The Borderline They Call Hazel

Morning weigh-in: 172.5#, 12% BF

 

One Other Reconnection: Saturday morning I was running around doing errands on a very tight time budget, so needless to say there were all sorts of delays thrown in my path. One delay was OK though: I saw my riding buddy & former neighbor Mike B outside his old house. He looked OK if a bit haggard -- he had the stooped posture & body language I associate with a medical beat-down, and the realization that you're not just mortal but frail -- but told me he was basically out of the woods. In other words, he's cancer free, and had in fact been so since June. Unfortunately, he had two more treatments, to make extra-double-sure it was in remission, and the second treatment wiped out his immune system; he spent most of August in the hospital. But he's back, the last PICC line comes out Friday, and he'll be riding Saturday.

 

We joked about "Lance Armstrong syndrome" and about how Dona, who once told me "you have no idea what fatigue is until you've been through this," came back as a monster rider. Mike laughed and said that hills he's suffered on don't seem so bad now in retrospect.

 

A History, A Pattern: Wikipedia sez that today is the 110th anniversary of the Lattimer Massacre, the killing of a bunch of striking immigrant mine workers by sherriff's deputies near Hazelton. I guess the nuts don't fall too far from the tree up there, but luckily their latest great idea was shot down, pending appeal of course...

 

Tonight is yoga, then Mug Club night, and I'm curiously reluctant to go... Tomorrow (if it doesn't rain) is a road ride, then the VMB meeting. This weekend is the BASH, and I personally could use a weekend in the woods about now, rain or no rain.