F#(&ing Hell

​Well, that didn’t last long. This summer of normalcy, riding, and just living has been derailed once again by fucking cancer. 

If you’re following the Boi over on his Caring Bridge page, then you know what’s going on, but if not here’s a quick synopsis. 

After routine scans, some small cancer spots were found in his lung, lymph nodes, and upper arm. We are now in full-on fuck cancer mode.  

After a wonderful month+ of being able to ride my bike and be kinda normal as a family, the news of a re-recurrence derailed it all.  We had some appointments and what not before the end of May, then I and my Lovely headed over to Sheridan for the 10th annual Dead Swede.  Hard to believe it’s been 10 years since Cleaver and I did that 40 miler, in the inaugural race, so, SO hungover. I’ve not done it hungover since, so with age comes wisdom I guess, but I was 45 when I did the first one, so you’d think I would have known better than that by then.

Meeting the support crew during the Dead Swede. 

The month of June was a LOT of appointments, including a somewhat rushed trip to the Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, so riding was on the back burner.  I got a few good ones in, but not a lot, so while I didn’t regress, I didn’t progress on my fitness and being ready for the Dakota Five-O at the end of the summer. 

I’m figuring out the right balance of helping the Boi and getting some riding in, so hopefully July will be more productive than June.  

But either way, whether I get less/same/more riding in this month, one thing remains the same.  FUCK CANCER.

Riding My Ass Back Into Shape (With a Cause)

​

One of our last rides together before the Boy's cancer recurrence.

We are racing toward summer at a high rate of speed. I mean, we’re only a month’ish out from the summer solstice, which kind of makes me gag a little. 

Because of this I’ve been riding a lot the last week or two. I was ramping up in April to be sure, but the only thing in April that was consistent with my riding was my inconsistency, with unsettled weather causing most of my problems getting on the bike 

Now, I have no choice but to get cracking.  Not only am I planning on doing the 60 mile distance in upcoming Dead Swede at the beginning of June, but more importantly I’ve opted into riding for a cause in May. 

The American Cancer Society (ACS) has a fundraiser in May, Cycle 300 Miles in May for the American Cancer Society. Normally I don’t participate in things like this, as I feel like the public in general gets inundated with requests for donations too much. But, since our stint at Mayo for the Boy, where we stayed cost-free at the ACS Hope Lodge, I felt the calling for this one. Besides, it’s forcing me to get on my bike and ride. 

And I’m getting some good miles in! Even with a couple days of weather related breaks, I have over 180 miles in the first 13 days. Not too shabby. Forcing me to ride because I definitely don’t want to let the people that have donated down, but also getting me back into some sort of shape for the Dead Swede is a nice one-two punch. 

So check out the fundraiser, donate if you can/want, but please no pressure. Money is a touchy subject right now for a lot of people, so I fully understand if you can’t. But know I’m out there pedaling for it, so if you can’t donate right now, jump on your bike and pedal with me. Riding your bike will make you feel better and will motivate me to pedal a little harder. 

Cycle 300 Miles in May for the American Cancer Society 

Old. Older. Oldest. Me.

I’m starting to see a pattern in this iteration of the NSSC…the word old. What’s old is new again, this shit is getting old, and now I’m too old. 

The very first version of this blog (to which I’ve lost the credentials and even the actual name of it - I’m sure it’s floating around on the internet somewhere) was borne out of a crash on my mountain bike. It seems if I have been good at anything on a mountain bike, it’s been crashing. Hell, this blog had a couple year run of me detailing multiple crashes and even more injuries. 

In keeping with the new theme, what was old is new again, kinda. I went down with the ship yesterday, fairly hard too. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve kissed the earth and I can’t say I’ve missed it. But as with most of my crashes, it was a potent combo of speed, bravado, and possibly (most likely) riding above my skill level.  That coupled with the fact I tend to ride like I rode in my 30s and not almost 55 (I just gagged a little typing that). 

Now, understand I’ve never loved crashing, but it has always been a part of cycling, especially mountain biking. I’ve understood the risks, but as I’ve gotten older, if I’m not feeling something, I’ll go around or walk over the obstacle, no shame in that to ensure riding another day. This was emphasized even more after my rash of injuries a few years back. But, crashing now is on a different level. I was clipping along at a pretty decent pace, descending Far West trail at HLMP. A little maneuver on a high-side banked turn and as I came out of it all of the sudden *BLAM* on the ground wondering how I got there. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, taking account of my situation before I got up, dusted myself off and continued on. 

