I’m eating Chia. Out of a bowl. With almond milk. Voluntarily.

Chia Goodness contacted me a little over a month ago to ask if I would like to sample their new cereal and I happily agreed, remembering the hairy Chia plant characters of my youth with a fond sigh. They sent me Original, Cranberry Ginger, and Apple Almond Cinnamon.

First impressions

• Small package! (I discovered that this is because the recommended serving size is 2 tablespoons which gets you 140 calories before adding milk or water.)
• Looks like bird seed or… chia pet pre-sprouting!

I immediately opened the Cranberry Ginger package and ate a raw scoopful. Mmm. Nutty, like bird seed. And a little salty (not too). Pumpkin seeds and shelled hemp seeds. Definitely felt like health food. Then I read the directions, which instructed that rather than eating it raw, I was supposed to lubricate it. Specifically, “Add 4 tablespoons hot or cold water or choice of milk. Stir well.”

Simple cereal strategy except for the next step in the instructions: “Wait 3-5 minutes or until it thickens.”

The result was semi-mushy seeds with a snappy core. The chia seeds develop a gelatinous exterior when you allow them to soak for a while, which increases the Chia volume in your bowl substantially, though it still only takes a little of the stuff to fill your gut. Powerful punch!

I’m not sure how I feel about the texture, but I’ve been eating it consistently for a while now, so it can’t be all bad, right?

Healthological Statistics (It’s good for you.)

From a health perspective, Chia seems poised to make a play as the next big Superfood.

Here are the most important nutritional stats (from the Original version, other flavors vary):

• Five times the calcium of milk
• More Omega 3 than salmon
• Protein (6g per serving… not bad for a seed)
• Fiber (5g)
  

Not bad for cereal!

Takeaways

I’m not a cereal person because it usually doesn’t make me feel full or satiated. Despite the protein and fiber, the Chia Goodness was no different for me, but I solved the problem (as I do with most cereal) by pairing it with fresh fruit.  That left me feeling full and energized.

As I mentioned, the texture is potentially challenging but not totally prohibitive to enjoyment. The added-flavor varieties have just a tiny bit of sugar (3 or 4 grams) and are yummy, though I usually prefer to maintain control over breakfast-cereal embellishments.

I tried the Chia with soy milk, non-fat dairy milk, almond milk and water and found that almond milk was my favorite (Almond Breeze) and water was my least favorite. Your choice of lubricants will definitely affect your experience – choose wisely.

Where to get it

Portland peeps can pick it up at New Seasons Market and those of you in other locations can use the Store Locator to track down the Chia Goodness.

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I’d feel bad for myself if I didn’t know that half of the rest of the cyclocross community was also sick. And racing through sickness.

Sal reported this morning that I am coughing less and less during the night so I celebrated with a hot, steamy mug of delicious Courier Coffee Roasters coffee. (Holy shit, that stuff is out of this world delicious.)

About a week ago the Oregonian ran a column I wrote about being sick. I think their headline said something else, but I titled it “Lung Butter”. Scroll to the bottom of the post to skip the fluff and check out a few general guidelines for dealing with illness when your cycling brain just wants to force your legs to make pedaling motions (and to contribute your own secret remedies/tactics)

Lung Butter (It’s what’s for breakfast)

Lung butter.

It’s about as appetizing as it sounds. As a normal human being it’s the kind of stuff that keeps you up late at night hacking. As a cyclist, the soft vibration of respiratory liquid is a veritable death knell.  The sound of your fitness fading. The inevitable reversal of months of hard-earned progress.

Changing seasons bring a fresh rotation of viruses, bugs, and flus. Traditionally, I wait until the early winter months to acquire something dramatic but this year I decided to dive in right away with a standard-run-of-the-mill early Fall flu.

When the lung butter is this good, why wait?

I took my usual approach to the threat of affliction: outright denial. I rode with a friend in the debt of a chilly morning, raced in the weekday series, and worked late on a deadline. “I am invincible”, I repeated internally.

Despite the fact that this particular tactic has been proven ineffectual (repeatedly), I employed it with absolute confidence. Mind over matter. The headache would surely subside, the general achiness would fade. That scratchy throat? That will go away.

It didn’t, of course. And I woke up a few mornings later with a three-alarm fever, a chest full of mucus, and a head that felt like I’d been mashing it against a street post. Denial gave way to a wave of self-pity followed by fits of sobbing.

So much for invincibility – time to hit the medicine cabinet.

