Winterish Return

In my last post I was riding the high of coming off an excellent (enough) month of riding. Because of that high I thought I was mentally prepared for the predicted drop in temperatures, rain, snow, and lack of outside riding that the rest of this week would surely be offering. I was wrong.

Riding on Tuesday was going to be difficult no matter what the weather due to a doctor’s appointment in the early afternoon. Since I woke up on Tuesday morning to dark skies and a cold misty rain, that would go on to become steady rain and dense fog, I just did a quick Dreadmill® lumber with some strength training, then I sat around twiddling my thumbs (amongst other things) until I went to the hematologist in search of another opinion on whether I really need to be on blood thinners the rest of my life due to multiple DVTs in the past (right calve, left calve, left upper thigh between 2008-2013).

The short story to that visit is yes, I need to be on blood thinners the rest of my life. The long story–which involved me having 10 vials of blood drawn–won’t be known for a couple of weeks, but the result will be the same: blood thinners. The only thing any of that will tell me is if I have a genetic predisposition to clotting, and whether or not to let my siblings know that they could be susceptible to the same congealed pork gravy-like blood.

I gave a good sales pitch for not being on meds; I explained that I used to do endurance mountain bike races, but gave it up for fear of a severe crash in the middle of nowhere and bleeding out (right now, there’s no reversal for the drug I’m on, and internal bleeding could easily cause death). I told him that I still love to ride my bike, riding it pretty much 12 months a year, and didn’t want to give it up. His reply was positive, but blunt. “By all means, keep riding, please. I want you to keep riding your bike and exercising… just don’t crash. It could be bad.” He went on to say that after 3 DVTs, the risk of another clot is greater than me bleeding out from crashing my bike (no mention of being struck down by a milk truck), and being on the medication is better than risking a pulmonary embolism, which I’ve somehow managed to avoid, despite having multiple DVTs.

As I walked to the car, several millilitres of blood lighter, the cold rain pelted me in the face. If felt surprisingly good, and was the perfect accompaniment to my current mood, which varied from relief there was no mention of giving up riding, pissed that I’m 45 and have to continue taking meds, and feeling stupid for wanting yet another opinion telling me the same exact thing as everyone else has.

After a brief chat with Wifey on the phone, I felt a bit better and stopped at the store to get a few things for dinner…. and some beer. My plan was to pick B-Man up in town, then cook Mexican food, play EA Sports FIFA, violate my self/doctor recommended imposed weekday beer fast, and drink some IPAs while I watched the cold rain fall. Then just as I started the car I got a text from a friend asking me if B was going to practice, and if I was driving his boy and B-Man tonight. Crap, that’s right… practice.

***Yeah, I can drive. It’s my turn. Meet at the same place/time?***

And with that my mood switched off. I got B at his friend’s house, made Mexican food, then drove the boys to practice over in Midland that evening. I sat off to the side in the indoor practice facility with my back against the wall watching B get warmed up, play keepy uppy, and pass the ball around with his teammates before the coach had even arrived. By the time they started to scrimmage 25 minutes later I realized that I had a smile on my face, and was super glad that text, and responsible dadness, intervened with my planned unhealthy escape from my post-appointment mood.

Onward and Sideways…

Today I did an hour on the trainer and strength training. It felt good, but the ride was interrupted after 15 minutes by the washing machine repair guy calling to tell me he was on his way. Still, I managed to get back in my kit and finish off the session when he left. I think I was motivated by Weigh In Day. I was hesitant to get on the scale, but was semi happy with seeing that I’m now down 6.8 pounds. I don’t think that’s too bad given that it’s only been 17 days since my doctor told me I got tubby (not his words), and the recommended weight loss per week is around 1-2 pounds. I figure by 2022 I’ll be back to where I want to be.

The rain turned to sloppy wet snow late in the day today, so I’m not sure how long it’ll be until my Lycra clad ass gets in the saddle outside.

I still have my eye on a few of those beers I bought, but they’ll have to wait for the start of the coming long weekend at the earliest (B’s off school on Friday, which means I don’t have to get up at 6 AM, yeah).


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