Jason

End of the line...

Well my time as a blogger for CycleOps has come to end.  

I rode my final TT of the year, and of the year with the PowerTap.  Long time readers (Hi Ma!) know that I started the year with an eight minute TT power of 220, or as I like to call it, "The Assassin's Mark*."  

My final TT Power number of the year?  It was...(cut to commercial).

And we're back.  For the final Time Trial of the year, I pushed 254!  I'm way, way thrilled with this number.  Every since my first TT, I've held that 250 is a big boy number.  I have no idea why, and I'm not even saying that it is, it was just an arbitrary number bigger than 220 that seemed like a solid number to aspire to.  It's not like the SATs where a certain numbers mean you can go to certain colleges.  But since there was no SAT equivalent, and since I have no problem attaching huge significance to arbitrary concepts, in high school I spent many hours of my life arguing that Phil Collins was, in fact, AWESOME, and that Michael Bolton, did, in fact, blow (I was half right). At first, I found the Cozy Beehive site that gives the Category to Power/Weight Ratio to give my efforts meaning in the non-race season, but then, being the homer that I am, I discovered that Saris also has a site to give meaning to my life, to be the inspiration.  So at 254 and at 160 pounds I have a powert/weight ratio of...3.5!  That makes me about a Cat 4 racer.  So clearly, 250 is not the mythical beast I've made it out to be, but it was a goal, and it was more than 10% greater than where I started.  By the way, Katie's power to weight ratio puts her in the Domestic Professional range, I can't even keep up with her in the "Pretend Cycling World."  I'd get a shirt that says, "I suck my girlfriend's wheel" but that sounds dirty.

Here's the chart from the big Time Trial.

And while it looks like an elevation graph, that's my power for the TT.  My single biggest "thing" in racing is that I start out too fast.  I can't help it, I'm an optimist.  I feel good at first, I think, "YEAH!  I can do this!" and get going.  Then about half way the lactic acid army comes and pops my balloon and I think, "Wait a sec, what was I THINKING?  I'm in trouble here..." and then begins the slog.  I fully get that my power tap graph should look exactly the opposite as it does, but I'm just scared that I'm going to have too much in the tank at the end (is there such thing as a fearful optimist?) and that I won't put in my best effort.  I've got to figure this out, I bet I could have TT'd a 260 if I had the right strategy.

So my goal for this year is to jump a group on the Saris Chart.  That means either pushing 295 or losing 5 pounds and pushing 275.  I like the Power/Weight goal because, one it gives me two ways to win and I like to stack the odds in my favor, and two, because its the realest feeling of the abstract meanings.  By linking power and weight I have anchors for both in the final goal.  I'll be motivated for both nutrition and exercise, which is important because I live the "I can eat what I want because I exercise like a freak" mantra.

As for my time with the PowerTap?  I think its an amazing tool.  I'm am definitely faster on my bike than I've ever been.  I can ride harder and faster and I don't get dropped by people nearly as much (Katie still beats me like a rented mule though, I think I need to hide her PowerTap) and my favorite part of every ride is after the ride when I sit down with my smoothie and download and review the data.  I have a pretty lofty race goal this year, Qualify for Duathlon Worlds, and my PowerTap will be a huge part of the effort.

Also, after a year with the PowerTap, I'd like to offer a few suggestions for further modifications.  One, I would love it if it had an altimeter feature.  Seeing elevation gain/loss numbers on my rides would be very interesting.  Also, and this is minor, grade info.  Cyclists cite climbing grades like Playboy Model measurements, I'd like to know the specs of my favorite rides.  Honestly, that's all I'd add, well that and a grappling hook button so I can keep up with Katie.

To everyone at CycleOps/Saris, thank you very much for the opportunity to share my year, and a huge thank you for the PowerTap meter and hub.  I had a great time this year, learned a lot about myself through the blogs, and grew into a better rider thanks to your technology.  It was a great pleasure and huge honor.

Thank you.

*I call it that because I watched a movie or TV show once and the cop said that Mob Assassins like to use a .22 to the head.  I'm weird so that stuck with me.

