LiveSTRONG 2007: Part I

THE DAY BEFORE

Mrs. Fish and I journey down the day before to pick up my race packet. It is extremely well-organized and only takes one minute to check in. That’s awesome, as I’ve been to these events. Some are organized better than others, and I am glad this one is better organized. I also take a walk around the event area, spending some time with “Lance” and then return to home base: my Mother-in-Law’s condominium. I lay out my transition area (T-0?) to make sure I have everything, call all of the people who were coming down, cook salmon and asparagus with a baked potato for dinner (AWESOME!) and called it a day.

The essentials: Lucky Socks, cool jersey and Assos Chamois Cream (trust me!):


Also, my SURVIVOR card, a reminder of just how far I've come in one year...


PRE-GAME
I wake up around 5.00 am and made breakfast: oatmeal, mango, peach and some turkey. I get on the road and it is still dark out, arriving at the site and it is still dark, but lightening. I put the bike tire on by my neighbor’s headlights, pull my gear together and cruise over to the event area. I spend some time talking to people and pass out some of the Butnz that Kurt had sent me—again, they totally ROCK! People love them. Note: The "I Survived..." is from my dear friends Diane and Steve)


I am waiting for my brother, who is going to ride the 40 mile course, when some guy cruises up next to me and forgets to clip his foot out of his pedals. Those of you who ride know where this is going. He couldn’t clip out and fell over right onto my leg. HOLY CARP! Ouch. I thought, “This is just perfect—I get prepared for this whole thing and some dude in the parking lot breaks my leg before I get on the course. OUCH!” Luckily, nothing was hurt, and he has the foresight to land on his leg and shoulder to protect the bike. Good man…everyone is fine.

Pat arrives and I decide to start my ride with the 40 mile group. It will put me at about a 25 minute deficit, but I know I can make that up easily enough. Furthermore, there is a cutoff at the 32 mile mark of 11.30, but that still gives me almost 3.5 hours to get there. In essence, I will have to average 10 miles per hour to make the cutoff and proceed onto the 100 mile course—otherwise they will redirect me at that point onto the 70 mile course. I can average 10 miles per hour backwards, so I think I will be great—no worries. Right?

Pat has two friends that hook up to do the ride, Sean who works with him, and Chris, who used to. They’re very nice people, and I would have like them a lot if they had signed up with Team Fish or Cut Bait instead of Team WMMR (kidding…).

Lance gives the opening remarks, greeting the crowd, and thanks us for the work we have done to raise money to fight cancer. He also announces a Presidential forum to discuss cancer in America and what the role of the President is in helping to secure funding for the research. It’s long overdue. It’s funny, because Lance is not anywhere near as eloquent as I thought he would be. He seems almost shy before the group, like he doesn’t know quite what to say or how to say it. It is kind of interesting…I just picture him as more polished.

THE FIRST TWENTY MILES
So Pat and I start rolling with the 40 mile group, Chris and Sean riding with us. It is a good group, chatty, ready for a good ride. About three miles out, I am chatting with Pat and I hear POP-SQUEEEEEEEE…


Yes WAI…Flat Tire! Oh carp. We pull of to the side of the road and the 10 milers are going past us. The SAG wagon pulls up to make sure we are okay and I assure them we are. I watch as Pat takes his tire off—his first time ever! He does a good job and he puts the wheel on. Off we go.

We pass a grandmother and her granddaughter and even though she is weaving a little, I tell her she is doing great. “Keep on rolling!” Another 2 miles and we’re talking about Brazilian soccer and Tom Cruise watching soccer matches and how the announcers think he’s a wanker and POP-SQUEEEEEEEE…


I wish I was TRIPPIN' but I'm not…Flat Tire--AGAIN! What the carp? Pat busts the wheel off and takes the tire off the rim quickly. It’s a good sign – he learns quickly. Riders continue to roll past. I think we are now DFL. Dead Freakin’ Last. In the ENTIRE LiveSTRONG Event. Okay. A BikeLine guy pulls up and offers to help. “YES!” Pat and I say. He mounts the tire quickly and gets us back on our way.

