Jim's Place

The real-deal...

Happy Monday gang! Hope you've been having a good day, although in my book if you just wake up it's a win! As you can guess it's a very late start for me. Getting to bed late + exhaustion + sciatica = getting up at 3:30pm. Pushing against my sleep cycle to make it to the starting line at 7am for yesterday's time-trial race was a big factor but also because I brought a glider with me and went flying, since RC club's field is right across from Fiesta Island. It was fun flying and seeing my friends, but it pushed me past the threshold. Anyway, I think I've recovered and I'm looking forward to another active week.

I so appreciate all of the support and kudos for my time-trial race yesterday. It means the world to me to have shared such a huge milestone with you - especially since you played such a huge supporting role! It was so gratifying to have my race go exactly as I had planned...making the most of every bit of conditioning I've been blessed with after a relatively short time back on the bike. Here's a brief race narrative...

At 7:17 sharp, I assumed my starting position - standing on the pedals, making sure I was fully clipped-in. I made a good start and quickly assumed my aero position. My focus was to get up to speed quickly but to also avoid going out too hard too soon. After about a minute, I checked my Garmin bike computer. Heart rate was at 145bpm, cadence about 100 rpm and speed about 22 mph - right on target! It was a bit misty, so I reminded myself to be careful on the turns and watch for my hands or elbows slipping off the aerobars.

Coming around the backside of Fiesta Island I was now turning into the wind - which was light, but still unexpected for so early in the morning. My heart rate was now pegged at 153-155bpm and my exertion had reached a very hard level 9. This was getting quite tough, but I felt confident I could hold onto to such a vigorous effort for the remaining 10 miles - because, frankly, I knew exactly what I was doing...

I'd only been time-trial training for a few weeks, but I had trained as effectively as I knew how to train. Just like my fitness and weight-loss program, I'd followed proven fundamentals. I had trained hard and I had trained smart. I had come to know my body well. I knew that the maximum heart-rate I could maintain for the 3 laps around Fiesta Island was about 153bpm. As I continued towards the end of the first lap I focused on my mechanics - smooth pedal stroke, head up, back straight - and most of all pedal-to-the-metal...

As I rolled into lap 2, I was jazzed to see that I was holding my heart-rate at 153bpm and keeping my cadence high. It meant that I hadn't gone out too hard on lap 1 and that I was in good shape for the rest of the race! I wondered if I could go a little harder, but a quick test shift into a harder gear made it clear - I was indeed already giving it everything I had. Just shift back down and keep on truckin' Jim! It hit me how intense and hard this was - and how relatively few people knew what this was like. But I chuckled to realize that most people would pretty much hate this pain in my legs and this huge effort coming from my heart and lungs and say "That ain't for me!" I wondered for a moment if there was anyway to explain why I chose to do this...

I'm sure most people would assume that I'm motivated by a desire to accomplish a challenging athletic feat and that is part of it - but not the biggest part. More than anything else is that I never feel more intensely alive than when I'm putting the pedal-to-the-metal and giving it everything I've got - laying it all on the line out on the time-trial course...

As I started the last lap, I again wondered if I could dig any deeper, trying a harder gear. Again, my body screamed at me like Scotty on Star Trek "I'm giving her all she's got - she can't handle any more, Captain!" I was maxed out and I knew it would take everything I had to not fade at the end. Turning back into the wind, I was jazzed to think I only had 2 more miles! "You're going to finish Jim - and you're going to finish strong!" I then began to engage my hamstring muscles at the top of the pedal stroke. They would help me keep the speed up. Just like afterburners on a jet, they wouldn't last long, but all I needed was a couple of minutes!

Coming around the last turn, I thought of how unlikely it was that I was even here - out on the race course. How many years did I tell people that my dream was to race in a time-trial...while being so heavy and sick that even riding a bike around the block was a stretch. I thought about all the people who believed in me - and still do. How lucky I was to have them cheering me on even when the only thing I could ride was the couch. And I thought about the loved ones who are no longer here - especially my brother Jerry, who had always been my biggest cheerleader. I wanted so much for them to be at the finish line, but I couldn't help but think they were all cheering from Heaven...

The last hundred yards I turned into a madman, unleashing everything I had left into my legs and breathing so hard and haggard that I could see a couple of spectators going bug-eyed, wondering if the guy in the Captain America jersey was about to explode! I made a quick note to stay focused and not make a mistake by losing my grip or coming unclipped! I rolled across the finish line and felt such a rush of victory and the simple but profound satisfaction of a job well done...

