The run down on the run down.

Dear Mr Snob,

You know I love you. You would have to be completely out to lunch to have missed the fact that I am a big fan of yours, and clearly you are as sharp as they come. Everyone knows that laughter is the best medicine, and you are a true master of wit. I love that you manage somehow to get your point across with a laugh, even though you might be covering a serious topic of conversation.  Satire makes it simpler, somehow, to broach subjects which incite strong debate, and you do it so well.  But Friday's post was a huge departure from your usual fare. And as much as I love you, and will always remain a loyal fan, I really have to have a word with you...

Even though you're a world class satirist, you have every right to approach serious topics with serious intent. Please just keep in mind, however, that you have a lot of influence, not only within the cycling community, but across the board, at least as far as transportation is concerned.  So when you take off your satirists's cap to play the serious journalist, you ought to do so with integrity. Especially if you also plan to play self-appointed judge, jury and executioner to a fellow cyclist in the ugly kangaroo court of public opinion.

What happened, anyway? It is abundantly clear that Detective Mennen has a hate-on for us, and for you in particular.

Why does he hate you?  Probably because you have such influence AND you are one of us: a lowly, almost universally revilled cyclist. But what I don't understand is why did you let him push your buttons? Did you really have to jump on the "let's all hate the cyclsist" bandwagon?

I can't speak to the incident itself, because like you I wasn't actually there. I have heard various details from several different sources. I heard again and again that the cyclist had the light. Nevertheless, you vilified Mr Marshall for pushing for a personal best in a park where there are lots of people. You said "There seems to be some disagreement as to whether this latest cyclist had the light.  However, that doesn't matter.  It's a park.  You know people are going to cross against the light, and if you choose to ignore that inevitability the blame should fall on you."  Really?!  So as cyclists we are now responsible for the irresponsible behaviour so many pedestrians display?  Are you kidding?!  I yield to pedestrians, and I do my best to avoid the ones who step out into my path without looking, but if they don't look before walking out in front of a moving vehicle, the driver is not at fault, and neither, frankly, am I.

I have never ridden a bike through Central Park, so I can't precicely speak to the circumstances, but here in Vancouver, Stanley Park has a roadway through it, which I prefer over the multi-use seawall path the majority of cyclists use.  I choose the road for the simple reason that on my bike I am a vehicle, not a pedestrian.  As such, I typically travel at the same speed as the cars.  In Stanley Park, I have to speed by quite a margin in order to keep up with traffic, but nobody is complaining about the speed at which the cars drive. Well, except for me, perhaps. I don't understand how it could possibly be wrong for me to push for my personal best on the very same road that the cars speed on, simply because some pedestrians might  cross where they shouldn't, or because they might possibly be too lazy to look up before they cross onto the road.  I can't count how many times pedestrians have walked onto the road in front of me without looking up, simply because they don't hear a car coming. If Mr Marshall had been driving an electric car, and if he had hit the woman who wandered into his path in that circumstance, the NYPD would have done what they always do and declared that there was no criminality suspected.  But somehow because he was riding a bike suddenly he is worthy of a criminal investigation?! I can't believe the double standard, and I was deeply disappointed that you failed to call them on it.

I am sick and tired of being treated like public enemy number one when I am not doing anything wrong. Yes, I push for my personal best at every opportunity, and unfortunately I have to do it at risk to MY OWN life and limb every single day as I ride in traffic on public thoroughfares. I play nice, though, and yield when I should.  I try to create goodwill on the roads, so I signal, and I thank the drivers who are courteous. I always do my utmost to do the right thing, which is to be visible and predictable. I have a life, though, and can't often escape all the way out of town to hit the highways as you insist I should. And when I can't go out before six in the morning, (which I do because traffic is light then), I sometimes ride in the middle of the afternoon. How dare you suggest that I haven't got the right to ride hard and fast on the city's public ROADS, along with the cars that travel much faster than I?! It's absolutely, downright ridiculous.

