Friday, December 4, 2015
Lost/Found Cat
We found this cat in the second floor parking garage at Ginter Place. Does anyone know who it belongs to.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Crashing out at Ironman Louisville
As many of you know, I crashed out of Ironman Louisville last month. As my body continues to heal, I am now able to comfortably type with two hands so I decided to write a short recap of my experience. The whole thing was quite an ordeal both physically and emotionally. So now, just in time for Thanksgiving, I want to recap my experience.
I am going to spare you all the details leading up to the race. Suffice it to say, I was very well trained, nicely tapered, and ready to execute my race plan. My coach and I discussed target power as well as run paces and I was confident that all my green boxes would add up to a great day.
On race morning, I had a small issue that required some tape. Melissa ran back to the hotel and got me some gorilla tape so I could deal with the minor issue. This slight delay put me near the back of the very long line of people waiting their turn to jump in the Ohio river to start the race. I had hoped to see some of my friends on the course but by being in the back of the line, I would only see them if I caught them.
Overall, I had a pretty decent swim. It was really not too crowded as the river was wide and the time trial start really opened things up. For some reason, during the whole swim, I kept having visions of my brother on his death bed. At the time, I did not know it was his death bed. I knew he was very weak though. I have written about this in the past but it is worth repeating since the images were so vivid in my mind during the swim. John was too weak to even sip water out of a straw. He would call out to me and say, "Jim. Water." Then I would dip the straw into the cup of water and drip water into his mouth. It was difficult for him to swallow even those small drops of water. But afterwards he would always say, "Thank you. " I would say, "You're welcome brother. I love you." And then he would say, "I love you too." Thinking about it now makes me so sad. Hours later, he would be gone. These thoughts and visions of John in the hospital stayed with me for the entire swim.
Finishing an Ironman swim is always quite exciting. To go from quiet contemplation in the water to the throngs of cheering crowds on land is quite a transition. After the strippers removed my wetsuit and I started running down the chute towards transition, I heard my name from some spectators. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the smiling faces of my former coach who taught me how to swim back in 2010. It definitely gave me a boost.
After making my way into the changing tent and weaving my way through lots of naked men, I found a spot on the ground to change into my riding gear. And then it was off to get my bike and head out on the bike course. The first part of the bike course seemed very fast. I felt so great. I was locked into my target wattage yet I was passing so many people. This was not typically the way my races have gone in the past. Usually I am the one being passed. I stuck to my plan and kept on trucking, careful not to burn any matches. At one point, I passed my friend Meredith. I recognized her Pro K kit and yelled Pro K as I passed. She yelled, "Is that Jim." I yelled back to her, "Yep."
Shortly after seeing Meredith on the course, I hit the turn around. And it was shortly after that when I hit the pavement. The freshly paved road was smooth but there was a 3 or 4 inch drop off the side of the road. My front wheel veered too close to the edge and suddenly I was on the pavement. I had what mountain bikers call a "front side washout." And it happened at 22 mph.
It is amazing how quickly thoughts move through the brain. My first thoughts were of another Pro K athlete, Lynn. She had crashed at her last Ironman but rallied to finish the bike and the run bandaged up like a mummy. I thought, "Can I rally like Lynn?" That thought was quickly replaced with, "I need an ambulance." I was in such terrible pain. My entire chest was throbbing and I was grunting with each breath.
While crashing does not seem like a lucky thing, I was lucky in many respects. I had hit my head but my helmet did it's job and I did not have a headache at all. Also, many of the competitors stopped to help me. Two EMTs, an OR nurse, and a doctor stopped to help me. They were kind enough to pause their races to tend to me. Nurses, doctors, and EMTs are always on call really. If there is trouble, they jump in and help.
The nurse held my head to prevent damage to my spine. She was very concerned that I might have a spinal injury. She was able to calm me down and looked into my eyes and smiled. I remember her race number which was on her helmet. They removed my helmet and rolled me onto my back very carefully. Despite their professionalism and expertise, I moaned in pain when they moved me. They cut off my jersey and removed my heart rate monitor which did provide some slight relief in my chest. I was in horrible pain. And I was scared too.
After a few minutes, I could hear Meredith's voice. She knelt down beside me and held my hand. I am not sure if she remembers doing this but it was very comforting to have someone I know there with me. I also remember that before the EMTs started tending to me that one person on the scene put his hand on my shoulder and I screamed, "Don't touch me." I remember Meredith scolding him. He meant well but he happened to touch me right on my broken collar bone. Meredith could see the swelling on my shoulder which was immediate. It made the injury look worse than it actually was. It was bad but the bone was not sticking out although it looked like it might have been.
After a while, a policeman came and took over the duty of holding my head in position. I asked that the racers continue. There was nothing they could really do for me. I figured the ambulance would be there shortly. But I was wrong. This particular part of the course was probably the absolute worst place to crash. It was a two lane out and back with no shoulder and thousands of bikes on both sides of the road. An official EMT did finally arrive. He arrived on the back of the neutral wheel support motorcycle. He did an initial evaluation and put a bandage around my shoulder. He said it was to keep the bone from puncturing my lung which apparently is something that can happen.
The EMT eventually disappeared and I was left lying on the pavement with the policeman holding my head. I laid there in terrible pain for quite some time. Practically naked, I was shivering on the pavement. I had a broken collar bone, several broken ribs, and two punctured lungs. Of course, I did not know that at the time.