Now See Hear

Been doing a lot of indoor training these days.  I'm not quite at the "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" stage, but I'm getting close.

Here's something interesting I've noticed though.  In my garage, I put my Blackberry on the treadmill's display tray and rock Pandora, giving me sound but only the garage door to look at.  At the gym, I have the TV's to look at but, since I keep forgetting to bring my headphones, I have no sound.  As you can see, I have the basis for an interesting experiment, "Which passes the time quicker?  Sound but no visuals, or visuals but no sound?"

For me, having music but nothing to look at passes the time much faster than the muted TV screen (Quick aside, why don't gyms just keep the Closed Captioning going at all times, I mean, doesn't that make the most sense for everyone involved?).  Anyway, just looking at people on TV but not being able to follow along is really boring.  The good news is now I finallyI understand why dogs can sleep at a party.  When you have no idea what's going on, sleep is about all you can do.  But music?  Music in just about any setting, including running on a treadmill next to my car in a cold garage, can take you places. Maybe a song sparks a memory, maybe an emotion, maybe a thought, or maybe it just allows your mind to wander, in any case, time actually moves along pretty fast when I'm cranking my Bon Jovi channel*.

So I'm wondering, is this just me?  What do you think readers who I assume number not lower than one (Hi Katie!) but not greater than five?

Finally, a note to ESPN.  I've noticed on my silent stalker watching days, that you show a lot of radio shows on TV.  What gives?  Why are you heading backwards along the technological trail?  What's next, having the fuzzy black-and-white hour?  Describing the days sports highlights using shadow puppets?  Using silhouette drawings for athlete pictures?  Sure E! pulled it off with Howard Stern but that was because everyone wanted to see Porn Stars.  I'm sorry but one really cares what Mike and Mike look like.  Bottom line?  If you have to use TV time to show radio shows, maybe, just maybe, you have too many channels and not enough programming, and I say this because watching a radio show on TV with no sounds in time passage death.

*That's right, I have a Bon Jovi channel in my Pandora.  I play it loud and proud.

The Year Without an Off-Season*

Mr. Cold Miser is in full force today.

It wasn't quite 40 below, but Sander and I went skiing.  Today was important because it was the day of Sander's first decent of an Aspen Mountain Black Diamond, the Northstar run.  He's been eying this run since the start of the season, and with the fresh snow, today was the day.  He was a little nervous looking down the run, but before I could say a single word of encouragement, he said, "Oh well, lets go dad!" and took off.  And he legit skied it.  It's funny, not one thing I do in sports makes me as excited as watching him get excited about hitting his goals, not one.  But while it wasn't 40 below, it was close, so we celebrated the run with some hot chocolate at the base and called it a day.

For me, I ran this morning, skied in the afternoon, and have PowerTap class tonight.  This off-season is shaping up like one I had years ago where I had a marathon in January (the Gasparilla Marathon), which is to say, there won't be one.  I have another January marathon this year, Disney (actually, I'm doing the "Goofy Marathon-and-a-Half" where I'm running a half-marathon on Saturday and the Marathon on Sunday), and Sander is running the 5K and Katie's running the 5K and half-marathon (we're raising money for the American Stroke Association-I had a stroke in 2006, not something I recommend).  Combine that race with the Duathlon Nationals in April, and there's not much chance of getting any rest this winter.  I have to admit, I forgot how incredibly boring long runs are on a treadmill set up in my garage.  I tell myself that mind-numbing boredom must be good mental training for long running, but my mind, which knows me pretty well by now, knows I'm pulling that out of my kouli**.

The worst part is that being winter, I can't even go with the "At least I'll look good in my board shorts" motivator because all you wear this time of year are big ol' winter clothes.  In fact, its worse because I don't have my usual winter blubber to keep me warm so I suffer even more on the mountain, or on those few days I try to man-up and run outside.

On a completely unrelated note, I found this message on my water bill.

