#They really were just Hustle and Muscle 90% of the time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artisticestheticreads · 5 years

Text

Summertime Magic (II)

A/N: I do apologize for such a late fic but real life been kicking me in the ass. In this part, we get a little of Y/N and N’Jadaka getting to know one another while Y/N does is hair.

No warning but I recommend listening to “Close to You” by Dreezy ft. T-Pain

To Catch Up, PRESS HERE.

It was Thursday afternoon when Y/N was in the middle of feed in cornrows on her client's coarse hair. She wore a black bleach tie-dye crop top with high waisted jean shorts. “So, girl I was telling my dude, like, ya boy is tryna fuck with my friend and what not and his ass gonna tell me so.” Y/N said, “wait, don’t his nigga got a girl though?” Her client clapped her hands between every word. “Exactly, bih. His girl just gave birth to their baby girl, too.” Y/N placed some gel on her part to smooth down flyaways.

“Trifling. Niggas are something else I swear. But speaking of, how you and Monte”, Y/N asked as she started braiding a small braid in between the two thicker ones. Her customer smiled before speaking “beside his baby mama, we good. He a pain but he my pain. We actually moving soon.” Y/N nodded asking “where to?” She turned to face Y/N. “The Valley. Says it’s closer to his job.” The look on Leslie’s face was very sad but Y/N only grinned. They knew each other since high school and was apart of the same clique. “Finally, getting out of the hood, I see. Leaving me behind and shit. I see how it is”, Y/N said in a playful tone causing Leslie to smack her thick thigh.

“Hursh. I’ll still come down to visit and whatever. You know I’m not gonna trust in upitty crackas in my hair. Hell no. I’ll make that long ass commute to get here. But what up with you though?” She smiled as she got another piece of hair to place in Leslie’s hair. “Nothing much. Met a guy yesterday. Kinda cute. Got some nice muscle tone and all. His name is N’Jadaka. He coming tomorrow so I can do his dreads for him.” Leslie turned slightly to look in her face. “Oh really? You got a pic? I need to see if I approve.” Y/N rolled her eyes laughing and showed Leslie the picture; her eye’s bugged out. “Oweeee, how you doing, Mr. Man!? Best friend, that man finer than a muthafucka. Wait, he coming here?”

Y/N nodded as she placed some styling mousse on her hands to smooth over her friend’s hair. “He will be here tomorrow at 11 am.” Leslie looked at her friend up and down and said “aight miss thing. Don’t get in trouble now.” She took the money out of her bra and handed it to her. “You better come to out going away party, heffa. Its next week so ad it to ya calendar.” Leslie hugged Y/N’s fluffy body and was on her way out before Y/N locked the door.

THE NEXT DAY

Y/N got out the shower feeling amazing after exfoliating, shaving and oiling her whole thick body while listening to Daniel Caesar. She went into her closet to grab a cute, wine shade romper that complimented her skin tone. Her locs were in a huge bun and had her baby hairs in a wave shape against her smooth skin. Her phone buzzed from a text from N’Jadaka.

N’Jadaka: I’m outside.

She smiled and went to the window as he pulled up. Y/N pulled back the cream curtains to his navy blue Impala park in her driveway. As soon as he stepped out, her mouth parted slowly to her jaw-dropping on the floor. He was in a navy blue short sleeve that clung to every muscle and his smooth caramel skin. Gray sweat pants that displayed his thick thighs and navy blue Air Force Ones that completed the outfit. His hair was tossed to the right messily and his dimples were in full display when he noticed Y/N was watching with his back turned; she dodged his stare and stayed away from the door.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Y/N opened the door with a smile. “Hey, it’s nice to see you again. Did you find the way okay?” She stood to the side as his tower-like frame strolled in looking down at her. “Yeah, I’m usually good with direction. How you doin’? You aight”, he asked with a smirk across his lips, flashing the white smile of his. Y/N nodded, totally spaced out by his charm. “I’m good. Ya ready?” She led him to a chair which had a hair wash bowl connected to it. N’Jadaka clapped his hands as he remembered something. He handed her a black tinned bag and she took it from him. “I was by the store and just thought you would the snacks you had the other.” Y/N blushed as he sat down and she placed a cape onto him with a towel wrapped around his neck; he lied back as she ran the lukewarm water. “So, how long you’ve been doing hair?”

“Eh, I started in eighth grade when my friend’s mom had her own shop. We used to watch her ever since we were way younger. It got crowded, clients and walk-ins were waiting but everyone was swamped so I ask if I can help. Ms. Witherspoon said go ahead and I did. I asked each one what they wanted and did what they asked. Washed, blow-dried, some cornrows for the ones getting extensions”, she said as she began washing his scalp. His eyes were closed shut and she noticed his incredible lashes. “So, Y/N was a baby hustle?” She giggled and said “yah, pretty much. Then I got a job there as the hair washer and assistant to her mom. My folks weren’t really up for it. They wanted me to enjoy my childhood but then I told them how much I would be making and with me being the oldest, I wanted to help out.”

N’Jadaka nodded as her hands worked their magic through his locs. He hummed in relaxation as her fingertips massaged his scalp slowly. The voice of Dreezy the singer added more to the session as her she got the right amount of lather and suds. She was humming to the lyrics watching him. He looked so relaxed, so sweet. Her eyes watched his lips as mouthed off ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ to his self. She had to snap out of it. “So, N’Jadaka. You have a very interesting name. Where is it from?” He chuckled flashing his smile, making her weak in the knees. “It’s African. My fam is from Wakanda besides my moms.” She rinsed his hair out and sitting him up. “Hav you ever been there? I’ve seen only the bad in Africa online and some shit.”

“Nah, nah. It’s beautiful especially Wakanda. When the sun sets, it’s amazing. The tint of the colors blended just makes you forget about everything that’s so fucked up with the world. When I visit, I just sit the mountain and my older cousin likes to sit with me. We talk about our childhood together.” Y/N smiled at his face lighting up and helped him walk to the chair. She walked ahead of him as he began tossing his hair and towel drying it watching her wide hips move side to side. He eased into the chair as she got the hot oil treatment ready.

She wrapped a clean towel around his neck with a new cape before going into a shelf next to her hair area. She bent her knees with her behind close to the floor as she looked for the oil to warm up with the glass container. Soon the oil was hot enough and she went back to him with a smile on her lips; she began. “So, what made you move out here? From the sound of it, Wakanda sounds like a paradise.” She heard him take a deep breath before he explained. “Ya see, Y/N. I’m not like the people there. I was born out here, I’m from here. Them folks out there saw through that shit once my Unc. They only accepted me when they realized I was related to people who were a big deal.”

After the treatment, she grabbed a locking moisturizer that didn’t cause build-up and began the tiring process. “Y/N, what you got planned for tomorrow? My boy got a housewarming party and it’s a 90′s theme. All my boys bringing they ladies and all. I know we just met and all but by the way you move, you be a great dance partner.” She rolled her eyes at the thought. “Not really the party type.” She heard him chuckling as he said: “shit, neither am I but it’s my boy.” She was standing to his left, still sectioning and twisting when he looked at her thick thighs. So plump, so soft looking. “Well, why me? I know you got flocks of girls throwing themselves at you. Choose one of them then”, she stated.

N’Jadaka side up to her and admitted: “Yeah, I do but I ain’t interested in them at all.” This made her eyes fall to his. Was he being serious, she thought. Why her out all of the women in Los Angeles. The women he had thrown at him would probably be model sized. Tiny waists, long legs, thin thighs and all. She strolled around like she was confident but on the inside, she was always battling herself. She had to cry many tears, mend her broken heart and put on her big girl (no pun attended) lace panties to feel as she was can compete with those types of broads. Y/N’s train of thought came back to the track when she felt his hand on her calf. “Y/N, you gotta come. You can’t be a homebody forever. If you think I had ya back at the liquor store, then trust me. C’mon and come with me. I show you a good time.” He was caressing her thigh the whole time as he spoke and it made her feel some type of way, the good way. She sighed, wiggled her leg gently out his grasp and said “maybe. I’ll think about it, young man.”

N’Jadaka chuckled as he sat back, head straight forward. “ Well, little one. Once you done with my hair, I better have an answering or I’ll do it myself”, he said with a fold of his muscular arms. Y/N rolled her eyes with a crooked smile as she continued. They shared a few laughs and smiles here and there then she twisted hs fresh dreads into two braids; the also exchanged social media networks. She passed him the mirror so that he can get a look. “Daaaaaaaayummmmm, this shit is nice as hell. Baby Girl, those hands of yours are like magic”, he stood and gave her a nice hug. She was taken back but when her hands fell on his smooth back, she melted into him like ice cream on a burning hot day like this one. The smell of musk and spices filled her nostrils as she lingered on.

N’Jadaka look down at her and asked “ya good, little one.” When her eyes opened, she realized that he had let go a long time ago but she still had her arms around his waist. She looked around and then to him. She slid her arms away and said “sorry. Guess I was daydreaming.” He chuckled as they made their way to the door. She placed her hand on the knob, twisting and opening the door but when he walked out he turned and leaned against the threshold with his arms folded again. His brow slowly rose up that made Y/N very confused. “Yes or no” he asked and got back a “huh” from her lips. “Are you going or not” he asked and Y/N folded her arms as well. He chuckled and said “fine. Then I will decide. You are going with me to this party. We will grab something to eat before and after. Party starts at 7:45 so I will be here at 6 on the dot so we can chill for a bit.”

Before she got to speak, he placed his hand on her chin and said “be ready by 6, little one. Aight” with a smile that made her knees weak. She nodded and he did the same back. “Ok good. I’ll hit you up later. Here ya go”, he handed a hundred dollar bill into hers but she looked up at him. “You are worth way more than what you charge. Thank me later” and with that, he walked off to his car and drove off with two honks. Y/N slowly closed the door with a sweet grin and made her way to her bedroom. After a nice shower and a good homecooked meal, her Instagram was blowing up with comments, DMs and brand new followers. She went to her page notifications and saw something she was mentioned in; a post by N’Jadaka himself; it made her smile from ear to ear.

Ok, so this was long overdue because of real life health and all but I will be posting part III tonight, if not in a few minutes.

𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

@vminax

@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

@chaoticcashfancroissant

@bugngiz

@chocolatedippedinhoney

@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

#N'Jadaka Udaka #Erik Killmonger x Reader #bp fandom #summertime magic fic #erik stevens x plus size reader #artisticestheticreads

95 notes · View notes

radiantcutice-blog · 5 years

Text

No Honor Among Thieves

Len doesn’t know where it went wrong.

Maybe- Maybe it’s because he was distracted. Preoccupied by things back home, by Thawne and Barry and how the kids are- maybe that’s why things failed.

But even that isn’t right. Distraction doesn’t account for this mayhem, not when this plan has been in the works for months. Hell, it hadn’t even been Barry- if he had showed up, plans B through L are reserved for him, depending on when he arrived and who he’d gone after first.

It’s the damn Feds. Again, shouldn’t be a problem- except they know. They know every single move the Rogues make, every strategy in their arsenal, every single weakness. Things they shouldn’t know about this job in particular.

They go after Hartley first, taking out the ears of the operation, their early warning system, as well as the danger of his mind control. He goes down with a sonic blast targeted at his implants, flute forgotten as he scrambles to try and shut them off, fingers fumbling in his pain. It gives the Feds just enough time to slap cuffs on him, confiscate his gloves and his flute, and hustle him off. They leave the sonic device on to keep him in too much pain to pick his cuffs, twisting and writhing in the grip of the two agents that drag him along as he tries to escape the noise.

Rosa gets the Boot, fired off before she can even react, the hook clamping around her ankle and anchoring her to the ground in an instant. He snarls, reaching for his belt and the offensive tops within, but another squeeze of the trigger sends 90 thousand volts through him and he drops to his knees. The second the pulse lays them out flat, and the agents don’t even give Roscoe’s muscles the chance to relax before yanking their arms behind their back, making her cry out in pain as they cuff her wrists and begin confiscating her gear.

Mick they corner with a gun not unlike Len’s, bringing the temperature in the room down and meeting the gout of flame he sends at them with a blast of cold, causing the same explosion of steam that Mick and Len crossing streams usually does. It knocks Mick back, growling low as he struggles to his feet, but they’ve frozen the floor, too, like he’s a damn speedster they’re trying to keep off balance, and there’s a crackling crunch of snow cleats breaking through the thin layer of ice as they rush him. He manages a good few swings, clocks one with his gun and sets another’s gear on fire, but his teeth are chattering and he can feel the panic creeping up, and it distracts Mick just enough for a Fed to shove a cattle prod in the back of his knee to bring him down, leg muscles spasming painfully and losing any footing he had on the frozen floor. Crashing down, the Feds pile onto Mick even as he struggles against them, getting him restrained and his gun taken away before some asshole cracks him in the back of the head with their own weapon, and the blunt force head trauma on top of years of it makes Mick’s vision swim almost immediately.

They drag him into the hall where Lisa stands, looking frantic at first but then cold and hard, just like Len, teeth bared as she skates her way towards them, fists clenched. Mick tries to shout a hoarse warning, but Lisa’s too set on her icy rage and doesn’t realize one of the agents is brandishing Mick’s gun until the flames melt the ice from under her blades and send her hurtling ungracefully to the floor. The same cattle prod used on Mick gets jabbed into Lisa’s gut, making her convulse until they decide she’s had enough, cuffing her before one of the agents tosses her over his shoulder.

Another two agents drag Roy into the procession, the Rainbow Raider hanging unconscious between them, his glasses in one of their fists. His tech might be formidable, but Roy’s never been a physical fighter, and a flash-bang to overwhelm his hardlight constructs was all the Feds needed to get to the man himself and knock him out.

Len would have to be an idiot to ignore the explosions, breaking into a jog with his safety off as he heads towards the nearest Rogue- safety in numbers, they’ve got this down- only to find Digger backed into a corner and swaying, swearing up a storm as he clutches his head, his boomerangs scattered across the floor or stuck in the walls.

It feels like being whisked by Barry- going so fast that, for a moment, the world sometimes seems like it’s at a standstill- before Digger’s head swells and bursts outward, a splatter of blood and gray matter painting the walls and the ceiling, and Len hears a sound- is that his voice? Is he screaming?- before he fires his cold gun into the room, icing the four agents who’d surrounded Digger and watched as he-

As he-

In a burst of rage, he smashes his gun down against the forearm of the man holding the detonator, breaking it off from the elbow down to shatter against the floor as Len moves past them, reeling it all until there’s just a shard of ice where his heart should be. He’s calm. He’s rational. He can make this work, even with the plan gone to hell.

First priority is Digger’s body. Len is methodical as he ices it, like he would a patch of ground or a particularly tough safe; his eyes are vacant, unwilling to really look at the body of one of his best friends, the man who was a brother to him, fucking de-

Shaking off the thought physically, he releases the trigger and turns away from the flash-frozen corpse, shouting for Sam and finding him in the reflection off an iced Fed not a few seconds later, looking absolutely haggard.

“Cold, what the fuck’s- oh, Christ.” Even in the reflection, even behind his helmet, Len sees Sam’s eyes go wide at the sight of Digger. “Is he…?”

“Get him outta here, Scudder.” There’s no room for argument and Sam knows it, leaving the relatively safety of the Mirror World to collect Digger’s frozen body from the floor as Len ices over a large patch of the wall to make a larger surface for them to pass through.

There’s a plan in place for this, as much as Len hates to admit it. It’s been haunting him for years, the thought that they’re all mortal, and he’d hoped to never use Avernus for anything more than someone dying of old age in their sleep. Wishful thinking, he supposes, but who wouldn’t want their family to live their longest and fullest lives? Hell, nobody deserves to die like this, not even a miserable bastard like Digger, not even after he’d killed that Gotham capitalist.

Sam fires his gun into the ice and it ripples for a moment before settling, the younger man adjusting his grip on the body before looking back at Len. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“You don’t give orders,” he growls, but Scudder doesn’t relent, baring his teeth back at Len.

“Job’s gone to hell, Snart, you’ll stay fuckin’ put while I get everyone I can into the goddamn mirror, not go running around to get yourself offed by more Feds.”

Len’s hand flexes around the grip of his gun and then loosens as he nods curtly. “I’m last through.”

“I know, Len,” Sam assures him before stepping into his reflection with Digger’s body.

He can’t help pacing while he waits- part of Len wants to smash the frozen agents to snow, part of him wants to run to find his sister, his husband- but Scudder’s right. Damn him, but he is. They need to get out of here, and Len running off half-cocked and angry, so angry, no matter how he’s tried to freeze it out, will just get him killed.

Like Digger.

Sam’s hand emerges from the ice a few long minutes later and Len takes it, stepping through the reflection, used to the way it clings to him, like emerging from being underwater until the surface tension finally breaks. The Mirror World is never pleasant, and he’s glad for Scudder’s hustle to the next bright spot in the murky and imbalanced dimension, dragging Len through the floor-length mirror in the front hall of the den and then firing his gun again to shut the portal down entirely.

It’s a good thing, too, because Len takes a few deep breaths before turning on his heel and slamming his fist into the mirror.

The way it shatters is utterly unsatisfying, the ugly way his knuckles pop bringing him no catharsis, and the voices that call out in response-

“Len!”

“¡Dios!”

“Cold!”

Only three. Three plus Digger, dead, headless, frozen, and neither Lisa nor Mick among them-

He turns back around to see Sam, Marc, and James staring at him in concern. Marc’s hair is more of a windswept mess than usual, Sam’s helmet is discarded to show the furrows in his brow, and James looks almost green, lips pressed in a thin line as he watches Len from behind his domino.

“What the fuck was that,” he asks aloud, and none of them answer, so he raises his voice. “What the fuck was that? That wasn’t Flash, or Icon, or Rocket- those were the damn Feds, and they nabbed half of us. They m-” The words stick in his throat, if only because he sees a bright puff of red hair around the corner.

“Uncle Len?” Owen.