As I rolled down the street to cool down, I thought about what this meant to me. I wasn't looking to place or win a medal, but simply just be a part of something that had eluded my grasp year after year. I had been the fat guy... the sick guy... the out-of-touch dreamer... and the big-talking middle-aged has-been... But today, I was finally where I belonged. Today, no one could claim it was just talk or endless speculation or fruitless daydreaming. Today it was real. Despite the odds and the years of unrelenting frustration and disappointment, I had finally made my dream my reality. I had finally become in body what I'd always been in my heart...a genuine, bona-fide, real-deal time-trial racer... And it felt good - damn good...

Thanks gang for always cheering me on... :)

A matter of faith

I'm sure it's obvious that my faith has been a big part of my 2013 comeback, but I think few people realize the kind of role it's played since the chronic illness started to impact my life in 1996.

Certainly, my faith in God gave me hope that I might get well or at least better, but there was an even more important aspect than that. When you're sick for years on end, it can easily feel that your life is wasted. You watch other people move ahead with their lives while you struggle just to get off the couch. Every aspect of your "positive thinking" skills is tested and you eventually realize that is simply not enough...

Fortunately for me, I've always believed there was a purpose for the pain - that my long-suffering was never in vain. I framed my journey as being in "spiritual boot camp", training for something bigger and better. My contentment with my life didn't require me to be healed but rather just to believe that God was in charge and that my life was playing out according to his plan. Maybe that meant a miracle healing or maybe I would instead have to cope with chronic illness for the rest of my life. Either way, I always believed God wanted my life to be a testimony.

That sense of purpose is what sustained me and brought me to a point where I was even able physically, emotionally - and spiritually - to have my big comeback of 2013. I don't know where things will go from here, but I'm going to stick with the same old training plan of the last 17 years - do my best and trust God to do the rest...

Gratitude

Happy Saturday gang! Hope you're enjoying your day. I'm kicking back watching football. Gonna hop on the bike later for a short spin, but mostly taking it easy since I'm doing another time-trial race tomorrow morning. For me, the race is the easy part - the hard part is getting to sleep early enough to be good-to-go for the 7am start! Anyway, I'm just grateful that I'm even in good enough shape to be out on the course.

Speaking of gratitude... I've always tried to find a way to feel grateful no matter what life has thrown at me and at times that has really challenged this eternally optimistic guy. But something about how gratitude has often been presented by society in recent years has really bugged me. Certainly, I think you can always find something to be grateful for - even when your dreams have been crushed. However, I don't think gratitude should function as a consolation prize for coming up short of what you really wanted. In other words, when you experience a feeling of loss or hurt or disappointment, using gratitude as a means to detach and not validate those feelings isn't really going to make you a happy camper.

It seems to me that a lot of people try to gloss over their feelings of dissatisfaction with life by telling themselves they have no right to complain - that a lot of people have it worse and that you should just be grateful for what you have. I think that's it a healthy perspective to try to maintain an attitude of gratitude, but if you let that focus on gratitude keep you from validating those painful emotions, you're "positive outlook" is going to be more of a thin veneer - and you'll find yourself struggling to keep those unvalidated emotions from manifesting themselves as anxiety, anger, and depression.

Ironically, the "gratitude is everything" approach can drag down your self-esteem. If you effectively avoid validating your own "negative emotions" by dismissing them because someone else has it worse, you send an insidious message to yourself. A message that says your feelings and hurts and wants and desires are not that important. Over time that takes away your enthusiasm for life and makes it hard to truly feel grateful for anything. On the outside you're "grateful", but underneath you're sowing the seeds of bitterness and discontent...

I always feel grateful, but I also make sure to take inventory of what's going on under the surface. For example, I'm thrilled that my illness has improved so much, but I don't gloss over those emotions of loss and hurt that still emerge. I make sure not to indulge in any emotions that might drag me down, but I don't altogether ignore them. Usually all it takes is a moment to acknowledge the hurt and I'm good-to-go...

I hope my experience helps you in some way. Being grateful has indeed helped me over the years to cope with the trauma of divorce, the losses and hurts of chronic illness, and the inevitable adversities of everyday life...but through it all I still told myself that my feelings, my desires and my dreams mattered. And I hope you feel that way too - because it's the dog-gone truth! :)

Grateful for a good day, but...

Some people need to understand that a "good day" doesn't indicate a trend - but simply an exception.

My physical therapy victory

Happy Wednesday gang! Hope your day is feeling more like a blessing than a burden. I've actually been up several hours, but made it a point to get out and fly one of my radio-controlled gliders before the wind kicked up too much. With all the focus on my Body-for-LIFE program and riding the bike, I just haven't had the bandwidth or energy to get in much flying the last few months. But I had a nice 45-minute flight, catching several thermals and just enjoying the magic of my plane floating overhead. What a great hobby!