The entire course is supposed to have volunteers at the intersections, supported by local police or state troopers. We come up on one intersection and there is a mother and daughter riding. The daughter asks her mom, loud enough that I can hear, “Do we just go through? Do we just go through?” The mom does not reply, but I quickly look and see there is no police officer OR volunteer. “No, no, no,” I think, and something of the Daddy in me comes out as I see this girl rolling against a light. “STOP!!!!!” I yell and she slams the bike and skids sideways as a car rolls through the intersection. It would surely have killed her. She is shaken, but unharmed, and we roll on.

Pat and I are picking up steam and feeling pretty good about things. We pass the grandmother and granddaughter (again) and I tell her she is still doing great. “Thanks!” she says. I show Pat how to tuck in and draft off me. Again, he learns quickly. We come to some rolling hills and rise over them, down the other side, around a corner and…POP-SQUEEEEEEEE…


Yup...Srsly and like that…Flat Tire--AGAIN! You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!! We are less than eight miles into the course and Pat has had three flats. God I love my Gatorskins…but I curse the monkeys that made his stupid tires! Again, Pat has the wheel off in a flash and strips the tire off. He looks like a Marine field stripping his M-16, now. Steve, a BikeLine SAG wagon guy stops and helps us out. I explain that we’ve had three flats in eight miles, and he triple checks the rim tape, tire and everything else. I show him where this one was a side blowout and he replaces Pat’s tire along with the innertube. At this rate, I think Pat might be able to get a TREK Madone by the time the 40 miles are over.

We get going and rolling forward. We pass….the grandmother and granddaughter…AGAIN! “You’re still doing great,” I say, trying not to let the irony of my situation into my voice. “Look,” she says, “it’s those two hotties again!” I’m still laughing my butt off!

We get to the first help station at mile ten, stock up on innertubes (two more....EACH) and get rolling. It’s a decent pace, and I realize the hills are hurting Pat a bit. I show him how to spin on the hills, using the granny gear to spin up instead of grinding it out. Again, he learns quickly and soon we’re rolling along more comfortably. I look up and see a lone rider coming down on the far side of the road. There are two police motorcycles behind the rider. He draws near me and I recognize the form because it is so unique in cycling, long before the face…Lance. Too late, I realize I could have yelled, “Yo Lance! On your left!” I’m not sure it carries the same weight if he’s traveling in the opposite direction, though.

Pat and I arrive at the second aid station. It is now 10.45 and I have only 45 minutes to cover nearly 12 miles of the hardest part of the course thus far. Pat is taking the 40 mile turn and he has reunited with Sean and Chris. He is debating whether or not to do the big hill, and I hope he does. It occurs to me that rides like this are, in large part, a way to find out what lies inside of us. Pat isn’t sure he could finish the 40, especially with the hill at mile 20, but I suspect he can. He has a lot of grit, and when he puts his mind to something, he’s unstoppable. Again, I hope he goes for it, but I realize if I am going to make the cut off, I am going to have to go all out (bust a nut?) to make it. I do the math and realize I am going to need to average 16 miles per hour over the hills. I grit my teeth and roll out.

TEAM FISH ROCKS!

To my family, and my friends who are just as often like family,

I wanted to take another opportunity to thank you for all of your help, love and support. Riding in, and finishing, the LiveSTRONG ride was probably the second hardest thing I have ever done in my life (cancer and the hit-and-run still top the list), and there is no way I could have done it without you. Your thoughts, prayers, and encouragement lifted me up, and I am assured that finishing this incredible ride was thanks to you: TEAM FISH!

Together, Team Fish raised $1,920.00 to fight cancer, fund research, and support people who are battling this disease. In short, your kindness and generosity is saving lives, like mine.

I will be posting the story of my experience here. Note, there is a place at the bottom of each entry that says “Comments” and you can click on that to leave comments in the blog, or to respond to something that was said, if you’d like.