Len wants nothing more in this moment than to have died in Digger’s place.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Is everything okay?”

Swallowing back the shake in his voice, Len nods. “Just job stuff, Owen. You need somethin’?”

The boy almost shakes his head, then shrugs instead, looking at his feet.

“How ‘bout Marc comes and reads you one of his boring old books to help you get back to sleep,” he suggests gently, and Owen looks up again to shoot Mardon a hopeful glance.

“Can we keep going with Connecticut Yankee?”

At a loss for words for a brief moment, Marc spares Len a helpless look before smiling gently at Owen. “Of course, niño.”

Marc reaches out to squeeze Len’s arm before following Owen back through the house to the boy’s room, leaving him with Scudder and Jesse, the latter looking ready to squirm out of his skin as he glances at the hallway and then back down, not looking at Len or Sam.

Len watches James until Marc and Owen’s footsteps fade and Owen’s door clicks shut, a chill crawling across Len’s skin as his blood freezes in his veins.

“Trix. Look at me.” James lifts his head and Len sees his Adam’s apple bob, hands curling into fists as he holds himself back from drawing the cold gun once more. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Snart, we don’t know it was an inside job-”

“Don’t fuckin’ gimme that, Scudder, we know damn well it was. No way the Feds would get the drop on us otherwise.” He steps closer to Trickster and the young Rogue flinches. “James. Answer me.”

A soft wheeze escapes him before he musters words. “Cold, I swear to God, I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think what, Jesse? You didn’t think they’d really catch us? You didn’t think they’d get so many?” It takes everything in Len not to grab James by the front of his uniform and shake him. “You didn’t think they’d murder one of us?”

“No! No, I didn’t, I just thought-”

“They’re the fucking Feds, not the CCPD! They’re competent, especially when some meshugenah hands them all the intel they need because he thinks- what, exactly? What were you thinking, you fucking idiot?”

James shoves Len back, shame turning to something ugly and defiant in the face of Len’s anger, and Len has to put a hand up to keep Sam from stepping in.

“I was thinking about this, Cold! The way you treat me, the way the Rogues fucking treat me- how I never get the chance to prove myself-”

”Prove yourself?” Len cuts in, “Kid, what the hell are ya talkin’ about? You haven’t needed to prove yourself since you first joined up! You made it through the trial period, you showed us you had the skills- that was all we needed! You’re a Rogue! End of story!”

“But it’s not! You all still treat me like a child-”

“You’re second-youngest!”

“-and like you don’t want me around-”

“Because you’re an ass, James, not ‘cause you’re not capable!”

Jesse makes a disgusted noise. “Like everyone in this group isn’t an ass sometimes!”

“Not everyone’s a navel-gazin’ homophobic jerk, James, and you know it damn well,” Len snaps back. “You, you were a pain in my ass, in everyone’s asses, and I stood up for you. I played the leader card, more’n once, because you were family, James. You were my fucking son, and I wasn’t about to put you out.”

A hush falls as James stares at Len, the oh-so-clever Trickster finally at a loss for words. His breath shudders, and Len watches him struggle through his emotions as the words sink in. Sam shifts uncomfortably in Len’s peripheral vision.

“Cold- Len. I’m sorry. I don’t-” His voice falters. “I dunno what I was thinking.”

Len wants to forgive. He does. He didn’t spend years handpicking a team with the intention of giving up on them, or leaving them behind. He didn’t cultivate a family just to turn his back when things got rough, but this-

This is beyond rough.

He hadn’t brought James in, young and scared and alone but so, so brilliant, just to drop him on his ass again. It’s been years of Len trying to help James, make him a better man as well as a better criminal, and to see he learned nothing- to see him betray the family, to see him orphan Owen-

“You broke my heart, kid,” Len admits quietly, raising his hand to halt any answer and talking over James when he doesn’t take the visual cue. “You broke my damn heart, but if you’re out, you’re out.”

His eyes are steely even as Jesse tries to reason with him. “Len, come on-”

“That’s enough.” The words hurt, but Len gets them out, even if his voice is hushed. “Go tell your Fed buddies that James Jesse’s all theirs. The Trickster’s dead.”

James recoils, brows drawn together. “You can’t do that.”

“I can, and I am,” Len assures him. “Trickster’s dead. And if Jesse sets foot in the Gem Cities again, he’ll be dead, too.”

Stepping out of the way, Len gestures from James to the front door. “You know the way.”

The silence draws out between them as Jesse stands there, a tremor in his frame as he stares at Len, as if the look will change his mind, but Len is set. His hand drops to his gun when it starts getting too long for his tastes, and only then does James look away, eyes on the ground as he hustles past Len and Sam, leaving without another word.

Len watches him go and allows himself one shuddering breath once the door shuts behind James, covering his eyes for a long moment before he gets it together.

Cold. Hard. Calm. He’s fine. They’re all gonna be fine.

Everyone but Digger, that is.

He pulls his phone from an inside pocket of his parka, turning it on and dialing a number he knows by heart, eyes distant as he listens to it ring.

“Hey. Yeah. Yeah, I know what time it is. Listen, Flash. I need your help.”

#Execute The Plan; plot post #death/#violence/#long post/

7 notes · View notes

myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

Text

Davis Double Century, May 2001

The short of it:

Two hundred miles is a really, really long way to ride a bike.

Ride: Davis Double Century (http://www.davisbikeclub.org/ddc/2001/index.htm)

When: Saturday, May 19, 2001.

Route: Loop course from Davis, through Napa, Solano, Lake and Colusa counties, back to Davis

Distance: 197.6 miles (by my computer)

Time: 16 hours 34 minutes total clock time, 12 hours 35 minutes bike time

Average Speed: 15.7 MPH

Max Speed: 46.5 MPH

Weight Loss: 14 pounds (195 pre ride, 181 post ride)

This was my first double century, and it was a great and incredibly tough experience. The Davis Bike Club puts on a great ride. It’s very well supported and well marked. Compared to other California doubles, the Davis Double has less climbing and more frequent rest stops which makes it a great first time double, so they say.

That said, it was still 200 miles in the saddle on a very hot day.

Lesson Lived: Slow and steady.

Lesson ‘I would like to’ Learn: I need to train for these things. With only 157 road miles under my belt in 2001 and about 50 in 2000, this was a big jump in miles.

I started in the dark at 4:50am and finished in the dark at 9:34pm. I always knew that ultra-cyclists were a tough breed, but this gave me some new respect. There is a series in California called the Triple Crown where you have to finish three double centuries in one year. Per the Triple Crown website Davis is listed as a good beginners double century “with only three moderate hills.” If those hills are moderate, then I don’t want to see anything tougher! I salute anyone who has accomplished the Triple Crown. One 200 miler was tough enough for me. Three or more in one year is amazing.

About the course: the first 45 miles are flat, the next 90 are hilly with three tough climbs and the last 65 are supposedly downhill. By the time I hit mile 135 I needed much more than a 1% downgrade to help me along. My cadence had slowed dramatically, and everything was focused on staying hydrated and fueled in order to have the energy to finish. At that point it all felt like an uphill to me. I was very glad that it was downhill, but it just didn’t feel like it.

For the most part I only thought about 2 minutes ahead at all times. I focused on the here and now, and that really helped. The hills were going to come no matter what, so why worry about them?

I only got worried once, around mile 167, when I saw a line of hills in the distance. I could only think, “please, don’t make me try and climb those hills. I won’t make it.” Luckily I was able to forget about the hills because at mile 167 I had the attention span of a gnat. By the time I started worrying I forgot about what was causing me grief. And the road turned before we had to do any severe climbing

The day was very, very hot. The forecast high was for 90deg, but there had to be a couple of sections on the course that got close to triple digits. By the end of the ride both my jersey and shorts had a coating of white on them from all of the salt that I had sweated out. The fluids on the course were Gatorade and water, and I took one Thermotab per hour. I don’t know if the salt tablets actually help or not, but I tend to do much better when I use them.

I did my best to stay within myself and hold a pace that I knew I could handle. I rode the first 100 miles in about 7 hours and 10 minutes and the second 100 in 9 hours and 24 minutes. I took naps at rest stops 5, Lunch (6.5) and 9, and I pulled of the road and took a break several times during the ride.

The only “low” point came at mile 170 when I wanted to keep riding but my legs had absolutely nothing left in them. I took a break by the side of the road, watched a bunch of people go by, ate some Gu, drank a bunch of water and recovered for a while. Other than that I just kept plugging along. It wasn’t pretty, but it was fairly steady, and I got the job done.

The weirdest part of the ride came at Rest Stop #7, mile 133, the top of Resurrection which is the toughest hill on the course. I was sitting on the ground and I noticed that my calves were moving. Both calf muscles were pulsing and twitching all by themselves. They almost looked like a heart pumping away. I have no idea what it meant as I never cramped and they pulsated for the next 4 rest stops and 67 miles, but I made damn sure to keep my fluids and electrolytes intake up. If anyone knows why muscles just start pulsating at will, I would love to hear the answer. It was very disturbing to watch.

After Rest Stop #10, mile 178, I got a bit barn sour and pushed pretty hard to get to the finish line. I just wanted to get it over with. This is probably where I did the most damage to myself as I forgot to drink for almost an hour. For most of the ride I could eat and drink, but at the end I could not even stomach solid food which for me is a major sign of dehydration. The post-ride shower felt incredible even if it was hard to stand up for more than 5 minutes at a time.

I knew that I couldn’t make it home that night, so I found a hotel and passed out cold. I think that the waitress at IHOP was a little shocked when I asked for extra sour cream with my omelet, but I deserved it!! What’s a few grams of fat when you have just lost 14 pounds……..

The long of it:

Goals: - complete as much of the ride as possible - stay within a manageable pace - don’t bonk, or at least don’t bonk hard

I have thought about the Davis Double Century (DDC) for several years now. For some reason it sounded like a good challenge, and after last weekends incredible century, the I Care Classic, I chose to take the plunge. My road miles over the last two years totaled 157 pre-DDC, and my MTB miles probably ran about 100 or so. I had to reset my computer, so I lost count of my annual total. Basically, by completing the DDC I almost doubled my total mileage for the year.

NOTE: undertraining for a double century is not cool.

I left work at about 4:30pm on Friday to drive up to Davis. I figured that it would take me about 2 hours, but with SF Bay Area traffic I was on the road for 3 solid hours arriving at the check-in at 7:30pm. I had planned well for the drive and did my best to eat and hydrate. The forecasted high for Saturday was 92deg F, and I knew that I would need to be well hydrated.

Check-in took all of about 15 seconds. The Davis Bike Club is extremely well organized. After picking up my registration envelope I drove out to my hotel, checked in, unloaded my gear and turned on the room air-conditioner. It was about 8:15pm and even though the sun was setting it was still very warm. Tomorrow was going to be a challenge.

Time for dinner, and where else to eat but Denny’s? For some reason I was looking forward to the processed hamburger that they call chicken fried steak. My pre-race meal was deep fried battered chicken fried steak and instant mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and a side of peas (soaking in butter). It may not sound like the best choice, but I was going to need the salt and calories in the morning. Plus it tasted pretty darn good.

Saturday morning.

The alarm went off at 3:30am. According to the literature the ride starts from 5:15am to 5:45am, and I want to be there right when we can start. I knew that it was going to be a long, hot day, so I wanted to get a few miles in before the sun comes up. I grabbed a cup of coffee at Denny’s, ate a banana and a Gu, packed up the car and drove the 9 miles to the starting line.

I arrived at the ride HQ, Davis Senior High School, at about 4:35am, and there were people already heading out. It turns that ride morning registration is open from 5:15am to 5:45am, but if you check in the night before you can head out anytime you want. On the course I met a tandem couple who had started out at 4:15am, and after the ride I talked to a volunteer who said that people were riding as early as 3:00am. You can start anytime that you want just make sure to bring lights and remember that the first rest stop (22.9 miles) opens at 5:30am.

Clothing had been a big concern for me. What should I wear? How much extra should I bring? The sun was not even up yet, and I was very comfortable in my sleeveless bike jersey (read: already warm).

Oh man, it’s gonna be hot today, so I chose to go with my sleeveless jersey. I put a pair of arm warmers into a jersey pocket just in case. That would be “just in case” I wanted to carry some extra weight around the course because I wasn’t going to need any cool weather gear today. I hustled to pump up my tires and clip on my lights, and I was rolling at 4:50am.

4:50am – the beginning:

Miles 0 to 2

The first mile or two is through town, and I was grouped up with about 5 other riders. This was OK because they were holding a decent pace, and they had better lights than my cheap Cateye. I don’t like riding in pacelines with people I don’t know, but I relaxed my rule for a little while. Soon we were out into the farmlands.

Miles 2 to 23

The first few turns are well marked and there are volunteers out (even at 5:00am) to waive you in the right direction. I carried a course map with me, but that was more for general info and knowledge of upcoming terrain because I never looked at it for directions.

After about 8 miles I chose to peel off of the paceline, and they dropped me in short order. The sky was getting lighter and the course is really well marked, with volunteers at most of the morning intersections, so I was fine alone.

I did hear talk on the course that there was a major crash (possibly a fatality) in the early morning before rest stop #1. It’s very dark, the pacelines are moving fast and there are some heavily trafficked roads. If you do choose to do this ride, please exercise some caution.

I soon learned the ‘secret’ of the DDC. After several pacelines screamed by me, I started noticing a trend. Very few of the pacelines were led by single riders. At the DDC if you want to make time – get behind a tandem. Over the course of the morning I must have seen 10 or 15 tandems pulling about 30 riders each. By the afternoon, the course hits the hills and the pack break up.

Right at about mile 20 I was cruising along peacefully and it dawned on me that the hardcore folks doing IM California hadn’t even hit the water yet. I made a mental note to watch the time and when 7:00am hit, send out a mental “Good Luck” to everybody pulling a full IronMan today.

Other than that little epiphany, I was content to motor along in my little chainring until rest stop #1.

Rest Stop #1 (which also doubles as Rest Stop #10, but we’ll get to that later…)

I stopped only long enough to pull on my sunglasses. As soon as I started rolling again a semi-truck blew by me. Actually it was a paceline being led out by 4 tandems. Speaking with some riders later it turns out that the lead tandem was hoping to break 9 1/2 hours on the course. I cannot even imagine averaging over 20 MPH on a double century. Wow!

Miles 26 to 40

Rest stop #2 was 19 miles of gradual downhill and 3 miles of climbing ahead. A nice portion of the first 19 miles was on a newly paved farm road with wide shoulders. I was riding South and the sun was just coming up which made for some great roadside shadows. I was able to use the shadows to critique my bike positioning, and I have to say that I didn’t look too bad with a flat back and extended legs. I was looking quite good!

Then again, it was only mile 30…… and speaking of mile 30, it was right around here that the clock hit 7:00am. I sent out my mental “Good Luck” and hoped that it would reach down to San Diego. As silly as it sounds I was more concerned about the people doing IM Cali, especially the Iron-Virgins, than I was about myself. Granted I only had 157 road miles under me in the last two years, but my mental state was already dialed in.

- I had 200 miles to ride (now only 170). - It was going to get very, very hot. - I was totally under-trained.

And, most importantly, there was NOTHING that I could do to change any of those facts!!!

Just ride baby, ‘cause there’s nothing else to do today.

Cruising along a creek just before the climb into rest stop #2 brought a nice chill to the air and more than a few pickups pulling boats out to Lake Berryessa. The road was packed with cyclists, but there didn’t seem to be much of that “pickup versus cyclist” animosity, and that was nice to observe.

The climb into rest stop #2 was a good wakeup. I geared down and pedaled on up mainly because there wasn’t much else to do. It was really early in the ride, and I had no desire to push my pace.

Rest Stop #2, Mile 40

Rest stop #2 was packed. I find it amusing that where the riders are grouped up the most (early morning) there are the fewest porta-potties. The line was easily 50 riders long for the one or two units that were available. I didn’t need the facilities, so I filled my water bottles, grabbed a couple slices of nut bread and headed out. I had a handlebar bag full of Gu which I was planning on eating at least hourly, but for an event of this length I needed some solid food too. I also took a Thermotab (salt tablet).

It may have been early in the day, but I was already sweating profusely.

Miles 40 to 58

The ride from rest stop 2 to rest stop 3 has a big climb called Cardiac Hill. As I pedaled my way to the top I was passed by a couple of guys who wanted to know what my race schedule is for the year. I wish that they had asked that question because I was going so darned fast but it was because my Km40 tri-bike stood out like a sore thumb in the 99.95% roadie crowd. The 0.05% was me…. ;-)

My unscientific study showed only one 650c wheeled bike doing the DDC – mine!

Overall I think that I did fine on my steep-angle frame, but I can’t help but wonder if it would be better to take on distance rides with a more traditional geometry. One of these days perhaps.

Other than that there isn’t much to report for this 18 mile stretch. I just kept those pedals turnin’, drank a bunch of water and ate a Gu. Slow and steady.

Of course I couldn’t miss the fact that the sun was now up, and the temps were rising fast!

Rest stop #3, Mile 58

It’s already getting warm.

Scratch that. It was warm at 5:00am.

It is now starting to get hot!

I grab a couple more slices of nut bread and fill my water bottles. I am feeling a bit tired, but I don’t have any desire to hang out in the rest stop so I move on.

Miles 58 to 75

As I rolled along I looked at my watch and saw that is was about 8:50am. I’ve been riding for about 4 hours now, but more importantly the swim leg of Ironman California is reaching its cutoff time. I again sent out a silent “good luck” to everybody who I hoped would be well onto the bike leg by now.

The ride from rest stop 3 to rest stop 4 is actually pretty fun. There are no major obstacles, and we are rolling along through some great foothills. The only major problem for now is my hands. With my TT bars, there are not too many hand positions to switch around to. I hadn’t felt the fingers on my left hand for most of the morning, so I road right-handed for a while and shook my left hand vigorously. After several minutes I finally get some blood flow back into my left hand.

Fingers are good to have, and I would like to keep mine.