For the next few minutes, I took it easy on the descent, before finally opening it back up and hitting the few jumps and finally descending through the flow-trail to finish the ride. 

Ultimately I’m OK, but not without some reminders that will linger for a while. 

This elbow has scar tissue
layered on scar tissue.  

Couple this with the fact that now Garmin has metrics on their Edge products that tell you how many jumps you completed, how fast you were going when you jumped, how much hang time you had and how far you jumped and you’ll quickly see that some of these things might not be good for an aged mountain biker. 

This metrics page is going to get me in trouble. 

But hey, I haven’t crashed in quite some time, so I was probably overdue. And it taught me something…I can crash and not get seriously hurt, so I’ll most likely try that again. This most likely wasn’t the lesson I was supposed to learn. 

This is Getting Old

​Well, I decidedly did NOT dust this old chestnut off to just be another platform to discuss/bitch/rant about cancer, but this post will once again be very cancer focused. 

A few weeks ago I had to attend a funeral of a 17 year old that we knew who had a sarcoma recurrence in a similar time frame of the Boy’s recurrence. Obviously, this one hit a little too close to home, but more so I am completely devastated for the family.  It seems completely and utterly unfair after a kid, a fucking child, fights like that only to have dying be the outcome. The survivor’s guilt knows no bounds.  Why is my kid doing so well in the face of very similar circumstances and this innocent 17 year old had the complete opposite outcome? 

Now, today I attended a funeral for a friend and fellow cyclist, Kevin Forrester, who also died of cancer and the age of 58. I knew about Kevin’s diagnosis for a while, but it still doesn’t lessen the impact of the news…like a full on kick to the nuts. 

Kevin’s impact on cycling in the Black Hills is massive and he will be sorely missed. There are plenty of other musings online of his impact through his trail building and his race promotions, for legendary BH races like the Tatanka and the BAM, so I won’t wax on about those. 

I will say Kevin was the first mythical status bike racer in the Black Hills. I’ll never forget the year his name was launched to the forefront on the formative years of mountain bike racing. He was the man to beat and no one could do it. But what truly launched him to that mythical status in my young mind was his finish at the Dalton Lake race. Leading the pack, he got a flat tire on the front wheel, couldn’t fix it and finished on his rim! I was in awe. Leading the pack enough to try to fix your tire then deciding “fuck it, riding on the rim it is,” and still winning the race is the stuff of legend. I probably have this story wrong or I’m conflating a few stories, but in my mind it’s true and what made Kevin the legend he was. 

That taught me a lot about riding that day. 1. Bikes are just tools and you can fix them. 2. There is a way to persevere not matter what is handed to you. 3.  You’re tougher than you think. And finally 4. Don’t quit, even when the cards are stacked against you. 

I even employed this in one of Kevin’s races, the Tatanka 100. I got 4 flats that day, but never quit, never gave up.  I mean, I know it took me a LONG time to finish that day, but I kept going, even when others around me were quitting. 

Godspeed Kevin. Did a lot more for mountain biking than you’ll ever know, but more importantly you taught people lessons on how to live, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. 

So once again, fuck cancer. It’s a bunch of shit that NO ONE should have to go through.  

NSS 4.0, 5.0? I Can't Keep Track of How Many Relaunches This Stupid Blog Has Had.

​What was old is new again. We have war in the Middle East, Trump is president, and The Boy is battling cancer…it seems like a GREAT time to dust this old dirty thing off and see if I can get it started and keep it running.  

Everything, and I do mean everything, has been in a holding pattern for almost a year because of The Boy’s Ewing sarcoma recurrence. I’m sure some of you have followed what’s happening with him over on his Caring Bridge page. 

Over there we keep it positive and mostly about his current treatment status. Back over here I can let it out, so maybe that’s why’s I’m dusting this outdated form of communication off. 

Fuck Ewing sarcoma and fuck cancer. Typically when there is a recurrence of this cancer, it is deadly.  Obviously this created a bunch of anger and fear in us, but clearly The Boy has a greater purpose than he knows, as he is once again kicking its ass. It’s infuriating as hell having this shit rob two+ years of our lives, especially for The Boy, taking around 10% of his life to fight. Ultimately it’s better than the alternative, but fuck that none the less. And now we’re nearing the end of this year long treatment, so it is time for me to start getting my ass back into to some semblance of shape and normality. 

