Man Hits Curb - Film at 11:00 (see entry below)

See below for the exciting tale

Damn Pine Needles and Bark

My frustration supersedes the fact that a race bike going at a speed of 25 mph is better left glued to the pavement, swerving in, out and around people, horse drawn carriages, bikes and other aggravating factors that cause a serious athlete serious chaotic confusion. My ignorant "let's get Mikey to do it" mentality almost cost me my leg as well as any chance of doing the upcoming Mayflower Sprint Triathlon, let alone even finish.

Each time I arrived at this particular area on the lower loop by the old Tavern on the Green, I kept thinking about swinging up and around the children's play area on the hill, then come blasting down around the News van, back across the entrance of the Tavern on the Green and back on my course. My plan was great and would have worked if it had not been for the small, unanticipated pine needles and tree bark that had been matted to the road by the tears of sap mixed with still the morning wash of dew kept alive through the dense shade.

A little more background as to why I really needed to gain a bit more of an edge on my speed here in the park. On my 10th lap around the 6 mile loop, I met a very knowledgeable woman on her bike. She was fast and lean. Did I say fast? She was a "girl" and I did not want her to go faster than I was. It was my last 25 miles of 72 which was my downhill training. My downhill training consists of riding as fast as I can down the hill. Simple to do you may think, but the spent energy does not allow you to make it up the next hill without extreme lactate build up. The lactate build up is something that will shut you down quicker than Vito throwing you into that tub of cement he always seems to have on hand in the back yard. Come to think of it, all his friends seem to have access to the same sort of thick mud. It was a good thing I was not concerned about going up the hill. I was just fixated on going down the hill and not stopping until I reached 30 mph each time. The 30 mph was not so hard since on a straight-a-way I can achieve that speed for a straight 7 miles, still working on a total of 12 straight miles of 28 to 33 mph for my race.

This damn woman with her slick bike and fancy outfit was always just out of reach of me and it was really making me madder than a one-legged Jack Rabbit. She was telling me all the things I was doing wrong and you know what? She was always right. It felt like I was riding along side of my ex-wife, God bless her little heart. The ex-wife; not the woman on the bike. Lol The woman on the bike I was having a vision of sabotaging.

"Care to have another go at it?" she yelled out from the cockpit of her rocket sled and I said "OK, one more try". So we both approached the Everest of the park. I looked at her and she just as dastardly looked back and then neither one of us bothered to push the other. We strolled up that hill talking and trying to psyche the other out. Got to the top and it was on!

I decided now "how do you make Broke Back Dad go fast?" You give the other person a head start and then Broke Back Dad has a reason. It is called humiliating the opponent and their silly flying rocket sled of a bike and its fancy colors and names on it. So she was off and she was screaming. I knew I could not let her get too far out because she would have torn me a new one with her quick-witted humor. I was gaining on her; then right up against the side of her with flames now coming out of the back of her race bike. She yelled over to me "30 mph", but I could hardly hear her because I flew by her so damn fast that I tore the straps off both pedals. I knew this but I did not know exactly how to do it and stand up at the same time. I was jumping from side to side, like trying to jump right over the top of the bike then slamming down with all my weight on the other pedal. I don't know how fast I was going but she thinks I may have gotten as fast as 40 mph. Whatever the speed it was faster than her. My legs now will not pedal at all and here she comes, drinking and pedaling right past me. "Nothing left?" she yells out. OMG! No she did not! Lol This woman is a riot but she was way too cool to let go. She was so lean and strong looking. Every muscle in her shoulders and back were as taunt as the chain line on a super tanker. Long blond hair flying like a kite tale keeping her on track. I caught up to her and for some reason, she decided to push it. At that point, I thought of taking the short cut. I was getting ready to make my secret move. Shhhh. I was behind her blind spot. She would not know what hit her. My last lap. No way in hell was she going to dominate me. Here it comes. The intersection at the bottom, climb the hill, stay to the left, one beverage and sand dog cart swerve, cut, duck back to the left. Now!! Now!! Take it! Go, go go! And I made the craziest sharp right I had ever dared on this Hobo Bike of mine. I am up flying like the tail wind of a fighter jet. Feeling in the groove coming down the hill. Only 25 more yards. Oh crap! Losing it! Hit something! I am now aiming for the grass. My eyes, if anyone could see, I am sure showed that "Mikey" can't do this one. I hit the curb on a slide. My bike stood straight up. My foot, now with a broken, strapless pedal, went right through the middle of the bike and down I went. I managed to stiff-arm my fall, taking the immense impact through my bowling ball shoulders. Then down I went. As I lay on the ground, I thought "what an idiot", and "all this because I did not want a woman to beat me."

Come on guys, haven't you ever been in that situation before? I really don't care most of the time because I can usually win. I, for the most part, don't do things I am not good at. With this woman: I really could not catch her. She humbled me to the point of "I want to just go home".

The whole ordeal was caught frame by frame, by a local news person that was trying to find just the right location for his shoot. He had his camera on auto and was just blasting frame after frame after frame, like you would with an automatic weapon. Push a button and 20 photos are gone in a blink. Well I came as a blink and was down just as fast. This man followed me to the Great Lawn and told me who he was. He thought I would be interested in these photos. I gave him my email address. He took a few more photos, which at that point was just pissing me off. He asked me to sign a release and I said "no". Then he left. Quite frankly, I did not think I would have ever gotten those pictures on my email.

The lady who is the topic of this blog entry is a world class racer and guess what type of bike she had? Paraplegic racing bike. She was turning the wheels with her hands. She was as old as my mother. Ain't that a bitch?

There is Always More in You Than You Know

I thought to myself "How do I get this body, once it is shutting down, to still produce at optimum level? Where do I go in the mind and how deep will it take to trick the cerebellum into a typical fight or flight mode?" I did it on the bike with great success. I know I can do this with my run. I am now at a level of conditioning that my next body and mind experiment can take place without damage.

Stage #1

Tire out the body so that the level of aggression that is about to be thrown acutely at my legs will be at a bare minimum, thus protecting the integrity of the hips and pelvis that are carrying the load.

Stage #2

Swim 80 laps in the pool, which is approximately 1 mile; no time limit, at a pool being 23 meters or 25 yards. This took me an amazing 3 hours. I had to stop several times because the life guard told me to. Bike a quick 25 miles not worried about time. This took me 46 minutes. Beat That!!

Stage #3

Run the bottom loop of Central Park until I cannot possibly lift my legs. My mind needs to be in the "I just want to go home NOW" mode. The park is approximately 1.5 miles in distance. I run at a 10 minute mile pace. 10 minute mile pace is all I have, ever, that is my fastest as well as my slowest speed. It is what it is, until I implement my new experiment. I am so excited to show again all those so called "body mechanics experts" and their degrees and plaques hanging on the wall, what really works. Where are all the fitness magazines getting all their information from? Surely not from ME! Lol The mind is the strongest muscle that we have. To gain control of the mind you will inherently control the body in which it dwells.

I ran 6 miles; puked; then ran 1.5 more; fought with myself to do one more loop. All said and done, I ran 9 miles and did not have a thing left in me. I was ready!!! Where is my homeless man?

Stage #4

A: Hydrate but not as to look pregnant.

B: Nutrition - one peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich cut in the shape of a race bike. Yes, a race bike. I found an inspirational cutout in a cake shop.

C: Look for the homeless man I paid by the grace of the donors from this site that have, out of the goodness of their hearts, sent me money specifically to help with my training.

Stage #5

The rest of the story......

Twilight has taken a grip on the park. Humidity, as if being transformed into a tropical rain forest, dwells heavy, grasping at my lungs. My heart is now visible palpitating through the thick muscled skin of my sweat soaked chest. I cannot find my homeless man nor do I care if he shows up at all. The vibrations of the worms, I swear I can feel as they jockey for position toward the twilight of the immense glowing, magnetic moon. "Hey mofo, is that you?" I hear off in the distance. This all to familiar voice is my homeless fellow, Ivan Dragoff. Ivan seems to be a bit tipsy but will do just fine for what I have in store for him. I most likely should have had more security around my employee so that he, not I, would have been also in optimum condition for this critical experiment.

"Good evening Ivan. Please come with me while I unlock that bike over there and get that duffel bag out of the bushes. I am going to have you ride this bike around the bottom loop of this park, while pulling me along behind you. You will not get paid if you stop! You will not get paid if there is any slack in the rope. You will not get paid until I cannot get up off the pavement when I fall. Once I do fall and am not willing to go anymore, then this is where you make your money. Ivan, you then need to get me one complete lap from where I give up back to where I give up. Do you understand, Ivan, how important this is?"

"Yes." Ivan replied.

I did not place Ivan on the bike until I had all my padding on all parts of my body. I looked like a hockey player in Speedos. Quite the sight. I have the padding on because I am intelligent enough to know that my body will probably be tripping and possibly fall. I do not want an injury. Yes, this might seem to be extreme to some of you but for me, it just makes perfect sense. Ivan is now on the bike and I have a weight belt around my middle and a rope tied in a bowline knot so Ivan cannot untie me and steal my bike. I don't think Ivan could untie a bow if I only did that. We set off and I actually kept up for the next three miles. I attribute this to the rather long 30 minute rest I had. I was coming up on my 4th mile and all of a sudden, my legs did not want to move. I knew they could move but my mind said "ENOUGH"! And it was very loud and clear. Ivan, that bastardo, did not stop and at that point I had to move or get dragged back to square one on my face. I was now puking as I ran but all of a sudden, a euphoric and quite overwhelming sensation came drowning my body with all sorts of vibrations that I almost felt like I was floating. Probably was hallucinating because if this is not the stupidest thing I have ever done then it is pretty darn close to it. Lol I started to run past Ivan so much that if I ran any faster, I would have turned him around since I was tied to the back of the bike. This was the motor response I was looking for in my mind. The synapses that were firing off were now in the fight or flight mode. The "run or have your body ground into the asphalt" mode has been achieved. Oh and the milk crate was not there. If it was, Ivan would have had a keg in it with a siphon tube. Ivan kept yelling at me saying "Mofo. If you don't let me pull you, do I still get paid?" I was cracking up and so were the cops that had been riding along side of us pretending to be oblivious to the whole ordeal. I slowed down and started to enjoy the kiss of the full moon seemingly with its protection of Ivan and myself as we made history in Central Park of Manhattan on the 23rd night of a very suffocating evening, here in July.

The Simple Magic of Body Rest

Today I took a taxi for the first time in two years. My taxi ride was not because the underground "limo service" subway is a sweltering, sweaty, smelly, people clustered web of madness. It is also not because I needed to be somewhere really fast because I never need to be somewhere ever really fast. I am really never in a hurry to go anywhere. Life, if caressed properly, will always allow you sufficient time to do just about anything. My taxi ride was because my legs would not work today. My knees were screaming at me to lay off. I have never felt so destroyed in all my life. I also am a cheap son of a gun and would rather die before I had to use a taxi.

Today, a few more steps and I would have collapsed. Hell, the subterranean railroad I can handle. I just carry two or three shirts, a bottle of aftershave for my Portagy shower and I am good to go. I am as fresh as the next smelly city dweller next to me. But, not that guy with both arms up over his head with the death grip on the overhead railing. Oh, and did I mention that he had hair in his armpits that was longer than the dog on the leash next to him? I know, gross right? Lol Not to mention it looked just like Willie Nelson on a good day, in the rain... oooooo

A taxi, me? Oh no you did not. Well that tells me I need to back the heck off. I always seem to get carried away with things. Have you ever gone over 100 mph in a car that should really only be going 35 mph? Well, there you have it. This car, for today is all show and not an ounce of go.

So, off to the beach was in the cards for me and not just any beach, but the clothes less worn beach. Or the clothing optional beach if you prefer. Have you ever been to a clothes less worn beach? In the upper east coast? It is not pretty, but if you are training for a triathlon and need a boost in feeling great as all get out about yourself while your insides only know the reality of your existence, then do I have a spot for you!

Back up bike on a morning ride

Central Park Reservoir

Really, I did not mean to piss you off

A very fit man was riding what appeared to be a ten thousand dollar and then some racing bike. Sharp green frame with yellow soled back tire. The bike almost looked animated, for it looked like it was straight out of a Betty Boop movie.
The man in question was really burning up the track. I had no intention of going fast today as I had my milk crate strapped to the back of my donated bike from Martha's Bike Shop, loaded with my two 25lb plates strapped together with a mile of my most favorite duct tape. I simply wanted to ask this man if the gloves on his hands would help my hands from falling asleep from putting pressure against the handlebars.
I drummed up enough strength to get up close to him and yell over, "Hey, hey mister! Need to ask you a question" He took one look at me and thought I was some sort of a kook. I, for one, do not look like anything special on the track. I ride incognito so that I can just do my thing. Plus, I have a struggle wearing tight shorts and cool clothes. Probably why my body building years were cut short - lol! The clothes do not make you go faster. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. He thought I was out of my mind and decided to go even faster. For me this was a struggle because I was already carting around 50 extra pounds on my bike. I bet his bike only weighed 2lbs at the most. I finally got to ask the question and he said he wore the gloves because he wanted to protect his hands and that they were not for circulation. I asked if there is anything on the market that will stop my hands from falling asleep and he said there is one sure fire method. I fell for the trap and asked him what it was. He said "cut your hands off" and then fled off. I caught up with him again and told him that I am doing my first triathlon and then he was very much interested in all my questions. Now why did I not think about telling him this in the first place? We are now flying and I am trying not to have a heart attack! This man was so helpful, giving me all sorts of information I needed and did not need. He told me he is on a team that races all around the country. I said " that is so cool" and would be something I would consider doing. He said you really need to be good to get paid for this sport as a career. Then he yelled out "Buddy, if you want to get good, you need to lighten up your bike. Your bike, for goodness sake, looks like you are going to the flea market. If you want to be fast you need to get rid of all that crap" He then asked me why, if I am training for my first triathlon, do I have a bike rack and milk crate attached to the back. I simply said that it makes me go faster on the weekends. This man was now dumbfounded and though I was a complete idiot. He said " Look buddy, there is way too much drag". Then he took a breath and asked with great curiosity and exaggeration "For the love of God, don't tell me you have things in that crate." I simply said "Why, yes and the things inside make me go faster on the weekends. It is my own invention. I have two 25lb plates duct taped together so that I can ride my cadence and then on the weekend, my body will be so tricked and strong that I will fly around this track like there are no hills at all." OMG! He said the "F" word followed by the "You" word and flew off in a tyrant.
WHAT? Did I insult him because he could not lose me on his gazillion dollar bike and I was on my fifty dollar bike from Schwinn? Ooooops, maybe .....lmao