Rest Stop #4, Mile 75

Can you say “hot”?

Can you say “no shade”?

Rest Stop #4 is at the Pope Valley Grange Hall, and it’s rural California at it’s finest – a dirt parking lot with very few trees around. At this point riders are starting to get serious about the heat. Almost everybody is filling water bottles and soaking their heads with the hoses. The water will evaporate quickly, but it sure feels nice for a couple of minutes.

Again I fill up my water bottles, but I don’t grab any solid food at this stop. It’s Gu from rest stop 3 to rest stop 5. I don’t feel like hanging out in the rest stop for long with the lack of shade, so after a minute or two I start riding again.

Miles 75 to 95

There is one hill between rest stop 4 and 5. I make it up OK, but it takes a bit out of me. Somewhere near the 90 mile mark, just past the Guenoc winery, I pull off and down a Gu. I am breathing way too hard to eat, and I am starting to feel weak, so I take a break on the side of the road. I drink, eat the Gu, catch my breath and start rolling again.

It does dawn on me that I have ridden over 90 miles, and I’m still not even to the halfway point of the ride.

Slow and steady. Slow and steady. I just keep making sure that my pedals keep going round and round.

Rest stop #5, Mile 95, Middletown High School

It is almost amusing how different rides can be so completely opposite. On my century last weekend I was hammering at mile 95. Today I can barely feel my legs, and I still have another 100+ to go.

In addition, I am craving solid food, but I know that I cannot eat and ride immediately afterwards. The temperature is way up there, so I decide to make this a long stop.

I eat one and a half peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and three Oreo cookies. I usually try to avoid cookies because of the sugar high, but they looked really good. They tasted good too. After I ate I laid out on a concrete bench for a power nap. I give myself 15 minutes to relax, digest the food and just rest my legs.

It was a bit of an odd scene at the rest stop/high school. There was an “invasion” of multi-colored, lycra clad cyclists eating, drinking and sleeping, and in the school’s gym there was some sort of dance rehearsal going on. There was a constant stream of girls running back and forth from the gym to the coke machine and payphone and back to the gym. All of the young ladies were wearing dancing dresses, complete with sequins, tiaras, etc. I am not sure who looked weirder to whom.

My 15 minute power-nap was most refreshing, but getting my legs back would be tough.

Miles 95 to 105

Although it is only 10 miles between Rest Stop 5 and 6, it is a very tough 10 miles.

OK, in all honesty, it was tough for the first mile as my legs got used to riding again. Then it was fun for the next 6 miles, and then it was Hell for the next 3 miles.

No wind. No shade and a monster climb up through Big Canyon. By now it was full-blown hot! This section was easily pushing the 100degF mark.

The 10 miles still took me about an hour to cover.

For some odd reason, I could not guess the average speed at which I was traveling, but I could precisely estimate the time at which I would arrive at the next rest stop. From rest stop 3 all the way through the end of the ride I would roll out of a rest stop knowing how far I had to ride before my next break. I would then say, “I’ll be there at 2:40pm” and I would arrive exactly on the mark. For some I rode straight through, and for some I stopped several times on the way, but I would always arrive exactly at the mark that I had set.

Big Canyon is the second hardest hill on the course. It would probably be the hardest hill on the course as it is the longest climb, but the hill at mile 125 is much tougher – mainly because nobody wants to climb a hill at mile 125.

….. and now back to Big Canyon.

The entrance into Big Canyon is a deceptive downhill. As I coasted along, getting my cycling legs back, one of my water bottles fell out, or so someone told me later. I had started off with three bottles, and I thought that I could get by with two given the frequency of the rest stops. Also, that bottle had fallen out about three times by now. I was tired of turning around to pick it up, so I let it be.

Had I been aware of the bottle falling I would have stopped. This was my favorite water bottle, a big blue QR bottle that I picked up at the ½ Vineman in 1998, but I was already down the road a ways. There was no way that I was going to backtrack in this heat.

Somewhere along the way I crossed the halfway point. 100 miles down and 100 more to go.

Up I climb into the canyon. It’s hot, and I am moving slowly. I do have my climbing cassette, a 13x26, installed today, but I did not swap out my chainrings. I am riding with a 56/42 front end, and at 7MPH I am grinding out at a cadence of less than 60 RPM’s.

Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Normally, that would have been my mantra, but on a hill like this with my current gearing it’s more like “Grind baby, Grind.”

Did I mention that it is really hot?

Actually it is getting to the “brutally hot” stage as “hot” and “very hot” are no longer adequate adjectives for this temperature.

Surprisingly I was able to catch and pass several people on the climb up Big Canyon. No matter how slow you are there is usually someone who is even slower.

By this time, full strength Gatorade is almost unpalatable, so I stick with water. I drink as the road curves left, and I drink as the road curves right. It’s incredibly hot, and I do not want to get dehydrated. I wish that I could bring in some drama to make this story more interesting, but, in truth, it was a grind, a long grind, a really long and really hot grind.

Almost at the top of Big Canyon I started feeling dizzy, and I had a hard time collecting my thoughts. Luckily there are a few trees around, so I pulled of to the left to take a break, slam a Thermotab and drink some more. An older couple pulls up on a Seven tandem to enjoy a bit of shade. Wow, what a sweet bike! A custom made titanium tandem. We chat for a couple of seconds then I mount up and head off to rest stop #6.

Rest Stop #6

It turns out that #6 was only about 1/4 mile away, just around a blind right corner. I could have been resting where there was fresh water instead of just on the side of the road, but it didn’t really matter. I really needed that roadside break.

It had only been 10 miles since the last rest stop and I was feeling hammered. Luckily this rest stop had a new food item – watermelon. Sweet and juicy watermelon is as good as it gets. I wolfed down 3 slices, filled up my water bottles, sucked down a Gu and started riding again.

Miles 105 to 114

Did I mention that Rest Stop 6 is NOT at the top of Big Canyon?

Nooooo, there’s still another 2+ miles of uphill to go! Luckily I feel better with my new found love of watermelon and I actually have cool water in my water bottles, so I am content to sit and grind my way to the top.

The next rest stop is the lunch stop, and it is only 9 miles away. On the way up I chat with a guy who is a nursing student and a father and he also rides the Davis Bike Club Brevet series. I am not too sure where he finds the time to get all of that done. A couple of years back he qualified for Paris-Brest-Paris which is way out of my league. My first 200-miler is the only goal for the day. The 750 miles of PBP is not even on my horizon. It is more than a little amusing that he feels compelled to tell me how little he has been able to train this year, only 100 miles per week on average. I chose not to clue him in that having just ONE 100 mile week would have been great for me.

We chatted about components and life until we hit the downhill that comes just after the Top of the DC right at mile 110 or so. I picked up some well earned speed and left him behind.

The downhills in the Davis Double Century are really nice. Good, non-technical turns that you can carry some nice speed through. My Km40 handles like a pig, but I am not even on my brakes once.

The last time that I rode this far was at Ironman Canada in 1998. It’s been three years since I have ridden 112 miles, and I cruise through mile 112 today with a smile on my face!

Rest stop #7, Mile 114 LUNCH!!!!

As I wait in line to make myself a sandwich I start talking with the guy in front of me. It is almost comforting to know that no matter how insane your non-athlete friends may think you are you can always bump into someone who is far more mentally unbalanced than yourself at an event like this.

Last weekend I rode a century – 100 miles. Last weekend the guy in front of me road a double century, and today he is riding another double century. That’s two double centuries in two weekends. Compared to him I feel relatively normal.

Sandwich and Sprite in hand I find some shade underneath a big tree, pull off my shoes and take on whole bite. My stomach rebels at the solid food.

I manage to pack in a couple of bites, but there will be very little solid food for me at this stop. I just can’t eat, so I sip my Sprite and lie down for a little while. The conversations drone on around me:

“How many Death Ride’s have you done?” “This will be my third Triple Crown” (at least 3 200-milers in one year). “Where are riding at next weekend?”

It’s mile 114, and there are people contemplating their next ride. I’m just contemplating some sleep. I pop up at my appointed time, gear up and start riding again. It has not cooled off any over the last 30 minutes or so that I was at the lunch stop.

In fact it has probably gotten just a bit hotter.

86 miles to go.

Miles 114 to 133

The course turns left and crosses over a stream leading into clear lake. Normally one can hope for some cool air near a stream.

Yes, one can hope, but it is not going to happen today.

Mile 115.4, take a left at the entrance to Wal-Mart. How nice, Wal-Mart has invaded the rural town of Clear Lake too.

The hill called Resurrection starts at mile 126, and I wind up pulling a paceline halfway there.

This is ludicrous! I am probably the least trained rider on the course, and people are stupid enough to suck my wheel. Do these guys know anything about me? Why do they trust me so much? No offense intended, but I think that it is pretty stupid to get that close to someone you don’t know. It’s almost worse than tailgating in a car.

I swerve left to let them by and they won’t budge. I swerve right and they follow blindly. Finally I give up and ignore their existence. If they take me down due to stupid riding I am going to be really pissed off. At the base of a short uphill they finally pull away.

POINT OF ETIQUETTE: If you draft off of someone for 5 miles, at least say “Thank You.” It’s not that hard to do considering that someone else has just helped you along – not that I’m bitter…..

And now back to the ride……

This is a monumental point for me. I have never ridden more than 120 miles.

At the base of another exposed, treeless hill I switch my computer from speed to distance to see when I break my personal distance record.

120 MILES !!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, we are now entering uncharted waters. Only these waters are hot and steep not dark and deep. I slowly make my way to the top of the hill. The downhill onto Resurrection is a blast. I max out at 46.3 MPH without even trying, but that all comes to an end at the base of Resurrection.

From the elevation chart it looks like Resurrection climbs about 1000 feet in about 4 miles which only averages out to a 5% grade. In spots it is probably steeper, but let’s take a little quiz.

What is more fun than climbing a 5% grade? Climbing a 5% grade that comes at mile 125!

What’s better than that? Throw in temps that are well above 95degF and probably pushing 100degF.

What’s even better than that? Why yes, a headwind is just the thing!

I would like to say that I felt miserable, but I wasn’t feeling very much at all. I couldn’t feel my left hand, and my legs were just plain tired. I keep promising myself that if I saw a shade tree then I was going to stop and rest. After I pass a couple of trees I finally stop where another guy has taken refuge.

Soon a sag wagon comes along. It turns out that the other guy is toast – he’s heading in. I get some cold water from the sag and sit down for a break. A couple more riders pull in too. Soon I am back on the road, going uphill. After a few minutes my water bottles have been sun baked and I’m drinking warm water again.

Has anyone noticed that “uphill” is a common theme here?

I stop again a few miles down the road. Only this time I stop next to the guy who is riding the beach cruiser. That’s not too good for the ego – here I am on my multi-thousand dollar ultra light racing bike, and lo and behold, some guy on a beach cruiser is keeping pace with me. Ouch.

In all honesty, it didn’t really bother me at all. We were both out here for our own reasons, and it was incredibly impressive to see this guy hammering along on a 35+ pound 5-speed.

Rest Stop #7, Mile 133, almost the top of Resurrection

I dropped my bike, grabbed my water bottles and lined up for a refill. The line was at least 25 riders deep, and I was not looking forward to the wait. One of the young volunteers is asking each person if they would like her to fill their bottles for them and most declined.

I may be insane, but I am not stupid.

“Yes please, one bottle with water and one with ½ Gatorade, ½ water.”

If she is willing to let me sit down while she fills my bottles then I am more than willing to let her. I grab some watermelon and a coke while my water bottles are filled for me. That’s really nice!!!

There are no trees at this highway pullout, so I find a spot underneath an umbrella and sit my butt down. At this point I took a look at my legs. My calves had taken on a life of their own. I was not moving, but my calves were. They were pulsing and twitching almost like a heart muscle. I wasn’t cramping and they were not in pain, but that was the first time that I have ever seen any of my muscles moving of their own accord.

After a few short minutes I realized that it was too hot to get much relief, so I saddled up and hit the road, pulsating calf muscles and all.

Miles 133 to 147

After a miniscule rise to the top of Resurrection, it’s all downhill to Rest Stop #8.

That’s not totally true.

From the profile map, it looks like it’s completely downhill, but there are a couple of flat sections thrown in. After climbing Resurrection and Big Canyon it’s really nice to get in a gravity assisted ride.

I was basically alone for this 14 miles, and it was awesome. I was actually able to catch one other rider, but other than that it was just me on a two-lane country road. I was able to hit my big chainring for a few miles of what one could almost call “hammering” (if you wish to be charitable). I wasn’t riding fast, but I felt pretty good. And it is awfully nice to feel just a little good when one is over 130 miles into a ride.

Unfortunately this feeling didn’t last too long. About a mile away from Rest Stop #8 I could feel the energy draining from my legs. I hadn’t overtaxed myself in the last few miles even though I had been riding a bit faster than before. Then again, this was mile 147, and I had been out here for over 12 hours by now. Loosing a little bit of steam was just to be expected. I often find it amazing that the highs and lows during a long event came occur almost simultaneously. One second I was feeling like a million bucks, and the next second I was struggling to keep the pedals turning.

Mile 147 Rest Stop #8

By this time I was sitting down at every rest stop, if only for a few minutes. This one even had chairs and the shade of a big old oak tree.

I loaded up on Gatorade and water and a few cookies, took a few minutes rest and got back on the road. My mental state was incredible. I was tired, I had over 50 miles to go, it was still very hot and I could have easily sagged it home, but that wasn’t even a consideration. There was riding to do, and I needed to get it done.

Miles 147 to 165

Fatigue was really pushing me down in this section. While it is slightly downhill it still took some pushing on the pedals to keep the wheels turning. Mentally I was feeling really good. I knew that I was tired and my legs had almost no energy left in them, but I also knew what I had to do.

I kept to my plan which was to drink as much as possible, eat often, take a salt tab or ibuprofen as needed and keep those pedals turning round and round.

By my standards this was a beautiful section of the course, and that helped a lot. I grew up in a rural section of California in the foothills, and this section was exactly that. True, the few trees that were around were oaks and not pine, but the effect was similar – a two lane country road cruising through the foothills under a wide open sky. I was in a good frame of mind.

Also the sun had reached its zenith some time ago and was heading down. It was still hot, but relief was in site. I was hoping to be back at the start/finish by the time it got dark, but I wasn’t too sure that was going to happen. In the past the knowledge that I had would not meet a goal – being done before dark – would have frustrated me to no end. But not today. There was nothing I could change about where I was, how far I still had to ride and how much energy I had to get it all done, so why waste energy on negative thoughts?

Although it wasn’t as hot, the air was incredibly dry. I had to drink constantly to keep my mouth from feeling like a dust storm. This was a good thing as it forced me to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

Rest Stop #9, Mile 165, what used to be a one room schoolhouse

Since I was fatigued I knew that this was going to be a long stop.

I laid my bike down and walked over to the food line. Yet again the spread was amazing. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, salted potatoes, cookies of all sorts and a new treat – Cup o’ Noodles soup!!! Normally I would avoid Cup o’ Noodles because the sodium content is high enough to kill a Clydesdale (the horse, not the triathlete), but today was definitely NOT normal. Noodles submerged in salt broth sounded like just the ticket.

I gathered up my food just as the perfect resting spot came open, one of those folding beach lounge chairs. I plopped my butt down and started to feast.

I had been holding pretty much to myself for most of the ride, but the crowd here was very engaging. One rider was a double century junky with the Terrible Two (16,000 feet of climbing) and the Devil Mountain Double (18,000 feet of climbing) to his credit. After chatting for a bit I nodded off for some needed rest.

Have I mentioned that doing a double without training is very taxing on the body????

I woke up later and one rider was making his decision to pull out of the ride. He’d had enough. I found it most comical to listen to him.

“Two years ago, I spent 45 minutes in this very rest stop and then continued on. I ain’t going to do that again.”

Cool, I had only been here for 35 minutes – I had another 10 minutes to go…. ;-)

Soon those 10 minutes were up, and it was time to hit the road again.

Miles165 to 178

It took me a couple of miles before my legs felt like pedaling again, and shortly thereafter they didn’t want to pedal at all. I did what I had to do. I stopped, pulled off the side of the road and sat down for a few minutes. Two sag wagons came by, but I waived them off. This was just a tough spell. I knew that I could finish. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t make it home before dark, so I just listened to my body and took a needed break.

One water bottle and one Gu later and it was back to the bike.

At one point the two lane country road widened and improved considerably. There was now a real bike lane and the pavement was great. A couple of miles later the local casino came into view. If you want people to gamble I would guess that you better have some good roads for them to drive on. Yes, the casino’s parking lot was full.

There was one little rise in this section, and it really hurt to ascend what could only have been about one hundred feet. Mentally I was doing great. I was setting the appropriate expectations, but they were very, very low expectations. What at one time in my life might have been “let’s try to break 20MPH” became “let’s try to pedal this bike.”

Slow and steady. Just get the job done.

Finally we were back in the farmlands and it was time to make some right and left turns. After being on essentially the same road for about 60 miles it was great to have to pay attention to the course markings again.

Rest Stop #10, Mile 178

I know this place!!!

Well, OK Rest Stop #1 doubles as Rest Stop #10, and I had been there once before in my life some 15 hours ago.

By now you probably know the drill – fill water bottles, grab a bit of food (this time a banana), sit for a spell and then get back on the road. Yet again the volunteers were awesome, arranging chairs, delivering food, checking on general well-being. This ride is a class act.

I only had 22 miles to go, and I knew that I would make it. It gave my ego a bit of a boost to see someone who had dropped out drive out to the rest stop to meet some friends who were still riding. I was sitting near them, and I listened to him describe how tough it had been for him with today’s conditions. This was not a competition by any means, but it felt good to know that I had done a great job of listening to my body and pacing myself. Coming into this event undertrained could have been a disaster, but I was doing great and only had 22 miles to go.

22 dark miles as the sun was now gone, but at least it was cooling off.