Worse yet, how dare you condemn me as some sort of moral reprobate because I track my efforts on Strava?  I don't understand what your problem is with Strava. Had you ever given it a shot, or had you even bothered to ask a few questions of anyone who actually uses it, you would know that it deducts the time you spend at a stop from the time of your ride, so that there is absolutely no incentive for riders to blow through stop signs and red lights. In fact, the chance to catch your breath is pretty good incentive to stop if you're actually pushing hard.  But there have always been cyclists who don't like to stop, haven't there? Long before anyone ever even imagined Strava there was THAT GUY.  In fact, my understanding is that you yourself sometimes take a red light with a grain of salt. So it is ok to blow through a stop sign or even a red light as long as you aren't actually pushing your body as hard as you can, and just so long as you aren't tracking your ride?  That's absurd.

I have always ridden as I do. I have to strive for my personal best because my medical condition is only kept under control when I am super-fit. Strava hasn't suddenly made me a different person, but it has provided community.  It's a forum full of people who understand the kinds of challenges I deal with daily, people who support me where the rest of the world fails.  I long ago stopped caring what the average person thought of me, but I worked hard to develop a community of souls who understand who I am and why I live the way I do.  I figured your blog was just that sort of place, but maybe I was wrong? Look.  I know the type of rider you are objecting to.  We all do. But that guy has been around a lot longer than Strava has, and that rider isn't necessarily the man in question here. Strava is a tool, nothing more, nothing less.  The internet is a tool, too, and sometimes people are exploited at the hands of others who use it malisciouly. But put the shoe on the other foot for a moment, would you? How would you adapt your life to a world where people claiming the moral high ground insisted everybody just turned the internet off in memory of the people who have suffered at the hands of a few assholes who use it unwisely?

It's true. Even in the most unexpected places...

My heart goes out to Mr Marshall.  He may well have made a mistake - I wasn't there, so I can't say.  Perhaps he should have chosen a different path that day, but there is no real evidence that his actions were criminal in any way, shape, or form.  Still.  After what was probably one of the worst moments of his life, he then had to deal with the hatred and judgement rained down upon him from you and all of the rest of the sheeple too happy to join you in tarring, feathering, and hanging him out to dry. For shame, Snobbers. You've been a naughty boy. You would do well to offer him a humble, heartfelt, and equally public apology. Either that, or you're in need of a proper spanking.

But I am not holding my breath that he'll hear the "S" word, from you, or from anyone else who judged him so harshly. Sigh. Guess in the end, the best I can do is to go out and do what comes naturally...

...as best I can.  And because I love my cycling community, I will continue to track my rides.  And sorry, Snobberdooder, but I'm not even a little bit sorry.

What you resist persists: taking another spin around the feedback loop and promoting the elixir that cells itself!

Hello from Vancouver!  

Stupid o'clock in Stanley Park this week.

Ok, so there are a few things on the agenda today.  First of all, to the lovely reader who ever so kindly upgraded my Strava account to premium... Wow.  Thank you!!  That was very kind of you.  :D  xo

And to that other very thoughtful person, the one in Nevada who went out and purchased a tongue scraper, wrapped it in paper and put it in a box,  and then wrapped the box and shipped it off to Vancouver? Thank you kindly, too.  Just one thing, though... er... what's up with the box?

Now, I can't speak to the situation in Nevada these days, precisely. I do know that when my dear old Aunt lived in Fredricksburg, VA in 2010, she couldn't get a high speed internet connection for love nor money.  She lived in what is arguably the most densely populated seaboard on the planet and yet she was told her town was too "rural" to qualify for high speed access. Unbelievable. At the time I figured it was part of the US government's program to dumb down the population, but then I've become a little cynical in my middle years. Anyhoo. I would have thought that padded envelopes, which do in fact fit inside your average mailbox, were ubiquitous in this day and age.You'd think that a place so renowned for being an entertainment mecca would have those little bubblewrap envelopes you'll find in any kinkos anywhere. Still, it's entirely possible that the padded envelope skipped Nevada the very same way that high speed broadband skipped Virginia.  You know. The way I missed the tongue-scrapers next to the toothbrushes.. 

Anything is possible.

Right?! Anything.  If you can imagine it... 

I love it. What a concept, a bespoke little tool like that. Thank you, Nevada friend. :) Plus, if it weren't for the trip to the post office to pick up that parcel of tongue scraper, I might never have remembered to take the photo of the remnants of the original Georgia St viaduct. So that's a good thing. I had fun with that post, when all was said and done.  Oh!  Also, I was right about the scraping/drinking water first thing in the morning. Ha!  So you're doing it, right? Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it!! <3  :D  

It really helps, in the same way a ride at dawn sets you up for the day.