All I could do was stare up at the sky. I told the policeman that help needed to get here soon. I was starting to feel really bad. I felt an overwhelming sense of doom. And I thought of my poor brother John. He had suffered horribly in the hospital for more than a week. He was in terrible pain and no one could seem to do anything about it. As I lied there staring up at the blue sky, I pictured those final hours when the nurse put a tube down his nose into his stomach. He instantly started throwing up dark purple liquid. As I lied there, I pictured his face as he looked into my eyes. He was frightened, and bewildered I think. The look on his face said, "no, I am not doing this. I give up." He crashed and an emergency team was scrambled into his room to try to stabilize him. I started to weep. But then the doctors came in and were asking the nurses questions. The nurses did not seem very forthcoming with the answers the doctor needed to try to stabilize John. I stepped up and answered the questions. I had been with him all night and knew how much IV fluids he had had and was able to answer other questions. In a few minutes, they had stabilized him. But he looked bad. John was a fighter. He had been through so many surgeries and had always come through. But now, he looked defeated. They rushed him down to the OR for emergency exploratory surgery to see what was wrong. The anesthesiologist looked pretty worried about putting him under. My brothers and mother told him that they were going to fix him up and we would see him soon. He looked defeated and I don't think he believed us.
I relived all of these memories while I was lying there in great pain. Poor John. It was not fair. His care was terrible, the doctors and nurses nearly incompetent. They did not seem compassionate. They were distant and had no answers. All of this was on my mind as I waited and waited, shivering on the pavement. My eyes welled up with tears as I remembered all of this. The tears were partly from my grief and partly from my pain.
Finally, an ATV arrived and they put me in a neck brace and put me on a back board. Each time they moved me I shouted in pain. At some point on the ride, I suddenly had an emotional shift. I no longer felt the doom. Something had clicked and I decided that it was time to model John's behavior. John was a fighter. John did not complain. John was always polite to everyone. John was my role model.
After the bumpy ATV ride, they transferred me to an ambulance. Again, I moaned when they moved me. The ambulance finally took off with sirens blasting. The EMT put in an IV line and asked me lots of questions. At some point after I told him how much my chest hurt, he did an EEG. I told him I was not having a heart attack but he had to check I suppose. It seemed like a very long ride in the ambulance. But I tried to lighten the mood. I told the EMT that whatever they were paying him, it was not enough. That seemed like a joke John would appreciate. I said thank you and please. They could not give me anything for the pain at this point so I had to suck it up. No pain, no gain Rosen. John used to say that all the time. John was with me in the water earlier that day and he was with me on the pavement and ambulance. His strength, his stoicism, his attitude guided my behavior for the next 48 hours.
I kept telling the people in triage that I had to talk to my wife. I kept thinking about how worried she would be. And that upset me. Again, I was fighting back the tears. Partly due to my pain, partly due to my emotions. I did not want her to worry. It struck me later that this was how John would have felt. He was always concerned about other people's well being. I remember when he was first admitted to the hospital on Good Friday. He was very concerned about his responsibilities as an usher on the upcoming Easter Sunday. Here he was in horrible pain in his head and he was thinking about others. He told my mom to make sure to call the head usher to let him know that John would not be there.
I finally did get to talk to Melissa. It was such a relief. She would be on her way to the hospital and would bring me some clothes, my phone, and other things. I think at this point the doctors had allowed the nurses to give me something for the pain. As I waited and waited and waited, the back of my head started to hurt where the neck brace was biting into my head. I raised my hand up and placed it under the back up my head to relieve the pain. It hit me hard that this is exactly what John did while he was in the hospital. He was constantly trying to relieve the pain in his head with various pillow configurations. Ultimately, his hand behind his head was the only thing that minimally helped. I again felt sad as I remembered my brother's last days in the hospital. Everything about where I was reminded me of his ordeal. Just like in John's case, I pushed the call button and no one came. I yelled out and no one came. Finally 45 minutes later, someone would come. It was very similar to John's experience. However, the nurses and staff at the University of Louisville hospital were nicer, more communicative. They seemed more compassionate.
The combination of the physical and emotional pain I was experiencing from the crash and the memories of my brother's death had really worn me out. Here is what that looked like.
Melissa arrived and snapped the picture above for me. Now that Melissa was there, I started to immediately feel a little better. The pain medicine had started to kick in and I was so relieved that Melissa had made it safely and was now there to be my advocate. For the record, if anyone you know is ever admitted to the hospital, they need an advocate. The hospitals cannot provide the level of care that we need. An advocate is a necessity.
I finally was taken to have my CT scan. Not long after that, the doctors determined I did not have a spinal injury and they were able to remove the neck brace. That was a relief and gets filed in the lucky column. The doctors started me on oxygen to help my body repair the holes in my lungs. I was going to have to stay overnight for observation and to make sure the holes did not get bigger. I am familiar with pneumothorax and really did not want to have to get another chest tube so I was relieved when the doctors told me that the holes would likely heal on their own.
I was finally admitted to a room about 4 in the morning. I was able to doze off a little in the quieter room. I was so hungry though. I had not been allowed to eat or drink anything because of the chance I would need surgery. Surgery was not necessary and I was finally allowed do eat something. It felt good to eat. It had been over 24 hours since I had eaten anything at all.
I kept improving and eventually they released me. Thankfully, my friends were still in town and they were able to help Melissa and I back to RVA. I could not drive and Melissa had not gotten any sleep at all as she sat in the chair next to my bed all night. Here is a picture of her trying to sleep.
So we joined the caravan of Pro K racers. Meredith drove my car and Melissa rode with the others. Honestly, we could not have done it without them.
