This is an email I received just now.... Kind of a nice break down of PMC demographics, for those of you who have not yet dropped dead of statistical boredom. As you can see, I, as a woman who is now, finally, in my "30s" - I am in the minority in this group... 13 years younger than the average, and among the 37% minority.
Sturbridge Start: 2,837
Wellesley Start: 2,096
Sunday Wellesley: 304
Total Riding: 5,237
‘Virtual’ Cancels: 321
Total Registered: 5,558
2-day to P-town: 3,732
2-day to Wellesley: 214
1-day: 997
Sunday Ride: 304
Average age: 43
Male: 63%
Female: 37%
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Stats! I forgot the Stats!
Now, I know that the stats are the ONLY reason some of you check this blog - and I completely forgot them. They're the most interesting part!
PMC - related miles for 2008: 940 miles
PMC - related miles for 2008: 940 miles
March: 61.1 miles
April: 115.8 miles
May: 71.6 miles (I had 3 rides in May. What was I doing instead of riding? I can't remember.)
June: 139.65 miles
July: 438.69 miles (more than the entire year put together up to that point)
PMC - related hours in the saddle: 68.05 hours (that's 4083 minutes of 'dear lord that hurts')
Vertical feet climbed in Prep for & including the PMC: 12,171 feet (I started tracking that in mid-April, so it's not all-inclusive). We don't have mountains that high around here. I can't imagine doing that in one day. I did do 509 feet in 18 miles this morning as a recovery ride, though, and it was easy.
PMC - related calories burned: 36,339 calories. Thats roughly 202 tall lattes. And I've stopped drinking lattes.
I also started tracking a new stat this year: Calories per mile. My theory on this is it's a very easy way to tell how efficient my body works, and I'd be able to see a trend over time (hopefully). It appears to be true. My average cal/mile for the months March through July are below:
March: 47 cal/mi
April: 50 cal/mi
May: 45 cal/mi
June: 38 cal/mi
July: 40 cal/mi
That all being said, the stats for our last 70-mile training ride (on The Cod):
4.95 hours; 2,624 calories burned; average speed 14 MPH; 37 calories/mile. Average heart rate was 149 beats per minute.
Stats for our 112 mile PMC ride:
7.17 hours; 2,405 calories burned; 15.65 MPH average speed; and 21 calories/mile. Yes, 21. My average heart rate was 142 beats per minute over the entire 112-mile ride.
Our PMC ride appeared to be easier than our last long ride. Our PMC ride took 2 hours longer, we rode 42 miles further and we went 1.65 MPH faster on average, yet I burned 16 fewer calories per mile. It just wasn't as hard. The question is, why?
I had complained about all the starting and stopping on the rail trail, which is likely one reason why - it takes a lot of energy to get up to "cruising speed", and it seemed like we were starting from dead stops every mile or so on the rail trail. Also, The Cod is a very windy place, which helps explain why wind turbines make so much sense down on The Cod. Both rides were relatively flat, and those are the two big differences that I can think of.
However, at about mile 83 or so during our PMC ride, I started to feel like a robot. I just biked (legs were going up, down, up, down... not in circles anymore), and didn't think about anything other than biking. If someone had been reading my mind it would have gone something like this: "pot hole....car back....branch.....hole left....pedal faster....shift up now...." there was none of the mind wandering I'm usually plagued with, like 'what is that guy DOING?' or 'what do we have for dinner, and is there any chance I can convince Ken to make me some brownies tonight?' I wasn't even day dreaming about getting OFF the bike and grabbing a beer. There wasn't a whole lot going on in there. I don't think we talked much.
If you are by any chance a Deadliest Catch addict, you may recall that Capt. Sig Hansen likes working his crew for days straight until they become robots (quoted on that page linked). There's no whining, no griping at the point - they just turn into these efficient little robots. Or zombies. Depends how you look at it.
So maybe a little after the 80 mile mark, I turned into a little biking robot. I was actually a little nervous of making a dumb mistake because I could feel the usual brain chatter fade away. I was afraid I'd space out and not hear a car coming, or not see an obstacle and nail it at 25 MPH. We took several little rest stops in the last 30 miles, which may have helped keep that from happening.
I am in no way comparing our ride to working on a crabbing boat in the Bering Sea with no sleep for days. Don't get me wrong. I'm just saying that maybe that robot-ability has its place, and perhaps that detached calmness & repetition is the bodies way of conserving energy while doing something that expends a lot of energy. A little like a working meditation. Even when I ran out of gears on the hills on the way home, my heart rate didn't climb above 150 beats per minute, despite the fact that my legs had turned to stone and I was still asking for more from them.