Ok, so there's something we really have to talk about.

Er. Dooders. I'm shocked.  Seriously. I can't believe it.  My very small brain often needs to be spoon fed, but you were meant to connect the dots. I am all about feedback, though, and the evidence is abundantly clear.  You haven't figured it out yet. It's crazy.  After all, we're CYCLISTS.  Right?  I can't believe something of this magnitude eludes you, and yet evidently it's true. 

I was duty bound to give you the kiss list first because it really is a sound foundation for a healthy body, heart, and mind. You remember it, right?  The KISS list is the short-hand mantra for a long-haul lifestyle: 

move bounce breathe purify love-a-lot laugh and sleep.

You already know I am peddling my ass. In the quest for quantum healing of my sick n twistedness,  I've learned the art of making a perfect ass of myself. It's not all about ass, either.  My legs are ripped, too... 

Sometimes I want to wear Superman tights and save the world. I am definitely trying to make it a better place by spreading health, happiness and wellness. And perfect ass-ness.  I want to help you express your best self, to Be the change you want to see in this world.

AND THAT'S THE THING!!

I GAVE YOU THE DOPE.  Ok, sure it was sort of on the down-low, but I slipped you the old magic handshake!  I gave you the modern world's solution to everything AND YOU DIDN'T TAKE IT!  What kind of cyclists ARE you, anyway?  Hmmmmmm?  

Listen.  The  KISS list is all well and fine, and you already know you're going to hear all about it ad nauseum, but let's be honest.  Let's cut to the chase and talk about the pink elephant in the middle of the velodrome, mmmkay? Cycing is all about cheating.  Seriously. If you think about it, you'll have to admit that "taking the easy way out" is the very essence of the sport. What, you don't believe me?  Do you suffer from some delusion of noble intent? Ok, then tell  me. If not for cheating, how else is it possible to go SO fast with SO little effort expended? Hmmm?! You see?  I rest my case.  

It's the nature of the beast.

Bikes are the best form of go-fast cheating.

Cycling is a no-brainer and dope is for dope.  It's a perfect fit. The mere scent of the fount-of-vitality in a bottle should have all of you clever Freds queuing up to try it out.  It's a go-fast supplement.  Forget Red Bull...  

Protandim is perfect. It's naturopathic.  It's potent. Five plant extracts work together to stimulate your body's own production of powerful anti-oxidants in the form of Nrf2, something everyone has in abundance as children and youth, but less so as they age. Oxidative stress is the foundation of ageing and disease, and I am offering you a lovely little tablet to help you combat exactly that. Protandim reduces oxidative stress in the body by 40% in three weeks.  

Would you ignore the elixer of youth itself?

Oh wait.

Are you a fred's fred, a card carrying member of dorkdom?  

Hooray! Me, too! :D  

Don't worry. Protandim is WADA approved, and safe for people of all sporting stripes.

Try it.  Click here and give it a go. Within a month or two, people will be asking you what you're doing differently...

  And I want to know, too. How is your body changing?

Please share your stories with me, ok? 

On being well warned that there will be wear: gearing up for the new season.

The weekend before last looked a lot like this down in Richmond as I chased the guys on the Vet Ride:

Unbeknownst to me, they were actually all behind me at that very moment, but that sure didn't last. Once I did finally hook up with the group,  I only just managed to hang on for twenty minutes or so before I was back to riding lone-wolf-ish. And then once again my road ahead looked just like that. 

I'm not nearly as fast as I like to pretend. 

And evidently I have a very small brain. 

Worse yet, I am naive. 

Someone once said to me "Hey!  Did you know that the word naive isn't in the Oxford English Dictionary?" Believing him, I replied "Wow.  Really?"  Sigh.  I bought in to the slogan Campagnolo wears in, while Shimano wears out, too.  I believed that Campagnolo stands behind it's products no matter what, but don't worry. I learned the error of my ways on that count last year, when my derailleur exploded and took out a few very expensive spokes.

It was ugly.  I cried like a baby.  In public.

 

Why why why?!

You see? It was in the middle of the cluster when it just snapped!  Good thing I wasn't travelling woo hoo speed when it happened. Last year, that bike didn't have anywhere near the sort of mileage on it that it does now, and still. It was maintained, too, that derailleur. I had been in the shop with it only a few days before, having it adjusted, and even so it went boom. I was forced to swallow the cost.  It wasn't pretty.  Well, part of it was still pretty, at least for the moment. Look at how shiny the aluminum on those rims is! Nothing like they look now...  :S

Mmm Vittoria Corsa... forget the scored rims - those wheels will still go fast!