There are some more details of this story that are worth telling but for now, this account will have to do. I am on the road to recovery now, doing PT, typing, driving, cooking, cleaning and even running. I did my first run this past Saturday. Now I am sore as if I had run 20 miles. I am still not riding my bike or swimming but that will all come sooner or later. For next year I am already signed up for 3 triathlons including Ironman Maryland in October of 2016. I still have a long way to go to get back into shape but I am going in the right directions. And I am lucky. Lucky to have people sacrifice their race goals to stop on the course and help me. Lucky to not have a spinal injury. Lucky to have friends help me make it home. Lucky to have a friend hook me up with an appointment to see the orthopedic surgeon. Lucky to have a loving family and sense of belonging. Lucky to have my brother as a role model. And most of all lucky to have a loving wife who had to do everything for me for several weeks. I am grateful for everyone. I am thankful for all my many blessings. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
I am going to spare you all the details leading up to the race. Suffice it to say, I was very well trained, nicely tapered, and ready to execute my race plan. My coach and I discussed target power as well as run paces and I was confident that all my green boxes would add up to a great day.
On race morning, I had a small issue that required some tape. Melissa ran back to the hotel and got me some gorilla tape so I could deal with the minor issue. This slight delay put me near the back of the very long line of people waiting their turn to jump in the Ohio river to start the race. I had hoped to see some of my friends on the course but by being in the back of the line, I would only see them if I caught them.
 |
| Getting ready to jump in. Thanks to Lilo for the picture |
Overall, I had a pretty decent swim. It was really not too crowded as the river was wide and the time trial start really opened things up. For some reason, during the whole swim, I kept having visions of my brother on his death bed. At the time, I did not know it was his death bed. I knew he was very weak though. I have written about this in the past but it is worth repeating since the images were so vivid in my mind during the swim. John was too weak to even sip water out of a straw. He would call out to me and say, "Jim. Water." Then I would dip the straw into the cup of water and drip water into his mouth. It was difficult for him to swallow even those small drops of water. But afterwards he would always say, "Thank you. " I would say, "You're welcome brother. I love you." And then he would say, "I love you too." Thinking about it now makes me so sad. Hours later, he would be gone. These thoughts and visions of John in the hospital stayed with me for the entire swim.
Finishing an Ironman swim is always quite exciting. To go from quiet contemplation in the water to the throngs of cheering crowds on land is quite a transition. After the strippers removed my wetsuit and I started running down the chute towards transition, I heard my name from some spectators. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the smiling faces of my former coach who taught me how to swim back in 2010. It definitely gave me a boost.
After making my way into the changing tent and weaving my way through lots of naked men, I found a spot on the ground to change into my riding gear. And then it was off to get my bike and head out on the bike course. The first part of the bike course seemed very fast. I felt so great. I was locked into my target wattage yet I was passing so many people. This was not typically the way my races have gone in the past. Usually I am the one being passed. I stuck to my plan and kept on trucking, careful not to burn any matches. At one point, I passed my friend Meredith. I recognized her Pro K kit and yelled Pro K as I passed. She yelled, "Is that Jim." I yelled back to her, "Yep."
Shortly after seeing Meredith on the course, I hit the turn around. And it was shortly after that when I hit the pavement. The freshly paved road was smooth but there was a 3 or 4 inch drop off the side of the road. My front wheel veered too close to the edge and suddenly I was on the pavement. I had what mountain bikers call a "front side washout." And it happened at 22 mph.
It is amazing how quickly thoughts move through the brain. My first thoughts were of another Pro K athlete, Lynn. She had crashed at her last Ironman but rallied to finish the bike and the run bandaged up like a mummy. I thought, "Can I rally like Lynn?" That thought was quickly replaced with, "I need an ambulance." I was in such terrible pain. My entire chest was throbbing and I was grunting with each breath.
While crashing does not seem like a lucky thing, I was lucky in many respects. I had hit my head but my helmet did it's job and I did not have a headache at all. Also, many of the competitors stopped to help me. Two EMTs, an OR nurse, and a doctor stopped to help me. They were kind enough to pause their races to tend to me. Nurses, doctors, and EMTs are always on call really. If there is trouble, they jump in and help.
The nurse held my head to prevent damage to my spine. She was very concerned that I might have a spinal injury. She was able to calm me down and looked into my eyes and smiled. I remember her race number which was on her helmet. They removed my helmet and rolled me onto my back very carefully. Despite their professionalism and expertise, I moaned in pain when they moved me. They cut off my jersey and removed my heart rate monitor which did provide some slight relief in my chest. I was in horrible pain. And I was scared too.
After a few minutes, I could hear Meredith's voice. She knelt down beside me and held my hand. I am not sure if she remembers doing this but it was very comforting to have someone I know there with me. I also remember that before the EMTs started tending to me that one person on the scene put his hand on my shoulder and I screamed, "Don't touch me." I remember Meredith scolding him. He meant well but he happened to touch me right on my broken collar bone. Meredith could see the swelling on my shoulder which was immediate. It made the injury look worse than it actually was. It was bad but the bone was not sticking out although it looked like it might have been.
After a while, a policeman came and took over the duty of holding my head in position. I asked that the racers continue. There was nothing they could really do for me. I figured the ambulance would be there shortly. But I was wrong. This particular part of the course was probably the absolute worst place to crash. It was a two lane out and back with no shoulder and thousands of bikes on both sides of the road. An official EMT did finally arrive. He arrived on the back of the neutral wheel support motorcycle. He did an initial evaluation and put a bandage around my shoulder. He said it was to keep the bone from puncturing my lung which apparently is something that can happen.