Again, my heartfelt thanks and most sincere gratitude to each and every one of you. You have my deepest respect and sincerest thanks. I could not have done it without you:

TEAM FISH TOTALLY ROCKS!

One Last Request...

One last plea--if you are able to give, and you would like to support me on my LiveSTRONG Century CLICK HERE. I assure you no amount is too small.

Thanks for everything, and a HUGE THANKS to those of you who have supported me already. It means the world to me.

GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!

Sure, he's in a rec league on a Tuesday night, but even my friend Lt. Dan has to admit this is pretty amazing.

Buttons, and like that...

Kurt at Butnz.com read my story online and made a bunch of buttons for me to give to friends and family members. It's truly one of the nicest things anyone has done for me. This is one of the reasons I sometimes believe cancer is the best thing that happened to me. It enables me to see what is best in people. Thanks Kurt! Like the buttons, YOU ROCK!

Tour of South Central PA

Some pics from my ride yesterday. You can click on them to make them bigger. The rolling country roads...






Along the Yellow Breeches, some of the best fly fishing east of the Mississippi...




Over the Breeches...


This guy uses the caboose as a mother-in-law quarters or an office, I think...


Winding roads...


And rolling hills of South Central PA






This was pretty cool: you come up at the top of a shaded hill and someone has hung an American flag:


How did they KNOW?


God, I love the feel of fresh, smooth asphalt in the morning...It feels like: VICTORY!




Children's Lake: Boiling Springs, PA




Looks yummy....



When I'm done, I LOVE me some pickles....


...and Apple Juice, from my local!

Barium...the Other White Meat

I went for my one-year CAT Scan. It's not so bad, except I needed to drink two 20 ounce containers of barium, which is pretty much a mixture of chalk, modeling clay and monkey sweat.

Completely nasty stuff. On the bright side, they used these new needles went into my arm like a normal needle. Then they withdrew the metal part and there is just a flexible plastic tube feeding the contrast dye into my body. It allowed me to move my arms freely while I was in the CAT Scanner. Here's a copy of my CAT Scans:


I haven't received the CAT Scan results yet, but all of my blood work came back NORMAL (well, as normal as anything of MINE gets).

Cancer: One Year Later

On August 14, 2006, one year ago, today, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. It seems so long ago, yet, paradoxically, like only yesterday. I resolved to become, on that day, not a cancer victim but a cancer survivor.

I am able to do the things I do today as a result of a lot of people. As I reflect on what it means to be a survivor, the thing I keep coming back to is the people I have met along the way, or the people about whom I have gained a deeper understanding.

When I was a kid, one of the things I loved to do with my father was watch ABC’s Wide World of Sports (“Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sports, the human drama of athletic competition: the thrill of victory…and the agony of defeat”). I remember there was a Russian power lifter named Vasili Alexiev. It seemed, to my young mind, that there was nothing he could not lift, no weight too large. My heavy lifters were the doctors and nurses.

I still remember going to see Dr. W. because I was having some abnormal pain in my testical. He checked it and said, “You know you have a lump?” At that second, the only lump I felt was the one in the back of my throat. I was hustled through procedures, concluding with a Radical Left Orchiectomy, which is Medicalese for “took my ball out through my stomach”. I am assured it is still an easier procedure than pregnancy.

Then I went for radiation with Dr. K. having researched every possible resource available. By the time I got there, I knew more than he did. I remember him describing the procedure and drawing a picture of "me" lying on the table, so he can show where the radiation will be directed. "Hey, doc?" I said.
"Yes?"
"The drawing is wrong. You gave me two testicles."
We both laughed, then he looked at it and said, "One of these will be the penis. Here. I will make it bigger for you." And he did...very generously.

