short trip. I put in some decent road bike miles in the warm spell a few weeks ago, but my enthusiasm waned as the temperatures dipped again.

I spent most of today at home, doing lots of reading and a little writing. At around five, I realized that the sun was still up, there was little wind, the air was about 50°, and I had some new tights from an end-of-season sale to try out.

So I kitted up, making some disturbing discoveries in the process. Now, I knew I was about 20 pounds over my ideal weight, most of that having arrived in the last three months. But putting on skintight workout gear kind of emphasized that fact. Also, not having done any weights or calisthenics has caused my chest to shrink enough that my heart-rate monitor kept sliding down until I tightened the strap by a couple of inches.

Thus looking quite silly, I took off at a conservative pace. Sadly, my lack of running meant what had been a conservative pace is now an aggressive one. The final mile home was at a 14 minute mile, which is to say I would have moved faster by just walking. My pride forced me to maintain a halting shuffle regardless.

I shan't be sharing this particular run's GPS record. But now I've got a good baseline to improve from!

Posted by: Boviate at 11:06 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 308 words, total size 2 kb.

There's one particular student this semester whose class schedule lines up very well with mine– we're in all the same seminars this semester. So we decided to start going to the gym together too, as we sure had similar availability. He suggested we start meeting at the gym at six. Not the good six, but the morning six.

Now, I'm not saying I decided not to reenlist in the Marine Corps because of early-morning workouts… but that did fall under the "quality of life" rubric. I countered his six AM proposal with seven, and that's what we've started doing.

He claimed to be a night owl, which I found frankly unbelievable– what kind of a night owl voluntarily gets up for an early morning workout? But today I discovered the truth, he wanted the earlier session because he stays up that late. In fact, after our workout he stays up for our 10 AM class. He goes to bed after that class lets out, then gets up again in the evening.

I used to think I was a night owl myself. With him as a comparison, I'm no such thing!

Our workout sessions have been interesting so far. He's introducing me to racquetball. I'd knocked the ball around a few times in my life, but we're actually following the rules and whatnot. (That was Friday.) Today, we went for a run. We also discovered that we're both sort of politely hyper-competitive, so that while running together neither of us was willing to suggest an end to the run. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, declared a final lap for myself, and sprinted it out to the end. He couldn't hang with me in the sprint, but made it up by taking one more lap on his own.

For both these workouts, I was wearing my Vibram Fivefinger "barefoot running shoes", while he had similar shoes of a competing brand. I did get those shoes last year, but over the summer almost all my aerobic work was biking. I've lost the barefoot calluses, and my feet are not so good right now. Being politely hyper-competitive, I refuse to show weakness. But I'm going to suggest we swim laps in the pool for our next session, "because cross-training is a good thing".

Posted by: Boviate at 12:36 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 381 words, total size 2 kb.

Yesterday we cycled to a local community pool for open swim. The pool itself was rather interesting. Built just after WWII, and thus inevitably named "Memorial Pool", it's the biggest above-ground pool I've ever seen. Clearly intended as a community pool as opposed to an athletic one, it's a big oval. The locker rooms are alongside the long edges of the oval, with the roof of the locker rooms being the pool deck, and the inside wall is the pool's bulkhead.

The pool's popularity has apparently waned, as in the men's side half of the lockers have been removed. It was a nice pool, except the water was cold, and according to the lifeguard it never really warms up.

It had a nice water slide, which was fast enough to make me nervous. It also had two diving boards, which I used with enthusiasm. The university pool does not allow use of their boards unless you are actually a member of the diving team, to my annoyance; thus this was the first I've used a diving board in probably a dozen years. It took a few tries to get the hang of the correct rotation rate.

Having had a swim and a bike ride, only one event was needed to complete a triathlon. First came dinner, though. Hil has a new grill, so I cooked burgers while she cooked fries and tossed salad, then I whipped up some apple crisp for desert. By the time I'd digested enough to think about running, it was night. But all the better! I love running at night. It's cool, it's quiet, and the roads and sidewalks aren't crowded.

The run was cut short by a cut on my foot. I'm using Vibram Fivefingers shoes now, and still adjusting. The skin on my right pinkie toe wore right through, as those toes are a bit malformed on me, but are protected when I use normal shoes. I guess that little toe is going to have to toughen up.

But as I'd never declared a length, I didn't technically withdraw from the run. I hereby declare myself the victor of the First Annual Boviate Challenge Cup Triathlon. I wonder if I should get myself a cup to award myself?