The human body IS an amazing thing.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Fundraising as of PMC weekend
By August 3rd, our 2008 fundraising total for the PMC is just over $4,700. We're still accepting donations until the October 1 deadline. I know some of you have expressed concern because you thought you missed the deadline, but you haven't - we still have almost 2 full months left. There is still time.
Our total over the years is now about $14,700. Not too shabby. Although, obviously, we're eagerly anticipating reaching the $20,000 mark. We'll pick a new goal after that.
Thanks again to all of you who have supported our PMC ride this year and in years past. Each year, our list of sponsors grow and grow. Our families are especially supportive and we literally cannot do the PMC without their help. But as the years go by, our friends, coworkers and neighbors donate (sometimes even unsolicited) on our behalf, and your support is also extremely appreciated - we can't do it without you guys either.
The farthest a donation has travelled to us this year is from Indonesia. In the states, we've had donations from Hawaii, California, Washington, Texas, Virginia, Maryland, Deleware, New York, and of course Massachusetts (our state is well represented with 15 sponsors). There are a few people shouldering much of the weight of our rides: to these supporters we owe a very big thank you. In order to respect their privacy, we wont list them here, but you know who you are. Thanks so much for your generosity.
Of course, the majority of donors who support our ride donate smaller amounts; the sheer number of these donors make up the other half of our fundraising efforts, and for these donations we are also very grateful - we couldn't do this ride without this help. We do, literally need all the help we can get. And luckily, we've been getting plenty. Thanks so much!
In total, we raised $47.46 for each mile we rode. If you were to calculate that number based solely on the number miles on the PMC route we chose, then we'd have an average of $100.97 per PMC mile.
Many thanks again to all of you who have so generously supported our PMC ride, the Jimmy Fund and the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. We're making progress!
Our 2008 PMC
You know, for signing up for a mere 47-mile route, I was on some level surprised that yesterday turned out to be my longest single-day ride ever. I shouldn’t have been, but there you have it. The grand total for our 2008 PMC ride was 112.48 miles. Previously, our longest ride to date was 111 miles, during the first day of last years PMC.
Yesterday went like this: We woke up at 3:45 in the morning, cooked a decent breakfast (egg & cheese sandwiches on bagels) and had the required double-shot of espresso. Perhaps some orange juice, too. We got dressed, got all of our lights on, and headed out the door around 5 am in complete darkness. I was very happy once the birds started chirping, and once the sky started turning grey instead of black. We had our bike headlights on, which kind of, sort of, ALMOST work to illuminate the road – but at least other people could see us. Not that there were other people around. We also had taillights on as well as one of those glow sticks kids use for trick-or-treating pinned to our backs. On Saturday, we had printed up & laminated some photos of Uncle Richard & Papa (in whose memory we rode in this year), and attached them to our jerseys.
To the laminated edges we also attached some stick on reflective stripes to help give us a little more visibility. For making up such a small portion of our ride, we put an awful lot of effort into making sure we were visible for those first 10 miles or so in the dark. We didn’t find much traffic at 5 am on Sunday morning, which was nice, but not surprising. Sane people were still in bed. We did see several trucks towing fishing boats around – but like I said, the sane people were in bed. I had half-expected to get pulled over by the cops in either Bolton or Stow (“are you nuts, riding in the dark? What are you doing? Are you on drugs?) – but alas, no police to be seen.
For the most part, the ride to the start line in Wellesley was great. It was quiet, there was very little traffic, no old men in their front yards staring us down with their hands on their hips (you’d be surprised how often that happens – its creepy. Maybe it’s the spandex.) and even no dogs barking at us. It was just Ken & I. There wasn’t any rain, or any wind, or any sun glare, or anything. A few puddles perhaps. It was very peaceful.
Of course, I got a flat on Rt. 126 in Sudbury (Wayland? Not really sure). We were cruising right along at 22 MPH or so on a nice little stretch, and ‘Ppsshhhhh’ goes my front tire. Big honking piece of glass in there. I took my bike into the shop this morning for a little love & maintenance, and they bike techs were a little surprised by the size hole in that tire. We replaced the tube and lined the tire with a dollar bill to keep it from flatting a second time. Must have worked, because it held. But after going to the shop this morning, I can’t help but think I was very, very lucky for the rest of the day yesterday. I kind of got the impression they couldn’t figure out how I didn’t have a full on blow out at 30 MPH.
We still made it to the start line with a half-hour to spare, which was great. We had a pit stop, got some food, refilled our water bottles, and lined up for the little speech before they let us leave.