The nurses throughout the whole process were amazing. When it comes to heavy lifting, nobody tops nurses! They were the salt of the earth, the kindest people I got to meet, and they managed to help through EVERYTHING with a smile and a sense of humor. When I started, I had a HUGE fear of needles. I revealed my fear to one nurse, and she replied, “Don’t you worry, honey. We’ll cure you of that, too.” And they have. Another thing I learned: Be nice to them, and like Trish, my nurse at the hospital prior to the procedure, they’ll bring heated blankets…NOICE!


There is also a person I have dubbed Fanny Granola. Cancer survivors and the seriously ill know this person well. They’re the one that shows up and starts giving you all kinds of advice about herbal supplements, roots, berries, and tree barks that cure cancer. Her favorite saying is “Try this!” At one point, I was sure she was going to tell me that lying down on a bed of cocker spaniel fur and eating the rinds from limes grown in Belize would stave off cancer. Note: It’s working so far, but I still don’t know what to do for the itches and green teeth…


I met a lot of brothers and sisters in arms, the people I knew who had cancer before me. For me, the biggest influence was my friend Bev, who had breast cancer when I first met her 8 (Good night! Can it be eight) years ago? Through her whole ordeal, she was bold and optimistic, a trait she carries to this day. In fact, she’s so bright I just call her “Sunshine!” I would call her at all hours and she was always available, always positive, and never complained. At one point, I was having a different emotion every 20-30 seconds. I asked “Is this normal?” She assured me it was. She guided me through procedures and served as my sage, sounding board, confidant, support, and teacher. Most importantly she was, and is, my friend.


There’s also a group of people I didn’t know before I had cancer. They kind of come out of the woodwork when they find out you have cancer. I call them the Anne Sullivans, because in many cases you don’t even necessarily see them. I frequent several online discussion boards based on my interests: Health and Lifting at JP Fitness, Triathlon at Beginner Triathlete and Cycling at Road Bike Review. It was though the latter that I “met” Bill. He gave me advice on doctors, tests, dealing with people, being an advocate for myself, and even occasional insomnia. I found myself being totally honest with him, sometimes more honest than I was even being with myself; at one point we talked about fear, and it was hard because I thought the people around me needed to see me as strong and optimistic, and he helped me to realize that in times like this, people are okay with our fears. I will never forget the care package Bill sent me right before my surgery that contained Spinervals CDs, workout videos that are designed as absolute torture for cyclists; an iPod to inspire me, featuring music and songs his daughter had arranged for him when he had cancer; a picture of a squirrel that is decidedly not for the faint of heart; and a blanket, reminding me that Life is Good.

There were so many others that I still haven’t met, and may never, though their influence and the love they have shown me will never be forgotten: Dave Hickey, for those early moments that made all the difference when I was really scared. Jean-Paul and the JP crew, who sent me a planter that I still have to this day. Alwyn, whose simple mantra: “FUCK CANCER!” remains a source of constant enjoyment. CycleSpice who wrote to me: "Remember even a handful of mud will reflect heavens beauty if you shine the right light on it." Eric Martin who reminded me: “You got no quit in you.” Alan, who drew from his own experiences of hospitals and fighting through to give me insight and strength. Mahler, for the reminders of the strength I had inside me already. I got so many e-mails, PMs, general reminders, prayers, thoughts and love from people I have never met, and it carried me through a load of dark times. In a fair world, I would buy you all a beer, and perhaps in the next life I shall—surely Heaven has a beer or two for the lot of us.



Then there’s the President in the disaster movie (or perhaps real life, depending on your perspective). You know him. The person you thought would respond better, but just didn’t. I had people that just disappeared on me. There are reasons for it, I’m sure. People just don’t know what to say, or they don’t want to be around cancer-guy, or whatever. A NOTE TO WHOMEVER READS THIS: If your friend gets sick, call them. And if you don’t know what to say, just say, “God. I don’t know what to say, but I just had to call.” The rest will come from there. Trust me. I had a discussion with my friend, Amy, about one particular friend who disappeared. She asked if that friend was actually capable of giving more. I thought about and decided they honestly were not. She responded, “You cannot expect people to give more than they are capable of giving. Can he give more? If not, don’t expect it, and move forward.” It gave me a new perspective, and some grace, allowing me to GIVE compassion in moment when I was expecting to get it.