Miles 178 to 193

Since we were now back into the farmlands we had the added benefit of evaporative cooling from the irrigation canals. It was starting to feel quite pleasant other than the fact that I couldn’t feel the fingers in my left hand and my legs were hoping to jump ship to a new body.

Through the fields.

Earlier in the day I had enjoyed my shadow as it revealed a very nice aero-position. Now, the sun was down, so I didn’t have to see my shadow in what had to be a less than stellar hunchback impersonation.

Surprisingly I made a pretty big mistake once the weather cooled off. With the cooler temps and moisture in the air from the irrigation canals I forgot about drinking. In the last 20 miles of a 200 mile ride, I let myself get dehydrated because I quit thinking about one of the most important aspects of ultra-events – Hydration. The air was cool. I felt OK. Why drink?

Luckily it was no big deal this time, but I cannot forget this lesson in the future (especially when I try to ride more than 200 miles).

Rest Stop #11, Mile 193 or Where I Really Didn’t Want to Stop but Had no Choice

The Davis Double is well supported, well marked and has very few rules. One of those rules is, in my opinion, a good idea.

- After dark, riders must leave rest stops in groups of 5.

This increases the cyclists chance of being seen by motorists on the unlit two-lane farm roads that surround Davis. OK, this sounds like a great rule, at least logically, until you are the one who just wants to get the hell back to town and get off of your bike!!!

At the Plainfield Fire Station I was waived in by a volunteer and told to wait for 4 more riders. Two came in shortly after me, and they were raring to get back on the road, but since we had to wait for two more one of them decided to use the rest room. Soon two more riders came in and we had our five-some. As is usual in any cat-herding situation the second two-some decided to use the rest room because we had to wait for the first guy. After they left, the woman from the first two-some decided that it was finally a good time to hit the facilities.

During this interlude the volunteer in charge of headlight enforcement took a break to deal with some medical issues that were occurring on the course, and a tandem and a lone cyclist were able to cruise by without stopping.

Aaaaaargh, can we just get going now?

Miles 193 to 200

Not being a good team player I dropped the hammer when we hit the road again. It wasn’t much of a hammer, but I could see the lights of Davis and I was ready to be done.

I have no idea how fast I was riding because it was pitch black by now, and I could not see my computer except when the occasional big truck went by and shared his bright headlights with me. Who cares how fast I was going? To me it felt like I was flying!

I caught the tandem and the lone cyclist and left them in my wake, or so I thought. As usual they jumped onto my wheel for a free ride. I gotta look back more often.

I backed off the pace about 2 miles outside of town. Soon I started seeing streetlights. Civilization and the end of the ride coming up! A few left and right turns and there stood the Davis Senior High School.

SWEET!!!!

Home Sweet Home.

I parked my bike, checked in and rode the two blocks down to my car where I called my wife to let her know that I had finished the ride safe and sound. I love cell phones for calls like that.

After packing up my bike I drove back to the high school for a well-deserved shower. I just wanted to go to sleep, but I held myself up long enough to wash off a serious layer of salt deposits. Both my jersey and my shorts were well coated with a white layer of sweated salts.

I tried to eat some of the post-ride Mexican food, but due to dehydration my stomach could not tolerate any of it.

So I drove off into the night……. only to call my wife minutes later to tell her that I was going to find a hotel room for the night. There was no way that I could make it the two hours back to home without falling asleep at the wheel.

I drove around a bit and found a Budget Inn or Comfort Inn or Beside the Freeway Here’s a Bed Inn that had a vacancy. I further validated my choice to find a place the crash when I fell asleep while resting my head on the counter at the check-in desk. I was one tired puppy.

I was also one very satisfied puppy!

200 miles in one day. That feels pretty good.

On a down note, it took me about 5 weeks to recover. Losing 14 pounds in 16 hours is not a recommended diet for anyone. While I usually never get sick, I caught the flu a couple of weeks later that had me laid out for several days.

I’m pretty sure that better preparation (read: training) would have resulted in a much shorter recovery period, but then again……

that was one of the coolest things that I have ever done!

A double century without training.

Epic! Truly epic!

0 notes

flapperfromthefuture · 7 years

Text

Confession time: I am a crazy plant lady. I take good care of them and they make me happy, so it’s okay, right? When I’m a little down, I repot a plant or two and I feel great. When my anxiety is ramping up, I buy a new plant. Or two. Succulents are like five bucks. They’re cheaper than ice cream and they don’t have any calories.

I may have too many plants.

So when I drove past one of my favorite spots in town, the Matthaei Botanical Gardens, and saw this sign, I did the full cartoon slam on the brakes and shouted to no one, “Put that on my calendar!”

This sale kept me awake at night for two weeks. When it finally arrived, I got to the gardens at 10 on Saturday morning, because I wanted to see the good plants before they got sold (anxiety!). I wasn’t planning to stay long or even buy more than one or two plants. I’ve been to the orchid sale and bonsai sale and the flower basket sale so I know these events get crazy and I get anxious, so my trusty strategy has always been “get in, get plant, get out,” and it’s never let me down .

But there’s regular crazy and then there’s succulent crazy.

At only a few minutes past 10 in the morning, I found myself at the end of a rapidly growing line that had already spilled outside the actual building.

Now, if you’ve read my previous post you know that I’m a Disney veteran who does not get thrown off by a line—but they don’t sell exotic plants on Peter Pan.

People on their way out were passing by every few minutes, carrying giant boxes full of plants that I. wanted. A man the size of a linebacker hustled by with his arms full of air plants. A girl with a giant Amazon box full of plants said, “Can’t wait to get them home and introduce them to their brothers and sisters!” and I wanted to cry.

MY plants needed new brothers and sisters!

This was not the usual plant crowd either. Sure, the requisite elderly ladies in sun hats and purple sweatpants were there (aka my heroes) but there were also hipsters with too many tattoos and questionable blue hair stripes, people with kids, babies in strollers, college kids excitedly planning where to put their plants on their single windowsill.

I texted Stella, “Good news! I’m not the only crazy plant lady. Bad news: the crazier plant ladies are going to take all the good plants.”

“Yeah man, you gotta get in there,” she said. “The plants need you!”

The young couple behind me were in full complaining mode. “We don’t want to spend our whole Saturday waiting in line,” they agreed, and bailed.

Those people wouldn’t last long on New Year’s Eve in Epcot, I’m just saying,

I was now about halfway to the entrance.

I focused on my phone so I wouldn’t look at the people leaving and the plants they had bought, but still, I was consumed with anxiety. What if they ran out of plants? What if I got in there after all this effort and all the plants left were gross and dying? What if my dream plant is in there? I don’t even know what my dream plant would be, but what if I have one and it’s in there and being bought by someone right now who won’t know how to take care of it and it’ll die—

An elderly woman with pentagon-shaped glasses—yes, pentagon-shaped, five sides—brushed past me and decided to address the entire line.

“It’s worth the wait!” she said. “They won’t run out of plants, I promise. I’m only leaving because I have too many. But it’s worth it!”

I watched her head out the door, wondering what adventures awaited her.

“I want to befriend this person but I can’t leave the line,” I texted Stella.

I have worn glasses since the second grade and I have never seen pentagon-shaped frames. They were tortoiseshell. Where does someone buy pentagon-shaped tortoiseshell glasses? What experiences has this person had that made her go, “You know what? Rectangles and ovals are boring. Life is short. I’m going with the pentagons.”

I would buy her whatever drink she wanted to hear her life story.

After a good 25 minutes (which as my dad will tell you, is not that bad, especially for a big ticket ride. We could do 25 minutes for Toy Story Mania in our sleep), I was at the entrance to the show. My muscles started to tense, ready to run in as soon as the young volunteer who got the coveted job of “bouncer for the succulent sale” deemed me worthy of entering.

“This is pretty crazy,” I said, flashing my best smile.

“It always is,” she said. “You can go in now.”

I swear I heard a choir sing.

There was a table full of cardboard boxes and I made sure to take the smallest one, as an attempt to counter my hoarding tendencies. At this point, I swear I was only going to buy one plant, maybe two. Stella wanted one, and A needed a new hanging plant for her office.

I ventured into the fray, carrying my little empty box in front of me for protection, and a third mission made itself imminently clear: survive.

If you’ve ever been in a crowded elevator and then the elevator stopped and another dozen people got in, and the elevator was also full of plants and also an actual greenhouse with glass walls that, you know, conduct sunlight, you would understand the vibe of this sale.

In other words: claustrophobia officially triggered.

There was a line around each plant table, a line to get into the line for each table, a line to pay, and plenty of people were in a line but had no idea what the line was for so there was a ton of confusion and “Is this the line to pay or the line for air plants?” and people jostling for position and it was far from the chill and relaxed ambience that you usually get in a botanical garden. This was Black Friday for succulents.

A woman behind me loudly complained that she had just set down a plant she wanted to buy for two seconds and someone had grabbed it. No one around her looked sympathetic.

It was every plant person for themselves.

I don’t remember when I transitioned from “buy two plants” to “buy every plant” but it must have been somewhere around the time that a guy tried to sell me this rare little beauty—for 45 dollars!

I put that sucker right back. Do I look like I started buying succulents yesterday?

Of course, I almost bought a rare plant from Indonesia that depends on ants colonizing its root pod for nutrients. I almost bought three of these.

I thought A might like one as well, and then I would have to get one for Stella too, because who wouldn’t want a super-cool ant plant?

When I told A, she was horrified.

“If your plant lived that would mean you had ants! In your house!” she said.

“I thought they looked cool!” I said. “And they were only 7 dollars!”

“You’re paying 7 dollars TO GET ANTS!”

Fortunately, sanity prevailed in the moment, and I put the ant plants back. Still, I was in frenzy mode. I picked up a plant, then put it back a few minutes later. I grabbed a plant for Stella, fell out of love with it, then got her a different one. All the while I’m weaving in and out of the endless lines of hot, sweaty people, their faces all dawning with the sudden realization that humans are indeed animals and we will resort to our most primal instincts in mere seconds.

Perhaps the more evolved being is . . .the humble succulent?

Fortunately, Disney trained me well, and I wove in and out of the crowd with a minimum of panic symptoms. I did have a quick fantasy about bumping into my first anxiety therapist and saying, “I did it! Look where I am right now!” But then I would have had to shove her aside to get to the plants.

And then, I saw it—the Holy Grail of the succulent sale—the only hanging basket left in the entire joint. I grabbed it before I could even read the tag to know what kind of plant it was. And not to brag, but I read very quickly. That’s how heightened my reflexes were.

“That’s a really nice one,” another seller told me. “Just don’t overwater it, and it’s almost indestructible. Hey, and it’s my last one! You were lucky.”

I clamped down on this thing so hard that you’d think I was trying to sneak it out of the country. Actually, getting it out of the sale was almost as hard.

Now that I was struggling to make my way through the throng with this basket on my arm, people were whipping around to look at me and loudly ask if there were any left.

When I said, “Sorry, this was the last one!” they looked at me the way my cat does, when he’s hungry and bites down on whatever body part I’ve make the mistake of exposing to get my attention. The narrowed eyes of, “You have something I want. Prepare to die.”

My box was now stuffed tight with six little plants—one for Stella, one for A, and (cough) four for me. A volunteer very kindly offered to get me a bigger box and that’s when I realized, “I gotta get out of here.” You know, the way that Dorothy or Coraline or whoever is having a great time in the other universe until something makes them realize, “This isn’t right! I have to go home!”

This was my Auntie Em moment. But getting out was even rougher than getting in, plus I had this hanging basket on my arm, and it was the last hanging basket in the entire sale.

I finally understand the expression, “People were on me like I had the last bump of coke at the party.”

It took three different attempts, but I finally got in the right line to pay. It took all my strength not to duck out and take one more look-around or grab one more teeny tiny plant that was only $2 and needed a home where it would be loved . . . anyway, I cashed out, and honestly it was cheaper to get seven plants than to go out to brunch, so I did really well.

As I made my way to freedom, past the now even longer line, people looked at my hanging plant with envious eyes. “Did they have a lot left?”

I hustled my way past before anyone could offer me money for it.

The line was easily three times longer than when I went in—instead of extending just outside the building, the line now went around the building and into the parking lot. So if I waited 25 minutes, those people waited around 90. That’s a Space Mountain during spring break wait.

I made my way to my car, which was parked a full nautical league away, carrying this box and heavy hanging plant. My arms were shaking by the time I made it.

I had been at the gardens for two and a half hours.

When I got home, my cat was waiting for me with an expression of, “What did you bring home this time?”

The Apocalyptic Succulent Sale Confession time: I am a crazy plant lady. I take good care of them and they make me happy, so it's okay, right?

#ann arbor #anxiety #funny #gardening #plants #succulents

12 notes · View notes

cosmosogler · 7 years

Text

aaaa my hands get all sweaty when i hold a game controller. also i should really probably be wearing my glasses.

today i had such a nasty, tiring dream that i slept in! i got up at 9:25. so i slept in less than yesterday...

my dream was disorienting... i feel like it should have taken place in college, but it looked more like everyone was high school aged, and acted that way too. the topic kept changing, even though i stayed in more or less the same area for the whole dream. it was, like, a marketplace, with a farmer’s market, but also there were a lot of drab gray buildings with paper stuffed into every available space on every window. the road was dirt. everyone was playing some sort of game that i didn’t understand. also i was trying to shop, but i didn’t like anything i saw in any of the stores. and when i thought i had gotten to a store with what i was looking for (i don’t know what i was actually looking for, but i had a feeling it was in there!!!) i saw a bunch of burly, sweaty dudes with no faces. so i backed out haha. then the game changed? people were... trying to get behind each other? i think the technique was different for everyone. but they were trying to suck each others’ souls out and that was how they won for the round. i think... the participants were supposed to get better, at some point... but i wasn’t playing, just watching and trying to figure out the rules. eventually i wandered out into the playing field and started talking to some of the participants. they were friendly enough, but i kind of got the feeling they didn’t want me there. eventually the girl from the shining came out of the crowd, grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around, and sucked out my soul!!! it hurt a lot, indescribably. like... if your soul could get sucked out, that’s definitely what it would feel like!

i tried to scream but i couldn’t move at all. eventually i tried so hard that i woke up screaming. but i was in a weird unfamiliar place and my face was being shoved into the pillow. then my alarm went off and i woke up for real all sweaty and tired. cool!!!!!!!!!!!

so after that wonderful start to my day, i pet eve for a little bit, and then i got up and got ready for the day and stuff. i tried making some tea that i found in the cabinet... it wasn’t very good. i found the rest of the video games in the pile of stuff dad brought in from the garage last night. and i watched two episodes of cry plays: soma. it’s a really good game, but i wouldn’t be very good at it. horror games aren’t really under my “favorite genres” umbrella. instead of getting scared i get frustrated that i might have to replay a large portion of the game since traditionally save/heal points are pretty few and far between. it took me FOREVER to get through metroid prime because i would hover around the checkpoint nervously before continuing haha. half life was kind of a slog that way too, even though i really liked both those series.

then i went and picked up asher. i almost got hit when i was trying to get on the freeway... it’s always crowded at that particular exit and trying to actually get on the freeway is kind of dangerous. and nobody was using their turn signals today! and getting into the lane i was trying to get into while in my blind spot and also not using turn signals!!! and then i could tell the guy i accidentally cut off was SUPER mad because he started going like 90 miles an hour while everyone else was going 50 and cut in front of me and then swept over to the far lane. ok, buddy. like... yeah, ok, i could have probably spent more time figuring out if he was changing lanes right next to me or not. but when you use your turn signal you gotta hop over pretty quick or else people around you stop making room. i think since phoenix is so big, everyone feels like they have to drive 8-15 mph over the speed limit to get where they’re going in a reasonable amount of time. and also they don’t make room for you in the next lane over unless you turn on your turn signal, wait exactly 1 second, and then butt in. that’s literally the only way to get on the freeway some exits.

i avoid the exit lanes when i’m on the freeway unless i’m getting off at the next exit. honestly i’m shocked that i haven’t been in a crash yet.

anyway, i brought asher over to my house and we hung out in the living room exclusively. i guess that was ok, since the house is a total mess with half-unpacked boxes everywhere. i ripped my room apart today looking for the super nintendo. didn’t find it. mom found it later though in a box grouped with a bunch of my sister’s boxes. it was the only box i never checked because i thought we had already looked through it when we were searching for the wii u.

asher made me curse while i was in the car. he said something, and i repeated the sentence back to him in a “you’re not...” sort of way, and i didn’t realize i had said it until my mouth made a really unfamiliar shape haha. it wasn’t his fault, but i was kind of annoyed with myself for not paying attention to my words.

while asher and i were lounging around catching up on steven universe, my brother pointed out that doge had pooped on the floor in front of the back door. we didn’t notice... i felt stupid. my brother went and got dad, and then... he picked up diogi, shoved her nose in it, and then literally threw her outside. then he went outside and we didn’t hear anything for a really long time. my brother, asher, eve, wiley, and i kind of stared at each other awkwardly for a while.

like... hitting a dog is never ok. but i could understand being frustrated with maybe wiley, because he’s a young adult and should know better by now, and also he would theoretically have better control over his bodily functions. and he does go in the house, and it is frustrating. but doogles is hella old, and also disabled. she cannot walk for very long. she can hustle, but sometimes she falls down. i can’t imagine she can hold it for very long. she usually goes right after dinner... i don’t know why my brother didn’t let her outside after he fed them? and then, like, got mad at me when it happened?

i just need a break from dad for a while. i don’t understand why diogi likes him so much. he calls her a retard and hits her sometimes and doesn’t really brush her or anything. i think he exudes such a powerful “dad” aura that the dogs just defer to him. i mean, that’s how packs work, isn’t it? maybe doge thinks she owes her life to him since he took her from lonnie, who abused her more regularly.

dad interrupted our steven universe marathon but i don’t remember what he said. but, like, the show was actively on, and we were clearly watching it, and he felt the need to insert a conversation (run and participated in by him alone) over the dialogue. i’m not sure if asher really caught the ending or not.

anyway... after that asher and i headed out to michaels to get some markers. we talked about the show for a bit during the car ride. then we went to indian food, as is our habit. the usual waiter wasn’t there today, but i saw some new people. maybe it’s because we were there on the weekend instead of on thursday. then we talked about jojo for like two hours. it was great. we revisited a lot of the same topics that we have talked about before, but it’s been like three weeks since i last saw asher, so i didn’t really mind.

however my sense of direction was super out of whack for the whole drive, i could not figure out where i was or where the stores we were trying to get to were. i think i was stressed about diogi.

i was also really jittery. it may have been the tea from this morning... asher noticed. he said it might be anxiety. i would agree, but i’ve been like this for a really long time. as in, always. he also suggested adhd but i don’t seem to display any of the other symptoms of that. but you know what causes the restlessness and twitching? anxiety and depression. so maybe it was. i guess i’ve had depression for basically my whole life. my classmates at christian school used to make fun of me for it. the twitching, i mean.

however i was REALLY uncomfortable today, physically. i couldn’t get my ankles to sit right and i kept moving my legs while we were trying to watch tv. the jerking really only stops when i am actively exercising. even right afterward i’m right back to twitching and squirming.

nobody these days acknowledges it (except my group therapist; she points it out when she thinks i am more anxious than usual, but really i just do it constantly until someone notices and then i have to consciously stop). but i know they see it. it’s really hard to keep my eyes on something static for more than a few seconds... like a book or screen.

when i was filling out paperwork for the sleep study the doctors decided it was restless legs syndrome. but it’s every single muscle in my body ha... it feels like static is building up every time i don’t move and i have to MOVE or else it gets unbearable. i usually just wrinkle my nose, or jitter my knees, or tap or bump something with my palm just above the wrist.

anyway, it was worse than usual today, and it sucked, and was really annoying.

when i got home i booted up undertale and got through the mettaton fight, and also burned down undyne’s house. so i just gotta befriend alphys and that should complete everything i need for the pacifist run.

so now it’s 12:30. i’ve been writing for about 50 minutes... i got distracted trying to describe my problem to google. every word i use points back to anxiety...

but i fidget even on days when i’m not that stressed? i don’t get it.

tomorrow i find out if i am still going to have therapy at the hospital or not. i haven’t told anyone yet... i figured i would bring it up if it became relevant. like, if i wasn’t able to go any more. if i am allowed to continue, then there isn’t really a point in reporting it. i’m still stressed about it though...

i shall do my pokemons, and check some monday stuff, and then try to sleep. sure hope i don’t die horribly again in my dreams tonight!