I’ve been at Mayo Clinic for the last three weeks with The Boy helping him through his radiation treatments. With his treatments only taking a couple hours out of the day, that’s left a lot of free time for us. I’ve been taking advantage of it, utilizing the meager exercise equipment here at the Hope Lodge. I am hoping it will be a springboard for a lot more riding when I get home later today. 

Not the most inspiring post, but now that I have a new editing app on my phone, I am hoping I can make this more of a regular thing. 

If you see me out in the world, ask if I want to go for a ride. If I say I can’t, remind me that I need to. 

I can't even describe this mess...

Well, it's not been two posts in a week, but not nearly as long of a hiatus as last time.

Last time I dusted off the portal to this blog, I was saying that I was hoping that 48 was a better  year than 47.  After having accomplished my 48th journey around the sun, I was kinda feeling like this year was going to keep ramping up into something great.  Mother Nature was finally cooperating and I was getting some rides in, I was getting up and riding with Eric in the mornings, and mostly I wasn't injured.  Things were looking up!

The weekend before the 4th of July was a normal weekend here around NSS HQ.  A little work at the store, a little yard work,  a little MTB ride before an afternoon thunderstorm shut things down for the day.  Little did I know, that MTB ride might be my last of the year and the thunderstorm that ended that ride might have ended my riding for the year as well!

The next morning, my Lovely and I got up early as we usually do, had a little coffee and played a little Yahtzee (I am 48 years old for chrissakes) waiting for the hardware store to open so we could run a couple errands.  On our way to the hardware store, we had a load of branches from the previously mentioned yard work to drop off at the yard waste bins at the baseball fields.

We got there and found an empty dumpster, unloaded the branches, and were pulling out to head to the hardware store when my Lovely and I notice this little, old lady trying to push a bag of yard waste up and over the dumpster.  Since the dumpster was about a foot taller than she was, she was struggling.  As my Lovely started to say, "Do you think she needs some help?" I was already shifting the Pequod into park and jumping out to run over and help her.

I sprinted (at least as fast as I can sprint) over to her and just as I got there, I felt the ground give way.  I was sliding on a blanket of leaves, pine needles, twigs and small branches over a sheen of mud on the asphalt.  Everything was lubricated well from the previous evening's rain.  As I was sliding down, I put my hand out and shoved the lady's bag into the dumpster and then I hit the ground.  As I was going down I felt a big *POP* in my left knee above my kneecap.  I looked down and saw my flesh all sucked down into what appeared to be a hole inside my leg.  I thought I might have broken it.  My Lovely rushed over and helped me up, I hobbled back to the car and we drove home. At least I got her bag in the dumpster and didn't take her out when I went down.

Looking like it was about to give birth.

My Lovely had a meeting in the early afternoon, so I said I'd lie down in bed and see if it felt better in a little bit.  If it didn't by the time she was done at her meeting we'd go to urgent care.

Well, when she before she even got home I knew we needed to go.  My knee was starting to look like a water balloon.  Off to the orthopedic urgent care we went.  Long story short, the nice doctor that saw me said that she thought I had a full thickness quad tendon tear, but we'd have to have an MRI ASAP to verify this.  With the long holiday weekend looming, time wasn't on my side.

My new hardware.

An MRI the next day did verify the full tear of the tendon.  Shit.  When they called me back with the results, they said I could get in for surgery on Monday.  Ummm, nope, that won't work I explained to them.  I am self-employed and we have an open house at the store this next weekend.  If it could wait until the following Monday, that would be ideal I explained.  I could hear the person on the other end of the phone shake their head.  "Time is of the essence with his surgery," she explained.  "With the brace on you'll be able to stand and do work for your open house." Well, kick-ass! In the words of that stupid fucking comedian, "Let's get 'er done!"

This website lied to me...

I looked my surgery up on a medical website.  Ah, that's not too bad I thought.  It said people can be down from it for a few months up to a year.  Shit, I am a PT PRO, so I won't have any problems!

Monday finally came and I got to have my surgery done.  Ummm, what the hell?  I didn't ask for a fucking zipper to be installed on my knee.  I mean, shit, I realize that I have had some accidents recently, but no need to put a quick access on my knee, is there?  Obviously, the surgery was a little bit bigger than my findings alluded to.  Crap.  If I get to ride my bike again before the end of

I'm still looking for the YKK symbol on here.

2019, I'll be stoked.