Fast forward a few months and several thousand kilometers, and there I was on the Vet ride last Sunday when the bottom bracket started making a racket the likes of which I've never ever heard before.  It was a crazy squeaking which bordered on a groan, accompanied by an intermittant tick, as if something was loose in there.  It got louder and worse the harder I pushed the bike, and it was consistent with the down stroke on my left pedal.  THAT's what told me that it was my bottom bracket, cause I have had to have it tightened and sealed with lock tight a few times already this winter.

I had just ordered a new drive train, minus the small ring, cause the big ring was looking pretty worn.

 I had taken the bike in for new cables and brake pads, and a general spring tune-up but they said I definitely needed a whole new drive chain.  And the sound of the bottom bracket really worried me, especially since I am never a stranger to catastrophic failure.  I am notoriously hard on things. My last name is Guerin, and it might come as no surprise to you that one wit who knows me well has determined that all things mechanical in my life ought to have a Guerin-tee.  

So it's not surprising, is it, that the inside of the crank looks like this. 

And again you'll find me wondering

WHY WHY WHY?

Or more precicely it leaves me wondering how how how it happened.  These teeth seem to interlock with the teeth from the opposing crank, and yet there is absolutely no corresponding damage on the other side.

The bearings are hardly worn at all, and they should be the first thing to go!  They're fine.  You'd think that if the cranks were loose enough to cause wear and damage that the rest of the teeth would show evidence of the wear, but de nada.  It's very strange.  A mystery.

Sure Snobberdood might mock me, but that's just what he does. The crank is sort of the heart of the bike, and this one leaves me completely baffled. Yep.  It's a mystery.

On the bright side, it gave me a chance to change things up a bit.  I was thinking of getting a  big ring with more teeth, but you know me. I am so dense that hills hurt. Rob at my favourite LBS warned that I really should stick with a compact groupset, so I ordered another 50/34 crank, and a new cluster, too.  Then I took the old gear out for one more spin...

...down south to White Rock to see some of my favourite people, and to make this year's first contact with one of my favourite decks.  Mikeweb called this ride a border skirmish, cause that's Blaine, WA you see over across the drink there.

It was a gorgeous ride. 

I thought I was filming with the GoPro the whole way there, and I was stoked because we saw so many things I wanted  to share with you. The camera was on, the battery draining, but it wasn't filming. I saw the red light when I turned it on, but I didn't bother to check what was happening till we hit water in White Rock. We rode south through Vancouver along the Cypress bike route, then across the Canada Line bridge (my favourite) before we headed east along River Rd (as pictured at the top of the post) to the Alex Fraser bridge.  (That bit was brutal for a girl whose body has its own opinion about heights, btw, but let's not talk about that today, mmmkay?

We took the new Perimeter Rd (hwy 17) from the bridge west-ish to just past where it crosses the 99. I was excited about riding next to Burns Bog dosn there in Delta. It's a good stretch for a hard ride, and I really gave it all I had.  Unfortunately, the segment didn't match, because the dimwit who laid it down meandered all over the place!

I tried to obey all of the posted signage, but damned.  There sure were a lot of them!

From the 99 we headed east on the Ladner Trunk Rd, which parallels the 99.  I wish I had a photo of what we saw along here.  We were riding through farmland and on our left saw a number of birds on the ground all around.  This is one of the best places anywhere around for birding if you're any kind of fan of raptors, because Vancouver's dump is nestled in burns bog up there, in that crook of land between the Perimiter Rd and Hwy 99.  You'll find all SORTS of birds round there, for all sorts of good reasons.  This field was a bit wetish and lots of birds were mulling about.  As they do.  And we stopped briefly to point the GoPro at these birds because at first a few of them looked like massive turkeys or something amongst the lot, but they were eagles, just hanging around in a field looking massive.  They were gorgeous.  I wish I could share them with you.

Anyhoo.