My boyfriend Sal displayed his usual compassion (“You’re weak! How could you let yourself get sick!”) and gentle care-giving tactics (“Don’t come near me.”) and I wallowed in my misery. Meanwhile, the bike sat idle. And the first major race of my cyclocross season approached.

Then came my Michael Jordan moment. Remember when he played with the flu in the 1997 NBA finals against the Jazz? I do. He threw up before the game, had a 104-degree fever, still managed to play 44 minutes and then collapsed in exhaustion after making the game-winning three-pointer at the buzzer. I watched that game live. He was superhuman.

And I’m going to let a little case of the sniffles keep me out of the local B-league bike races?  No way!

There’s only about three things wrong with this logic. 1. I am not Michael Jordan. 2. I am not getting paid mutli-millions (or anything, for that matter) 3. This is not the NBA playoffs. (It’s a few loops around the Alpenrose Dairy.)

I went to the race, but I didn’t ride. I watched. And you know what? It sucked. In fact, I’ll risk melodrama by admitting that it was the tiniest bit agonizing.

But that night, as I lay in bed hacking up the last of the lung butter I knew that – for once – I’d done the right thing. Next to me, Sal tossed and turned. He woke up the following morning with The Affliction and promptly stopped speaking to me.

I returned his previous care-giving tactic of exaggerated avoidance and headed out into my day to enjoy a feeling of rapidly returning wellness and smug superiority.

Tips for Cycling Through the Cold and Flu Season

“When in doubt, throw it out.”
That’s the old adage. If you question your fitness or fatigue levels, even just a little bit, throw out your workout or ride for the day. It’s better to err on the side of caution when dealing with sickness – by dialing it back, you won’t lose as much fitness as you think and you might prevent the evolution of a more serious illness that could have you sidelined for weeks or months.

Head and Shoulders
One quick guideline seems to be universally agreed upon when it comes to athletes and sickness. If symptoms are above the shoulder only (a head cold and maybe a light sore throat) it is ok to do an easy workout if you’re feeling up to it. If you have achiness, fever or your lungs are affected, keep your hands off that bike for a few days.

Make recovery a priority
My coach, Russell Cree of Upper Echelon Fitness, once told me, “Cycling success is a three-legged stool of physical strength, mental capacity, and health.” That sounds simple, but many cyclists don’t treat recovery with the same priority that they do training (making for a very wobbly stool). Rest days are just as important, if not more so, than hard interval days and when you’re sick that becomes truer than ever. Make the effort to get quality recovery.

Ready, Set, Wait
Once you feel like you’re ready to get back at it again, wait another day (a full 24 hours). It can take your body up to a week to recover even just from the common cold – and over-exertion was probably what got you sick in the first place. It’s always better to be under-trained and healthy than over-trained and sick. When you do get back on the bike, resist the urge to go hard right out of the gate.

Secret Weapons

I’m no medical doctor, but I have gotten pretty good at taking care of myself when the sickies come knocking. Here are two of my favorite products for increasing comfort when the lung butter is on a rampage.

Throat Coat Tea by Traditional Medicinals contains Licorice Root and Slippery Elm – it’s slightly viscous which means it truly does “coat your throat” offering pretty amazing relief from scratchiness and soreness.

Olbas Oil contains extractions of essential oil from six medicinal herbs including eucalyptus, peppermint and clove (it’s strong!). Breathing it in enhances breathing passages – try adding 20 drops to a bowl of hot water, place a towel over the head and breathe vapors in deeply for 5 to 10 minutes. (I’ll also often inhale this stuff from a small piece of tissue before a race – it feels incredible!)

Acupuncture If I hear one more thing about how good acupuncture is for the early stages of colds and flus, I’m going to scream. That said, enough smart and healthy people have told me to go get punctured for me to believe that they’re onto something. I just got health insurance that covers acupuncture treatment so I plan to finally go find out what all the hype is about.

Herb/mineral treatments If you are self-aware (I am extremely NOT self aware) and catch an illness creeping up on you, there are a few great solutions that may smash it down dead in its tracks before it has a chance to round-house kick you in the head.

Yinchiao: A smart Chinese herbalist/accupressure practitioner that I frequent recommends this. I managed to use it effectively twice this year to stop bad stuff before it started.

Gan Mao Ling: Same Smart-Lady recommends this in case you don’t catch your sickness early enough to use Yinchao. When things get full bore, I eat the Gan Mao Ling like candy.