1 note · View note

camillerosemarydasilva · 7 years

Text

Gabriel Elijah's Birth Story

So, I made the proverbial first-time-mom mistake of cancelling everything in the 9th month of pregnancy and sitting around in intense anticipation for the birth. I just knew I’d go early since I was measuring big. Of course.

So I sat in a rocking chair until a midwife told me that would keep the baby from descending. So then I switched to a birthing ball or a straight-back chair––or napping on the bed. Haha. I took walks around the neighborhood everyday, though my semi-daily two miles to and from mass had gradually shrunk to a very slow one mile or less. I drank turmeric shots from the local juice bar and had one memorable afternoon where slight contractions came every ten-fifteen minutes until a nap eliminated all uterine movement.

Except the baby, who loved to kick and had hiccups every afternoon.

I had a teeny-tiny breakdown at about 39 weeks and decided that I had to get busy or I’d go crazy, so I started working schedules and tax stuff and reading books. I cleaned the apartment. We ate Indian food. I even went on a fast waddle-walk down 21st Ave to church one Thursday evening in pouring rain at dark with cars splashing me every time they whizzed by, much to the horror of James.

The next Saturday, January 21, James and I went out to eat with friends who had a newborn and talked birth stories and experiences with the L&D department. After lunch, we went home and I took a very long, deep-sleep nap. James came over when I started to wake up and kissed me and asked how I was doing. I started to sit up and felt a tiny flow of water. I continued to sit up (it takes a while to ‘sit up’ at 40 weeks pregnant) and felt a very large, continuous gush. I stood up in disbelief as water puddled the floor…and kept on coming.

“Uh, James…James!” I said.

“What is that?” he said, looking down at the puddle.

“My water broke!”

I had tested GBS negative, so I didn’t have to go in for 12 hours or until my contractions were strong. It was about 4:30pm, so James and I decided to go to mass since we wouldn’t be able to tomorrow. I had absolutely zero feeling in my uterus. No contractions, nothing. My back ached a teensy-weensy bit. After mass we drove to my sister-in-law Lisa’s birthday party, under instructions from the midwife to have fun and then sleep as much as we could.

I had planned on telling everyone when I got there, but once I was there it felt a bit awkward to suddenly break out with: ‘Hey guys, I’m gushing amniotic fluid right now!” But eventually I got up the gumption to announce, and then worry took over. Once your water breaks you’ve got a time limit. If you don’t have contractions, you have to go on Pitocin to simulate labor, which is said to be much more painful since it doesn’t have the natural ebb and flow of natural labor. I had wanted a natural labor, med-free.

James and I took a quick sojourn to triage to make sure the baby’s heartbeat was strong, and then went home to sleep. Around 1am I woke up to a contraction, and kept on waking up every 30 or 40 minutes to more. But by 5am they were gone.

With the morning we went into hyper action. Water had been broken over 12 hours. I drank fluids and James and I went outside into the gorgeous January day, warm and full of sunshine. Hillsboro Village was blanketed in a Sunday morning stillness. My brother’s family met us on the road on their way to church with a packet of labor-inducing herbs that we borrowed from a friend midwife. And then, after a healthy dose of those, James and I did everything we had ever read to do on inducing labor. Walked over Belmont campus, went up and down stairs, curb hopped, kissed, drank more turmeric ginger shots from the Juice Bar, and finally, exhausted, met up with family for brunch. Still no contractions.

After brunch, my mother and sisters and I descended on the apartment for the Last Stand. We had three hours before we’d have to check in at the hospital to induce labor. Mama gave me copious amounts of blue and black cohosh and had me drink half a bottle of castor oil. Then Annie brought her electric breast pump and we tried that. We prayed. Finally, around 2:30pm, at 22 hours from water breaking, contractions started. They were every 3-5 minutes apart. Just strong enough to make me concentrate through them.

We sacked up and headed across the street to the hospital. I was afraid that the contractions would stop on arrival, as happened in so many birth stories I had read, but in the excitement of finding a place to park, walking to the L&D floor, then walking to triage, they ramped up, until I was stuck signing myself away at the welcome kiosk breathing heavily and having to squat with each contraction. It was all in my back. A tingling, aching sensation that was concentrated in my low spine.

I had done Hypnobabies, read Ina May Gaskin books and other literature on the energy of labor, preaching that women experiencing pain in childbirth was something that women were brainwashed into experiencing. I was totally, one hundred percent expecting that it would not be painful, just intense, and that taken in the right mindset, I’d be able to be calm and relaxed through the ‘energy’ and the ‘rushes’.

And at that moment, it was an energetic rush. I breathed, stayed calm, and went straight back into a L&D room since my water had been broken so long. The midwife at that shift was pretty brisk and was not very happy that I had taken so many herbs to induce labor. She checked me and found that I was only 1cm dilated, but that I was 90% effaced, which is half the battle. Somehow all the little back twinges I had been feeling over the last 24 hours had been working toward something.

The contractions were more intense now that the hustle and bustle of getting set up in a room, listening to the anesthesiologist’s pain-med offerings, and getting the IV put in (oh horror) was over. I had never been an inpatient at a hospital before so it was all new to me. They monitored me shortly, the baby’s heartbeat was very strong (and never faltered through the whole labor), and then I was left with no distractions but the contractions. I was on the bed, leaning forward against the raised back of the bed, coming up on all fours every time the vice took hold. I felt no sensation in my uterus, just fire in my low back. I tried for a short time to listen to the Hypnobabies birthing tapes and send ‘purple anesthesia’ to the pain in my back, but soon the contractions took over my entire existence so intensely that I forgot I ever did Hypnobabies or was supposed to not be in pain.

Every time James would press on my back to ease the gripping ache. I had a heating pad put on my back until I got so hot that we had to take it off. Finally I tried getting in the shower. The minute it fell on my back I didn’t feel the pain so much, I was able to concentrate and breathe through the contractions and take it in stride.

But the water slowed down the contractions, and so I was told to come back out. They were now 5+ minutes apart and I had been going a few hours. The staff shift had changed and I had the midwife I had wanted to have. I also had my husband, mother and sisters, sister-in-law and mother-in-law in the room with me. I had been worried about having so many people, but I found it was a welcome reminder that this was exciting and that there was a baby at the end of it.

I lay on the bed on my side. When a contraction started, I would sit up and squat off the bed, hanging from James’s neck. Poor James got very tired. When it ended I would lay down and actually fall asleep. I don’t know how it’s possible to go from such an intense feeling to total sleep, but it happened. My body knew it needed rehabilitation. The contractions came in 2s, one long hard one, one short medium one. They hooked the IV on while I lay down and put some sugar water in there to keep me hydrated.

Mama and my sisters coached me through contractions. My mother-in-law went home and got a back massager which she welded with expert muscle on my low back during each contraction. I don’t know what I would have done without that. The rumble and vibration of it dispersed the vice grip on my spine.

At some point the guys, who were all in the waiting room, brought pizza and everyone took turns leaving to go eat. I got a bit upset when James left to grab a bite until it dawned on me that I had been going for several hours and no one had eaten since lunch. I was shocked that it had been going on that long. I had absolutely no desire for food and my psyche was so taken up in what was happening that the hours had literally slipped away.

Then the castor oil kicked in. I would lay on the bed in the few minutes between contractions, sit up to vomit into a bag, squat down for the contraction(s), lay back down, rush to the bathroom for the other end, have contractions on the toilet alone for a while with a pillow at my back, pressing against the walls with my hands and against the floor with my feet, while Mama reminded me through the door that I needed to relax so that I didn’t hinder the labor progress. Even in the action of it all I was very intent on not making a mess anywhere. I couldn’t bear to be in filth. And the rotation kept on for an hour or so until the castor oil wore off, and so did my contractions.

At this point it was sometime past midnight. I had been in labor for 30 hours and in active hard labor for 8, and had had only a little sleep the night before. The midwife, Kate, came in to monitor. We needed to get the baby out soon. She knew I wanted a natural labor and did not posit meds, but said that she could bring in the breast pump to try to to get the contractions closer together than 5 minutes. The idea of doing the breast pump again made me want to cry. I was so exhausted, the breast pump hurt, especially with contractions going at the same time, and I didn’t believe that it would really work. I was very disappointed in my body at this point.

Then Mama suggested I just go ahead and get on Pitocin. I had been going so long and if I didn’t get the baby out soon, I would get so tired that a C-section would be inevitable. I was shocked, since my mother is a huge proponent of natural childbirth.

“But won’t it hurt a lot more?”

Kate, the midwife, said that in her experience it didn’t actually make the labor more painful, it just made the contractions more even. So I said yes and tried to steel myself for what would come.

She put me on a very tiny, steady drip of Pitocin. And then I was in the game. The contractions came strong and steady every 3 minutes. I sat on the side of the bed, then would stand and hang on James while I tried to open my legs and squat down, wishing the baby out. My mother-in-law wielded the heavy back massager for the hours, dispersing the pain in my back. Mama and my sisters coached me through the contractions.

I would moan as each contractions gripped me, feeling like my spine was about to be crushed. I tried to think of Jesus’s suffering, to join my suffering with his. I kept saying, “Jesus, help me! Jesus, help me!” with every contraction.

And then Mama said, “Camille, He is helping you.”

That went all over me like a bucket of ice water. I felt slightly embarrassed that I hadn’t been recognizing that before. And then I was able to take it. I started breathing through the contractions, I focused, I accepted the pain and tried to ready myself for ‘transition’, which was supposed to be even worse.

Then I started having a bit of bloody show on the chuck pad beneath me. The midwife would come in and out, feeling my stomach as it labored. She had not checked my dilation at all since there was risk of infection from my water being broken, so I didn’t have an idea where I was in the labor process. I thought I couldn’t be ready to push. But I did feel an intense need to poop right then and there.

And suddenly those magical words from the midwife. “I think she’s ready to push.”

Apparently I had been in transition and hadn’t even noticed. Suddenly there were more nurses in the room, the bed had transformed into a donut shape, a great plastic bag was below it to measure bleeding, and I was being propped up on the edge and James was behind me for support.

Excitement took over. The baby had moved past the place in my spine that hurt so bad and now I barely felt the contractions. Suddenly I knew this was going to be fun. The midwife checked me, and said I was 100% effaced. She put her finger on the baby’s head and told me to push. I pushed and felt the head come past the hip bones.

The midwife smiled. “Good work! That was great. Now just push with the contractions. Try to rest in between.”

I was so excited now that the pain was gone that it was hard to be disciplined. Especially since it was not very hard to feel when exactly the contractions were happening. It was just a tingling sensation. I was super surprised that pushing out a baby feels like the biggest BM of your life. I kept pushing, asking “Do you all see anything? Do you see anything?” after every push.

And then finally I felt a burning sensation, a taut stretching, the head squeezing through, and then a closing, and the head was out and then the body slipped out in one great bloody gush and my baby was being laid on my chest. I couldn’t believe it! It was over!

He cried a little and I just held him, looking down at his little face and his great big nose, his nostrils flaring, and the bunch of black hair that was on his head. We immediately knew that the name Gabriel Elijah was right for him. He was just as I had always imagined he would be.

I don’t remember much about this time, but my mother said that I said, “Well, I had a baby!” And everyone laughed. I also remember suddenly remembering that I had forgot to remember Hypnobabies during the labor, and saying, “Man, Hypnobabies! What a crock!” Which made everyone laugh. James held the baby, and then the grandparents and family held him while I was stitched up (oh horror!)

Pushing had only taken half an hour. I felt blessed. Gabriel was born at 4:26am, a full 36 hours from when my water broke. It was January 23, my Grandpa Bill’s birthday. It was the most incredible experience of my life and I was fiercely glad I had felt everything.

And then they were measuring and weighing the baby. He was 8 lb 10 oz, and that was with me being on an intense third trimester diet! They thought he was 20.5 inches, but a few days later once he had stretched out a little the pediatrician measured him at 21.5 inches.

Then they wheeled the baby away because he was grunting and they wanted to check his air passages. I wasn’t able to concentrate very well. I had lost a liter and a half of blood, very dangerous since I’ve always been anemic. We had to vacate the room and go to the postpartum floor, and there was a bustle of movement as I was put in a wheelchair and all our stuff was gathered up and a crew helped us move. Everyone but Mama and Gretchen finally went home to get some rest after the all-nighter.

Finally we got to the room and the nurses helped me get comfortably in bed. They squashed down my uterus and continued to monitor blood loss. I sent James after Gabriel to try to get them to bring him back to me. After an hour or so it became necessary to empty my bladder so that the uterus could get back into place and wouldn’t hemorrhage, which could mean death for me. The nurses helped me walk to the toilet but I was so swollen that I couldn’t pee. As I was sitting on the toilet, the nurses standing over me, I suddenly found myself in a room talking with a tall man in a long coat, and other people milling around. Then I felt a great wind in my face and heard voices calling out of the distance and came back to the bathroom and the toilet seat. I had fainted. The nurses were waving a piece of paper on my face like mad, yelling at me and I saw the look of shock on my mother’s face and James, who had come back to say the baby was fine. Mama says I was as white as a sheet and they were afraid I had died.

They wheeled me back to bed on a dolly, telling me to look at them, look at them, and then I was again in the dark room. This time I came out of the faint quickly and they got me back into bed.

We discussed putting in a catheter, since it was imperative that my bladder empty lest I hemorrhage, but when they touched me to clean before they inserted it I screamed with pain and begged to try to pee again. So they rolled me to the toilet and thankfully I was able to empty my bladder. They brought me back to the bed and I fainted again in the process of being put onto the bed.

The nurse was very defensive and hard to deal with throughout. My mother and my sister Gretchen had stayed through the ordeal, though they had been up for hours and it was now around 6:30am. I was brought a plate of eggs and sausage and potatoes from the restaurant down the street and a huge beet smoothie. Our family probably spent hundreds of dollars feeding us excellent, hearty food and nutritious smoothies and juices over the next two days. I started calling the nurses, trying to annoy them into bringing Gabriel back to me. James went and stood beside Gabriel in the nursery, making sure they didn’t do anything we didn’t want them to do.

Finally, after having had him about 2 hours, they brought him back. He wasn’t interested in nursing now. Mama and Gretchen went home and were replaced by my brother Alex and sister-in-law Berklee, and then my mother-in-law Kathy. I held Gabriel close, skin to skin, and would sleep little bits until a nurse came into the room and then pretend I was awake, so they wouldn’t take the baby away from me. I wasn’t accepting any of the hospital’s push to keep my baby in a cold plastic bassinet when he’d spent his entire existence inside of me. I kept him with me and only laid him in the bassinet long enough to take a shower the next morning. The lactation consultant came in a few times and helped me establish nursing with him.

It was a slow recovery. The nurse on shift changes went from saying I fainted three times to saying I fainted a ‘little bit’. Gabriel thrived. Every check up they would take his vitals while he nestled beside me in the hospital bed. I was intent on keeping his body temperature regulated so they wouldn’t take him away again. I barely slept for the 2 days, I was so worried they would take him from me. I talked to him and stared at him. He was so beautiful to me. The labor was still traumatic in my mind, but it was slowly fading and the beauty of my baby replacing it.

When it was time to come home we were quite a sight to see, me all bundled up in pajamas and a coat and Gabriel teeny tiny in his car seat. We went across the street to our apartment and found that my siblings had been in and cleaned the place and decorated it with lights and a Welcome Baby sign. It was beautiful!