The EMT eventually disappeared and I was left lying on the pavement with the policeman holding my head. I laid there in terrible pain for quite some time. Practically naked, I was shivering on the pavement. I had a broken collar bone, several broken ribs, and two punctured lungs. Of course, I did not know that at the time.
All I could do was stare up at the sky. I told the policeman that help needed to get here soon. I was starting to feel really bad. I felt an overwhelming sense of doom. And I thought of my poor brother John. He had suffered horribly in the hospital for more than a week. He was in terrible pain and no one could seem to do anything about it. As I lied there staring up at the blue sky, I pictured those final hours when the nurse put a tube down his nose into his stomach. He instantly started throwing up dark purple liquid. As I lied there, I pictured his face as he looked into my eyes. He was frightened, and bewildered I think. The look on his face said, "no, I am not doing this. I give up." He crashed and an emergency team was scrambled into his room to try to stabilize him. I started to weep. But then the doctors came in and were asking the nurses questions. The nurses did not seem very forthcoming with the answers the doctor needed to try to stabilize John. I stepped up and answered the questions. I had been with him all night and knew how much IV fluids he had had and was able to answer other questions. In a few minutes, they had stabilized him. But he looked bad. John was a fighter. He had been through so many surgeries and had always come through. But now, he looked defeated. They rushed him down to the OR for emergency exploratory surgery to see what was wrong. The anesthesiologist looked pretty worried about putting him under. My brothers and mother told him that they were going to fix him up and we would see him soon. He looked defeated and I don't think he believed us.
I relived all of these memories while I was lying there in great pain. Poor John. It was not fair. His care was terrible, the doctors and nurses nearly incompetent. They did not seem compassionate. They were distant and had no answers. All of this was on my mind as I waited and waited, shivering on the pavement. My eyes welled up with tears as I remembered all of this. The tears were partly from my grief and partly from my pain.
Finally, an ATV arrived and they put me in a neck brace and put me on a back board. Each time they moved me I shouted in pain. At some point on the ride, I suddenly had an emotional shift. I no longer felt the doom. Something had clicked and I decided that it was time to model John's behavior. John was a fighter. John did not complain. John was always polite to everyone. John was my role model.
After the bumpy ATV ride, they transferred me to an ambulance. Again, I moaned when they moved me. The ambulance finally took off with sirens blasting. The EMT put in an IV line and asked me lots of questions. At some point after I told him how much my chest hurt, he did an EEG. I told him I was not having a heart attack but he had to check I suppose. It seemed like a very long ride in the ambulance. But I tried to lighten the mood. I told the EMT that whatever they were paying him, it was not enough. That seemed like a joke John would appreciate. I said thank you and please. They could not give me anything for the pain at this point so I had to suck it up. No pain, no gain Rosen. John used to say that all the time. John was with me in the water earlier that day and he was with me on the pavement and ambulance. His strength, his stoicism, his attitude guided my behavior for the next 48 hours.
I kept telling the people in triage that I had to talk to my wife. I kept thinking about how worried she would be. And that upset me. Again, I was fighting back the tears. Partly due to my pain, partly due to my emotions. I did not want her to worry. It struck me later that this was how John would have felt. He was always concerned about other people's well being. I remember when he was first admitted to the hospital on Good Friday. He was very concerned about his responsibilities as an usher on the upcoming Easter Sunday. Here he was in horrible pain in his head and he was thinking about others. He told my mom to make sure to call the head usher to let him know that John would not be there.
I finally did get to talk to Melissa. It was such a relief. She would be on her way to the hospital and would bring me some clothes, my phone, and other things. I think at this point the doctors had allowed the nurses to give me something for the pain. As I waited and waited and waited, the back of my head started to hurt where the neck brace was biting into my head. I raised my hand up and placed it under the back up my head to relieve the pain. It hit me hard that this is exactly what John did while he was in the hospital. He was constantly trying to relieve the pain in his head with various pillow configurations. Ultimately, his hand behind his head was the only thing that minimally helped. I again felt sad as I remembered my brother's last days in the hospital. Everything about where I was reminded me of his ordeal. Just like in John's case, I pushed the call button and no one came. I yelled out and no one came. Finally 45 minutes later, someone would come. It was very similar to John's experience. However, the nurses and staff at the University of Louisville hospital were nicer, more communicative. They seemed more compassionate.
The combination of the physical and emotional pain I was experiencing from the crash and the memories of my brother's death had really worn me out. Here is what that looked like.
Melissa arrived and snapped the picture above for me. Now that Melissa was there, I started to immediately feel a little better. The pain medicine had started to kick in and I was so relieved that Melissa had made it safely and was now there to be my advocate. For the record, if anyone you know is ever admitted to the hospital, they need an advocate. The hospitals cannot provide the level of care that we need. An advocate is a necessity.
I finally was taken to have my CT scan. Not long after that, the doctors determined I did not have a spinal injury and they were able to remove the neck brace. That was a relief and gets filed in the lucky column. The doctors started me on oxygen to help my body repair the holes in my lungs. I was going to have to stay overnight for observation and to make sure the holes did not get bigger. I am familiar with pneumothorax and really did not want to have to get another chest tube so I was relieved when the doctors told me that the holes would likely heal on their own.
 |
| Feeling a bit better but still in a lot of pain |
I was finally admitted to a room about 4 in the morning. I was able to doze off a little in the quieter room. I was so hungry though. I had not been allowed to eat or drink anything because of the chance I would need surgery. Surgery was not necessary and I was finally allowed do eat something. It felt good to eat. It had been over 24 hours since I had eaten anything at all.