The Disaster Movie President is offset in my life by Aurora. If you’ve ever seen the film Terms of Endearment (before you threaten to take my man-card, I ask that you watch the entire film and not get choked up when Debra Winger says goodbye to her children…then we’ll talk), I define her as the person who responds BETTER than you expect her to. For me, it was Mom and Dad. Like Aurora, my mom has a flair for the dramatic. But, they were there when I needed them with prayers, support, and coming up to help out. It made such a difference because they were there.


I am fascinated with ant colonies. I think they are the coolest things, unless they’re too close to the house, in which case I have to kill them. But aside from that, I love watching how they move in concert, everyone with a purpose and a job, the colony taking care of the one. For me, my any colony was my neighbors. They stopped by, took care of my family, and made sure all of the little and big things were taken care of. They cooked meals for my family, which meant the world to me because I am the cook in the family and we were able to eat GREAT even when I was sick (it wasn’t mac ‘n cheese from a box, it was restaurant-quality food that was each neighbor’s specialty). My neighbor Bob even came over and cut my lawn (I’m considering getting testicular cancer in the other “boy” to get my basement cleaned out). I had another ant colony at work, handling my clients left and right, emergencies large and small. I would be in sorry shape indeed without them, especially Joan who knows my clients, and Mary, who saves my ass on a regular basis as it is (I still have the planter they sent me, as well—turtles RULE). And my coworker Susan, who organized a basket of videos and books and treats for those days when i was home alone...all kindnesses which will stick with me.

During the Day, there were enough things to keep me busy, with appointments, people, work, and recovery. But I woke up a lot during those wee hours of the morning, and spent a lot of time praying, especially for my wife and daughter, and my friends: the people I love and the people who love me. God reminded me not to take things for granted and to always keep things in perspective. At one point, I was thinking about some of the amazing things I’ve done in my life, and God reassured me that this was not my time to go. I thought of Randy’s words, what God taught him on the death of His son: Remember what’s important—the people you love, the people who love you, and how you serve your God.

Isaiah 40 has always been a source of srength for me, and I found myself returning to it, time and again in those days:

28 Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding.
29 He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.
30 Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion.
31 But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.

Most of all, I saw my family in a new light. The prospect of them moving on without me was almost unbearably hard. I love my wife and daughter, and I don’t think I have taken that love or the time I spend with them for granted, it’s just that now I see things differently. I hear The Mavericks and think about dancing with my daughter at her wedding, but also remember to dance with her now.

I try to communicate with my wife more, better. I find myself calling her in the middle of the day, or e-mailing her, just to tell her love her. It’s not that I think she’ll forget, it’s just that I find more joy in those moments of interaction, the small things like working out our schedules, planning dinner, or even working out our differences.

I have learned and continue to learn so much from the people who surround me. My hope, my prayer for each and every one of you is the one that has been fulfilled for me through, oddly enough, cancer: Find the courage you need to face your challenges, the strength you need to overcome them, and the dignity to do it with grace. God bless you all.

One-year Checkup: Part I

I went for my one-year cancer checkup with the urologist, yesterday. I got to the office right on time, waited a couple of minutes and was called in. I had to give the obligatory urine sample and then went into the patient room to wait. It's kind of like a conveyor belt of health, shuttling me from one area to the next, and at each stage someone performs an action to help build the better Fish...I hope.

So I get into the room and start thinking about how thirsty I am. It's probably just nerves, but I have real cottonmouth. I look around, and unlike every other doctor's office in America, there are no cups. And Dr. W. is taking a long time to get in. He finally gets in and we talk for a bit. He does the pelvic exam, abdominal cavity check, and testicular check, and everything is normal. I'm still thirsty, and I forgot to ask for water.