Wellness Formula: A different smart lady (traditional western nurse with hippy-natural-medicine leanings) recommends this stuff. She takes it in small doses all winter long and manages to stave off The Crud. I am currently preparing to employ this tactic.

What about you? Have secret weapons to share? By all means, leave a comment!

*

PS: Don’t forget to add yourself to the contact list so I can letcha know what is going to happen with this here blog in the very near future. (Things are changing.)

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But seriously – I do love it.  And based on my Highly Scientific Facebook Status polls, I have ascertained the Kombucha is a devisive character.  Either you love Kombucha or you really, really hate Kombucha.

Yeah, but what IS it?

Good question.

Kombucha is the Western name for sweetened tea that has been fermented using a macroscopic solid mass of microorganisms called a “kombucha colony”.  Sounds delicious, right?

Here’s another explanation about the Kombucha organism itself (as opposed to the resulting tea) from the wikipedia page:

The Kombucha organism is a symbiotic colony of yeast’s and bacteria that form a strong membrane that covers the liquid/air interface of the vessel it grows in.

All I know is, if this crap can do half the stuff it claims to, I’m going to live forever.

I’d Like to File a Health Claim

Among Kombucha’s health claims (as transcribed from the side of a GT’s bottle):

Kombucha supports:

• Digestion
• Metabolism
• Immune System
• Appetite control
• Weight Control
• Liver function
• Body alkalinity
• Anti-aging
• Cell integrity
• Healthy skin and hair

Other sources online take it even further, making the following claims:

• Restores hair color
• Thickens hair
• Dissolves gallstones Increases energy
• Lengthens lifespan
• Arterioscrosis/softens veins
• Speeds healing
• Lowers cholesterol
• Lowers blood pressure
• Increases blood circulation
• Eliminates wrinkles/skin humectant
• Improves menopausal symptoms
• Strengthens leg muscles
• Chickenpox /herpes zoster remedy
• Colitis/improves digestion/ nervous stomach
• Poultice for wounds/ulcers
• Cleanses gallbladder
• Lessens anxiety
• Levels glucose
• Protects teeth from cavities
• Activates glandular system

All that?  Really?

I don’t know about all that, but this dude over at a place called the Mayo Clinic claims that the risks outweigh any potential rewards, and cautions us to avoid it.  Since everyone knows that Mayo clogs your arteries, I’m not really inclined to trust him about the Kombucha.

Of course, considering that the kombucha making process involves a SCOBY (symbiotic culture of bacteria and yeast), vingar and a dark, warm, quiet place, Mr. Fancy Mayo pants could possibly have a point.  (I mean, that even sounds a little scary to me and I eat Sea Urchin roe.)

Kombucha is a very family-oriented being and Mother cultures (stringy, mucilaginous substances consisting of various bacteria that forms on the surface of a fermenting liquid and causes fermentation when added to other liquids) are required to make new Baby cultures.  Isn’t that sweet?

Yes, yes it is sweet. Or rather, kind of vinegar-ey tasting.  But in the good way.

Convinced yet?  Me neither.  I recommend going out to get yourself some “Gingerade” flavored GT’s Kombucha to try it for yourself.

It should be noted that great care should be taken when doing homebrew Kombucha as contamination can lead to illness. I am tempted to try “growing” some Kombucha myself but haven’t yet rustled up the courage to buy a starter kit and/or kidnap someone’s mother-and-babies.

Alternately, leave a comment and let me know where you stand.  
Kombucha: Brilliant or Barf-Tastic?

References:
http://www.nutrition4health.org/nohanews/NNW97KombuchaTea.htm
The Happy Herbalist
Mayo Clinic
Wikipedia

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Because I’m pretty sure that tomorrow morning I will wake up unable to move my arms or use my trunk to get out of bed.  Sal will have to spoon feed me my daily quota of broccoli and grilled chicken, while I wait to regain the use of my battered limbs.

I always forget.  Always.  No matter how hard I try to remember what boot camp feels like, I forget.  Perhaps this is the mind’s sneaky trick to get me to wake up and go back every morning.   I’m sure if I remembered the exact sensation of agony from the middle of a set of forearm planks, side-planks, “supermans“, and “alternating supermans“, I would turn off my alarm clock and leave the screaming muscles to someone else.

As it is, I forget.  And I’m glad I do.

Because the sensation that directly follows the agony is a combination of relief, elation, pride, and euphoria.

Post-torment elation aside, boot camp today eats my lunch.   I am flanked by two hammers: Vicki and Tammy.  Unlike me, these women have not been off rolling around on bicycles all year – they’ve been in boot camp – getting strong.