On the way back we took a shortcut across the delta and shaved a solid ten kilometers off our journey. Better yet, it wasn't a road.  It was a hardpack gravel trail, which means we didn't have to deal with any traffic whatsoever for that leg of the journey, and it was significant.  I loved it.  It looked like that photo up there much of the way through.  And it looked like this, too:

It was a great way to say goodbye to my drive train. I had originally ordered a more compact cluster, in the hopes that I'd have more high end on a descent, but I lost out on my best hill climbing ability with that cluster, so I went back to the original 12/25, only we switched out the smallest two bits so that they're 11 and 12 instead of 12 and 13.  This way I have a little more top end, and that makes me happy, but I can still make it up those hills behind Jericho beach.  Having the ability to customise my cluster definitely made me love those Campy parts all over again.  I am trying to work on my spinning, cause I'm a masher by nature, so with any luck I will wear this set of rings out more evenly.  If I am still using the big ring more than the small one as the season progresses, and if I still need more top end, I might just switch the 50 out for a 52.  We'll see.

Oh ho!  And it looks like my first race will be on the island in a week and a bit. Till then, here's to red nipples and pretty pussies!

Ride on! 

:D

A quick spin round the feedback loop...

Thank you for all of your comments and messages, and please pardon my unexplained absence.  My computer went away for service and repair for a few days.

Someone near and dear to my heart expressed grave concerns about the sudden turn in direction which this blog has taken.  He misses the old posts.  He loves the photos in and around Vancouver, and he asked me very kindly to lighten up a little and get back to the things he loves most about spokeNscene.  He doesn't want it to change, bless him.  Don't worry.  SpokeNscene will always be about cycling, and I promise we will return to regular programming soon.

I just beg your indulgence one more time, please. It will be easier if you simply accept my apology in advance for the rambling babblelog I am about to unleash upon you.  The friend who asked me to lighten up is in good company, truth be told.  A few of you have spoken out.  Thank you, btw, for caring enough to say.  One kind reader took the time to write an insightful message which made me stop and think. I hope he doesn't mind if I share part of it with you here:

Your energy comes across loud and clear in your posts. Your message is more elusive. If there were a hierarchy maintained where the sexuality is always below the health in order of importance, your message would reach more people...If you wish to market your health ideas.

The letter in its entirety was kind and intelligent and thought provoking.  After reading it, I had an epiphany of sorts. It was very enlightening.

Someone on Reddit took offence, to the sexual selfies and a moderator who doesn't think much of me anyway used it as an opportunity to have my posts automatically deleted as spam.  You see?  My lovely reader's concern for my message being lost in the sexual content was right on the money. And I have thought long and hard about where sexuality fits into my message, though perhaps it doesn't look it. I once posted an onanastic photo early on in this blog, and quickly deleted the image from the post because of my professional standing and the fear that I would become "That Girl."  

And THAT is the thing.  As a woman I am judged upon my looks, even as I'm reminded that my worth will never equal that of a man's.  Especially not one of the Sirs of this world. Why?  I don't know. You'd think that as the sex which can gives birth, we females should be more highly valued, more precious, not less. There is no relief in God, either, with religion underscoring the devaluing of the feminine. Worse, religions all tell us that masturbation is a sin.  Why do you suppose it IS that devoutly fundamentalist societies have the highest rates of rape?  Hmmmm?  Oh never mind.  The long and the short of it is that I try to do my part to express a healthy feminine sexuality in the face of our collective madness.  And yet it's important not to lose sight of the forest for the trees. 

The message matters.  The KISS list delivers health and happiness.  Guaranteed. 

Move Bounce Purify Breathe Love a Lot Laugh and Sleep

Healthy sexuality is an important aspect of health and wellness, and yet in our mad, mad world it is tied to sin and shame and thus condemned to a pervasive and lasting legacy of violence, abuse, darkness, and fear.There was a feature on domestic violence this week, following a dramatic news story.  A man was charged with attempted murder. What is wrong with our world that most women will experience some form of sexual abuse or assault over the course of their lifetimes?! Sigh... What I have learned is that what you resist, persists. The world has long been busy condemning us women for expressing our sexuality openly and  honestly, but we're not going to go away. Sexual women are here to stay.

Oh!  I've ALSO learned that it's very easy to attract the things you fear.  

So now I am 'That Girl,"  the one peddling her ass on the internet, but its all good. 

I own it.

I am putting together a separate website for peddling babblebutt.  SpokeNscene will return to business as usual whilst I work on that, which means these posts will probably remain just slightly scarce, despite my best, most babbliscious intention to bring you news of the cycling scene here in Vancouver.