So, maybe it's not the 48th year that is going to be a better one, maybe it's the 49th.  Yeah.  49.  That is the square of 7.  Thats gotta be good luck, right?

Yes, I know, two posts in a month...don't faint.

Kind of crazy, right?  Two posts in a two weeks...what the hell?

My right arm looked like his, but my abs decidedly don't

When I finished the last post I was about to see the doctor and get news about the blood clot that caused my right arm to get the whole Alley-Oop look on point.  I went to the doctor which was a quick check and a scheduling of an ultrasound.  The doctor seemed happy with how my arm looked, which meant it wasn't swollen like a weird balloon animal and was very similar to my left arm. The next day was the ultrasound, which I think is a weird experience.  That warmed up goop they put on the wand to rub all over your body, which was my shoulder, armpit and inner bicep area, feels pretty gross.  Slimy grossness aside, the scan went off without a hitch and then was the wait for the results.

I finally got the preliminary results the next week from the nurse from the doctor's office.  She told me the clot was completely gone and was going to leave it at that.  "Wait, wait, wait," I said, "can I get off the blood thinner? " That's the whole damn point of this exercise.  I want to be able to ride my mountain bike (and really any bike) again without a lot of concern of injury.  Not that I'm looking to crash, I'm not built like Graham, and since crashing kinda sucks donkey balls and got me into this whole mess to being with, I don't want to ride with that hanging over my head.  Besides, I don't want to have the thought of bleeding out on a ride hanging over the heads of any riding partners either.  Of course the nurse didn't know.  She was just the messenger.  She'd have to find out and call me back.  Which she did and guess what? I off the fucking Eliquis!!! Hell yeah!  I got off the Eliquis just in time for another bomb cyclone to hit us with a spring blizzard.  Maybe it's for the best as it gives me time for that to all work out of my system and for me to get back on the bike a little more not-so-seriously.

Getting off that bullshit Eliquis was great for a whole bunch of reasons.  First, I can obviously ride my mountain bike.  But secondly, and more importantly, it made me feel like shit.  I didn't realize how drained it made me feel until I was off of it for a couple days.  It didn't make me feel sleepy-tired, just physically tired.  No wonder I didn't want to do anything physical while I was taking it.  Maybe it is a good side effect of that drug, so you're less likely to go do something stupid (like crash a snowboard at a high rate of speed).

One last medical follow up; I got a call from the doctor a few days later.  He consulted with the radiologist and a cardiologist and looked at my ultrasounds and CT scans I had earlier and based on the blood flow, which was very good, they don't think any further medical intervention is needed at this time! Fuck yeah! I was fully prepared for some sort of intervention, but this is great!  No worries about recovery or injury!  Now it's time to ride.

The "Canyons" from back when I could ride (it's all relative).

And that I did last week, kinda.  Before the snow and before my results were back I went for a road ride with my homeboy, Eric.  Eric for those of you that don't know, is a fucking HAMMER on the road bike.  The dude can flat out haul ass, especially uphill.  I had been kinda blowing him off for a ride the last few weeks, trying to get my health shit all sorted out.  Now there were no excuses.  He wanted to hit the canyons, a good little training ride that we do.  Coming basically off the couch, I told him we could do anything but Nameless Cave as it was too much of a climb for me now.  Off we went and let me tell you that ride SUCKED.  Road riding isn't my favorite thing anyhow, but when I can tell my right lung is at about 75% capacity and every deep breath hurt like hell is piled on top of a road ride, well, that makes for a crabby me.  But it was exactly what I needed.  I went out the next day solo and did a similar ride.  Then the snow fell.  Two baby steps forward and one giant one back.

I am going to get out for another road ride today (hopefully at least on some gravel) and keep trying to chip away at this sad state of affairs that is my riding ability right now.  And maybe by the time the snow is melted and the trails are dry I can ride without sucking too badly.

Look at that rib cage.  Graham isn't breaking ribs...

I heard you all ask who the hell Graham was earlier in this post.  Graham is what scientists say the human body would look like if we evolved (or were intelligently designed like for you creationists) to survive auto accidents without things like airbags and what not.  Maybe if I'm going to keep doing these stupid things, I should change my body shape and become more like Graham.  If he can withstand a car wreck, a bike wreck should be a piece of cake.  He's definitely not sexy, but neither am I,  so if I keep this up I want to be built like Graham.  Or better yet, just stay on my bike and off the ground.