 
This is a great example of copying a trend you cant pull off.  My water department is the 55 year old man at the club with the "I'm in Green Day" get-up.  Sure, Facebook and Twitter are all the rage these days, but really, who want's to be a "fan" of their water department?  Seriously, what is my water company thinking?  Maybe that after writing my check I feel so good about the whole situation that I want to become a fan?  Or that having them hit me once a month for cash isn't quite enough communication so I want to follow their goin's on a more regular basis?  Isn't this like being a fan of the IRS?  What's next, wardens asking inmates to "friend" them, or follow his musings on Twitter.  Yes, companies use Facebook and Twitter to reach their customers.  No, the water utility can't pull that off.  And you, old guy at the night club, ditch the eye-liner and 17 rings, it's not working.  Sorry.

*Obviously a riff on "A Year Without A Santa-Claus."  I think this is one of the more underrated Christmas movies from my childhood.  Rudolph and Charlie Brown steal all the glory, but the "I'm Mr. Snow Miser" song is far and away the catchiest song of the stop motion season. 

**Greek for "buttocks."  Reading the Power2people/Jason blog is fun and educational!

Movember Mo-over

So another Movember has come and gone.  My company raised $1850 for the cause and the mustache review was a blast.  The best part, I now have the most bad assitasious picture of me ever.   I love that picture, I'm 5'7", weigh 160 pounds after eating a full pumpkin pie and am generally on the geeky side, but in that pic I look borderline intimidating.  I had to find a way to immortalize that shot, so I ordered a new PADI diving card and made that look my new profile picture.  I tried to talk Katie into getting it inked as a portrait tattoo, but she passed.  I even offered to pay for it as part of her Christmas gift!  I guess the boundary of love stops just shy of tough-guy tattoo of your boyfriend on your thigh.

I'm in Dallas this week so no riding.  Which is kind of a bummer as I've been crushing my bike work-outs lately.  In other news, I've been really struggling on my runs.  I'm hoping that its because I'm doing hard PowerTap classes again on Tuesday and Thursday which is maybe killing my legs for the quality run work-outs.  When I ran yesterday instead of PowerTap, it was a solid run, so there's some evidence that that's what's happening.  It's just a little discouraging because the run is my strong discipline, and I'm afraid that if I lose leg speed, then my goal of qualifying for the Duathlon Worlds in Scotland takes a hit.  Long time readers (Hi Mas!) know that my strategy is to gain time on the first run, hold on for dear life but lose time on the bike, then try to make it back up on the final run.  Maybe getting better on the bike takes some away from the run, which evens out the three legs making for a better race.  OK, sure, that sounds great on paper, but psychologically, I'm not sure I can handle that.  I'm old and change scares me.

Mo Better Movember

Being the trendsetter that I am, I've been participating in Movember for the last two years.  Movemeber is a charity where men (i.e. me) grow a mustache to raise money and awareness for prostate cancer.  One of my great regrets in life is that I never had a "beard phase" (and no, not that kind of beard).  You know when you see pictures of guys at their wedding, or old photos of your dad, there's always that shot of him happy and looking goofy with his shaggy beard.  Dangit, I don't have that shot and it bugs me.  But given work and Katie's relationship right to veto anything that makes me look like an entirely "unkissable grizzled homeless man," there's no shaggy beard in my future ( unless I climb Everest, sail around the world, get lost in the Amazon or get transported back to 1840).  Drat!

So instead of a Shaggy Beard Phase, I get a "Partial Mustache That Never Gets Long Enough to Get to the Really Cool or Soft Phase." This year my work endorses it through our official "Movember" team, and Katie's on board (until exactly November 30) because I told her that we can't let the Cancerists win, because really, when it comes to cancer, you're either for it or against it.

I decided to go with the "70's Narc" look.  Actually, and honestly, it's a tribute to the mustache that my late uncle Costa had in the 70's.  There's a picture of him with my mom with a huge grin and sporting the absolute coolest Greek Beard of that decade.  Whenever I see that shot, I think, "That's the coolest guy ever."  But because I come from the "geek" side of the gene-pool, my 'stache is an homage to cool.