Last week Snobberdooders wrote about The Indignity of Not Commuting by Bicycle and Instead Just Going For A Ride: None, I Regret Nothing. He talked about responsibilities and noted how lucky he is to be able to squeeze in a few recreational bike rides here and there.  Just a day or so later, a girlfriend of mine mentioned how it looks like I'm living the life of Riley, what with all of the time I spend on a bike. She asked whether maybe I might have too much time on my hands.  I had to laugh, because  COME.  ON. Everybody is too busy. Right?  Everybody. Time is the one thing none of us ever has quite enough of.

I like to ride at least two hours a day, but I am literally riding for my life. Yes, that sounds super-melodramatic, for sure, but please hear me out. You know how sick and twisted I am.   This disorder is progressive and degenerative, and THAT means that its expression is intrinsically linked to the process of ageing.  That's why I study the art, magic and science of longevity, and why I am trying so hard to find the key to quantum healing.  Because even when it really hurts, I love my life.  I want to get to know my future great grandchildren and I have big plans for my 100th birthday party, so I am well motivated to find a solution to my connective tissue issues.

Last week someone said:

Great posterior -- er, post! 

The only problem is that you're preaching to the choir. This article needs to be published in one of those supermarket mags/rags that proclaim "Lose 8 lbs. in two weeks" or the like. With an emphasis on your earlier smokin' hot, er, smoking, overweight life, and how KISS made you the physical goddess you are now!

Thanks for this blog!

-NHcycler

A.  Thank you, NHcycler.  Thank you for reading, and thank you for your two cents, too.  Very kind of you.
2.  Right?! But that's the scary thing! I am both the preacher and a singer in that very same choir and STILL I was headed for trouble!!  I've cycled as a way of life since I was a teenager, even though I have had my fat times and my super-stupid times, I was definitely in the habit of taking pretty damned good care of myself last October when Dr Brown had me chart my acidity, I took stock of my physical situation, and discovered that despite my healthy lifestyle, my disease was progressing rapidly. Painfully quickly.  I was still not seeing any real results.

I had an unhealthy blood chemistry, with respect to my cholesterol levels and my risk ratio of healthy vs unhealthy fats. Cholesterol is to some extent determined by your genetics, so a couple of years ago, when my doctor told me I had high blood cholesterol despite my fit, active lifestyle, I wasn't entirely surprised. A serious clotting disorder called Factor V Leiden runs in the family, along with high cholesterol. Dad had undergone quadruple bypass surgery when he was five years younger than I am now.  The deck is stacked against me, and yet this is what my blood looks like now:

needless to say, the doctors are dead chuffed with my results.  The risk ratio is well below the recommended guidelines, and my triglyceride levels have left my physicians tickled pink.

I told you I am the anti-scientist.  I love, adore and respect science.  Absolutely.  It's just that I am way too slow and backward to be a scientist.  When it comes to the battle against the progression of my disease, I consult science.  I read as much as I can and talk to doctors, specialists, healers and friends, but in the end the decision is organic. I place my trust in the "yes" and "no" signals I get from my body, rather than the latest lab results, fashions, or trends. 

How did I attain the cholesterol levels I needed?  I just listened to my body's signals. I eat a lot of fats, in fact.  They're soooo tasty, and I like yummy food. When I cook, it's always coconut or grapeseed oil, and of course I love olives, too.  I do use dairy, though it's really best if it's organic.  I use liberal amounts of butter, and 11% bf yogurt, and OMG I love the macedonian feta from the Parthenon. (It's the best kept secret in Kits, that place:) I love love love fatty foods of all sorts! I eat plenty of avocados, eggs,seeds, and tree nuts.  All in all I have a fairly high-fat diet, and the genetic cards are stacked against me, too.  And EVEN SO!! Heh heh.  Even so, I listened to my body's signals and here we are...  

Well, I'm here. Ish.  Spanish Banks. Dunno where you are.

I'm sitting pretty damned pretty, considering what a genetic mess I am. I don't know much, but what I DO  know is that listening to my body's signals always pays off.

You saw how my body's ph balance is in a place which pleases my naturopath.  My doctor, and the son who is studying to be a doctor both say that they can see no clearly proven link between having an acidic bio-chemistry, and the ageing and degenerative processes of oxidation, but my body is abundantly clear on the subject, and that's good enough for me.  Have you tested yourself yet?  