(Image of pool after the cut.) more...

Posted by: Boviate at 02:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 382 words, total size 3 kb.

Last Saturday was the sixteenth Ride for Roswell, an annual fundraiser for the Roswell Park Cancer Institute here in Buffalo. Just over 7100 bicycle riders raised more than $3 million to fund cancer research and treatment.

The Ride starts and finishes at the University at Buffalo, which is certainly convenient for me. There are ten different routes, which all follow two basic paths, the shorter routes going generally west into urban Tonawanda, while the longer routes go generally east into more rural outskirts of Buffalo.

I got involved with the ride at the instigation of my girlfriend. Last year we did the 30 mile route, the longest of the western & urban path. This year we stepped up to the 33 mile route, the shortest trip going out into the bucolic countryside of Clarence, NY.

Although it was just ten miles longer, it was more than 10% more difficult, as the western routes are very very flat. While not as hilly as, say, Big Flats, Clarence does have some rolling terrain to liven things up a bit along the way.

The morning of the ride was dark, gray, and threateningly cloudy. I was taking my commuting bike, which has two rear baskets, which I filled with rain gear for two and a decent set of bike-repair tools, along with some spare tubes. Last year, we had a "mechanical" when Hil's chain jumped off the chainring. This year, there were no bike problems whatsoever.

It drizzled very gently as we cycled from my apartment to the starting grid. We'd decided it was easier to park at my place and ride, rather than search for a spot on-campus. The extra commute to and from UB gave us the four extra miles for thirty-seven total.

The rain stopped as soon as we were lined up, near the front of the grid. That position was perhaps unwise, as it meant we were passed by several thousand people as the ride went along, while only passing a few dozen ourselves. But hell, we were there for fundraising, fun, and exercise, not for a race. I kept telling myself that. It helped ease the pain when a pre-pubescent girl zipped past me just a few miles from the end.

While we didn't have any mechanical issues, we did have a medical one, when a gnat flew into Hil's eye and got caught under her eyelid. She had never been taught the trick to getting foreign debris out from there, and it's a hard trick to learn when in a pain. She eventually managed to flush it out, but I think it put a damper on the last part of the ride.

After a triumphant cruise across the finish line, we returned to my apartment. Hil took off to meet her sister and some friends at a strawberry festival. I took a nap.

The big question is, what route shall we do next year? Hil has been escalating distances in order, from 20 to 30 to 33. The next route up is 44 miles. I'm confident we can do it, she's not so sure. I guess we've got a good ten months to figure it out.

And finally, I'd like to offer a "thank you!" to the friends and family that donated to my ride. I appreciate it, and it goes to a good cause.

My GPS track, which for the second year in a row, I managed to not get started at the actual start line:
Prevailing winds in Buffalo are west-to-east, and it was a windy day. I am moderatly amused at the way our pace dropped even as my heart rate climbed on the return leg of the ride. You can watch that map above animated here, just click the "play" button at the top.

Posted by: Boviate at 04:13 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 626 words, total size 4 kb.

I love riding my bike. It's the joy of running, without running's joint pain. I make a point of commuting by bike even in winter. There were three occasions when I didn't ride, when it was storming so badly I decided it was excessively dangerous.

In the summer, I've been biking for fun and fitness. Most of those rides are with my girlfriend, centering around her place. Why her place rather than mine? Because she's got a house while I've got an apartment, so the ride endpoint is much comfier.

Once in a while I do some riding solo. One reason I enjoy it is that my GF and I are at different fitness levels. She didn't hold a job for six years where physical fitness was a non-metaphorical matter of life and death. But when I go alone, I push the pace much harder, enough to get my heart into the aerobic zone.

So last week I rode across campus, then I noticed a bike trail that I'd been previously unaware of. It was glorious! It led through a mix of forest and grassy floodplain, then paralleled Ellicott Creek which is big enough to count as a river in my book.