The speech was amazing. It was short and to the point. It’s working! We’re helping. It’s projected that in 10 years, cancer will become a chronic disease, not a terminal disease. Think about that for a second. Ten years, on the scale of things, is a short time. In 10 years, all those people who right now are facing a terminal cancer diagnosis wouldn’t have to face the end of their lives so soon. One out of every two men and one out of every three women will face a cancer diagnosis at some point in their lives – in ten years (when I am 40) – that diagnosis wont be a terminal diagnosis. It’ll still be a hard fight. It’ll still be painful, and gut wrenching, but these people who are diagnosed will get more time to live, and perhaps eventually go into remission. This struck me particularly hard: my mother was diagnosed around the age of 40 (she’s been cancer free for about 20 years). By the time I am that age, it’ll be increasingly less likely that cancer will be as threatening as it is now. It’ll be no walk in the park, and there will be exceptions, but still. That is some serious, significant hope. Serious hope.
The start line in Wellesley is completely different than it is at Sturbridge. Wellesley is much more laid back. There are far fewer people (at least on Sunday) and that means far fewer people who have problems clipping in and causing accidents in the beginning. There isn’t as much fanfare, but I’m OK with that. I’m not a fanfare kind of girl. Makes me uneasy. Here's a photo of Ken at the start - i took it mainly because a) he wasn't looking, b) I had to take at least one photo, and c) you can kind of see that there aren't a whole lot of people crowding around him, and we were pretty much right in the middle of "the crowd".
The ride itself was pretty easy. There were few hills, and no real big ones. There was one water stop, where we ate a bunch of food and made glad use of the port-o-johns. We stretched a bit, and then continued on to the end of the ride for 20 miles or so. At one point, I was riding behind a woman from Arlington and I could totally see through her shorts (they were red, and looked like maybe they were a little faded). It was a bit distracting. People: when you wear bike shorts, for the love of god, make sure you can’t see through them. Ask someone you know and trust to check for you.
The end line came surprisingly quick, although I was tired by that point. Actually, I was tired at about mile 60, groaning because I thought I had 40 more miles to go. As it turned out, we had more like 52 miles left to go from that point. The “official” ride ended at 77 miles – there were people cheering you on as you neared the finish line, and one was joking “only a few more miles” (we could see the finish line from there) and I couldn’t resist – I replied… “not for us. We have about 30 left”. I’m a dork, what can I say? At this point, I’ve just gotten used to it.
We hung around the finish line for a while. Apparently, we finished early, as there was only a short line for ordering food by the time we had hung our bikes up and used the facilities. We were going to go back for seconds only to find out the line had quadrupled in length. Oh well. We refilled the water bottles again, visited the medical tent for some muscle rub & ice for the shoulder, and rested for about 15 minutes. Then we stretched a bit, got back on the bike & headed home.
The ride home wasn’t as bad as I had feared it was going to be at mile 60 when I realized I was tired. My quads & hamstrings were shot. I kept running out of gears, but my heart rate was stubbornly low (150 or so going up hills). I was just completely out of gas, apparently. A couple of showers caught us on the way home, but they were short, and actually felt a little good. Not enough rain to cause a safety issue, really.
Overall, our average speed for the ride was 15.65 MPH. The first 30 miles or so, our average was near 17 MPH. For the first 77 miles, cumulative, our average speed was about 16.2 MPH. We really slowed down on that last stretch. All together, the ride took us just over 7 hours of actual riding (time ON the bike). We climbed a total of 413 feet during the ride, which is a very small amount, given the distance (400 feet of climbing is what we'd usually do in 20 mile ride). We left at 5 am and were home by 2:30 pm. I have no idea how long the water stop and lunch took us. I also have no idea whether the ride started “on time” or not. Any way you slice it, it was a long day. But it was WELL worth it.
I sat down yesterday afternoon to map out the ride and start writing this post, but I was incapable of staying awake long enough to get very far. Every time I had to wait for anything to load, I fell soundly asleep, and I eventually gave up out of fear of dropping my computer when I fell asleep. Were went to bed at 7 pm – the dogs were not pleased.
Yesterday went like this: We woke up at 3:45 in the morning, cooked a decent breakfast (egg & cheese sandwiches on bagels) and had the required double-shot of espresso. Perhaps some orange juice, too. We got dressed, got all of our lights on, and headed out the door around 5 am in complete darkness. I was very happy once the birds started chirping, and once the sky started turning grey instead of black. We had our bike headlights on, which kind of, sort of, ALMOST work to illuminate the road – but at least other people could see us. Not that there were other people around. We also had taillights on as well as one of those glow sticks kids use for trick-or-treating pinned to our backs. On Saturday, we had printed up & laminated some photos of Uncle Richard & Papa (in whose memory we rode in this year), and attached them to our jerseys.