This body has undergone some pretty dramatic changes in the last few months. I hadn't been able to run for a few years.  My knees would blow up into water-balloons  if I so much as thought about going for a run. My unstable knees were the reason I adapted the babblebounce, the lymphatic clearing exercise I will show you on video.  Every time I went out dancing I would suffer with swollen, aching knees for a week.  But not any more. Suddenly I can join the boy on runs without suffering anymore.  It's incredible, really.

What's changed?  Well, since October I have made three distinct changes to my life, each of which may well have something to do with these results.  If I were  a proper scientist, I would of course do a controlled experiment to decipher which factor affected what, but I am just so happy with the overall results (even while I battle daily to keep the disease at bay) that I am simply going to keep on keeping on.

These are the three changes I made:

1. Juicing. If you do use a pyramid to describe the best diet, the bottom bit is meant to be green. Plants should be the bulk of your diet. Here's the thing. Dr Hal said that the only people who come into his office with healthy alkalinity are the people who juice.  He said that it takes about three months of regular juicing to change your bio-chemistry.  And what do you know?  He was absolutely spot on. Some of you scientists out there may say that a body's alkalinity isn't a true indication of your body's state of resistance or receptivity to disease, but I think the naturopaths have something figured out. Do your own research and make your own decisions.  All I know is my body says yes yes yes to green juice. Kale, grapefruit, apple, and ginger is tried trusted and true, but I like to mix it up, be creative, and have fun. In the summer you can use frozen veggies and  make smoothies that taste even better than ice cream. SUPER. YUM.

2. I bumped up my daily grind from one to two hours daily, and I make a point of stimulating my lymph system whenever I am sitting for more than half an hour at a time.  I'm guessing that this is the biggest reason my cholesterol levels are so good, since triglycerides are sort of an indication that you're not burning up all of the energy you're consuming.  Also, it's important to note that the body switches from burning glucose to burning fat once you've been active for an hour and a half, so that might explain the change in my blood chemistry. I am so inspired by Olga the Magnificent and her incredible anti-ageing lifestyle, that for the first time ever, I have purchased a UCI racing  license in my efforts to make the most of this mortal coil.

3. Protandim.  I used to need between two and three hundred dollars worth of supplements each month, and now I spend less than seventy-five dollars.  And I am running again, and riding faster than I used to, and that's good enough for me.  A couple of my friends have noticed an improvement in my health and wellness since I started taking it, and have inquired about it, so racing wasn't the only type of licence I bought this month. I also bought a Protandim distributor's license, even though I lack a killer sales instinct.  It's a powerfully effective supplement. I encourage you to give it a try.

The KISS list is just a simple way to stay healthy and happy,  and you know you'll see and hear all about it once I finish my website.  Till then, you can expect somewhat regular updates here.... I promise.

See ya again soon!  :D

ps.  a couple of people asked where we were riding in that video. That was the Vet ride in Richmond a few weeks ago... et voila:

Confessions of a true dope.

 Hello, my name is Babble On and I'm a Stravaddict.

Snob scorns me, but it's no use.  I can't quit.

I am a full-on QOM junkie in need of her daily points fix.  I'll happily get up at a ridiculous hour, put on silly looking clingy clothes, and launch myself into the dark before dawn every time I can, just because I can.  And when I win one of those little crown thingies on Strava I get the best little happy buzz on TOP of a good ride high. That's whatcha call win/win.

 I couldn't quit now, even if I wanted to.

I quit quitting, anyway.  Quitting is for quitters and I'm done with all that.  Besides, I've already quit everything worth quitting, believe you me.  All that's left is the good stuff, and more than a bit of that is gone now, t-oo.  I miss chocolate sometimes, for example, but I know better than to eat it.

My body talks to me, you see.  Sometimes it even shouts a bit.

Last weekend it landed me in Cardiac Care at Vancouver General Hospital when I took an herb which disagreed with me.  My body lets me know what is healing and what is harmful for me. It lays down the law, loud and clear, and though I don't always follow ALL of the rules,  I always feel better when I pay attention to it. I've learned to trust the wisdom in these old bones, because the cost of ignoring the signals is far too high.  

Dope is for dopes.