Anyway, I forgot to mention a very interesting aspect of Sunday's time-trial race. My physical therapist - who has been such a big part of my recovery from the IT band inflammation injury that kept me off the bike from last summer until May of this year - was working the registration booth! How cool is that?! What a great outcome that was for an injury that basically had me walking like I was crippled.

It started in August 2012, when my left hip and knee developed sharp pain that made me wince with every step. I was awfully concerned that permanent damage had been done or that surgery would be necessary. No doubt, I had set myself up for injury by not following my tried and true guideline: no hill climbing on the bike when the weight was above 250 lbs. Here I was at 283 lbs, pushing hard up hills as steep as an 8% grade. Sure enough, my doctor confirmed that the injury was due to over-exertion. Funny, but I never felt any pain on the bike, only when I walked, so I didn't figure I was overdoing it. Oh well, lesson learned...

When the doctor prescribed nothing more than physical therapy, I was skeptical that he had the right treatment plan. But after my first physical therapy session, my therapist was optimistic I could heal without surgery - but it would take a lot of therapy and a lot of time. So I told myself I had to drop 50 lbs before I could get back on the bike. As my therapy continued on into 2013, I wondered if my therapist and her staff might be getting tired of hearing how serious of a cyclist I USED to be. At 293 lbs, I certainly didn't even remotely look the part! But they just kept cheering me on, week-after-week, as the weight gradually came off.

I looked forward to my physical therapy sessions in large part because of the support of the staff. I was so jazzed to share each week's progress and so glad I had such a great group of cheerleaders! In May, when I had finally dropped 50 lbs and did my first bike ride of 2013, I was thrilled to share my big victory with them.

And how fitting that a key person on my "pit crew", my physical therapist, would be there to witness my first time-trial race in many years! It made me realize that making a big comeback inherently benefits not only you but those around you. My therapist will no doubt be able to use my example to help inspire other patients. My friends and family have been able to share this long but victorious journey - and they at least know such improbable comebacks are indeed possible.

I hope that one thing you can take away from today's post is the realization that making your own comeback is not a selfish venture. It might seem that the only person who benefits is yourself, but the truth is your determined and persistent efforts are helping those you care about. They get to experience the joy and even relief of seeing you do better. They get to share in the excitement of your hard-earned victories. And your example just might be the spark and the hope they've desperately needed so that they can start their own life-changing comeback...

Ready to take a chance again...

Happy Tuesday guys! Hope your day is going well. I'm headed out to run a couple of errands - mainly to get the battery in my van checked. Sometimes it just doesn't want to crank over until I jiggle the battery cable. It probably just needs new cables, but I'll get a new battery if it is even a little bit weak.

I was planning on cancelling my Match.com membership, but last night decided to instead update my profile with my recent and much lighter photos! I'm not focused on meeting someone, but I figured I should at least give it a chance. I just keep praying that all of that will play out as God desires, but I suppose I have to do my part as well.

I think I'm awfully fortunate that I have the life I have, but I haven't forgot what it meant to me to be married. The world in general celebrates the virtues of living the single life - nobody to worry about but yourself and the freedom to do what you want! Why would you want to get hitched and give all that up?!

Well, I learned the fallacy of that superficial perspective back in the mid-80s when I got married at the ripe but still young age of 32. I quickly realized how hollow my single lifestyle had been. I learned that no matter how great of a life I had built, it just didn't have that foundation and meaning that came from committing to share your life with someone. It made me realize that even with all of my optimism and hard work, I had been living with a significant void. But most importantly, I finally had someone to love and cherish...

Fast forward to today - 20 years after the marriage ended - and you'll see a guy who has adapted well to the adversities in his life and is still the eternal happy camper. But I still feel that void of not being deeply connected to someone. When I go to bed, it still doesn't feel right to have that empty space next to me. And sometimes I just feel puzzled that I'm still alone after all these years. You'd think that even without looking, I'd have met someone simply because of the odds!

But perhaps it's not that complicated. With the illness and weight issues of the last 17 years, dating wasn't even on my radar screen... The world would suggest that I'm simply afraid of rejection, or commitment or getting burned again - but that simply ain't it. I can't help but think there's a bigger purpose behind my marathon of "singlehood".