To the laminated edges we also attached some stick on reflective stripes to help give us a little more visibility. For making up such a small portion of our ride, we put an awful lot of effort into making sure we were visible for those first 10 miles or so in the dark. We didn’t find much traffic at 5 am on Sunday morning, which was nice, but not surprising. Sane people were still in bed. We did see several trucks towing fishing boats around – but like I said, the sane people were in bed. I had half-expected to get pulled over by the cops in either Bolton or Stow (“are you nuts, riding in the dark? What are you doing? Are you on drugs?) – but alas, no police to be seen.
For the most part, the ride to the start line in Wellesley was great. It was quiet, there was very little traffic, no old men in their front yards staring us down with their hands on their hips (you’d be surprised how often that happens – its creepy. Maybe it’s the spandex.) and even no dogs barking at us. It was just Ken & I. There wasn’t any rain, or any wind, or any sun glare, or anything. A few puddles perhaps. It was very peaceful.
Of course, I got a flat on Rt. 126 in Sudbury (Wayland? Not really sure). We were cruising right along at 22 MPH or so on a nice little stretch, and ‘Ppsshhhhh’ goes my front tire. Big honking piece of glass in there. I took my bike into the shop this morning for a little love & maintenance, and they bike techs were a little surprised by the size hole in that tire. We replaced the tube and lined the tire with a dollar bill to keep it from flatting a second time. Must have worked, because it held. But after going to the shop this morning, I can’t help but think I was very, very lucky for the rest of the day yesterday. I kind of got the impression they couldn’t figure out how I didn’t have a full on blow out at 30 MPH.
We still made it to the start line with a half-hour to spare, which was great. We had a pit stop, got some food, refilled our water bottles, and lined up for the little speech before they let us leave.
The speech was amazing. It was short and to the point. It’s working! We’re helping. It’s projected that in 10 years, cancer will become a chronic disease, not a terminal disease. Think about that for a second. Ten years, on the scale of things, is a short time. In 10 years, all those people who right now are facing a terminal cancer diagnosis wouldn’t have to face the end of their lives so soon. One out of every two men and one out of every three women will face a cancer diagnosis at some point in their lives – in ten years (when I am 40) – that diagnosis wont be a terminal diagnosis. It’ll still be a hard fight. It’ll still be painful, and gut wrenching, but these people who are diagnosed will get more time to live, and perhaps eventually go into remission. This struck me particularly hard: my mother was diagnosed around the age of 40 (she’s been cancer free for about 20 years). By the time I am that age, it’ll be increasingly less likely that cancer will be as threatening as it is now. It’ll be no walk in the park, and there will be exceptions, but still. That is some serious, significant hope. Serious hope.
The start line in Wellesley is completely different than it is at Sturbridge. Wellesley is much more laid back. There are far fewer people (at least on Sunday) and that means far fewer people who have problems clipping in and causing accidents in the beginning. There isn’t as much fanfare, but I’m OK with that. I’m not a fanfare kind of girl. Makes me uneasy. Here's a photo of Ken at the start - i took it mainly because a) he wasn't looking, b) I had to take at least one photo, and c) you can kind of see that there aren't a whole lot of people crowding around him, and we were pretty much right in the middle of "the crowd".
The ride itself was pretty easy. There were few hills, and no real big ones. There was one water stop, where we ate a bunch of food and made glad use of the port-o-johns. We stretched a bit, and then continued on to the end of the ride for 20 miles or so. At one point, I was riding behind a woman from Arlington and I could totally see through her shorts (they were red, and looked like maybe they were a little faded). It was a bit distracting. People: when you wear bike shorts, for the love of god, make sure you can’t see through them. Ask someone you know and trust to check for you.
The end line came surprisingly quick, although I was tired by that point. Actually, I was tired at about mile 60, groaning because I thought I had 40 more miles to go. As it turned out, we had more like 52 miles left to go from that point. The “official” ride ended at 77 miles – there were people cheering you on as you neared the finish line, and one was joking “only a few more miles” (we could see the finish line from there) and I couldn’t resist – I replied… “not for us. We have about 30 left”. I’m a dork, what can I say? At this point, I’ve just gotten used to it.