Their tenacity gets me through the first abdominal assault that Daniel launches out of his “I’m going to hurt you good”cannon.  If Vicki can hold this stupid position, then so can I.  If Tammy is still at it, then so will I be.  I’m a strength-sucking leach on their spirits and I am not making any apologies.

I spend the entire second assault wishing and hoping with all of my being that Daniel will make us go outside and run.  Please let us run!  He rarely does this.  And when does, it’s usually hill sprints.

Running is easy, people.  Boot camp is not.

As we suffer, one or two of us will pull out of a set – put a foot down, rest an arm, set a knee on the mat, anything for a second of recovery, a momentary interruption to the burn.  The movement is a physical “I can’t” and Daniel answers it out loud, with words:

“You CAN.  Yes, you can.”

I won’t lie to you – there are “you can” moments where I want to punch Daniel in the face, watch him hit the ground and then kick him in the gut just for good measure – these are the moments that assure me that he is doing his job.  I don’t want to like Daniel at 5:30am.  I’ll like him at 5:29am and then I might like him again around 6:35am, but from 5:30-6:30am he better make me hate his guts – at least a few times.

We spend the rest of the morning playing with Daniel’s new “devices” which he has constructed for the purpose of extracting the maximum possible amount of pain.  They’re simple tools designed to use with a partner and as Tammy and I torture each other accordingly, I don’t even realize that time is almost up.

The clock ticks over to 6:30 and an imaginary school bell rings inside my head.

“That’s it?” (Time flies when you’re having fun.)

I wade through a sea of sweaty, foam-rolling women, pack up my Chrome bag, and steer my bike in the direction of Stumptown Coffee.  By 6:45 I am enjoying post-workout redemption in the form of one meticulously created Americano.

Most of my friends are still sleeping, my metabolism is roaring, and I am ready to kick some serious ass (or at least as much ass as one can kick with trembling triceps and softly aching core).

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I am laying on the big king bed holding my ugly doll with a pillow over my head: "I DONT WANT TO GO!"

That is only half true but I am throwing a tantrum so this has to be dramatic. 

"Yes you do, you’ll feel better afterwards.  You have to get back on the bike."

He’s right.  I know he’s right.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like pulling the shades down, locking the door, and raiding my Cyclocross stash of Stone Russian Imperial Stout.  At 11%, two bottles would have me flat out in no time.  That sounds better than climbing Thurman and Germantown.

I am definitely in a slump.  Has anyone seen my rally cap?

It takes every scrap of willpower that I have to drag myself up off the bed and into the spandex.  I have been off my bike for a week but it seems like a year.  If it is overcast for one more day I swear I’m going to snap.  I’m sick of making circles with my Sidis. 

"I’m sick of the bike."  I am still complaining as we leave the house.

"You can’t be sick of the bike, you are a cycling columnist now."

"How did that happen???" I pout, slumped over my frame with my forearms on the tops.  He locks the door and we clip in.  The deal is sealed.

Thurman is like an old friend who knows all my secrets.  I am beginning to love that hill like no other. 

I am the type of annoying person who will say, "I like climbing!" but this does not mean that I am actually any good at it.

Hills confront you with an immediate and focused challenge that must be met. There is nothing else. You ask yourself, Does this ever end? and despite the fact that you know it does, you occasionally allow yourself to consider the possibility that it won’t.

Thurman. Germantown.  I’ll call this ride Thurmantown.  That thought would entertain me if I wasn’t bent over this aluminum machine, defying upward grades with valiant acts of human physics.

Sal snakes up the hill in front of me and I shove my arm warmers down around my wrists.  So un-pro.  Sloppy.  I don’t care.

I have spent my whole life watching this man climb.  That is how I feel.  I have memorized the shape of his calves.  I am lulled by the rhythmic sway of his saddle. 

Sally the Tugboat.

I latch on.

This ride feels like a promise.  It is all I can do.  If I can finish this ride, then I am still who I thought I am.  I feel quiet and insecure.  If I am a cyclist, then I don’t remember how or why.  Sal is showing me.

Back at home, I feel hills in my legs as we eat crockpot chicken with bulgar wheat.

Sal says, "Didn’t that feel good?"

Good is relative and we are delusional, but I take his meaning and agree. Sometimes pain is the only remedy for complacency.

*

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The iron buzz!!  Get your iron checked!  Everyone is doing it!

It all started last year when I met HG during ‘cross.  On our first training ride together, she told me her own iron story.  She found out her levels were really low, started supplementing, and witnessed huge improvements. 