Participating in Movember is like being in hip club for a month.  You see people with barely there mustaches and you give them a knowing look.  But it's also kind of like playing Dungeons and Dragons.  Sure, when you're with you friends in the living room playing and laughing together killing Orcs its the coolest club going, but when you go to the dance after to football game, having a 21st level Elf Wizard is decidedly uncool.  Same with Movember.  Sure, when you're surrounded by co-workers and friends all of whom know about it, especially in a small town like Aspen, there's a definite camaraderie and even some jealous looks from guys who didn't get the hall pass from their girls to play with the other kids.  But I went on a business trip to meet some important people about a week into my growth and felt the need to start every meeting with a disclaimer that I'm not an aspiring pornstar, but rather, I'm growing a mustache for charity.  And the looks I got in Chicago on trains, at restaurants or even at the hotel check-in noticeably lacked any hint of jealousy or appreciation.  Katie was also in Chicago for business, and we went to dinner a few times with some of her clients and co-workers.  Surprisingly, and much to her credit, she did not lead every introduction with, "This is my boyfriend Jason, he doesn't always have a wounded caterpillar on his lip."  So while I was completely insecure 'bout my 'stache away from the nest, she just handled it as a non-issue.  Have I mentioned how lucky I am?

Anyway, once you're in the mustache club, you start to notice when others get involved.  I came across this picture that one Mr. Lance Armstrong tweeted about his Movember mustache.  I immediately went to the mirror to confirm that my mustache totally dominates his.  If this were the Tour de France, he would be Ulrich and I'd be staring him down over the bushy glory that is my Greek heritage.  So sure, Lance can put out something like 1000 watts, maybe I choose to allocate some of the energy that could produce power to growing my rockin' mustache.  Also, and I feel that this needs to be said.  Looking at that picture of Lance's mustache should end the steroid allegations.  Clearly there's no extra testosterone in that body.  I mean, I could grow a better mustache when I was 13.

So next time you're out and about you can play the Movember game.  Try to guess weather the mustache you see is a Movember mustache or a "real" one.  Use these helpful guidelines, Cowboy hat = real.  Sitting on a Harley = real.  Suit and tie = Movember.  Woman = run.

My CycleOps Friend

Being both old and technoilliterate I have just stumbled onto the idea that I could "friend" CycleOps through Facebook.  I'm officially fan number 696, not quite enough of me to push them over 700 but I tried. 

It's really cool being a friend of CycleOps.  For instance, there's some wallpaper you can download for inspiration, it shows a guy in a basement with the catch phrase, "Remember to save just enough to get back up the basement stairs."  That is infinitely more motivating than the Power2People/Jason site's poster of me in my boxers sitting on the couch watching 30 Rock and eating my boy's Halloween Candy with the catch-phrase, "It's a long winter, there's plenty of time for training later."

As my dear ol' gran pappy used to say, "Any day you can make a friend is a good day."  So yesterday was a good day.

End of the beginning, or the beginning of the end?

As my many readers know (Hi Megan!), I put my bike away for the off season. While I am not a huge fan of the trainer (I get enough of spinning my wheels and getting nowhere in my daily life), it does allow me to focus on the finer points of my cycling.  I haven't been on the trainer since the end of spring, so comparing what I did then to what I can do now at the beginning of winter is kind of interesting.  Well, maybe not quite "kind of" maybe more, "sort of," or "desperate for motivation," interesting. 

Here's what I learned after two days of indoor PowerTapping.  One, my cadence went down.  Earlier this year I was at 95, now I'm at 85.  I've lost 10 points and a whole letter grade.  I hope my parents don't get a note, I need this grade to stay on the wrestling team.

What's interesting is that I keep reading that a high cadence is great for cyclists, but that multi-sport athletes should actually use a slightly lower cadence (I chose "lower" instead of "slower" because "lower" sounds less judgmental).  Something to do with needing to run after biking.  If anyone in the PowerTap nation has any ideas or actual knowledge beyond, "I read somewhere once" I'd love to hear it.  If not, I'm happy to stick with the low cadence=good for multi-sport because, honestly, "I read somewhere once" is more basis for my actions than I usually take.

But what is really interesting is that my power has actually increased.  My last TT in April was 220 at 100 cadence.  My TT on Thursday?  240 at 92!  BOOOOM!  Suck on THAT all you naysayers who I totally made up to have someone to taunt because everyone I know in real life is too nice and supportive thus robbing me of my right to have a foil. 