We hung around the finish line for a while. Apparently, we finished early, as there was only a short line for ordering food by the time we had hung our bikes up and used the facilities. We were going to go back for seconds only to find out the line had quadrupled in length. Oh well. We refilled the water bottles again, visited the medical tent for some muscle rub & ice for the shoulder, and rested for about 15 minutes. Then we stretched a bit, got back on the bike & headed home.
The ride home wasn’t as bad as I had feared it was going to be at mile 60 when I realized I was tired. My quads & hamstrings were shot. I kept running out of gears, but my heart rate was stubbornly low (150 or so going up hills). I was just completely out of gas, apparently. A couple of showers caught us on the way home, but they were short, and actually felt a little good. Not enough rain to cause a safety issue, really.
Overall, our average speed for the ride was 15.65 MPH. The first 30 miles or so, our average was near 17 MPH. For the first 77 miles, cumulative, our average speed was about 16.2 MPH. We really slowed down on that last stretch. All together, the ride took us just over 7 hours of actual riding (time ON the bike). We climbed a total of 413 feet during the ride, which is a very small amount, given the distance (400 feet of climbing is what we'd usually do in 20 mile ride). We left at 5 am and were home by 2:30 pm. I have no idea how long the water stop and lunch took us. I also have no idea whether the ride started “on time” or not. Any way you slice it, it was a long day. But it was WELL worth it.
I sat down yesterday afternoon to map out the ride and start writing this post, but I was incapable of staying awake long enough to get very far. Every time I had to wait for anything to load, I fell soundly asleep, and I eventually gave up out of fear of dropping my computer when I fell asleep. Were went to bed at 7 pm – the dogs were not pleased.
Friday, August 1, 2008
PMC Weekend is Here!
Opening ceremonies will be broadcast live starting at 8 p.m. on NECN. It MIGHT be broadcast on their website as well, although I don't really know.
Here comes the time when I wish I hadn't been so darn logical in choosing our route this year. It would have been really nice to do the whole 2-day event again, despite the other stuff going on in our lives and our inability to reach the minimum fundraising amount. There's always next year, I suppose. But I still feel left out.
So far this year, we've raised approximately $4,500 - and for the first time we haven't had to donate to our own ride at all. This is progress! Although I'm sure we'll donate anyway when all is said and done (I'm feeling a bit guilty about not doing the 2-day, if you can't tell). In the past 3 years, we've raised approximately $14,000 for the Jimmy Fund & I'm already scheming for ways to double it. And then double it again. I open to ideas, if you have any - send them my way.
We ride this year in memory of George "Joji" "Papa" Tanabe and Uncle Richard Nagano.
It was 3 years ago last weekend that we lost Uncle Richard, and it was 3 years ago this weekend that we were in Hawaii attending his services. Ironically, the PMC weekend will always have a double meaning for us in that regard. Auntie wrote that she still wonders whether there could have been anything done, medically, to prolong Uncle's time with us (it would have been nice to see him one last time, although his pride may not have allowed it after having been sick for so long - we'll never know). This is one of the reasons we ride - perhaps we can not only find a way to prolong a life with treatment, but maybe together, we can find a cure for cancer. I know that we all will eventually pass on, but a long, drawn out painful illness is not how I would like to go, and I don't wish it on even my own worst enemy, let alone those I love.
Papa passed 5 years ago this fall. His illness seemed relatively quick - it wasn't a matter of years, but a matter of months. Papa did have time to get his affairs in order, to some extent. He spent a considerable amount of time with Ken's sister, and I know they had some special outings together, including going back to the house Papa was born in on the former sugar plantation. He moved in with his son, and the hospice care folks took care of him at home. Papa had been asking for Ken to come for some time. We sent Papa a photo album, but couldn't come visit because Ken was in some military training and wasn't allowed to leave - apparently, grandparents weren't considered "immediate family". When we could finally get leave to go visit, we passed word to Papa that we were coming, hoping that he could hang on just a little longer. He couldn't. When his time came, his son was with him, and he said he was ready to go "home". We missed him by a couple of days.
The weather for this weekend looks a bit iffy. I suppose after 2 consecutive years of nice weather, it was bound to happen. Thunderstorms and heavy rain are forecast (up to 1.75" total over the weekend), although the temps will only be in the upper 70s, which isn't bad. We'll make a decision on whether we are going to drive to the ride or ride to the ride on Saturday afternoon. We'd prefer to ride to the ride, but not if it means riding in the dark in the morning (we'd have to leave by 5 am or so - sunrise is at 540) in a blinding downpour along busy roads - its a recipe for disaster. Safety MUST win out over pride and stubbornness. So we'll see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)