A week into recovery I started bleeding more heavily again, passing blood clots the size of gum balls. My sister Annie had invited us to dinner that night but I called her to say I had to stay at home because I was terrified that moving around was going to make me bleed more. I started crying as I talked. After the conversation I sat in bed, holding Gabriel and rocking back and forth, sobbing, thinking I was going to hemorrhage and die and leave Gabriel without me. There is no bond like the bond of mother and child. Even now I can’t take anything mentioning parents dying and leaving little ones.

Clotting a week postpartum was not normal. The midwives sent me to get an ultrasound to make sure there was no placenta still in the uterus. Mama and Annie and Gretchen took me in the wheelchair to the ultrasound place, where I felt generally whoozy and was seen by the first-aid man who was able to get our hemoglobin reports back from Vanderbilt and we found that my blood count had come from a 7.5 to a 9.5 in only a week, which was great. I felt relief pour over me. If I hemorrhaged I probably wouldn’t bleed out. I was going to be around for Gabriel.

After that James and I went to live with my mother for a couple weeks. I did nothing but lay on the couch and watch movies and eat good food and hold my beautiful baby boy. There is no love like it.

When I got married I was surprised at how deep my love for James was, how deeply we knew each other. But having a baby, the depth of married love was nothing to it. The floodgates of love opened up, took me down to the depths. I kept Gabriel with me, I wore him in my baby wrap, I talked to him and sung to him. I was fully needed, fully and unquestioningly loved. It is better than anything life has to offer.

#childbirth #baby #motherhood #birth story

0 notes

bestportablewm · 4 years

Text

Best Zero Gravity Chair for Back Pain

For those of us who have to sit at a desk for extended periods of time, having chronic back pain and back-related issues can make this difficult. Many individuals are discovering the benefits of using zero gravity chairs to fight their back pain. Discover several of the best zero gravity chairs for back pain below.

Developed from the model introduced by NASA, the anti-gravity chairs are the health-friendly zero gravity chairs that comes with the zero gravity model, slightly bend upright position, steel framework and built-in curve that allows you to have a healthy sitting. Whether you are working for long hours at the office desk or whether you are sitting for long hours reading your favorite books at the vacation spot, the anti-gravity chairs are what you need. It has the great quality of relieving you from back pressure that usually comes from sitting for long hours, increases your blood pressure, eases your movement and allows space for your legs to elevate so that you do not have any back pain or neck pain

Top Zero Gravity Chair For Chronic Back Pain 2020

Name: Rating:Price on Amazon: EVER ADVANCED Oversize XL Zero Gravity Recliner 4.9 Four Seasons Oversize XL Extra Wide Seat 4.8

How to Decide on your Preferred Zero Gravity Chair?

There are different types of zero gravity chairs from different series of models that you can choose to purchase. For example, there is the caravan canopy zero gravity chair, zero gravity chairs, zero gravity office chair etc. The classic, zero gravity chair has the exclusive features in its built-in curve which are designed according to the Orthonomic body frame. In most of our chairs, there is the option and comfort of elevating your legs and sitting in the upright position which is good for your health. The zero gravity position is the most positive aspect for which our products are sold very quickly among customers.

Zero Gravity Chair Health Benefits

Zero gravity recliners are chairs designed to remove the pressure built up in the back while helping to bring the whole body frame into a full relaxation mode through various specifically targeted routines. Relaxation means more than lying down on a sofa, it means to be completely weightless and at peace both within the body and soul and this is something that everyone needs. Given the hustle and bustle of day to day work, a good time spent on a zero-gravity recliner can help bring the body back into full speed and health.

Zero gravity recliners are different from normal recliners and the different lies in the concept behind the design. A good understanding of the connection of gravity force and the position of relaxation or being upright will help you appreciate the concept of zero gravity recliners.

When the spine is in an upright position such as when you are standing up or leaning on something, the whole of the body is counteracting the force of gravity and to help maintain a full-body balance, the muscles of the body and the spinal disc compresses in reaction to the action of gravity. This, however, exerts enough pressure on the back. This is why we get tired and stressed and that’s why SLEEP is invented to relieve this stress.

However, since there will be times we will love to relieve the pains in the lower and upper back and in the neck area which is built up by prolonged sitting and wrong sleeping positions, the zero gravity recliner can always be of help. This chair is designed to be able to defy the law of gravity. The moment the user is positioned on the zero gravity recliner, the whole body structure reclines at an approximate of 170 degrees whilst the legs are elevated above the head at an angle of about 90 degrees at the thighs and hips.

The concept claims that at this position, there is completely no pressure exerted on the muscles of the back and the spinal disc, you will actually feel like you are floating in the sky. Actually, this design is adopted from the technologies used in outer space by the NASA for Astronauts who face a terrible force of gravity while shooting out of the Earth’s planet. The zero-gravity seats make them recline, fighting the pressure built as the spaceship moves out of space until they eventually recline at a zero gravity.

The zero gravity recliner is especially good for folks who have been suffering from built-up stress in the upper and lower back. It also helps reduce tension levels in the body by facilitating the increased level of oxygen in the blood.

How to Pick a Zero Gravity Recliner

Just as with clothes, appliances, cars, and every other product out there, brand names play a substantial role in determining the price of a zero gravity recliner as well. Those who hunt and camp regularly will be familiar with a lot of the brands of these recliners. Again, a little bit of brand and consumer review research will help you determine whether a certain zero gravity recliner is priced highly due to the high quality materials it was built with, the brand name, or both.

Whether you are looking for a comfortable way to stake out on a hunt or you are looking for a way to relax comfortably while getting sun on the beach, a zero gravity outdoor recliner may be just what you need. They are very comfortable and quite simply put, they are just cool. These chairs have made a level of comfort possible while still enjoying and basking in the outdoors that you’ve never been able to experience before. You can acquire a zero gravity recliner pretty inexpespively, and the fact that they are foldable makes bringing them along on any outdoor excursion an absolute must.

3 Different Types of Zero Gravity Chairs

Foldable Zero Gravity Chairs

Making a foldable version of these zero gravity recliner chairs has caused a massive spike in the popularity of these chairs. If you have never sat in a chair that is “zero gravity” than I highly suggest you try one out immediately. For those of you who have, you already know that they are the most comfortable chair out there. The ability to affordably acquire a zero gravity folding recliner has made it not only possible but almost necessary to take one or many of these chairs along with you on your camping trips or other outdoor excursions such as children’s sports events, etc. They are without a doubt the most comfortable chair you can get for camping or outdoor environments , they are very convenient thanks to being foldable, and they have become very affordable thanks to an explosion of manufacturers and retailers offering this fantastic chair.

Anti Gravity Chair for Patio or Poolside Use

While you can certainly use a foldable version of this chair as poolside furniture or furniture on your deck or patio, perhaps a version of these extraordinarily comfortable chairs that is not foldable would be a better fit for this use. While the foldable chairs are very convenient while maintaining excellent comfort, they do sacrifice a bit of stability and perhaps longevity due to the folding feature. The difference in stability is a result of the extra hinges that are in place that make foldable chairs foldable. These hinges also play a role in how long the chair will last. Now, when you aren’t folding and unfolding the chair regularly that will certainly increase the life of the chair as would be the case when used as poolside or patio furniture. However, the extra hinges will still be more likely to break or malfunction more quickly than a chair without those hinges that make a chair foldable. These chairs are a great alternative to typical couch style outdoor furniture because not only are they much cheaper, they are much less affected by the elements and dirt and grime. Cushions get filthy with rain and wind and cleaning them can be very tedious, not to mention they easily blow away in windy weather. Recliners with the zero gravity feature don’t have cushions so obviously you don’t have to worry about cushions blowing away. Also, a quick spray of the hose will have these comfortable and cheap recliners clean in a jiffy.

High-End Indoor Zero Gravity Massage Recliners

These recliners are by far the most expensive, I mean up to 100 times as expensive as the outdoor and foldable types. There also is not a better, more comfortable, more relaxing or more soothing chair out there. These chairs are not for every budget, but you would be hard-pressed to find a single person that wouldn’t fall in love with one of these chairs after just a couple of minutes in one. Recliners that are zero gravity are simply the most comfortable and relaxing chairs. The high end indoor zero gravity lounger is a top-quality massage chair with the latest in massage technology built-in so you can enjoy a zero gravity massage, as it were. One glance at the price tag of one of these chairs could have many of you scoffing instantly. However, that scoffing would be instantly eliminated if you were to sit in one of these chairs for just a couple of minutes. By the way, believe me when I say it would be nearly impossible to get you out of one of these chairs after just a couple of minutes. Again, this is NOT a cheap recliner, but when it comes to style and comfort, there simply isn’t anything that competes with this product.

Conclusion

No matter what your budget or environment, there is a zero-gravity recliner that will fit perfectly into your life. The comfort they provide is really unbelievable until you experience it for yourself and the fact that they are as affordable as they are now, there is no excuse or reason why you should not have one or many of these for your comfort and relaxation. These chairs have exploded onto the scene and there is a reason why they are as popular and as in demand as they are, a very good reason.

The post Best Zero Gravity Chair for Back Pain appeared first on Best Portable Reviews.

from Best Portable Reviews https://bestportablereview.com/best-zero-gravity-chair-for-back-pain/

0 notes

olivereliott · 4 years

Text

Review: Riding the (frankly bonkers) Arch KRGT-1

I’ve just swung a leg over the most exclusive production motorcycle we’ve ever tested: the $85,000 Arch KRGT-1. It’s a made-to-order performance cruiser, with unapologetic looks to match that hefty price tag.

But do Arch owners Keanu Reeves and Gard Hollinger actually know what they’re doing—or is this just a vanity project for a Hollywood star? And how much bike do you get for Tesla Model X money? I flew from Cape Town to LA to find out.

Along with a select few other media outlets, Bike EXIF was invited to Arch’s hometown of Los Angeles to ride the KRGT-1, visit the company’s headquarters, and pick the brains of Reeves and Hollinger.

The KRGT-1 concept came from Reeves himself: he wanted an American-made cruiser that would actually handle. So he commissioned Hollinger, an experienced custom bike builder, to customize his 2005 Harley-Davidson Dyna. By the time Hollinger was done, the motor was the only original part left.

Reeves loved the result. And after some initial resistance, Hollinger agreed to use it as a prototype for a production model. Arch Motorcycle and the KRGT-1 were born.

Reeves is the antithesis of the typical Hollywood type. He’s humble, passionate and deeply knowledgeable, and his investment in Arch goes way beyond just dollars. He’s also the company’s primary road tester, racking up more miles on development bikes than anyone else in Arch.

Hollinger and senior Arch staffer Ryan Boyd told me that every time Reeves takes a bike out, he comes back with a list of changes—often unrelated to the aspect of the bike he’s supposed to be testing.

Reeves’ uncanny ability to ‘feel out’ a bike, and provide usable feedback, is one of the things that persuaded Hollinger to pull the trigger on Arch. Hollinger himself talks about their projects in a steady, considered manner—giving away just how experienced he is, and how obsessive he is over every little detail.

Development at Arch is ongoing and never-ending. This new version of the KRGT-1 was born out of the constant drive to improve, and the need to meet Euro4 emissions standards. It’s hard to tell the old and new models apart at a quick glance, but it’s a huge step forward. There are over twenty major changes, with a total of 150 newly designed parts.

Each KRGT-1 is assembled like a giant Meccano set, by Arch’s ten-plus staff. It starts with a high backbone frame, which looks incomplete until you bolt on the CNC-machined aluminum subframe and tail structure. The fuel tank is also aluminum, and acts as a stressed member of the frame.

The new swingarm is a distinguishing feature; a curvaceous aluminum unit that’s visually bigger than before, but weighs five pounds less. It mounts directly to the rear shock with no additional linkages—a deliberate move to have fewer moving parts.

The shock itself is a custom unit from Öhlins, who also supplied the front forks. High-end parts tailored specifically to Arch’s needs are a recurring theme throughout the KRGT-1: the wheels are five-spoke carbon units from BST, but with hubs specific to the bike. And the brakes are a combo of ISR calipers, Bosch ABS electronics, and Magura master cylinders and controls.

Power’s handled via a proprietary six-speed transmission with a special high torque main shaft, and a hydraulic clutch. The final drive is via a chain.

The motor is a specially designed 124 ci 45-degree V-twin from S&S Cycle, and it’s both EPA- and CARB-certified. (That’s a two-liter engine, for those of you on the metric system.) But instead of breathing through a big fat filter that sticks out on the side, it sucks air through a proprietary downdraught system.

Air ducts in the headlight surround channel air down to the area between the two halves of the fuel tank, and into a K&N filter housing. Everything is specific to the KRGT-1: the filter, its housing, and even the rubber boot connecting it to the intake.

The exhaust is a combination of hand-built headers, and a muffler made in-house from parts supplied by Yoshimura. It’s a great system that adds sport bike style and gives off a forceful bark.

There’s no doubt that the KRGT-1’s aesthetic is seriously polarizing (we can’t even agree on it here at Bike EXIF), but I’m into it. There’s an undeniable flow from front to back, and nothing feels out of place. It’s also one of the cleanest production bikes out there, with not a single unsightly wire or tube, and is way less bulky than it looks in photos.

Since the KRGT-1 is usually made-to-order with a 90-day turnaround, Arch only had three next-gen bikes on test—in red, blue and grey, with varying parts finishes showing off the range of customization. If bright colors aren’t your thing, just order yours in black.

The bike I rode most of the test bore the initials ‘KRYK-1’ on the muffler, a reference to the International Klein Blue color that Reeves picked for the paint. The dash is from Motogadget, and the switches are made by Domino specifically for Arch.

They work well, but they’re plastic—and on a motorcycle laden with so much gorgeous metal, I think there’s potential for something special here. I can’t fault the rest of the parts spec though, which also features a lot of Rizoma trim. The headlight’s pretty neat too—it’s an LED unit from JW Speaker, with adaptive cornering lighting built in.

There are carbon fiber fenders at both ends too, and optional heat shields on different points along the exhaust headers. (The front heat shield bolts neatly to the motor, as an example of how well put together everything is.)

Every last finish is top grade—from the paint and anodizing to the seat upholstery. Even the mandatory license plate bracket, mounted off the swingarm, is borderline art.

Touring Arch’s Los Angeles manufacturing facility was a rare treat, and the sheer scale of the operation blew my mind. It takes about 1,200 pounds of aluminum billet to produce the machined parts for one motorcycle—but 90 % of that ends up as recyclable shavings.

Take the split fuel tank, for example. It’s made of sections that go through multiple phases of CNC machining, before they’re ready to be welded shut with insanely good-looking welds. All of that takes 40 hours, per tank.

All these parts have tooling marks that have been designed to create a feeling of motion across all surfaces. What’s more, when you strip the parts down, you’ll notice special cavities and cutouts all over—either for mounting other components into, or for channeling wiring.

The HQ is not open to the public, except when you’ve made an appointment to order your own KRGT-1. The order process starts with a consultation, so that Arch can tailor each bike to not only their client’s taste, but their body too. (No two KRGT-1s will ever leave the factory the same way.)

For ergonomics, the footpeg position can be varied via custom mounting plates and adjustable pegs, the seat can be set deeper or further back, and the bars can be adjusted too. There’s also a fair amount of freedom around liveries and the anodized and raw finishes.

There’s no option for mid-mount pegs though. I originally questioned the idea of a long wheelbase, fat rear tire and forward controls on a performance motorcycle. So I asked Reeves and Hollinger [above] if that was a deliberate move to maintain an element of cruiser DNA in the KRGT-1, and they confirmed it.

The truth is, this was never meant to be a sports naked—only a performance cruiser. A combination of the things Reeves liked about the cruisers he was riding before he approached Hollinger, but with performance turned up to eleven.

Riding the KRGT-1 To put that performance to the test, we rode from our hotel in sleepy Pasadena towards the endlessly meandering roads of the Angeles Crest Highway. Was I nervous riding an $85,000 motorcycle, of which only three prototypes currently exist? Little bit.

Hitting the starter button quickly reminded me that the KRGT-1 is a pure American muscle bike. That 124 ci V-twin is nothing short of monstrous, with ample bark and bite. And as you’d expect from a mill this size, it shakes. And it gets pretty hot, too. But Arch make no apologies for this—it’s all part and parcel of this type of bike, really.

That ethos is pushed further with the use of a traditional cable throttle. There’s no ride-by-wire, no traction control and no rider aids beyond ABS…which gives the KRGT-1 a refreshingly visceral nature.

The KRGT-1 weighs in at 538 lbs [244 kg] dry—over 100 lbs less than the new Harley-Davidson Low Rider S, and in the same ballpark as BMW’s R1250 GS. It’s a big bike, but not a total lump.

The weight, and the heat and shimmy from the motor, make it a bit of a handful from stop light to stop light in traffic. But the second I hit the open road, I whacked the throttle wide open, tucked into the deep seat and felt the KRGT-1 come into its own.

I found Arch’s six-speed transmission pretty stiff at first, and hard to get into neutral too. But then I rode the other bike on hand that day, and it was far more compliant. I discovered that the hydraulic clutch simply needed to be bled. It’s understandable—the bike I was riding was Reeves’ personal test mule; a prototype build with over 3,000 miles on it already.

The beastly S&S Cycle power plant is well tuned, with masses of usable torque. Arch and S&S didn’t just grab a motor off the shelf and pop it in the KRGT-1—they spent a lot of time fine-tuning it, and it shows.

There’s 122 Nm [90 lb.-ft] at the back wheel. But rather than peak at a tangible point in the rev range, most of it is on hand, most of the time. So while I was hustling the KRGT-1 through the endless blissful corners of Angeles Crest, I seldom had to hit the gear shifter. Instead, I could just roll on and off the throttle.

Cornering with the KRGT-1 is a revelation too. Despite the rider triangle and stretched wheelbase, it’s remarkably intuitive through turns. It takes hardly any effort to pitch it over—and once it’s there, it holds the line like it’s on rails.