Wow, I thought to myself, I wish my iron was low.

I wrote off the possibility immediately because I am a voracious meat eater and a huge consumer of leafy greens like spinach and kale.  I also pack away more than my share of lentils and broccoli. I’m a purist.  In general, I feel like we should be able to get all the necessary vitamins and nutrients from our food if we eat well.

Iron? I got that nailed, man.

So I promptly forgot about it.  Then about a month ago, Georgia Gould blogged about finding out that her iron levels were low.  Like me, she believed she was in the clear because she was diligent about eating foods high in iron.  She found out on a fluke because she is in a UCI monitoring program that requires her to get blood tests a few times a year.

About that same time, my coach asked me if I’d ever had my iron checked.  I assured him that my iron levels were probably fine due to my immaculate iron-conscious diet.  :)

But he told me Georgia’s story and recommended that I get the blood work done anyway.  So I did.

And guess what?

Hi, my name is Heidi Swift and I am iron deficient.

My ferritin levels came back at 19.  Pretty low. 

There are varying opinions about what "normal" ferritin levels should be.  Some think around 35 for a normal (read: non-endurance athlete) person, but that is considered low for endurance athletes by most.  Coach Volk sent me a link to an interesting article on the effect of iron deficiency on endurance athletes.

60 is generally considered a better number, so I have some making up to do.  I’ve read around the internets a bit and it looks like it will take anywhere from 8 -12 weeks to get the levels where they should be.

So, what’s the plan?

Well, more red meat for one thing.  But in the interest of eating lean red meat, we’re probably talking about a lot of buffalo and venison. I’ll accompany this with lots of fruit high in vitamin C, which aids absorption.  (This is starting to sound like the Paleo Diet for Athletes, no?) 

I’ll also be kickin’ down some supplements asap.  Iron supplements are known for making people constipated (sweet!) and generally wreaking some havoc in bodies, so it may take some experimentation, but I will probably start with liquid iron (yum, pureed nails!) and go from there.  I’ll also probably pick up this multi-vitamin, which has been recommended to me.

So why is iron such a big deal?

Well, I’m no expert, so check the article from Coach Volk above or this (very oddly formatted) article from Velonews.

Among other things, it points out that:

• Iron is an important component of hemoglobin, which transports oxygen in the blood.
• Iron is an important component of myoglobin,which transports oxygen in the muscles.
• Many muscle enzymes involved in metabolism require iron, and other iron compounds facilitate oxygen use at the cellular level.
• Iron is also required for red blood cell production and is essential to maintaining a healthy immune system.

Red blood cell production? Hey, there’s a concept for an endurance athlete.

If you do go get checked, just ask for a full blood workup and be sure that they are checking your ferritin levels.  If you’re training your little cycling pants off every week and you come back with less than 50, you should probably make some dietary adjustments and/or think about supplementation.

Now go chew some nails, will ya?

*

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It takes over everything.  Everything.

The clothing – it must be constantly washed and cared for.  The gear must be tuned, cleaned, tweaked, and babied.  The hours of the day must be manipulated to accommodate miles and miles.  The food must be dialed.  The water bottles at the ready. The computer cables adjusted.  The insurance card and ID are always in the zip-loc baggie and not in my wallet where they should be. 

The clif bars, they overrun my kitchen.

It demands my constant attention.

I accept full responsibility. I accept it with the same sense of duty that I accept full responsibility for bringing two cats into my life.  I brought you here, you little devil, and now you say I must feed you even when you wake me at 4 in the morning??  I brought you here, this two-wheeled torture device, and now you say I must clean you and buy you shiny new pieces (at a premium!) even though you bring me to my knees with gut-wrenching agony?

It’s funny, the things we choose.

Anyway, last week I snapped.

I call my coach:

"I need next Sunday off.  Totally off."

"Ummmm… ok. What’s up?"

"I’m going to drive up to Seattle for a huge party on Saturday and I plan on drinking far more than is good for me."

"Done."

I love my coach.  His unflinching agreement with these terms reminded me that one of the reasons that I like him is because he is completely committed to helping his clients reach their goals and still continue to enjoy what they are doing. 

So, over the course of the week I put in 180 hard miles.  Intervals, hills, long, fast.  Sal and I climbed the three volcanoes together (Scott, Rocky Butte, Tabor) one day and slam-dunk a 55 miler on another.  We are ripping out fast miles like they are going out of style.  I am energized and driven by the prospect of getting a big psychological break.