So I did a little digging on the Google and found this site that tells you what the Power-to-Weight ratio is for cyclists at various levels.  At 165 pounds and pushing 240 I'm theoretically at the top of the Cat 5 world (My TT was eight minutes and the nearest on that site is five minutes, so there's some fuzzyness in this stuff that's already fuzzy).  

So anyway, I'm not sure if that was my last TT of the season, or my first TT of the new season, but I'll take it.  I also like having some cool new graph goals.  My goal by next April is to move up one whole internet graph category and be at the top of the Cat 4 world.  Sure, that's like being Mole-Man, but any empire is better than no empire.  Anyway, to hit that goal I need a P/W number of 3.81.  So if I can push 265 and drop my weight to 155 that means...well, it means I can expect to picked on more.  I mean, 155 pounds!?!  I'll have to carry my trainer and bike around with me everywhere I go just so I can show that "I HAVE THE POWWWWWERRRR!"  Only instead of He-Man saying that while holding a mighty sword, it will be a  scrawny guy in spandex running from Girl Scouts.  Frankly there's a part of me that's not sure its worth moving up a category if it means that a strong wind can knock me off my bike.

As it stands I'm actually feeling pretty good about my cycling right now.  I know a whole heck of a lot more about the sport than I ever have.  Honestly, before I met Katie I was recreational cyclist who loved the sport.  Now I feel more like an actual cyclist who loves the sport (just one of may ways I'm better for knowing her).  I feel like I'm starting to gain enough knowledge to begin to discern what works for me and maybe create actual plans for getting better rather than relying entirely on guessing and generic advice.  So I'm really looking forward to training this winter because I think I can make a jump this season.  Anyway, I read somewhere once that this happens to cyclists at my stage.

A Hazy Shade of Winter

Winter arrived with a flourish here in the Rockies.  It snowed for four straight days and temps were in the high 20's.

Sad to say, but it's looking like its time to put the bike on the trainer.  It's also sad because this means an official end to the season.  A season that was not great.  I don't think I've ever had a season where I was sick and/or injured this much in my whole entire lifetime.  You can now officially put me down as a believer of the "Stress will mess your a$$ up" school of philosophy (it's a blue-collar club).  I work in the financial sector, and, well, things have been tough in dog years.  I guess it got to me as I didn't meet many (or, even ANY) of my goals.  I only raced a handful of times, and my times weren't what I hoped for and obviously I didn't qualify for Worlds (my secret hope-shhhhhh).

The good news is that when you have a season as bad as that last one for me, next season has the potential to look stellar.  When coming off a low, average looks good, above average looks great, and great looks All World.  Plus, Duathlon Worlds are in Edinburgh, Scotland next year!  One of my favorite cities on this big blue marble, so I'm really hoping things work out (and that if I work out correctly, I won't need to hope much).  Funny how that is really, the less work you put in the more you have to hope, and the more work you put into something the less you have to hope (clearly I get most of my philosophies in life from Pluggers and Love Is.

Rectum? It nearly killed him!*

So...I had my first colonoscopy last week.  Most of the smarter readers (Hi Mas!) will stop reading...right...about...now.  But those of you who missed Katie Couric's adventures in wonderland can keep on reading.

One day I'm minding my own business and my Dr. says I need a colonoscomy, and I react like I imagine I would if judge ever sentences me to the hoosegow.   "Wait, it's time for WHAT?"  You sure you're not just in a bad mood or something?  Is it tax season?" 

So I make the appointment with the "specialist" a few weeks later.  Apparently my doc is the "facilitator" or "pimp" and just sends people off to get sun shined where the sun don't shine.  They give me some prescriptions that I don't pay much attention to.  In fact its funny how little you focus on anything else besides the idea of Dr. Octopus slinking a tentacle into the Bat Cave.**  The nurse (by the way, you try to look cool talking to a cute nurse about getting a colonoscopy), could have told me just about anything and I wouldn't have heard it because of the following thoughts going through my mind, "I'm going to get a colonoscopy, I'm going to get a colonoscopy, I'm going to get a colonoscopy, I'm going to get a colonoscopy, cute nurse knows I'm going to get a colonoscopy, I'm going to get a colonoscopy, try to look cool and not like your'e about to get a colonoscopy."  Anyway, I left in a daze and put everything aside until the a few days before the "visit." 