Maybe God wanted me to grow in a way that I wouldn't have if I was in a committed relationship. Maybe I needed a lot of time to ensure that I wouldn't settle for an unhealthy second marriage and thus be on my way to yet another divorce. Or maybe God has someone around the corner and wanted to use my life as an example that as long as you have faith you can be a happy camper - and that you still have a chance to share your life with that special person that God knew - even before you were born - you would meet later in life...someone who you are so in love with that you suddenly forget all those years you felt so alone...

Finally...

Happy Monday guys! Hoping your week is off to a good start! I'm going to be taking it easy today after yesterday's vigorous time-trial race. I'm quite jazzed that I don't feel any ill effects from the race - just a bit zonked as expected. I thought you might like to know a little more about how things played out on race day...

Actually, the biggest challenge was just to make it to the race! With my topsy-turvy sleep cycle, the idea of getting up at 5am and racing at 7am seemed quite intimidating. Getting to sleep before 2am has been a challenge ever since the autoimmune stuff came on the scene in 2001. But Saturday night, I got the bike ready and headed for bed at 10pm. I took my Ambien and watched a movie on my tablet, waiting for my body to wind down. At midnight, it was lights-out... The next thing I knew, I was waking up - 5:06am. Holy smokes! I was able to sleep! No sciatica pain this time!

I felt quite thrilled as I packed the bike in the van, shivering a bit in the early morning darkness. I had the usual sickness, but I was relieved that it was at a "workable" level. A quick gluten-free breakfast sandwich and I was on my way to Fiesta Island! As I approached the parking area, it seemed a bit surreal to see so many cyclists getting ready to race before the sun had even come up. I quickly got my bike ready and headed down the street to warm up.

I was encouraged that all systems were go. The bike was working great, my heart rate was good, and I felt comfortable in the aero position. I did a couple of intense spin-ups and then headed back to the van for one last sip of water. Then it was time to take my position at the starting line. But as I went to click-in to my pedals, I realized I had a problem - the right shoe refused to click in! Surely, I just needed to press harder - but still, no luck! Yikes! I couldn't ride with one shoe sliding all over the pedal!

But the race official yelled "Go, go, go! You're already on the clock!" So I clumsily started pedaling with my left leg, slowly getting the bike going and thinking how silly I must look with my right leg dangling free, as if it was my first time on a bike. For a second I thought "Crud, I can't ride like this! Maybe I won't be able to race today after all..." But I had to try! I managed to get the bike up to speed, carefully positioning my right shoe on top of the slippery pedal, seeing if I could still apply force without it sliding off. After a couple of minutes, it felt like it was working and I quickly told myself "You can do this, Jim - let's race!"

The Fiesta Island 20k course consists of 3 laps of 4.1 miles. My race plan for the first lap was to quickly get to a level 8 exertion (on a scale of 1-10) and then by the end of the lap be at level 8.5. Lap 2 would be level 9 and the final lap would gradually work up to level 10. I checked my heart rate - right on target at 145bpm. I had now calmed down from the pedal chaos and was finally in my intense race mode. Near the end of the first lap, I increased the exertion and sped up my cadence, headed towards level 9. Suddenly, my right foot went flying off the pedal! The bike lurched to the right and my right leg was now fully extended and dangling wildly like someone who had just slipped on ice! I noticed a couple of spectators going wild-eyed, looking like they were about to duck for cover! Instinctively, I straightened the bike out and quickly got back in my rhythm, chiding myself "Careful Jim! You can't put the pedal-to-the-metal like you normally do! Keep it smooth!"

By the middle of lap 2, I was hitting level 9. This was now a very intense effort, complicated by the impaired pedal stroke - since I couldn't pull up and take advantage of my hamstring muscles, which had become very strong from my time-trial specific training. My heart rate was now hitting an intense 153bpm and I wondered if I could hold on to it for another 6 miles. I could really feel the ever-present sickness weighing on me. For a moment, that little voice tried to tell me that I didn't really belong here on a race course...that time-trial racing is only for those in top athletic condition, not for someone with a chronic illness. Granted, the illness might be impairing my athletic performance, but was that any reason to not make the best of what I had to work with? Even though I was 92 lbs down from the start of the year, I was still about 25 pounds overweight. But I didn't come this far to throw in the towel now. Despite the discouragement of the world, I was right where I belonged... on my bike, giving it all I had...laying it all on the line...

As I started lap 3, I was encouraged that I was holding on to my intense heart rate - now hovering around 155bpm.I wasn't going to be able to do an all-out effort as planned for the last mile, but I was going to be able to finish - and that's what really mattered! Approaching the finish line, I was very careful with my untethered right leg - no more gymnastics on the bike! As I rolled across the line, I thought of how lucky I was to even be here...to have so many friends and family pulling for me - not just for this race, but through all those years when the weight and illness made it seem that the last place I belonged was on a bike...