How did Arch get this so right? I’d say there’s a few reasons. For starters, carbon wheels and an aluminum swing arm go a long way to reduce unsprung mass, and you really feel it through corners. But it’s also the fact that the KRGT-1’s a ground-up build, with every component front to back designed to work in unison.

The entire chassis feels stiff and connected. And the suspension works well too, keeping the bike planted with no vagueness or wallowing. And with the 19F/18R wheel combo and the KRGT-1’s relative tallness, you’ve got a lot more room to lean than you have on most cruisers.

There’s a ton of modulation (and power) in the brakes too. I grabbed a handful early on and sent the nose into a sharp dive, before realizing that all the ISR units needed was a gentle tap to slow the bike down. Once I’d figured that out, I was feathering the front with a finger or two while trail braking into corners. Yip: trail braking on a cruiser.

As someone who actually digs riding cruisers, I didn’t hate the forward controls at all. I get why the KRGT-1 is setup like this, and actually like it. And I really liked the setup of the bars and seat, too, though the tank contours weren’t in the right place, and I ended up sitting a bit wide-legged.

I also found that my butt and lower back were mad at me towards the end of the ride, just from sitting in a hunched position for long. I’m a big guy though, and my regularly-sized riding partner on the day had no such issues. The two bikes we were riding had tangibly different ergonomics too, so some setup time might yield improvements.

The ride was remarkably fun, but afterwards I wondered how many of Arch’s customers simply buy into the concept of owning an exclusive boutique motorcycle—and how many actually appreciate the KRGT-1’s ride dynamics.

So I asked Arch’s client and communications manager, Jordan Mastagni. He said that most customers are avid motorcyclists who are drawn to the bike specifically due to its capabilities.

Arch also have a strong focus on the ownership experience. They’re hands-on during the ordering process, and each bike ships with an ‘owner’s box’ with a custom-made key, a special tool for adjustments, and a book detailing the unique build process. Arch once even sent a technician all the way to Australia to fix what turned out to be a minor issue.

That level of obsession and dedication is written all over the KRGT-1. From the outlandish level of build quality to the unusually good riding experience, it’s a remarkable and special motorcycle.

Sure, it still has a lot of cruiser DNA, but my gut says that will be a selling point for Arch customers.

And ultimately, it rides unlike any other cruiser out there.

Arch Motorcycle | Facebook | Instagram | Images by Alessio Barbanti and Arnaud Puig

Wes’ gear ICON 1000 Variant Pro helmet | Harley-Davidson Trego riding shirt | ICON 1000 Nightbreed gloves | Saint Unbreakable stretch denims | ICON 1000 Varial boots

0 notes

mercadosadaf · 5 years

Text

The HVMN Ketone Triathlete Project: Part 4

Before I get into the gritty details of the results, I would recommend checking out part 2 and part 3 of this project to familiarize yourself with the science and reason behind doing such a (some might call stupid, but I prefer, fun) experiment. In this final installment, I am going to go over the results, “findings,” and future recommendations.

I should also first note that HVMN kindly provided me with ketone esters and ketone blood strips for this project. I paid for import fees and duties.

All future purchases (SPOILER Alert: I will be definitely be making more purchases) will be on my own dollar without any discounts or kickbacks. I had complete autonomy and control over the content of the blogs, the personal research that I did, the structure of the workout, and the results (that is, they did not pay me to sandbag the workouts). Alright, with that out of the way, let’s get into what happened…

The workout that I have labeled the “Tetris Brick” consisted of 4 hours of:

1000 m on the SwimErg as 4 rounds of 50 m hard above threshold, 200m cruise at 85-90% of my swim critical power or CP.

45 min on TrainerRoad doing the Deerhorn -4 workout which consists of 2 rounds of 4 x 4 min at 92-94% FTP with two 30s surges in the mix.

To see what this looked like in real time check out the video I created (Part 2 of the videos):

youtube

So how did it go? First, let’s look at the big picture then get into more of the details to see what happened. And, don’t worry: I will discuss the obvious limitations of this experiment and some final thoughts.

Overall Results

Overall, the whole workout went better than expected. When designing this workout, I knew it was going to be tough, and the first hour certainly was. I think I needed a longer warm up because my perceived exertion and heart rate was slightly higher than expected. However, after the first round of intervals, I started to feel pretty darn good.

By the second and third hour, I was cruising! My mind and body seemed to be completely in sync and focused. Nothing else mattered but the interval I was on. I even forgot to record some video. Fueling was steady with about 150 calories per hour which is about half of what I typically consume.

At hour 2, I had another bottle of HVMN ketones and hopped right back in. I was going strong until the final hour. At the three hour mark, I began to fade — not mentally but physically. The snap in my arms and legs simply was not there like it was. My mind was saying: “Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go” and my legs were saying “F#c$ you!”.

It was a weird feeling to have my body give out before my brain like that. By the middle of the last interval, my body had had enough.

It was a like a power switch had been turned off. I tried reducing the intensity, but even then there was nothing. Despite my mind racing like the Energizer bunny, I knew that it was time to throw in the towel. My body had hit its limits for my current fitness. I stopped the workout and did an easy cooldown.

The Objective Nitty-Gritty

Now, let’s look at the Objective results.

Here are my ketone levels over the course of the four hours:

Reading Number Time Ketone levels 1 Baseline 0.1 2 30 min after bottle 1 1.1 3 60 min into the workout 1 4 Two hours in (2.75 hrs from the first bottle) 0.3 5 15 min after the second bottle 2.2 6 Before the final bike (1 hour before post 2nd bottle) 2 7 After workout 0.6

Phinney and Volek, two researchers on the forefront of low carb fueling, ketones, and ketosis, define ketosis as .5 mmol/L and above.

So you can see that one bottle put me into a state of ketosis and kept me there for roughly two hours. Based on these results, we know that the ketone esters do what they say: put you into ketosis without having to go low carb. Moreover, they keep you in ketosis, while still allowing you to top off and fuel with sugar.

While being in ketosis allows you to spare glycogen stores, meaning you burn less sugar at higher intensities, you are still burning sugar and thus need to replenish them albeit with fewer calories.

It is important to note here that it is hard to say whether my crossover point (where I go to burning almost all sugars) was bumped up because of the ketone esters. I think that will be the next experiment.

Looking at my watts, you can see that they remained steady for all four hours. It is important to note that the IF and NP include the warmup and cooldown on the bike.

When these are spliced out IF and NP goes up. As you can see, each round was almost identical and right in that Olympic race pace zone. When looking at the 30s surges on the bike and swim, my power also remained steady.

Workout Normalized power Intensity Factor (IF) Swim 1 71 0.84* Bike 1 273 0.92 Swim 2 73 0.85 Bike 2 275 0.91 Swim 3 73 0.86 Bike 3 273 0.91 Swim 4 78 .92 Bike 4 269 0.92**

*Including 200m warmup **Denotes the first half IF. .84 for the whole workout.

My third round bike power file

A sample power file of the Vasa SwimErg. Note the ANT+ drop out after the first surge.

The Subjective Experience

Now let’s get a bit more into the fuzzy area of my personal experience. In my Google sleuthing since the experiment, others have had very similar experiences to my own, but keep in mind that your mileage may vary. Some people have said that they experience GI distress when consuming these (see the research paper that I posted in part 3) and this hindered their TT performance. However, I never had an issue even on the sprints. Yes, it is not the most pleasant of beverages.

But it works, which is the important part. It tastes like watts. You also get used to it quickly; after a few swallows of water, I was good.

Regarding recovery, I did not really notice a difference. I was able to hustle off to work without issue and focus through the rest of the day. The next day, I woke up and trained normally. I have no idea though whether this had anything related to the ketones but it was nice not to feel completely gutted afterward.

As I said before, my RPE was high on the first round but dropped in the second and third. Even in the final round, I felt fine despite my muscles not wanting to work. Typically, my brain fails well before my body, or I run into either not fueling enough or too much and have GI distress. I also know what it is like to mentally fail where I just want to quit and throw in the towel.

This was a different type of “wall.” My interpretation of what I felt is that I found the limits of physical fitness, which is a good place to be. When you fuel correctly, your mind and body can push itself further and find your current limitations (or pretty darn close to it).

I was not in a flow state nor an endorphin high but more of the feeling of laser-like focus and determination. I bet it’s like how Rocky Balboa felt when he was training to fight Mr. T.

Now I know how long I can go at this intensity and can train to push that a little further next time. With more training and the same fueling strategy, I might be able to go the whole 4 hours or maybe even 5.

Limitations, unanswered questions, and future directions

As you can tell, this was not a fancy laboratory experiment; it was a basic DIY n=1 trial.

I did my best to control the variables that I could, but it was not double-blind (meaning I did not know whether I was consuming the ketones or a placebo beverage). It would be awesome to do something like that but for now, this will have to do. Admittedly, a double-blind test would be tough to design at home given the unique taste of the ketone esters. (Side note/challenge: If you can design a better test, I would gladly conduct it).

Could the performance have been a placebo? Possibly. If it was, the placebo worked really well. What is not a placebo is the fact that my blood ketones rose after consumption.

How much of this was related to my fitness? Would you have been able to go for all four hours if you used HVMN ketones? It all depends. A less fit person might have gone 2 hours before failure and a more fit person most likely would have been able to go 5 or 6 before failure. However, in either scenario, I believe that those athletes would be able to push their upper fitness limits at the same intensity.

Also this was at just under threshold with surges but not sprints, so I am still not sure whether ketones could work for something like a criterium race where your power is relatively low while you are in the draft pack then sprint well over threshold. I would think that it would because you are sparing glycogen throughout the race while drafting so that you can have plenty of sugar to burn when you do sprint. This might be another future test.

Despite it being n=1, I am a typical age group triathlete and not a pro athlete or remarkably strong on the bike or swim. I am just your triathlete next door, so I do think that my experience is reflective of a large group of athletes.

Overall Conclusions and Recommendations

Overall, using the HVMN ketone esters was a huge success. I now know that it works for me on endurance intensities and for extended, near-threshold efforts. I also know that using the ketones plus some Golden Graham cereal bars allowed me to find a whole new level of physical fitness. To be clear, it was not like drinking this bottle magically made me fitter or stronger.

Rather, it allowed me to unleash my fitness without the hindrances of mental fatigue, fueling, or GI issues.

Based on this and my previous test, I do have a few tips:

While the instructions online say that you should take it with your normal breakfast, I found that I felt better with a smaller breakfast of just a cereal bar and protein powder in my coffee instead of my typical bowl of oats. I train better with a semi-empty stomach and I felt that the ketones hit my system faster with less food.

I was able to stop and drink the bottle mid workout, but if I was racing, I would put it into a small gel flask for easier consumption than the nice, twist bottle.

The bottles are small and sleek so can be easily repurposed. They fit snugly into my running fuel belt, so I am going to use them to hold fuel (diluted gels or concentrated hydration mix) for long runs when I am not using ketones.

Given how this workout went, I would give HVMN ketone esters a strong recommendation for short to long course triathletes. In particular, those who:

Have GI issues or a sensitive stomach so cannot eat as much and therefore need to use alternative fueling sources.

Are looking for a competitive edge. Like I said it will not boost fitness but will allow you to express your current fitness for longer.

Race in a hot climate where consuming a lot of calories could be an issue.

Compete in endurance events.

Are health conscious athletes who do not want to use loads of sugar to fuel.

These are expensive, but I am still going to use them for priority races as follows:

Distance Fueling strategy Sprint 1 bottle before Olympic 1 bottle before, 1 bottle during at the final 10k of the bike. 1 bottle after for recovery Half Ironman 1 bottle before, 1 bottle at 60 min into the bike, 1 bottle with 6 miles to go on the bike Ironman 1 bottle before, 2-3 bottles on the bike and 1 bottle at the half marathon mark.

I would also do this once before each race during a key workout to be able to finetune the timing and what I will use for other fuel (granola/cereal bars are still my favorite). All other workouts will be fueled as usual. And, as I said before, I will pay for these myself. In my opinion and experience, these would be better a investment than buying a new gadget for my bike, swim skin, overpriced wetsuit, action camera, overpriced tri kit, or recovery compression boots.

With that, thank you for reading. I would love to hear your feedback, questions, and constructive (key word there) criticism. I would love to do a similar test, so please send me your ideas on what I can test next.

If you would like to put HVMN to the test and to find out more about it, click here

We do not do this often, but because I believe in the product and have found that it works if you would like a discount, to order you can go to this link for 5% off.

Coach Chris Tri Swim Coach

The post The HVMN Ketone Triathlete Project: Part 4 appeared first on Triathlon Swim Training.

from Sports https://www.triswimcoach.com/the-hvmn-ketone-triathlete-project-part-4/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#sports

0 notes

positivepsychologyinterventions · 6 years

Text

Failed Your New Year’s Resolutions? 6 Easy Tips to Get Back on Track Fast

With all of your good-intentioned resolutions in place, you might have already reneged. If so, don’t sweat it! Chances are if you follow the mind and body tips below, you will be able to think more clearly, be more focused, feel less stressed, more grateful, and energized too! These are tips that anyone anywhere can do, and the wonderful thing is that they take very little time to incorporate into your life. The payoff will be huge, as you will see positive changes happening in your life very quickly, making you feel better and healthier overall .

1. Gentle Stretching

Since it very easy to get overwhelmed by emotional and physical stress before you even get out of bed in the morning, there is no better time to engage in a little gentle stretching. Do a full body stretch for 5 minutes or less everyday before getting out of bed. Your muscles were stiff from sleeping, so doing these simple stretches provides more blood flow to your body. Think neck, torso, shoulders, and toes.

These stretches should never hurt, so do not push through a stretch if you feel pain. Stretches should sooth, and gently wake up the body.

2. Cultivate Compassion

Research shows its very hard to cultivate compassion when we are involved in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Compassion can at times feel forced, like a chore. The good part is that we can actually work to strengthen our ability to show compassion through meditation. And, even better, research shows positive stress-reducing benefits from practicing compassion meditation. In fact, a Stanford study found that it not only lowers our stress response, it lowers our own pain response, helping people with chronic pain and inflammation find relief.

To practice a quick and easy compassion meditation, simply close your eyes and imagine someone you think could use some compassion. Focus on an image of them and slowly repeat these three phrases in your mind, directed toward them, three times: “I wish you peace, love, good health, happiness, and fulfillment.” If you prefer to be silent, you can continue closing your eyes, and just think good thoughts about the person, sending good energy their way.

3. Hydrate, Hydrate, Hydrate

Considering that our bodies are mostly water, most of us are intellectually aware of the vital importance of hydration. But not everyone realizes that the health benefits of hydration actually extend to stress relief. Being even just a little dehydrated can increase our body’s levels of cortisol, the stress hormone, leading to feelings of anxiety, cloudiness, exhaustion and overall irritability. As we run around from place to place feeling frazzled, we forget to drink as much water as we normally would. Forget about how much water to drink depending on your weight. Just drink enough water so your urine is a pale-yellow color.

4. Actively Practice Gratitude

Sometimes saying a mere thank you is the hardest, humbling thing to express. Research shows that expressing consistent gratitude has many health and wellness benefits, including boosting energy and our immune system, improving mood/feelings of positivity, fighting depression and strengthening relationships. For example, couples who express gratitude on a day-to-day basis have stronger relationships, and feel more satisfied with their lives and research backs this up. Gratitude also extends to all relationships out there including sibling/parental/friendship circles. Find the good in someone else and become a better person.

5. Learn How to Breathe Better

When we are anxious about something, or when we are ruminating about something in our minds our heart rate increases, our pupils dilate, and our breath becomes shallower. When we are stressed, it literally plucks us out of the present moment, and into concerns/thoughts about the future which hasn’t happened yet, or the past, which we cannot do anything about or change. That’s why deep breathing is one of the best, most simple stress busting techniques out there that doesn’t cost a dime.

Our breath is always happening in the present moment. By connecting with it, we can bring our minds back into the present, the here and now — what really counts. All it takes is 90 seconds of long, deep breaths to elicit a relaxation response from our parasympathetic nervous system, inhibiting stress hormone production, lowering our heart rate and decreasing our blood pressure.

6. Exercise for Stress Relief

Our self-care routine is usually the first thing we give up in order to accommodate others. By putting ourselves on the backburner, it is difficult for our bodies and minds to overcome any stressors that may come our way. The good news is that you can take a less-is-more approach and fit in just a few minutes of stress-relieving exercises at home that will make a big difference in helping you manage all sorts of pressures. If yoga is your thing, take just two minutes to practice a restorative yoga pose by lying on the floor with your legs up on a pillow, on a chair or straight up on the wall.

If you’d rather be more physically active in your stress relief strategies(s), try blowing off some steam with some high-intensity interval training sessions. You can do jumping jacks, jumping ropes, pushups, whatever feels best for you in under 10 minutes. Most have us can spare these 10 minutes a few days a week. Ultimately, it is a matter of personal preference which always falls in the subjective domain. Maybe you can’t stand the feeling of doing high intensity, but love the way you feel after a quick restorative yoga session. Perhaps meditation isn’t your thing, but you find that keeping a gratitude journal works best for you.

Determine the ways that help you relieve stress, and be consistent in your proactive use of them. Sometimes it just takes time and patience to see what works and doesn’t work for you. If you do that, you’ll have a happier, healthier, and more fulfilling life.

from World of Psychology http://ift.tt/2Et9D4l via IFTTT

#IFTTT #World of Psychology

0 notes

apsbicepstraining · 6 years

Text

TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’

On the comeback trail, the 90 s megastars reflect on bankruptcy, diverting down Britney and what Lisa Left Eye Lopes would be like on Twitter

TLC are in the back of an Uber XL in the middle of Londons Oxford Circus, sunshine streaming through the windows, with a hottie standing in full view at the crossing. Jesus! Did you look at this guy? Lord have mercy. Why didnt you get his ass on camera? He is byoo-tee-full . Traffic and exchange is gridlocked; Chilli craves her bandmate T-Boz, their cameraman, makeup artist, press officer, the operator and me to acknowledge the drop-dead sumptuous specimen, beefy in muscle and hyper-groomed of look, outside the window.