That's when I ambled over to the pharmacy and put in my prescriptions.  I killed some time in the magazine section looking at all the triathlon magazines and went back to the counter and picked up a jug bigger than my head and one little white pill.  "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" says I to Katie pointing at the jug, "and I'm gonna need a whoooooole lot more pills than this little white thing to get through this."  Turns out the jug is an acceptable form of patient hazing.  The instructions say that you have to drink an 8 oz glass of this stuff every 10-15 minutes until half is gone the night before the procedure, and finish the rest off the morning of the procedure.  Then they give you these tips.  One, buy some Gas-X, two pick a flavor packet (they give you several choices, I went with cherry-now I cry every time I see one).  Katie tried to do the "tie a cherry stem into a knot thing" to make me laugh the other day and I went and hid in the closet) and the coup de gras of harbingers, "It's best if the mixture is cold and you drink it fast."   Yup, another case of medical speak that means, "You're going to absolutely HATE this."  Sort of like, "This might sting a little means, 'This is going to feel like I just ripped off your arm and beat you with it.'"  Oh, and as a PS, the instructions add, "Stay near a toilet."  Ah, yes, a great night in the Elliott house.

I have never, in my life, disliked anything more than that liquid albatross.  The first glass wasn't so bad.  the second, ok, sure, not my favorite, but doable, then it fell off a cliff.  Until the laxative (that's what it is by the way) kicks in, you just get bloated.  You just can't comfortably drink that much thick, foul tasting water that fast.  It hurts.  Then my stomach started gurgling like a bad movie sound effect, and then, well, "then" and we'll leave it at that.  The rest of the night was a race between what I forcing down, and what the mixture was forcing out.  Extreme bloating, release, extreme bloating, release.  It became so hard to drink that going to the refrigerator felt like being called downstairs by your dad after you scraped up his car and tried to conceal it with your mom's nail polish.  No, it felt like that scene in the Harry Potter movie, "The Half-Blood Prince" where Dumbledore tells Harry to keep forcing him to drink that weird liquid to get the Horcrux out of the Horcrux Cave, "no matter what, even if you have to force it down my throat and I beg you to stop."   It got to the point where I would shutter going by the fridge, and it took me several attempts to drain the 8 oz glass of thick oversweet water.  It even had this weird cloudy texture, I'm assuming that's what was attacking my intestines.  So I spent the night drinking a foul liquid and expelling foul liquid out the other end.  Good times.

The worst part was that I knew the foul, evil brew was for breakfast (I was told explicitly to get start drinking by 6 am).  Awesome, alarm then cold thick hell water.  Good morning to me!).  I also have to face the idea that not only do I have to drink the last half-gallon in record time, but that later in the day I have to face (turn my back to?) the fact that 10.45 is when the Journey to the Center of Jason begins.

Katie and I get to the Hospital and start the check-in process.  Everything's going well, I try to make a few jokes with the nurse that are so bad and met with such a "What are you talking about stare" that Katie has to step in and say, "He was making a joke."  And that, ladies and gentlemen is when you know your killing it.  About half-way through the Q&A, the nurse says, "What laxative did you take?" and I respond, "I dunno, whichever one you prescribed," and then she says, "Big jug, or little jug?"  And this is when the record in my life narration screeches.  There's a longish pause as I process this question and reply, "There was a little jug option?"  Now I'm not a conspiracy type, but I'm telling you right now, and Katie will back me up, she moved right along, "Oh, you had the big jug, how did you sleep last night?"  To which I replied, "Seriously, there was a little jug option?"  Which was met with no acknowledgment of my question and she instead hit me with the "time to put you in your place" statement of, "You'll be on your side during the procedure, here's your gown."  I took this to be an implied, "We can do this the hard way,  or the easy way, it's up to you and your jug questions" and I quickly dropped the topic.  However, 
apparently I was unwilling to let this go completely.  Katie said that when they wheeled me out of the procedure room, I was drugged up and loopy but asked the nurse, "Seriously, I don't understand why I didn't get the small jug."  I'm telling you, the liquid prep scarred me.  She also mentioned that the biggest side-effect of this particular procedure is a "gassy feeling," but not to worry, "they suck most of the gas out."  At which point I think, "I'm so glad my girlfriend is here to hear this," as I'm sure we're both picturing the Doctor holding a wet-vac over my ass after he's done violating me.