Originally going south, the trail ran out into a little park. I followed another cyclist onto a road with a nice shoulder, but the scenery was less interesting. I pulled off into the town highway department's parking lot, did a U-turn between the two barns where they keep the road salt, and jammed on the brakes after seeing something interesting. In the middle of the floor of one of the nearly-empty salt barns was a peregrine falcon, standing on top of a just-killed pigeon. I crept closer. The falcon wasn't happy, but he wasn't willing to relinquish his kill either. I got to about 30 feet away, where I could see clearly but wouldn't drive him off. He must have made the kill just as I arrived, because the dead sky-rat was untouched. After a few minutes of staring at each other in silence, the falcon decided that I was nonthreatening enough to start eating. Nature red in tooth and claw– it was neat watching a falcon eat in the wild. (Well, if you consider the inside of a building "wild". I stared for a good ten minutes while he nibbled delicately, and by "nibbled delicately" I mean "messily ripped off chunks of flesh". The day was wearing on, though, and I wanted to check more of the trail. I headed back north and passed the fork that led back to campus.

After about 8.5 miles of riding, I got passed on the left by a faster cyclist, not for the first time. It was a dude that looked to be well into his retirement, and he zipped by like I was standing still. "This shall not stand!" I declared. (Note: it's more dramatic that way. What I really said was "Ah hell no!") I upshifted, stood in the pedals, and determined that I was going to catch that guy.

I'm proud to say I did. I got up on his rear wheel and hung there for two miles, cruising at 18 mph. Now, 18 mph is not all that fast, really. But this dude was on a Trek Madone, a carbon-fiber race machine that sells for between two and nine thousand dollars. I was on a Jamis Commuter which sold for… quite a bit less. My main problem was that the Commuter has a very upright posture, which is great for seeing traffic, but very unaerodynamic. Also, I use the Commuter 2 which has a seven-speed internally geared hub, while my nemesis had a high-end derailleur. Trek Madone's come standard with either twenty or thirty gears. So he was able to maintain a much more efficient pedaling cadence. It was great excercise for me, though– my heart rate monitor said I hit 98% of my theoretical max heart rate. Which explains why I couldn't maintain it for very long.

It was fun, though. What I was doing is sarcastically called "Cat Six racing". Amateur bike racers in the US are divided into five categories of competitiveness, with Cat One being the best and Cat Five being the sort that finish a race with beer and brats. Cat Six are people like me who get crazy competitive and attack other riders that are just out to get some exercise or commute to work or whatever.

Anyway, here's my route:

And I assume most of you were bored to tears by this long story that doesn't even contain a shaggy dog. Sorry!

And if you've made it this far, remember that Hil and I will be doing a charitable bike ride to benefit the Roswell Park Cancer Research Institute. You can donate to my ride here!

Posted by: Boviate at 03:59 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 807 words, total size 5 kb.

I went for a run this morning, in the beautiful falling snow. I wore a sweatsuit, figuring that would be enough, as running would provide plenty of body heat.

I was only out for eleven minutes, because it's been many years since I've been running in below-freezing temperatures. And while my running certainly kept my core temperature at a good level, my ears and fingers went numb in a hurry. After five minutes, I decided frostbite would be a bad thing, so I turned around and headed home. I didn't even make a mile and a half distance. Not exactly a shining moment in athleticism.

Tomorrow I'll be wearing gloves and either earmuffs or a hat.

Posted by: Boviate at 02:36 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 121 words, total size 1 kb.

After work last night, we played softball. My shop reserved the field, so we showed up first to claim it and do all the paperwork nonsense. It took a while before the rest of the crowd arrived, so the three of us took batting and fielding practice, which was very useful, as I have no experience at this sort of sport.

Seriously. I never played Little League. I think in middle school gym we did baseball for about a week, but I didn't like it and didn't do very well.

But with some practice, I discovered that I am actually a pretty good fielder. Being a soccer player taught be to judge where a ball is coming down, and soccer goalies of course catch balls all the time. So I just had to adjust to the smaller sphere. And then there's this glove thing, which seemed like cheating, because it made it so much easier. I think Football : Rugby :: Baseball : Cricket.

Eventually everyone arrived, and we played a game against another unit that had been using the other field. They were serious competitors, while we were (a) drinking, (b) exhausted from a 65 hour workweek. So we lost 17-7.

When I mentioned I discovered I had some softball skills, I should make it more clear. I can hit, sort of, but without much power. And I can't throw very far at all. So I elected myself first baseman, where the key skill is just to catch the ball consistently. I did well there, getting quite a few outs, with no errors. Although my soccer skills did leave me astray. A goalie always jumps for a ball, because if it's too high overhead to reach, then it's over the top of the goal and thus not a problem. So when someone threw a ball too high, I jumped for it. The correct play would have been to immediately run for the fence that the ball was going to hit; I could pick up the ball and hold them to the single, as if they ran for second I'd be in a position to throw. But jumping and then landing delayed me for about three crucial seconds, which they used to good effect.