Look, hey, I desire somewhat guys, but come near now, you are able to grant it up. Tell the truth.

I shrug, ambivalent, and “re just telling me” hes not my category. T-Boz, who has spent the last few minutes scratching her knuckles reminiscing about the fights she used to get into, constricts her attentions. What ?! she says. What is your character? Why dont you tell us what your category is? Even if hes not your kind, you have to say hes cute. Hes not my category, either, but I can see hes good examining. The whole parcel was working for him: the “hairs-breadth”, the muscles What is your category?

The brightness change and the two laughter, a conspiratorial chuckle that follows often of their converse over the next 24 hours. TLC making a respectable comeback in 2017 is, its fair to say, sudden. Despite insisting that theyve been working solidly behind the scenes the whole time touring internationally, writing movie dialogues, setting up a fitness blog the group vanished from public consciousness sometime in the early 00 s.

Watch the video for Way Back.

Collectively though, the three twentysomething dames from Atlanta, Georgia Tionne T-Boz Watkins, Rozonda Chilli Thomas and Lisa Left Eye Lopes owned the 90 s: their brand of sultry R& B, silky enough to woo the masses but glitchy enough to keep them interesting, has constructed them the most successful US girl group of all time. Their two biggest books, CrazySexyCool( 1994) and Fanmail( 1999 ), sold more than 20 m mimics between them, with other singles and albums helping to rack up a total sales pull of around 65 m worldwide.

Thats a behemothic rank of success that was felled first by the bands bankruptcy in 1995, then by the tragic deaths among Lopes, at 30, in 2002.

I slept a lot, says Thomas of that time. When youre depressed and you sleep a lot I did that and stayed in my area. I didnt watch Tv and I certainly didnt listen to radio or used to go because everywhere wed disappear, someone would have something to say.

And theyd be smiling, more, microchips in Watkins, and then be like, Oh, Im so sorry, and then immediately, Can I have your autograph?

The two seemed hounded by the press, the public and their description. People are ghouls, says Watkins. I went words at my home 2 day after Lisa croaked, like, What are you going to do? and, Heres my demo, take a listen. But Lopes, who perished in road accidents on holiday in Honduras that April, was irreplaceable. TLC was ever a vehicle for a producer or a managers brand-new sound opening a revolving door for a new third member like, say, Destinys Child or the Sugababes was not an option.

They are much clearer than anybody else on what is and isnt TLC, their description boss, LA Reid, told Rolling Stone in 1995. They make it clearly articulated to the writers and creators on their projects what they will and will not sing. And because of that, theyll ever be a little onward. The radical turned away major songs, including Hit Me Baby One More Time( Its a great hymn but not every hit is for you. I couldnt hear us on that enter, says Thomas, diplomatically ).

We already did baby babe newborn, says Watkins, caressing her teeth.

Sister ordinance … ( left to right) Tionne T-Boz Watkins, Lisa Left-Eye Lopes and Rozonda Chilli Thomas in the Netherlands in 1992. Photo: Michel Linssen/ Redferns

TLCs distinct din stands written about and referenced by music blogs. And it still influences modern dad( accompany 2017 s biggest-selling single in the UK, Ed Sheerans Shape of You ). The radical characterized themselves by their three distinct identities: crazy, sex, refrigerate. Seven months after Lopes died, their fourth and least successful book, 3D, was secreted. We were upset, that was the label, says Watkins, of the book coming out. I guess their mourning stagecoach for us was a week, we werent recalling straight-from-the-shoulder or in a right frame of mind to be making decisions.

That first couple of years you think you were all right or at least better, and then you have a dreaming or something and youre messed up all over again, lends Thomas. It just really took is high time to heal.

Fifteen times on and in their late 40 s, the pair didnt think that they would be playing their first ever London gig. Mays lonely time at Koko in Camden Town sold out in a daytime, to an horde of followers singing and sweating on its sticky floorboards. We havent had bad concerts where weve been booed, but that was hard to believe, says Watkins, when we gratifies the next night in a salmon pink hotel suite. To come here and have beings singing TLC. It manufactures the adrenaline flow. Were always nervous before we go on stage, says Thomas, but I was exceptionally apprehensive this time. It didnt settle till I started doing it.

That the evidence was a triumph only follows TLCs made-for-TV-movie trajectory. Backing dancers in amber lame outfits, a truth choir, and thumped after reached opening with Diggin On Youand purposing with No Scrubs heightened it beyond the hurry of pop nostalgia. That said, new single Way Back, which boasts a Snoop Dogg verse where Lopes might have been, is pure 90 s street feeling throwback, but the pair affirm that theyre not attaches great importance to continuing trend, because, says Watkins, our music will always be relevant.

Hit girlfriends … TLC in Hollywood, 1999. Photo: Ron Davis/ Getty Images

What do you signify by throwback? questions Thomas.

Its inarguable that the two have worked hard to retain the essence of what reached them so massive in the first place: from the live creation down to Thomass still terrifyingly well-maintained washboard belly, they appear and sound as if theyve escaped a season capsule.

Some beings may say, Oh. you have the same haircut, says Watkins her angled blond bob gash as aggressively as she is. But first of all, second of all, and third of all: when you get the various kinds of iconic haircut that beings emulate, “youre calling” me. Its signature. Its true-blue: alongside The Rachel, Watkinss was the more popular haircut for gobby schoolgirls in the 90s. A slew of faux-bickering and tutting between the two follows as they debate the flaws of contemporary creators who, according to TLC, have no appreciation of performance, showmanship or style.

Celebrity changed, but what stays out to me is the altered in media, says Thomas. If Twitter was around when we were were out, Lisa would have “the worlds largest” adherents for sure. And maybe been in the most disturb, more? Oh my God, she would have been closed down multiple times.

Same with Instagram, says Watkins. If Instagram was taken away tomorrow there would be a lot of parties jobless right now cos theres a lot of public figure now made up of Instagram frameworks. She is unimpressed by influencers monetising their lifestyles online, but tries to hold back. Im not gonna knock your hubbub. Hustle on, girlfriend. “Its time” that hos are triumphing. An affirmative block-caps YEAH! comes from Thomas. But if you gonna be a ho, at the least sounds like a good ho and have to pay, Watkins continues. Ho-ism is working for people. Worst situation is to be a ho, spread your trash far and near and get nothing from it.

No scrubbing please, were TLC … Chilli ( left) and T-Boz. Image: Linda Nylind/ The Guide

Watkins wont be drawn on who she might be alluding to, but its still a surprise to hear her or Thomas claim a moral high ground over other women. TLC endorse female sexuality in their hymns and styling, and were early advocates of safe-sex campaigns( Lopes would even wear a condom on the left see of her glass ). Hitherto, says Watkins, she was offered $50,000 to stay a male fan and his wife at home So they could just stare at me amply clothed for five minutes , nothing else and she refused.

Chilli is scandalized. Fifty thousand! To bring kindnes and gaiety into that relationship, whats wrong with that ?! My husband at that time didnt crave me travelling, declares Watkins. He didnt have to know! squeal Thomas.

Both are single right now. Thomas has a son with TLCs ex-producer Dallas Austin, and Watkins is divorced with a son and teenage daughter. I wouldnt want to meet anyone right now, says Watkins. I do not want a mortal. If God slaps me in the are dealing with a good one, fine, but right now, I dont want to listen to your daytime, I dont want to care about your problems. I wouldnt be a good girlfriend right now; I dont want to have sex with nobody.

Oh, you poverty-stricken girlfriend! You good good girlfriend, says Thomas, cooing at Watkinss vagina.

Shell be all right, says Watkins, side-eyeing Thomas with a cat-like grin.

The pair live in different metropolitans now; Watkins is in Los Angeles, having precisely moved out of the neighbourhood the Kardashians live in, and Thomas has stayed in Atlanta, but they still finish each others sentences and slip into shorthand. You start off with so many friends, shows Watkins, but as you get older, you only need one or two. Im not open to just letting people into my life, I involve an asset not a liability.

Class behave … TLC announce a $25,000 Aids education scholarship in recall of Lisa Lopes at the 2002 MTV Awards. Picture: Kevin Kane/ WireImage

To their ascribe, the two ought to have categorically burned by the industry. To go bankrupt at the top of their honour and success still stings. I will never forget the day we were millionaires for literally five minutes, says Watkins. Because the cheque was written to us and we had to sign it over, back to[ Pebbles, their former administrator ]. But we wont get into that since were still in a lawsuit.

If I could go back, I are certainly change a couple of things business-wise, says Thomas. I have learned the hard way: signal your own cheques, make sure your taxes are in shape and whatever your firm is, its always good to get wise examined. If you dont have anything to hide, its not a worry.

Its not personal, contributes Watkins, hard as nails, its business. Everyone in this industry has only one plan. Auditors, lawyers, beings you think you know will keep running up the greenback. You have to watch your back on every corner.

Worse than the money was, of course, the loss of Lopes , that are actually dissolved that first, fantastical operate. The three had weathered everything together the backstabbing, the bankruptcy, the tabloid awarenes of Lopes igniting down the mansion of her then-football star boyfriend. Lisa was a starter. I dont start substance, I dont believes in disagreeing with people I dont know, says Watkins. I have a hard exterior, Im scary.

She was more intrepid, says Thomas. Im a friendly party but if I find out youre not cool, I get real cold.And, chortles Watkins, with Lisa, it depended on the working day. She was a Gemini, so she was about seven different beings. Neither Watkins or Thomas booze( Weve done this industry sober; were real clear about exactly what we doing ), though Lopes did and the three, tight because they are, were known to scrap often publicly. Gazing back, would they have done anything differently? Coulda, woulda, shoulda, says Watkins, her expression at its most slow and sleepy-eyed. It became us who we are, so at the end of the day, I just recollect Lisa as person or persons, a human being. I miss everything.

TLC by TLC is out on 30 June

The post TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2zAgmpS via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

crossfit-fort-ashton-blog · 7 years

Text

CrossFit : Competing as a team

Over the last 6 months I have had more and more of my members starting to compete in competitions. From local beginner competitions, further a field intermediate events and by the end of this year, national and European level competitions.

This is awesome, I love the fact that my members are out there representing the gym, putting our name out in the community as a gym that loves to compete. The fact that people feel they are ready to compete, and take the step from 'CrossFit: The fitness programme' into 'CrossFit : The sport' is a big compliment to us, the coaching staff.

The majority of events members are entering our team based, pairs events, and teams of 4 are most common. This is a great way of getting to know people at the gym, pushing yourself and using community and friendship to help with nerves, worries and motivation.

Now, with that being said. When you say 'yes' to being part of a team, you are making a commitment to the other people in that team. They are relying on you to do your best leading up to the event and on the day, as you are with them. From my perspective there seems to be a mentality of pulling out last minute with no legitimate reason.

A few scenarios that are becoming familiar;

You've agreed to be in a team for an upcoming competition. 2 weeks before the event the WODs are released. 1 of the WODS has 70kg deadlifts in. You've only ever deadlifted 65kg so you should pull out of the event, right? WRONG!

You've committed, 3 other people are relying on you. They don't care you can't deadlift 70kg, they want to go there, do their best and have fun with friends. And you know what, competitions have a crazy way of bringing the best out in you (5kg PB anyone)

You've agreed to be in a team for an upcoming competition, its your 1st one and you were a bit unsure but you've said yes regardless. With each week that goes by you are getting more nervous and worried you aren't ready. So the Monday before the event you pull out. Wrong decision again. What you probably don't realise is that we all feel that way. Yes, even me leading up to a big competition and I imagine your team mates too.

If you fall into this category then please talk to a coach, or your team mates. Chances are they can settle your nerves and get you feeling pumped for game day!

I wont go in to detail on all the reasons I hear but things such as 'another social event clashes with competition day' or 'I'm ill' (I will elaborate on this further on) none of these are good enough reasons to pull out or fair on the rest of your team.

It is extremely difficult to find replacements 1-2 weeks out from an event, not to mention the event organisers have spent a lot of time and effort running through heat timings, schedules etc. when teams drop out last minute they have to juggle everything around.

Now I realise sometimes it is inevitable that drop outs will occur. If you are injured, and I mean actually injured not a small niggle that you've had for a year and been training through it.

If you are ill, and again, I mean genuinely ill, not a headache, a cold or a runny nose and cough.

Or if you suffer a bereavement. All acceptable reasons.

Please note that this blog is aimed at team competitions. If you are entered as a solo athlete and pulling out does not effect other people then that is your prerogative (although I would still stand by most of what I have written)

On the flip side of pulling out, my other concern is volume of competitions. I am starting to see athletes competing in 4-5 competitions in the space of 2 months.

Lets take Rich (Hypothetical athlete) Rich usually trains 5 x per week for an average of 60-90 minutes per session. The week before his competition he takes a de-load week (still trains but volume and weight are slightly decreased) The competition on the weekend is tough, he makes the final making a total of 5 WODS in a day. Awesome work by Rich!

Monday comes around and he's feeling pretty tired (rightly so) so he takes a day off. Tuesday sees the 48 hour DOMs (delayed onset muscle soreness) kick in So Rich takes another day off (no issue with that) 2 days of rest before getting back to the grind.

He trains Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, back to his usual routine. Does a team WOD Saturday and has his usual rest day Sunday.

Monday comes around and he's starting to think about the next competition he has this coming weekend. Another de-load? Train right up to it? What should Rich do?

Repeat this routine for 2 months across 4-5 competitions and Rich has lost at least 2 weeks of training through extra rest days, de-load weeks and what not.

On top of this, across 3 of the competitions, there is a lot of overhead work. Rich struggles with his overhead position and usually in class he has to modify movements, scale weight as to not compromise form and risk injury. BUT this is a competition, Rich is bad-ass and there to do as well as possible. So he completes all the overhead work as prescribed by the event regardless of form.

He now feels a pain in his lower back, thinks nothing of it, probably just overuse with the competitions. Rich will foam roll it. In-fact the lower back pain is from over extension from all the overhead movements, where he struggles to get into a good position.

Rich has to now re-hab an injury that could have been avoided, plus he's a bit put off by competing too.

*Hypothetical scenario but you catch my drift*

I've been thinking of writing this article for a little while now and a few things prompted me to do so. Let me just repeat that I LOVE the fact members are competing and repping the gym. Keep hustling and being awesome!

This isn't meant to deter anyone from entering events, quite the opposite. I'd like to see people honouring their commitments, competing at events suitable for their ability, and training/competing safely to ensure longevity in this thing we do. If any of what is written rings true and you'd like a chat, I'm more than happy to help.

Now lets all keep being really really good at adult P.E

;)

#crossfit #gym #fitness #health & fitness #competition

0 notes

apsbicepstraining · 6 years

Text

TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’

On the comeback trail, the 90 s megastars reflect on bankruptcy, diverting down Britney and what Lisa Left Eye Lopes would be like on Twitter

Look, hey, I desire somewhat guys, but come near now, you are able to grant it up. Tell the truth.

Watch the video for Way Back.

Thats a behemothic rank of success that was felled first by the bands bankruptcy in 1995, then by the tragic deaths among Lopes, at 30, in 2002.

And theyd be smiling, more, microchips in Watkins, and then be like, Oh, Im so sorry, and then immediately, Can I have your autograph?

We already did baby babe newborn, says Watkins, caressing her teeth.

Sister ordinance … ( left to right) Tionne T-Boz Watkins, Lisa Left-Eye Lopes and Rozonda Chilli Thomas in the Netherlands in 1992. Photo: Michel Linssen/ Redferns

Hit girlfriends … TLC in Hollywood, 1999. Photo: Ron Davis/ Getty Images

What do you signify by throwback? questions Thomas.

No scrubbing please, were TLC … Chilli ( left) and T-Boz. Image: Linda Nylind/ The Guide

Oh, you poverty-stricken girlfriend! You good good girlfriend, says Thomas, cooing at Watkinss vagina.

Shell be all right, says Watkins, side-eyeing Thomas with a cat-like grin.

Class behave … TLC announce a $25,000 Aids education scholarship in recall of Lisa Lopes at the 2002 MTV Awards. Picture: Kevin Kane/ WireImage

TLC by TLC is out on 30 June

The post TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2zAgmpS via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes

apsbicepstraining · 6 years

Text

TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’

On the comeback trail, the 90 s megastars reflect on bankruptcy, diverting down Britney and what Lisa Left Eye Lopes would be like on Twitter

Look, hey, I desire somewhat guys, but come near now, you are able to grant it up. Tell the truth.

Watch the video for Way Back.

Thats a behemothic rank of success that was felled first by the bands bankruptcy in 1995, then by the tragic deaths among Lopes, at 30, in 2002.

And theyd be smiling, more, microchips in Watkins, and then be like, Oh, Im so sorry, and then immediately, Can I have your autograph?

We already did baby babe newborn, says Watkins, caressing her teeth.

Sister ordinance … ( left to right) Tionne T-Boz Watkins, Lisa Left-Eye Lopes and Rozonda Chilli Thomas in the Netherlands in 1992. Photo: Michel Linssen/ Redferns

Hit girlfriends … TLC in Hollywood, 1999. Photo: Ron Davis/ Getty Images

What do you signify by throwback? questions Thomas.

No scrubbing please, were TLC … Chilli ( left) and T-Boz. Image: Linda Nylind/ The Guide

Oh, you poverty-stricken girlfriend! You good good girlfriend, says Thomas, cooing at Watkinss vagina.

Shell be all right, says Watkins, side-eyeing Thomas with a cat-like grin.

Class behave … TLC announce a $25,000 Aids education scholarship in recall of Lisa Lopes at the 2002 MTV Awards. Picture: Kevin Kane/ WireImage

TLC by TLC is out on 30 June

The post TLC:’ I will never forget the day we were millionaires for five minutes’ appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2zAgmpS via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes