Just Another Rolling Hill

At 50 miles-per-hour objects move into, and out of, your sight relatively quickly.  When we were in Driver's education courses - en route to getting that ticket to freedom called a License - the instructors taught us to look "10 seconds ahead".  That is to say, identify, classify, and follow an object 10 seconds before it gets to you.  Most of us, now by a developed automaticity, do this type of tracking unconsciously while we drive our cars up and down our streets and highways.

If you have ever been driving at 50 mph, or faster, and stuck your hand out the side window, you have felt the resistance that air puts against your body and car (usually thought of as a wind).  But, what if you were going 50 mph and you didn't have a windshield?  Or a roof?  You may have a sweet 1930-ish era convertible coupe (how sweet!). What if you didn't have doors? Or four wheels - you only had two? 

What would it feel like to move at 50+ mph downhill on something that weighed less than 20lbs. Had no internal-combustion engine. Had tires that were only 1-inch wide. Was piloted by your two-hands. And Powered by your 'Chevrolegs'?

A Pure, un-adulterated, adrenaline-fueled, dopamine-releasing, ear-to-ear-grin forming, Rush! 

While trying to recover from a shoulder complication, I have been spending ample time on my road bike (Yes! I wear the silly clothes, get over it!). A few rides ago, I ventured down the road from my home into San Pedro, and then up into Rolling Hills. It was around 6:30am (a late start) when I rolled out onto the street. Along the way I crossed paths with a small group of cyclists who were just finshing their jaunt around the peninsula (like I said, a late start). I jumped into their ranks for about a mile, or so, on PV Drive North, before peeling off on a hard left up - and I mean UP - Silver Spur.

There were no big gears being grinded. Instead, my little baby-boy gears spun round like an amphetamined-ferris wheel. Not to be cut short of my downhill section-to-come, I continued on and pulled a right-hand turn to head up Crenshaw Blvd. The construction crews worked with melodic rhythm and efficiency - undaunted by the cool bite lingering in the morning air.  My side of the road was unsurprisingly empty, while the roadway streaming out of the hills seamed to have a constant user.

At the top of Crenshaw you are greeted with an awe-inspiring view of the Pacific Ocean - Santa Catalina Island just slightly to the left, and all of Santa Monica Bay to the right.  Turn around to think about starting back down the hill and you are greeted by a view that - even on a hazy day inspires thought and wonder as to how large Los Angeles is.  This morning was clear. Clear enough to read the "Hollywood" sign without squinting, while the Pacific's blue-green hue, and the snow caps of Big Bear, frame in the bulk of LA.

After a few minutes of rest, some nutrition and hydration, it was time.  I adjusted my helmet, checked my glasses, clipped in, and pushed off. The first rolling hills give you wonder as to how uninterrupted or rolling the rest of the hill will be - but you are soon greeted with a downhill grade that immediately propels you into higher speeds. Time for big gears. Not necessary. Within 30 seconds of pedalling the bike was already pushing 45mph, and my legs strained to keep up with spin of the pedals. Time to tuck-in.

Into the drops I went (the drops are the lower part of the handlebars, you know, the part that when you see them you say, "gee i hope that guy didn't pay full price, that handlebar's bent on both sides") as I watched the mph number steadily creep higher. Feet stopped pedalling and formed a stable base. Head and chest tucked down close to the frame - Like, makeout close. Hips shifted back flattening out the back. Uneducated to the technical specifics of aerodynamic cycling positions, I thought this felt about right. Judging from the consistent acceleration, I think it worked out pretty well.

On the high-side of 50mph, with no airbags, or steel cage around you - you notice things. Colors, vibrations, smells - the movement of 4 leaves on a tree 200 meters ahead of you letting you know you may have to brace a cross-wind. You're Awake!

The all-too-familiar 'twinge' started to bite at the back of my neck....cramping? really?! Tucking into the aero position required muscle usage that I had not yet developed. But God it's fun! A quick look down to stretch out the neck and we were back in business. To be completely honest - there is no feeling like passing a BMW 5-series going downhill; just something beautiful about it!

After the 5-0r-so-minute descent, I was back into the traffic and congestion of a typical LA morning. And as I rode home, mixed in with other people - riding in their cages of steel and plastics - I took with me the piece of mind that I was a part of a different niche of society; one that wasn't caged, but, incredibly free.

Because Sometimes Somebody Else Gets to Do The Writing

My Friends!  Please Click on the link and check out my Interview with Watermans.

Watermans Interview

Thank you for Reading

Amazing, The Power of A Second Look

A cascade of once-in-a-lifetime events and circumstances surrounded a Tuesday afternoon.  I cannot go into too much detail about the 'who' and 'where', but be satisfied that this Dr. and his staff are more than highly qualified.

I will get right into it (sorry no novelistic story on these):  The second opinion stated that the "tear" was not really a "tear". But rather, an edge of the labrum was "frayed", and that this, in and of itself, should not necessitate surgery.  In addition to this, however, The Second Opinion discovered that there was "fraying" of the supraspinadus muscle of the rotator cuff - and that this is the likely source of the majority of my pain.

Prognosis: 6 - 8 weeks continued Physical Therapy, coupled with restricted upper extremity exercise; Therapeutic Anti-inflammatory regimen.  If, after these 6-8 weeks, my condition does not improve - or worsens - another MRI/Arthrogram and potential surgery would come into play.

So what does all of this mean? I am grounded. Literally. No water-born activities. Training, for the foreseeable/near future, will consist of punishing the lower body on land.  Cycling. Running. Cycling and running. Punishment in the gym on the lower body. Followed by more punishment on the lower body. And maybe run a little bit more. FUN!

Another good thing to come out of the new prognosis, is the potential to rejoin the US National team on its trip to South Africa for the ISRC at the end of March - not as a water specialist, but as a beach event specialist.

We'll see how it goes.

Setbacks and Future Aggressions

More details will follow this post, along with more stories in the ongoing adventure that is my life.

I have had the great fortune of training, traveling, and competing with some of the greatest people on earth. Throughout it all I have been even more fortunate to have done it all relatively injury free.  Obviously, with a heavy workload, and dynamic conditions beyond human control, some minor hitches occurred - but these are to be expected.  

For the first time I face an unknown.  Last week I had an MRI Arthrogram performed on my right shoulder. From these films, my first Orthopedic visit resulted in not-so-nice results.  A partial tear of the superior aspect (the top) of the Labrum shown on the semi-grainy plastic films. 

To get the immediate question out of the way - Yes. Surgery is an option.  No. This is not the only option. 

I am currently in the process of seeking 2nd and 3rd opinions from other Orthopedists, and will determine my route of treatment after these consults.

As a result of the circumstances, and the uncertainties accompanying them, I have elected to suspend my planned competitive trip to the Gold Coast of Australia. The potential for worsening the damage by training the way I would in that environment is too great to ignore.

No matter the course of action, I am confident that I will return to the competitive forum stronger and hungrier than before.

"Never Never Never Give Up!"

~Winston Churchill

Tickets? We Don't Need No Tickets!

So I decided to take a break from life and take a little trip.  It started off like any other trip.  A somewhat long and apprehensive drive. Checking in at the counter - Swiping the card.  A quick pat-down. Off to the gate.  We boarded the aircraft - packed in like sardines - and prepared for takeoff.  

The Engine's whine pierced through the hull of the aircraft. Brakes released. And we were off.  Down the runway torwards the ocean. A quick influx of G-force, and the plane was off the ground.  We sailed skyward toward the West. 

 Like any other flight, after about 10minutes the pilot chimed in.  This time was different though.  This time he didn't say we could turn on our portable electronic devices; or that we could move freely about the cabin, but to have our seatbelts fastened while seated.  Someone would be coming through the cabin checking for tickets.

Tickets? Yeah tickets.  Like on the train.  The guy with the funny/sweet hat comes through to check and punch tickets. Not a big deal. Small inconvenience. One big problem. No Ticket.

-Tickets?  

-What tickets?  

-Tickets sir, where are your tickets? 

-I don't need a ticket - I gave it to the guy at the airport. 

-Tickets Sir?! (his voice rising is disgust over my insolence). 

-Look, I dont have any tickets with me. Can't we resolve this once we land?

-No Sir.  I will have to ask you to leave Sir.

-I'm sorry?

-You will have to leave Sir!  Out you go!

-But we're at 13,000feet!

-Have a good day Sir.  Bu-bye.

And with that irritating 2syllable SNL line resinating - I left the aircraft.

What crazy mixed up world this is.

Happy New Year!

LoveLife

Gut Checks to Guest Chicks

So, the New Year's celebrations have come and gone, and things have started to settle down.  For those that I haven't spoken to already, I am still in the US (Refer to my previous post, "the Gut"), putting in a 4week self-inflicted bootcamp.  

This week, however, my routine was interrupted by a surprise phone call.  On the other end was a girl I had never heard, seen, or knew existed before the reluctant "micah?!" that came from the phone.  Olivia came to the US, with a family as a hired nanny, from Melbourne, Australia.  She was now on a 1week vacay from the family, and thus, without shelter.  After staying with someone (whom a friend of hers had recommended) for 2days, things weren't going the way she had anticipated.  She emailed Tommy.  Tommy swam sprint, and mid-distance, freestyle along-side me at The Arizona State University.  He gave her a short list of people who might be in the area.

Gut check.  I had changed my travel plans based, almost entirely, on a "gut feeling".

The phone rung late Monday evening, and Tuesday Olivia was introduced to myself and two more former teammates from ASU - Eric and Joey, as well as three other Lifeguards and a Coastie.  

Now in a much more comfortable environment (her words), LA and the USA have a second chance to shine to one of our international guests.

You never know what might come out of that gut feeling....Go with it - It's usually Right!

Let the Adventures Begin

The Gut...A Small, But Powerful Contributor

Walking along a sidewalk of a busy street you suddenly get the feeling that you should pause for a second to look around.  You follow that feeling, step to the side of the walkway and pause, just as book shelf tumbles onto the sidewalk in front of you, coming from the doorway of a small storefront.

Taking an multiple choice exam, you stumble across a question you have never seen before.  Your hand instantly moves to mark the "B" bubble - but you pause. Retract. Move to the right and fill in the "C" bubble.  You receive your test back the next day.  The answer was "B".  You failed by One-point.

Intuition. Instinct. Gut feeling. 6th Sense.  There are several names for it.  Whatever you call it, there is no denying its existence - or its uncanny aptitude.  Whether it be everyday decisions about what to cook for dinner, or which shirt to wear; Or, about once-in-a-lifetime decisions that present anything but logical solutions.  Go with your Gut!

That "Gut Feeling" is there for a reason.  Who or what put it there is anybody's guess.  Yet, it is there, and it has proven to save more than one man's head.  

When I was in the Training Academy for the LA Co Lifeguards, one of the mantra ingrained in the front of my memory was..."When in doubt, GO!"  Those four words have served me many times over the years on the beach.  However, this is not all-encompassing.  In fact, it is pretty unique to that field of my life, and the opposite is more true outside that environment.

When in Doubt - Don't!  Crossing the street. Eating some questionable produce. Whatever the case may be.  That 'little voice', or gut feeling, is probably right.  The human instinct has kept the species alive for thousands of years.  It might know a thing or two about survival.  Trust it. Go with it.