My hitting was also unimpressive. I didn't strike out, but I also batted .000. I had three infield grounders into outs; the only time I reached was a fielder's choice. (Which is when the guy that got the ball could have got me out, but he decided to get the guy at second out instead.)

So, a fun time. But my feet really hurt today. My cleats are kind of tight when we PT in the morning. As you may know, one's feet tend to swell during the day. So playing in the evening, they really were a size to small, and crushed my feet in a most unpleasant fashion.

Posted by: Boviate at 08:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 496 words, total size 3 kb.

You may recall me not having much fun playing football last week, and threatening soccer as vengeance.

I sold the rest of the guys on it, but we didn't have enough people- four on four soccer is kind of lame. So we challenged the Airframes shop. They accepted, and the date was on: Friday at the gym's soccer field, at 0500.

First some preparations needed to be made. We needed a soccer ball. Also, I wanted some cleats, as my running shoes don't work that well on grass, especially grass wet from the morning dew. I'd seen the sign for a soccer shop not far from the base gate, so I drove over and went shopping.

The shop was acually a soccer clothing shop, containing team jerseys for every team I'd ever heard of in the major European leagues, and plenty of teams that were new to me. I didn't particularly need a Man U shirt. The only actual soccer gear they had were two models of balls, only one in a adult size. So I bought that one.

I drove on to the PX, hoping for some cleats. They only had one type of soccer cleats, but they had a pair that fit me, and they were only $17, which is a plus. They also had soccer balls, including the same one I'd bought out in town, for half the price. Whoops. I also picked up a pair of shin guards.

The game itself was a lot of fun. We were eight on eight, with no goalies (because the nominal purpose was excercise, so everyone was to be running around the field.) I don't have a very high PFT, and I can't play football or baseball, so people assume I'm unathletic. But I can play soccer quite well, thank you very much. I'm not a great shot, although my dribbling skills were sufficient to keep away most of the inexperienced opposition. My primary skills are on defense, and I showed them to good effect. I don't think I was beat one-on-one a single time.

The game ended after an hour with an honorable score: tied, one all. Now we're trying to decide who to challenge for next week.

Posted by: Boviate at 02:47 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 374 words, total size 2 kb.

Back in my college days, my circle of friends once decided to play indoor soccer. Only a handful of us had even played soccer before, but we would not be denied. So we practiced three or four times and joined the intramural league. I don't remember what our team name is, anymore. Pity, that.

The only night everyone had the evening free to play was the night of the "competitive" league, not the "collegial" league, meaning our opponents were all-male, out-for-blood types. Our mixed-gender, largely untrained team got smoked every single game. We didn't even get a goal until the final game of the season. Which is not to say we were completely hapless; although Paul had never played soccer, his years of hockey meant that few people challenged him for the ball near the boards a second time. That's because they realized they could just wait for him to have to pass it or dribble away from the boards, and it's harder to check someone when there's nothing to check them into.

The last game of the season, I got my right thumb bent backwards, breaking one of the bones. I'm stubborn about such things, so I just iced it down for two days, until the swelling was so dramatic that my friends essentially dragged me to the clinic for X-rays.

I mention this because for today's PT*, Gunny decided we'd have some fun, and the six of us played three-on-three one-hand-touch football, on a greatly shortened field. I devised a method to randomly pick teams, which was good that there were no last-guy-picked nastiness, but bad because it ended in unbalanced teams. My team had me, the soccer player; LCpl "Tron", who was a fencer (and has a cold); and Cpl W, who was a distance swimmer and soccer player. The other team had Gunny, who played football; Cpl O, who played lacrosse; and Cpl McG, who also played football.

As you might imagine, we got smoked. Lost 12 touchdowns to 7.

And I told the story at the top because I got my left thumb bent back, and it feels a lot like the right one did back when I broke it. Hmmm. I'm going to ice it for a while before I go to medical, though. It might just be strained.

And for next week, Cpl W and I are going to bring a soccer ball, and we're going to play with the same teams.

*Footnote: Yes, it's Saturday. Of course we're working. We always work. I had a weekend off two weeks ago, and it was a miracle.

Posted by: Boviate at 07:43 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 437 words, total size 2 kb.