I kept improving and eventually they released me. Thankfully, my friends were still in town and they were able to help Melissa and I back to RVA. I could not drive and Melissa had not gotten any sleep at all as she sat in the chair next to my bed all night. Here is a picture of her trying to sleep.
So we joined the caravan of Pro K racers. Meredith drove my car and Melissa rode with the others. Honestly, we could not have done it without them.
There are some more details of this story that are worth telling but for now, this account will have to do. I am on the road to recovery now, doing PT, typing, driving, cooking, cleaning and even running. I did my first run this past Saturday. Now I am sore as if I had run 20 miles. I am still not riding my bike or swimming but that will all come sooner or later. For next year I am already signed up for 3 triathlons including Ironman Maryland in October of 2016. I still have a long way to go to get back into shape but I am going in the right directions. And I am lucky. Lucky to have people sacrifice their race goals to stop on the course and help me. Lucky to not have a spinal injury. Lucky to have friends help me make it home. Lucky to have a friend hook me up with an appointment to see the orthopedic surgeon. Lucky to have a loving family and sense of belonging. Lucky to have my brother as a role model. And most of all lucky to have a loving wife who had to do everything for me for several weeks. I am grateful for everyone. I am thankful for all my many blessings. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Monday, September 28, 2015
Is Richmond Bike Friendly? Not yet.
A day after the exciting conclusion to a week of bike racing here in Richmond, Virginia, many of my friends and acquaintances have been praising Richmond for it's production and participation in the UCI Road Cycling World Championship. Many lauded the great turnout and wonderful festival atmosphere. People spoke highly of Richmond and it's ever growing bike culture. Indeed, I was impressed with Richmond2015's production of the race. They did a superb job. Everyone was saying it. The announcers on the television, the newspapers, Richmond natives and transplants, visitors from Europe, and other countries. And I thoroughly enjoyed riding my bike all over Richmond to watch the races at a variety of vantage points. It was one big party all surrounding the great sport of cycling.
However, I have bad news for you Richmond. Richmond will never be a great cycling community as long as hick rednecks continue to endanger the lives of cyclists. Unfortunately, I see it all too often and today I had an encounter that was a little scary.
As I was on my commute home from work today, I was riding my bike in the bike lane on Lombardi when an old green Dodge van with the license plate WMJ-9572 purposely swerved in front of me and slammed on the brakes. Fortunately, I have good reflexes and superior bike handling skills that come from years of mountain biking as an adult and riding in traffic in Northern Virginia as a youth. I was able to slam on the brakes and slide sideways slightly. I yelled "Hey" at the top of my lungs. I assure you, I can yell very loud and I wanted to make sure the guy knew I was there. But he knew. He did it on purpose. He sped off in an angry fit, gesticulating and giving me the finger all the while his ancient van coughed and spewed black smoke from the exhaust.
Of course I gesticulated back and had a few choice words for him as he cowardly sped off. He did not turn and accidentally cut me off. No, he was just being his loser self. He looked like a hard drinking, camel smoking idiot who does not have the capacity to think about anything more than how he is going to pay for his next pack of smokes or his next Budweiser. Do I sound a bit bitter?
I continued on up the road and turned North on Brook road. Then something else happened. A man in a white van stopped on the side of the road and waved a piece of paper at me. I stopped to see what he wanted. He witnessed it and wrote down the license plate for me. He told me about the law change this year designating the passing distance for cars around bicycles. I was very thankful for the information about the van.
How many years will it take for the idiot rednecks to die off? How long will it take for our cultures to homogenize so that we can accept each other and live together. Once that happens, Richmond could become a bicycle friendly town. But not until then. Sorry to rain on everyone's parade but all you cyclists out there know it's true. You don't want it to be true. But you know it is.
However, I have bad news for you Richmond. Richmond will never be a great cycling community as long as hick rednecks continue to endanger the lives of cyclists. Unfortunately, I see it all too often and today I had an encounter that was a little scary.
As I was on my commute home from work today, I was riding my bike in the bike lane on Lombardi when an old green Dodge van with the license plate WMJ-9572 purposely swerved in front of me and slammed on the brakes. Fortunately, I have good reflexes and superior bike handling skills that come from years of mountain biking as an adult and riding in traffic in Northern Virginia as a youth. I was able to slam on the brakes and slide sideways slightly. I yelled "Hey" at the top of my lungs. I assure you, I can yell very loud and I wanted to make sure the guy knew I was there. But he knew. He did it on purpose. He sped off in an angry fit, gesticulating and giving me the finger all the while his ancient van coughed and spewed black smoke from the exhaust.
Of course I gesticulated back and had a few choice words for him as he cowardly sped off. He did not turn and accidentally cut me off. No, he was just being his loser self. He looked like a hard drinking, camel smoking idiot who does not have the capacity to think about anything more than how he is going to pay for his next pack of smokes or his next Budweiser. Do I sound a bit bitter?
I continued on up the road and turned North on Brook road. Then something else happened. A man in a white van stopped on the side of the road and waved a piece of paper at me. I stopped to see what he wanted. He witnessed it and wrote down the license plate for me. He told me about the law change this year designating the passing distance for cars around bicycles. I was very thankful for the information about the van.
How many years will it take for the idiot rednecks to die off? How long will it take for our cultures to homogenize so that we can accept each other and live together. Once that happens, Richmond could become a bicycle friendly town. But not until then. Sorry to rain on everyone's parade but all you cyclists out there know it's true. You don't want it to be true. But you know it is.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
UCI Road World Championships Daily Update Thursday, Sept. 24, 2015
UCI Road World Championships Daily Update
Thursday, Sept. 24, 2015
What to expect Friday, Sept. 25
Race Schedule
· Road Race Junior Women (50.33 miles) _ 10-11:50 a.m.