Move over Mr Armstrong. I am the poster child for better living through chemistry. Doctors introduced me to morphine at four years of age. This body has known more prescriptions than any body has a right to. As a very young child, I was prescribed diazepam  - that's VALIUM!!-because every so often I stopped breathing and turned blue with seizure. Even as a baby I would sometimes cry and cry and even scream until finally I stopped breathing and turned blue.  Poor ol' mum figured I had anger issues, bless her, and you know mums know these things. According to EEG mapping, though, my actual Ictal Bradycardia Asystole seizures are a response to pain, a condition which came about as a result of a catastrophic head injury at nine months of age. (The parental units left the basement door open and I took a flying leap with a baby walker and ba da boom.) And from that time on, I'd scream and scream and scream, knowing that something was very very wrong.

The feeling is always the same.

It never ever happens out of the blue. I am always in some sort of gastro-intestinal distress, and so it often happens when I'm sitting on the toilet.  It's no fun returning to consciousness with a headache and a large lump on your head, so finally I has to admit that mum is right.  I'm "special."

 I make a fantastic walking talking billboard for helmets, though, don't you think?

You may recall when I told you about lovely Deborah, a reader in France who likes my muscles and who wanted to how I developed my legs... ? Her story touched me deeply because she has a serious form of muscular dystrophy and with it a longing for the one thing her body is missing:  muscle mass.  It's deeply ironic that in her search for muscles she should encounter me of all people, though.. My muscles exist in their present condition solely because of the fact that I have the very opposite condition.

I have connective tissue issues, and you'd be surprised how much of the human anatomy consists of connective tissue. 

The only reason I have learned to listen to my body's signals is that ignoring them is too painful.  Long ago I discovered that strong muscles can compensate for weak joints.  Yoga taught me that having strong core muscles supports the lax ligaments and reduces my overall levels of pain and discomfort, too.

I've learned all sorts of interesting things in my journey, so that now I am actually in better shape than ever before.  I must be doing something right, because even my eyesight is way better than it was ten years ago.  In my search for health and wellness I discovered that our bio-chemistry is altered not only through diet, sex and exercise, but also by attitude, emotions and state of mind.  Now I am stronger and fitter than ever before, and am in general exceptionally healthy, happy and well, despite my genetic disadvantage.

There are a few advantages to being a woman "of a certain age," you know.  While it's true, that as a woman you never really see yourself represented on screen nor behind the scenes, specially not once you've hit forty, it's all good.  We are well positioned to push the limits because nobody really expects much of us, anyway.

Take Olga the Magnificent for example. 

The New York Times calls her "the incredible flying nonagenarian...

she is considered one of the world’s greatest athletes, holding 23 world records, 17 in her current age category, 90 to 95." Nobody expects a 93 year old woman to be a world class track star, do they?  Most normal professionals hang up their kit before they hit 40, and no one is going to argue that there's anything much in the way of money when it comes to old lady sporting ventures, either, but the lifestyle is priceless in and of itself. 

 Olga has confounded scientists who study ageing, and she's taught them something new. According to theTimes, "It appears that exercise may stimulate the production of telomerase, an enzyme that maintains and repairs the little caps on the ends of chromosomes that keep genetic information intact when cells divide. That may explain why older athletes aren’t just more cardiovascularly fit than their sedentary counterparts — they are more free of age-related illness in general."  

It's true.  That's the reason I ride.

Bodies are made to move.  I literally ride for dear life.

In my experience, exercise triggers a whole cascade of positive effects on the body which nothing else achieves.  It's my anti-depressent, and my charger.  It gives me energy and also makes it easier to sleep at night. It boosts my sex drive. It strengthens my immune response and keeps me healthy day by day and it always, always makes me smile.  And that's crucial.  Life is supposed to be fun. The scientists testing her have noted that Olga is in the habit of ensuring her days are fun, and they are convinced that her ability to do so has made her far more resilient than she would be otherwise.

  In my books, fun is when Strava makes me Queen of Belmont Avenue. The title really should come with a palace on the avenue, though, don't you think? When I see those little crown thingies at the end of a ride, I get to ride a whole new kind of high, and that's a real gem of a tool in the war against ageing and disease. 

 I happily confess to being a dopey bike dork with a serious Stravaddiction, but don't bother feeling sorry for me.  I'm having too much fun.  Do yourself a favour instead, and join me!