And a break is exactly what I got.  Friends fly in from San Francisco and LA on Thursday and Friday nights respectively.  We rock the Whiskey Soda lounge sideways on Friday and then hit the freeway on Saturday to find a party to end parties.

Cue revelry from 8pm until 3am and then witness the two little cyclists driving three hours again on Sunday morning to return home.

Worth it?  Hell yes.

I look at my training schedule on Sunday and it says, "Recover from hangover."

Excellent.

On Monday I am renewed and ready to roll.  We take our LA houseguest out on the ‘cross bikes and destroy him up Leif and Saltzman in the pouring rain.  My face is spattered with mud and the skinny knobbies are finding puddles.  We hit highway 30 and the rain is coming in sheets.  My gloves and booties are soaked through so I start laughing like a madman.  We make it home with our houseguest just barely alive.

Houseguests.  You’ve been warned.

This morning I wake up and the schedule says. "3 hours, race pace effort."  Oh no, you di-int.

I go it alone.  I shoot up River Road, hit Oregon City and pound my way to Lake Oswego.  Johnson Road gives me an uphill grind into a wicked headwind with driving rain.  This is what they call "character building" I tell myself.  Lake Oswego is a series of rollers and I hit Peet’s coffee to refill water bottles and kill a mediocre espresso.

Climbing, climbing.  Fast descent.  Home again, home again.  The sky unleashes an unimaginable amount of rain.

It’s a soft rain, but relentless.

My will to live dwindles at miles 45 and 46, which must be the sign of a ride well done. My new Santini knicker-bibs are soaked through, like everything else on my body.  I send a text to Sal, who is seeing our friend off at the airport: "48 miles hard.  Soaked to the bone." Now he knows I’m home safe.

The hot shower is a haven unlike any other.  I have to scrub to get the embrocation and road grime off my shins and calves.  The water is a godsend even though it takes my left foot more than an hour before the numbness goes away.

My quads throb underneath skin that is marked with the seams of cycling knickers.  There is nothing traditionally beautiful about my cyclists body.  The skin is white where it has been covered with gear, red where it has been exposed to rain and wind. 

I raise my face into the steam of the shower and curse this blessing that consumes me.

This obsession that tips me over the edge.  This calling that sends me out into the world.  Miles upon miles in the driving rain.  Discipline punctuated by parties and perspective.

Who knows how I got here.  It doesn’t matter – I can’t remember how to get back.

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"Should I run?"

I told her to stop and get better.  Or, if she did want to get a few miles in just for sanity’s sake, to go someplace warm (a gym) and do them on a treadmill.  Better not to expose yourself to the freezing rain if you’re already battling a bug.

So Saturday when I got smacked with fevers, headache, a bad stomach, and swollen glands, I took my own advice.  I stopped.  I skipped Sunday’s TT and laid on a sunny picnic table talking to Ben Johnson instead.  It was nice to see the team and be out in good weather, but it sucked to miss the race.

Of course, I figured that in exchange for my wise decision, my body would reward me by repairing itself in one or two days.  "Better to be out for one or two days," I reasoned, "Than to make things worse and then have to deal with it for weeks."

The only problem is that my body is not upholding its end of the bargain. 

I should have gotten it in writing.

I should count my blessings.  The fevers are done, my stomach is back in working order, and my appetite is good and healthy.  It could be a lot worse.  But yesterday when I commuted to work on the Iro, I was still extremely disappointed to notice that my energy levels are absolutely tanked, and my lungs are still filled with all kinds of crap.

It is hard to ride a bike with diminished lung power, man.

I had a good ride planned for today, but I don’t feel even remotely up to it. In my misery, I did a little research to see what other people had to say about training through illness.

SportsVelo notes:

If your symptoms are only above your shoulders (for example, a head cold and maybe a light sore throat) with no fever or aches then an easy 30 minute to 1 hour of zone 1 of aerobic exercise (spin, run, swim) is OK, but only if you are feeling up to it! If you’re not motivated, don’t work out, and just do some stretching and light core work and follow guideline #1.
If you’re sick in your chest, have a fever, and/or aches, then DO NOT EXERCISE. Remember, the sooner you get well, the sooner you can resume training. Once you’re starting to feel better (no longer sick below the neck, no aches or fever) wait another 48 hours to resume your regular training routine. If you’re feeling motivated during the 48 hours, see guideline #2. Be sure to see your doctor if you are really sick! And if you are sick longer than a week, we need to change your training schedule, so check in with your coach.