· Road Race Under 23 Men (110.7 miles) _ 12:45-4:50 p.m.
· Conquer the Cobbles _ 7-9 p.m.· Race Route: http://vabike2015.virginia. · The Road Circuit starts and finishes at 5th and Broad Streets. The technical course winds through the city of Richmond.
Significant Downtown Road Closures
· Roads closed: 9 a.m.-5:50 p.m.; 6-10 p.m. (Times are approximate; road closures will begin by 8 a.m. and could reopen sooner than 5:50 p.m. before closing again for night event; not all roads will reopen between the daily races and Conquer the Cobbles)
· Broad Street closed from Belvidere to 14th streets· I-95 Exit 74C (West Broad St) closed at all times to northbound and southbound traffic · I-95 southbound Exit 74B (Franklin St) closed during road closure times · Crossing Main Street possible only at 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th streets during road closure times
Events
· Employee Zone, Madison Building plaza, 11 a.m.-5 p.m. (must have state employee badge but can bring guests)
· Noon: Meet & Greet with Ben King, Team USA cyclist
· 1 p.m.: Meet & Greet with the Governor & First Lady
· Food trucks:
· de Rochonnet Delights Chocolatier
· Goatocado (vegetarian)
· Firehouse Bar-B-Cue
· Grapevine
· Grilled Meats and Treats
· Port O’ Call
· Cool Concessions (Ice cream)
· State Employee Talent:
· 11:15 a.m.-Noon: VCU Peppas Pep Band
· Noon-1 p.m.: Gerald Burton (R&B, Motown) _ VSU
· 1-2 p.m.: Ariel Unser (acoustic guitar) _ VCU
· 2-3 p.m.: Cathy Wysong (jazz) _ VSU
· 3-4 p.m.: Terry Witt (rock) _ DMV
· 4-5 p.m.: Logan Woolfolk (Motown) _ DMV
· FanFest, Greater Richmond Convention Center, 11 a.m.-6 p.m.· Fan Zone: Broad Street Start/Finish Zone; 23rd Street; Libby Hill, 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. · Conquer the Cobbles, 7 p.m.: Amateur cyclists can take a lap on the same Road Circuit as those competing in the World Championships. Register atwww.sportsbackers.org or by clicking here.
For a full list of road closures over the entire race course, visitnavigate.richmond2015.com. For more information on road closures in downtown Richmond, visit http://vabike2015.virginia.
Visit www.vabike2015.virginia.gov and follow us on Twitter at @VaBike2015 for all the latest information about the race.
|
Friday, September 18, 2015
UCI World Championship Road Closure Information
UCI
Road World Championships Daily Update
|
Friday,
Sept. 18, 2015
What
to expect through Monday
Friday,
Sept. 18
Events
·
Opening Ceremony, 6:30 p.m. on Brown’s Island. Free tickets
required for entry. Tickets are gone, but click here to place your name on a
waiting list.
Significant
Downtown Road Closures
UNEXPECTED ROAD CLOSURE: Richmond Police have
temporarily closed Broad Street from 8th-14th. Updates will be posted on
www.vabike2015.virginia.gov
and on Twitter @VaBike2015 when they become available.
Saturday,
Sept. 19
Race
Schedule
·
Team Time Trial Training _ 9 a.m.- Noon
·
Individual Time Trial _ 1-2:30 p.m.
·
Saturday is a training day for riders
participating in Individual and Team Time Trials Sunday, Sept. 20, through
Tuesday, Sept. 22
Significant
Downtown Road Closures
·
Roads closed: 8 a.m.-3:30 p.m.
·
Broad Street closed from Belvidere through
14th streets
·
I-95 Exit 74C (West Broad St) closed at all
times to northbound and southbound traffic
·
I-95 southbound entrance at Exit 80 closed
during road closure times
·
I-95 northbound entrance and southbound
exit at Exit 78 (Boulevard) closed during road closure times
·
Belvidere Street eastbound and westbound
exits on Downtown Expressway closed during road closure times
·
Crossing Main Street possible only at 6th,
7th, 8th, and 9th streets during road
closure times
Sunday,
Sept. 20
Race
Schedule
·
Team Time Trial Elite Women (24.1 miles) _ 11:30 a.m. -12:55
p.m.
·
Team Time Trial Elite Men (24.1 miles) _ 1:30 –3:35 p.m.
·
The Team Time Trial course starts
at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens and finishes at 5th and Broad
Streets. This is the only race in which cyclists compete on behalf of their
trade teams. All other events are contested on behalf of their countries.
Significant
Downtown Road Closures
·
Roads closed: 10:30 a.m.-4:35 p.m.
·
Broad Street closed from Belvidere through
14th streets
·
I-95 Exit 74C (West Broad St) closed at all
times to northbound and southbound traffic
·
I-95 southbound entrance at Exit 80 closed
during road closure times
·
I-95 northbound entrance and southbound
exit at Exit 78 (Boulevard) closed during road closure times
·
Crossing Main Street possible only at 6th,
7th, 8th, and 9th streets during road
closure times
Events
·
FanFest, Greater Richmond Convention
Center, 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.
·
Fan Zone: Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden and
Broad Street Finish Zone, 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.
Monday,
Sept. 21
Race
Schedule
·
Individual Time Trial Junior Women (9.3 miles) _ 10-11:10
a.m.
·
Ind. Time Trial Under 23 Men (18.6 miles) _
11:30 a.m.-3:50 p.m.
·
The Time Trial Circuit begins at 3rd
Street between Leigh and Clay Streets and finishes at 5th and
Broad Streets. This technical course winds through the city of Richmond.
Significant
Downtown Road Closures
·
Roads closed: 9 a.m.-4:50 p.m.
·
Broad Street closed from Belvidere through
14th streets
·
I-95 Exit 74C (West Broad St) closed at all
times to northbound and southbound traffic
·
Belvidere Street eastbound and westbound
exits on Downtown Expressway closed during road closure times
·
Crossing Main Street possible only at 6th,
7th, 8th, and 9th streets during road
closure times
Events
·
Employee Zone, Madison Building plaza, 11
a.m.-2 p.m. (must have state employee badge but can bring guests)
·
Food
trucks (open 11 a.m.-5 p.m.):
· de Rochonnet Delights Chocolatier
· Firehouse Bar-B-Que
· Port O’ Call
· Slideways Mobile Bistro
· The Dog Wagon
· The Hungry Turtle
· Cool Concessions (Ice cream)
· State
Employee Talent:
· 11
a.m.-Noon: Shadowkicks (rock, blues, funk, reggae, R&B and
jazz) _ SCC
· Noon-1
p.m.: The Coles Sisters (acapella inspirational quartet) _DMV
· 1-2
p.m.: Joanie Valentine (jazz) _ VDOT
·
FanFest, Greater Richmond Convention
Center, 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.
·
Fan Zone: Broad Street Start/Finish Zone,
10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.
For
a full list of road closures over the entire race course, visit
navigate.richmond2015.com. For more information on road closures in downtown
Richmond, visit http://vabike2015.virginia.gov/commuting-parking.html.
Visit
www.vabike2015.virginia.gov and follow us on
Twitter at @VaBike2015 for all the latest information about the race.
|
Contacts
Dena
Potter
804-786-0282
Parking/Badge
Access
804-786-5675
Policy.dhrm.virginia.gov
804-225-2131
Non-emergency
number
804-786-2568
804-358-4782
804-788-5820
|
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
68 Days to Ironman
 |
| John really got around |
Where has the time gone? It is August already. It has been a while since I have written about training and racing triathlon which is the main focus of my blog these days. If you have been keeping up with my posts, you know that my family experienced a great tragedy with the death of my younger brother John. Since John's passing, there are some things that have changed in my life. Overall, I am still healthy but I have picked up a few less-than-healthy habits. I am not overly worried about it. I am confident that I can dial things in over the next couple of weeks.
I think of John constantly. Every night before bed, I watch the remastered versions of the original Star Trek. John and I watched it together when we were young. Typically at the end of almost every episode, there is a little witty banter back and forth between Kirk, Spock, and Bones. These moments always evoked a laugh from John who would throw is head back while he laughed out loud. Somehow I have adopted watching every episode from start to finish as a sort of tribute to John. I watch on John's iPad that I inherited after John left us. It has become a habit and I don't feel like my day is complete without watching the next episode. Soon, I will be done with the whole series.
To be honest, watching TV in bed is not something I ever did until now. Except for the occasional hotel stay, Melissa and I have never had a TV in our bedroom. And we still don't. But now we have streaming video on our iPads and ear buds so we can watch different shows if we want to. We can pause the programming whenever we want and watch a great variety of shows. I am not sure it is all that healthy though. It ends up keeping me up late and I don't get as much sleep. Training for Ironman is an intensive lifestyle and sleep is critical to health and success. With 68 days to go until Ironman Louisville, my training is going to be notching up and rest will become even more important. If I was to analyze it from a psychologist's perspective, I would probably conclude that watching TV in bed before sleep is a coping mechanism. Not only does it remind me of fond times with my brother, it is also a form of escapism. I feel like if I did not watch TV or read a book I would likely just burst out in tears. I guess I don't really want to do that.
Lately, I have been relying on caffeinated sugary beverages to help offset my afternoon sleepiness. That is also something new in my life. I used to drink lots of soda and Red Bull but in January of 2010, I quit. Typically I don't consume any caffeinated foods or drinks until I get to the marathon during Ironman. I do want to put a stop to it. I gave myself a preliminary deadline of August 1st. That deadline has passed and I am still having an afternoon Red Bull. My next deadline is in 8 days. I will be 60 days out from the race at that point. My goal is better health and also to set myself up for success during my race. Tolerance to caffeine is something that is easily built up in the human body. I want the caffeine kick from coke to work its magic while I am running the marathon portion of my Ironman. In order for that to work, I have to cut back on it before the race. And now since it is written, it shall be done. Well, maybe tomorrow.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
My Grieving Heart
A day does not pass without me thinking about my brother John. It has been slightly over two months since he passed away under the second-rate care he received at the hospital. Suffice it to say, mistakes were made and have been documented. But that is not the point of this.
I just want to document my grief because I think it will help me with the healing process. Although, I don't believe I will ever be the same. I will forever have those images of my brother suffering in the hospital tattooed in my mind. I can hear him pleading to go home. And I remember my anger and feelings of helplessness as I tried to get nurses and caregivers to do something to help him. John's heart rate was 134 for the better part of an entire day and he had shortness of breath. I alerted the staff but they were unconcerned. Every workout I do, I am cognizant of my heart rate. Oftentimes, even after multiple hours of biking and climbing in the mountains, my average heart rate is well below 134. John was in his hospital bed for over a week. His heart rate should not have been so high.
No one seemed concerned but me. And John of course. He knew something was very wrong. In fact, in hindsight, John really seemed to know that he was very ill and truly I believe he knew he was close to death. And when the nurses put a tube down his nose in preparation for emergency surgery and he started throwing up dark red liquid as the tube simultaneously drained the red fluid at an alarming rate, his expression was one of fear but also of recognition. John knew things were bad. I will never forget that moment. He eyes said to me, "I have had enough!" He pleas to go home were one of insight. He did not want to die in the hospital. Who does? But when the fluid started spewing and his blood pressure dropped and the crash team was inefficiently summoned to his room, he was ready to give up. He had been through so much and dealt with such horrible care. He rolled his eyes and shook his head side to side as if to say, "I can't do this anymore."
I was so scared but I am also glad I was there. I was able to talk to the crash team and help them piece together his last day. I had spent all night in the room with John and I have a good memory. I knew everything that had been done or not been done. Typically in an emergency like this, family members are encouraged to leave so the nurses and doctors can quickly and efficiently share information and implement the appropriate procedures. The nurses let me do the talking. I asserted myself and grabbed the attention of the young crash team doctor. I answered his questions and the actions the team took stabilized John. He was still feeling so terrible and continued to look defeated. It was so unfair. John was kind and caring, never mean to anyone. Sure he squashed a few ants as a child but beyond that, he treated everyone with kindness and respect. John was an inspiration and did not deserve any of this.
There is more to the story and I plan to document it here. But for now, I want to talk about the sadness and grief that comes over me pretty much every day.
As I mentioned, I think of John every single day. I often get these waves of sadness that come out of nowhere. One minute I am laughing, the next I am weeping. The other day, I was in a movie theater watching Ted 2. You don't need to know much about the movie other than it is an irreverent and crass movie with juvenile jokes throughout. In the movie, one of the main characters is in the hospital. The others ask the doctor to do something to help the injured character. The doctor says, "we have done all we can, it is up to him now." When the doctor in the movie uttered this cliche I was suddenly reminded of John's last day in the hospital and I burst out in tears. I thought, "Damn doctors! They don't seem very helpful!" I tried to conceal it as well as I could. I did not want the other patrons to think I was weeping over the story line. It did not take me long to stifle my tears, take a deep breath, and calm down. Of all places to feel the grief and sadness, sitting in Ted 2 was the last place I would have thought I would suddenly feel that way.
There are some other examples and I plan to share them in the future. Poor John. He did not deserve the poor treatment he got. He did not deserve to die the way he did. It is just not right. I love you John and I miss you so much!
I just want to document my grief because I think it will help me with the healing process. Although, I don't believe I will ever be the same. I will forever have those images of my brother suffering in the hospital tattooed in my mind. I can hear him pleading to go home. And I remember my anger and feelings of helplessness as I tried to get nurses and caregivers to do something to help him. John's heart rate was 134 for the better part of an entire day and he had shortness of breath. I alerted the staff but they were unconcerned. Every workout I do, I am cognizant of my heart rate. Oftentimes, even after multiple hours of biking and climbing in the mountains, my average heart rate is well below 134. John was in his hospital bed for over a week. His heart rate should not have been so high.
No one seemed concerned but me. And John of course. He knew something was very wrong. In fact, in hindsight, John really seemed to know that he was very ill and truly I believe he knew he was close to death. And when the nurses put a tube down his nose in preparation for emergency surgery and he started throwing up dark red liquid as the tube simultaneously drained the red fluid at an alarming rate, his expression was one of fear but also of recognition. John knew things were bad. I will never forget that moment. He eyes said to me, "I have had enough!" He pleas to go home were one of insight. He did not want to die in the hospital. Who does? But when the fluid started spewing and his blood pressure dropped and the crash team was inefficiently summoned to his room, he was ready to give up. He had been through so much and dealt with such horrible care. He rolled his eyes and shook his head side to side as if to say, "I can't do this anymore."
I was so scared but I am also glad I was there. I was able to talk to the crash team and help them piece together his last day. I had spent all night in the room with John and I have a good memory. I knew everything that had been done or not been done. Typically in an emergency like this, family members are encouraged to leave so the nurses and doctors can quickly and efficiently share information and implement the appropriate procedures. The nurses let me do the talking. I asserted myself and grabbed the attention of the young crash team doctor. I answered his questions and the actions the team took stabilized John. He was still feeling so terrible and continued to look defeated. It was so unfair. John was kind and caring, never mean to anyone. Sure he squashed a few ants as a child but beyond that, he treated everyone with kindness and respect. John was an inspiration and did not deserve any of this.
There is more to the story and I plan to document it here. But for now, I want to talk about the sadness and grief that comes over me pretty much every day.
As I mentioned, I think of John every single day. I often get these waves of sadness that come out of nowhere. One minute I am laughing, the next I am weeping. The other day, I was in a movie theater watching Ted 2. You don't need to know much about the movie other than it is an irreverent and crass movie with juvenile jokes throughout. In the movie, one of the main characters is in the hospital. The others ask the doctor to do something to help the injured character. The doctor says, "we have done all we can, it is up to him now." When the doctor in the movie uttered this cliche I was suddenly reminded of John's last day in the hospital and I burst out in tears. I thought, "Damn doctors! They don't seem very helpful!" I tried to conceal it as well as I could. I did not want the other patrons to think I was weeping over the story line. It did not take me long to stifle my tears, take a deep breath, and calm down. Of all places to feel the grief and sadness, sitting in Ted 2 was the last place I would have thought I would suddenly feel that way.
There are some other examples and I plan to share them in the future. Poor John. He did not deserve the poor treatment he got. He did not deserve to die the way he did. It is just not right. I love you John and I miss you so much!
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