Later that night - after crashing on the couch for several hours - I reflected on my ride. At an average speed of 22.2mph it was a strong ride despite the pedal issue. I really wished my Mom and other departed loved ones could have witnessed my triumph...but who knows, maybe they did... As I thought of all the years of persistence it took to finally race in a time-trial, tears began rolling down my cheeks... I chuckled to myself "Come on, Jim, there's no crying in bicycling!" Well, after such a hard-earned victory as this, I'm not even going to try to hold them back...

On the edge...

Happy Saturday gang! I hope you're enjoying your weekend! I've been watching a little football and planning on checking out the nearby "Santee Car Show and BBQ Festival". I love local events like this - street fairs, etc. How odd that I have to approach such a fun event with caution. My main consideration is that I have a time-trial race early tomorrow morning at Fiesta Island. That's where you race against the clock, putting the pedal-to-the-metal for 3 laps around the island - 12.3 miles.

If I'm on my feet more than an hour or so, it can dig into tomorrow's energy. And as much as I like BBQ, I'm leery of trying any at an event like this unless they can assure me there is no gluten in it. It's surprising how often gluten is an ingredient in barbecue sauces and marinades. Even a little gluten can cause a reaction that can affect my asthma - which would impair my lung function for the time-trial.

It seems so odd that my body can be so strong as far as my heart, lungs and muscles are concerned, but yet be so sensitive to even a seemingly insignificant stress such as being on my feet for a couple of hours. It's taken a lot of years to understand how it works and it still doesn't seem logical sometimes. But that's simply the nature of autoimmune conditions. Anything that would simply trigger an immune response in someone with normal health, causes the immune system to attack the body, manifesting itself in various ways, depending on that person's particular disorder.

I can sometimes sense that certain people think I'm living a very casual lifestyle - not working and having all that free time to do whatever I want. With normal health, that would be a valid assessment, but I'm actually under a good deal of pressure much of the time. I wake up feeling sick and my body constantly fights against my ambitions to make the most of the day.

There are a lot of people who have similar conditions, who struggle just to do the simple things - even though they don't look sick. I'm lucky and thrilled that my condition has improved to where many of the things I want to do are finally "workable". At a distance, it might appear that my limited activity is a sign of someone who has little ambition and has mostly retreated from life. But if you dig a little deeper and learn the rest of the story, you'll realize that with all things considered, I'm living life on the edge.. :)

Dodging disappointment?

Happy Thursday guys! Hang in there - Friday's on the way! I'm headed crosstown to get my monthly allergy shots. I'm slowly but surely starting to believe that this immunotherapy is the key medical factor behind my breakthrough this year. Of course, when you've had a gazillion promising comebacks derailed by illness it's only human to have a more patient and cautious type of optimism.

And as optimistic as I am, I can't deny that I daily have to face those fears of this comeback falling apart like countless comebacks before. I don't see this as anything unusual, but rather just part of being human. However, it is crucial to respond to those fears in a way that empowers you. The default response is to get consumed with a question such as "What if this doesn't work?" Add that to the other "default" disempowering questions like "What if I never find someone to share my life with?" or "What if I just gain all the weight back?" etc, etc, etc...and you'll find yourself walking around feeling depressed and listless, not willing to invest any time, energy or emotional capital in anything that doesn't have a guaranteed payoff.

But that aversion to the risk of disappointment ironically ensures that you live in a constant state of disappointment. It pretty much means you'll avoid the satisfaction and reward that can only come from achieving something that you put your heart and soul into.

I say it's best to not dread the possibility of disappointment but rather learn how to deal with it in a constructive way. Don't attach a destructive meaning to what you perceive as a failure. Too many people view coming up short of their goal as a condemning judgment of their self-worth.

I like to offset the default "What if it doesn't work?" with "What if this DOES work?! What if this time I actually lose all the weight?! What if this time I actually get into the best shape of my life?!" Whether it be fitness or health or life in general, I think it's imperative to believe that no matter how many times your dreams might have fallen apart, that your big turnaround might be just around the next corner...

My prayer is that you can be in an empowering place no matter what the world throws at you - that you can always find some excitement and enthusiasm for life. For me, I'd rather dream and risk disappointment, than not dream and guarantee it...

Sounds good, but...

The popular adage "Life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you respond to it." clearly overlooks the realities of people living with an autoimmune condition. You can choose how you mentally respond to adversity, but the illness mostly chooses how your body will respond to such triggers.