I’ve heard the above-the-chest vs. below-the-chest argument before. It makes sense although it’s not exactly what I wanted to read.  Being off the bike for just a few days has already felt like an eternity. Dramatic?  Sure, but what’s new around here.  I just want to ride.

Jonathan, an Ironman competitor, notes that he should have stopped and taken a few days off when he became sick earlier this year in January.

Dr. Stephen D. Chung, PhD over at Pez Cycling (I heart Pez!!) has this to contribute:

Despite what you may think, it’s not the end of the world to take a few days off or completely easy. Unless you’re right in the middle of the Tour or your absolute key races, it is almost always better to play it safe and take a few days off rather than risk a much worse infection.

If your significant other isn’t killing themselves with laughing at you, you might even convince them to give you some TLC for a day or two. Once you get back on the bike, resist the temptation to immediately hammer out hard intervals to make up for “lost” time. That’s because it can take your body up to a week to fully recover from even a minor cold, and it was the over-exertion that helped to get you sick in the first place! Remember, it’s always better to be under-trained and healthy than over-trained but sick!

I like the last sentence best of all and I think it really nails down an important point.  I know many cyclists who, like me, have a veritable fit if they can’t get on the bike for a few days in a row.  It’s as if we live in this terrifying world of self-doubt, in which we truly believe that a week off the bike will override every bit of training that we have ever done in our lives.

It’s as ridiculous as it sounds and yet I get sucked in.  Every. Single. Time.

At the bottom of all this is an important reminder about why we’re even doing this in the first place.  Sure, we want to push our limits and test our mettle. We want to be the very best that we can be. But at the core, we do it out of an inherent love of the bike and, more importantly, and inherent love of the self-knowledge that suffering on the bike gives us.

We suffer. But there is a point.  There is greater meaning.

As my good friend Greg Hartman pointed out to me at Sunday’s race, "Thank god that we don’t have to feed our families with these performances, right?"

Well spoken, Greg.

All this to say, I’ll still toss and turn at night counting up all the miles that I’ve missed. But perspective is a fanatic’s best friend, and at the end of the day I’ll take health over OBRA points any day.

Be well,
Heidi

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In the morning I woke up and thought about you.  I wondered if you had watched the video and what you would think.  I wondered what you were wearing… wait.  I didn’t wonder that.

But I did miss you.

Analog Saturday was hard at first.  I wanted to check my emails so bad it was literally killing me.  My computer sat on the dining room table and taunted me.  I probably should have put it away somewhere, but I secretly liked the extra challenge of having to face it and tell it firmly, "No! You don’t control me!!  You don’t tell me what to do!"

(Do I sound totally psycho yet?  Yesterday I felt totally psycho.)

But I rallied soon enough.  When I let go of the idea that it was important for me to be connected all the time amazing things started to happen.

Here’s what worked for me this Saturday:

• True Calm:  I’m able to relax on the weekends and have fun.  I laugh, ride, cook, and play.  But then, every once in a while I check in on my email and it brings a certain stress level right back to me in a heartbeat.  When I stopped introducing these stressful interruptions into my Saturday, I was able to reach a much deeper level of calm.  I relaxed yesterday in a way that I haven’t in a terribly long time.  I didn’t do anything special, just let go of things and stopped worrying. 
• Reading!  Wow.  I have spent so much time reading stuff online that I almost forgot that there were these real books that are made out of paper.  I spent quality time with a few books I’ve been meaning to snuggle up to and it was religious.  Reading a book is not the same as reading information on the internet.  Internet reading is consumption.  Book reading is an engaged relationship.  The difference is night and day. 
• Hello, Relationship  It’s crazy, but I noticed that the less time I spent engaged with my glowing screen, the more time I spent engaged with my boyfriend.  He’s hilarious!  And so much fun.  He makes me laugh.  I knew all this, of course, but yesterday I felt like we really were able to enjoy each other in a way that we haven’t in a while.  Because we work in the same office (he works remotely for a big company, but I let him set up camp in my studio), we see each other all the time.  It’s easy to confuse "being around each other" with "spending time together".  They’re different.  Yesterday was fun and reminded me that we have to be extra conscious of that.
• Cooking!  I do cook a lot anyway, but we took extra time yesterday and had fish tacos for dinner.  I love fish tacos!! I even made a "Spanish Bulgar Wheat" to take the place of what would otherwise been "Spanish Rice".  Sal was in charge of fish and nailed the preparation of the dover sole.  I also made "portabello pizzas" for lunch, where instead of dough, I use a gigantic 8" diameter portabello mushroom to put all the toppings on.  I topped these ones with a healthy version of an arugula-pesto, a little parmesan cheese, toasted pinenutes, and roasted red peppers. Yum!!!