But (ha ha) now it's time for the deed.  I put my gown on, take some pics with my phone, make some jokes and get ready for the...well, I'm going to leave it at "the."  They wheel me into a little room that looks nothing like a procedure room, more like a closet with some random medical machinery in it.  I'm sorry, but when I have anything done beyond filling a cavity, I want it to look like when they fixed Steve Austin.  I want lots of doctors in get-ups, big lights and loads of beeping things, not a walk in closet with a TV screen.  I've seen better tricked out media rooms.  But again, I'm really trying to avoid "the hard way" so I make more jokes with the nurses who are beyond nice and very, very good at making you feel comfortable before something wildly uncomfortable.  And here's where I get my first taste of the placebo effect.  When the nurse first put the needle-adapter thing in my hand, I started feeling sleepy.  I thought to myself, "Wow, they get the IV drip going fast here, I can already feel it working."  Fortunately, before I said anything out loud, I looked at my hand and saw that the needle-port was connected to air.  And oddly, I felt suddenly more awake.  I was so focused on going to sleep and getting this ordeal over, that my body took anything as a sign to go to sleep.  I was so ready for a trance that the Amazing Kreskin would have me clucking like a chicken in no time.  Again, I'm joking with the nurse and she says that its time for the sleepy-sleepy drug, and that I shouldn't fight it.  I assure her that I'm planning on embracing sleep like a warm blanket on a winter night.  And sure enough, I have just enough time to ask her if that "51" is my hr (It was.  And I'm more than a little proud of that.  As nervous as I felt, my heart was Terminator calm), and I was O-U-T, out. 

The next thing I remember is Katie giving me some apple juice and, I'm sorry to be gross, but the most satisfying toot in my recorded history. Katie said when I "let it go," I smiled and said "I tooted" and fell back asleep.  There's something like 3 billion men on the planet and she chose me.  Women are weird. 

So that's why I didn't bike on Wednesday.

*Or, "A different kind of PowerTap."
**Yes, yes comic geeks, I mixed the Marvel and DC universes.  But having Dr. Octopus' tentacle reaching into Spiderman's Chelsea apartment just didn't have the same tone.  Consider this a cross-over article.

I AM THE LAW!*

Not one to run afoul of the law I thought I'd go ahead and comply with a new FTC ruling requiring that
"writers on the Web to clearly disclose any freebies or payments they get from companies for reviewing their products."

So in attempt to keep from going to Internet Jail where they force you to use...dial-up, I'm stating that the good folks at Cycle Ops gave me the PowerTap for free.  And to be sure, I'm going to restate this in italics, the good folks at Cycle Ops gave me the PowerTap for free.  Here it is in bold, the good folks at Cycle Ops gave me the PowerTap for free.  And again in color, the good folks at Cycle Ops gave me the PowerTap for free.  Just for kicks, highlighted, the good folks at Cycle Ops gave me the PowerTap for free. 

Hopefully this clears things up.  But the good news is that if I do go to the pokey, I can enter my POWERTAP prison tat in the great Power To The People - Jason Blog announces historic contest.  

If I do go to prison, Katie I expect you to wait for me (and send me a blanket so my toes don't get cold), and to those of you out there who read my blog (Hi Ma!) tell my story.

*For you non-nerds out there, "I AM THE LAW" is a catchphrase by the comic book character "Judge Dredd."  "Judge Dredd" was a also a movie with Sylvester Stallone and Rob Schneider.  Guess who played Judge Dredd and who played the comic side-kick?