Here’s what demanded some re-thinking:

• The Phone:  I am going to have to find a way to use the phone functions of my iPhone without getting the email.  I did a group ride yesterday (30 miles in dumping rain, nice) and I could have really used a communication device.  This is a safety issue so it has to be addressed.  I’m pretty sure I can disable email for the day on my phone so that I can use it in case of emergency.
• Movies:  This is a big one, but it became apparent that watching a movie would be a really fun thing to do together last night.  We never just sit down and watch a movie – mostly because I don’t want to.  (I am too busy checking email)  Sal was concerned that I was going to break the rule so we could do this, but I made the executive decision to allow movies to become part of this experiment.  (I may have to rename Analog Saturday!  Ha!)  No TV, just a movie on Saturday night.  We had so much fun snuggled up under the comforter watching "Real Madrid" together.  Holy shit!  That movie is phenomenal.

All in all?  Analog Saturday may be one of the most significant and impactful lifestyle changes that I have made in the last five years (right up there with leaving the Bay Area to return to the Northwest, where I was raised).  It was absolutely phenomenal. 

I feel refreshed and in control.  Truly revitalized.  Psychologically rejuvinated in a way that is suprisingly powerful.

Now it’s time to once again put my money where my mouth is and take the bike out for some lovin’. Yesterday was my first ride after 6 weeks off the bike and, despite the fact that my new bike fit KILLS, I wanted to die.  There’s only one way to fix that – more riding, ASAP.

Happy Sunday,
Heidi

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Second to my laptop is my iPhone, which I dock into my iHome alarm clock each night so that it can wake me up to my favorite music in the morning.  I love my iPhone.  It gets me everywhere.  It tells me everything.  It is the all-knowing, all-glowing wonder productivity tool.

I literally have one or the other of these things in front of me for the majority of each day.  Including weekends.  Excluding workouts and bike rides.

And though I love these tools dearly… it’s killing me.

It makes me crazy.  I check email when I should be doing laundry, or cleaning up my room, or playing with my cats, or paying attention to my cute boyfriend.  I work on print layouts when I should be relaxing and enjoying this weird thing called life where there are all these people and you actually interact with them.  I read articles and do research when I could be making pictures.

I mean… productivity and efficiency are admirable – but enough is enough!

It has come to a head.

I have been thinking about this since the beginning of December when I decided to figure out what Ireally needed to work on in my life.  I mean what really would make a significant improvement in my quality of life.  Last year was all about what I could be doing better, what more I could learn, how much work I could possibly produce.

This year, I’m factoring in some time for rose-smelling.

I’m a driven producer and a relentless work-a-holic.   Physical activity has kept me sane so far, but the way I structure my life is going to catch up to me at some point. 

Besides that, being professionally "on" 24/7 doesn’t make me feel more in control – just the opposite.  There’s always something more to do – one more task to tick off a list – being constantly aware of that (as a result of constantly trying to get to the bottom of the list and never succeeding) is nothing but an exercise in frustration.

Does it seem a little extreme to ban the computer for an entire day?  Would it maybe work just as well to set aside a few hours per day… or to not use the computer when I get home from work on weekdays?

Maybe.

But I’ve had my ears wide open for the past couple years and I’ve learned a few things about myself.  Namely – the bigger the challenge or the more extreme the proposal, the more likely I am to succeed.  This may seem to fly in direct contradiction to the "small, attainable goals" theory, but it’s just what works for me.

In addition, "Analog Time" (as I’m calling it) is much more refreshing to me in large chunks.  An entire day of non-computerized interaction is going to be way more meaningful than a handful of weeknights.

A whole day each week where I don’t even look at my computer?  Where I stash the phone somewhere and leave it?  A day untethered and free and out of range?

Just call me The Girl Who Spelled Freedom.

So, here we go – Analog Saturday is officially in effect.  No computer, no iPhone, no television.  Instead, the focus will be on art, family, friends, photography (ok, ok, I’m going to allow myself to shoot my digital camera, but no processing!), activities, rest, reading and (gasp) journaling.

I feel sort of like Apollo 13 heading into the dark side of the moon, but I’m sure that will pass.  :)

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Technorati Tags: technology, analog, wellness, health, resolution, goals

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