Then it's time for my favorite (favourite, for our International readers) part of the show: blood sample! I used to be afraid of needles. I remember revealing this fact to a nurse toward the beginning of my cancer journey and she looked at me and said, "Oh don't you worry, honey. We're going to cure you of that, too." And she was right. Somewhere along the line, with all of the poking, prodding, sticking, and all those blood tests, I was no longer afraid. It's not that I look forward to it any more, but I look forward to not being afraid, anymore.

I go back to the nurse's station and Doctor W. is giving instructions to one of the nurses, who gets a phone call the second he finishes. She gives quick instructions to one of the other two nurses, an older woman, who then starts to process me. I need four vials of blood, three large tiger striped ones, and one small lavender one. Another nurse, younger and blonde, comes over to assist her.

"You want three of those and one of those. Now, you'll give that one last, so put it over here," explains Nurse Blonde.
I look on. I ask, "Ummm. You've done this before, right?"
"Oh, sure," says the Nurse who is going to stick me. Somehow, I am not so sure.
"You'll probably want a tourniquet," explains Nurse Blonde.
I'm thinking, "YES PLEASE!!!!!" A blood test without a tourniquet might not be a good idea. Nurse Stick gets an "Oh yeah" look on her face and grabs a tourniquet. Then, it's go time.

Now, before I had cancer and all of this started, I would have been out of there, or at the very least demanding a new nurse. But as I sat there, I thought, "Hmmmm. I guess you have to learn to stick needles in people someplace, and it may as well be here and now for Nurse Stick." So I resolved to let her take my blood as long as nothing crazy happened. She gave me the Aricept squeezable walnut, one of those things pharmaceutical reps drop off in doctor's office to remind them to write prescriptions for their particular brand. Turns out Aricept is for an enlarged prostate, which should normally be about the size of....a walnut. BRILLIANT!

I'm squeezing the simulated enlarged prostate and Nurse Stick begins. The needle goes in nice and easy. She tries to stick the vial into the back of the needle, but she's having trouble. I understand her dilemma, but I'm in no condition to coach her. If she snaps it in really quickly, it could jolt and drive the needle through my vein, which would probably not look good on her resume. On the other hand, the vial is not going on, and blood is probably coagulating at the needle tip, which could clog it. It's a delicate tight-wire walk, with my vein as the rope. Finally, the vial snaps into place and the dark, almost purple liquid begins to fill the vial.

The other three vials proceed in pretty much the same fashion, hesitating to snap the vial on for fear of hurting me, then the blood gushing (Actually,m it kind of pulsates in, with my heartbeats.It's another thing i could not do before, but now am fascinated by) in and filling the vial. Until about halfway through the purple one. It's important, explains Nurse Blonde, that this one is filled, but because Nurse Stick took so long with the other three vials, my blood is beginning to clot the needle. I start pumping my Aricept walnut furiously. As I squash it, it becomes a cashew, release and it's an oversized walnut, cashew, walnut (there's a "nut" joke in there somewhere, but I can't find it...). The blood starts to drip a little more. A little more. Just a little more....done. Nurse Stick takes the needle out and bandages me up. I'm all done, and for all of that, I suspect Nurse Stick actually did learn a lot.

I walk to the main desk where I am to be scheduled for another six-months out and to get a CAT Scan scheduled. CAT Scan--Hooray!!! I get to drink my favorite cocktail of all-time: Barium, slightly chilled, straight up. Delicious! And by "delicious" I mean if you like the taste of modeling clay, and ever wondered what it would taste like as a drink, this is the one for you. I can still taste my last Barium-cocktail. Mmmmmmmmmmm....

So I get to look forward to a Barium Breakfast and a CAT Scan on Friday morning--Wahoo! But, everything is normal up to this point. My blood test results will probably be back next week, I'll get the CAT Scan results pretty quickly, and then I go on with my life for another six months. Next station. Building the better Fish.

As I walk out, I look to my left and see a water cooler. I stop, draw a cup of water and let the ice-cold liquid pour down my throat. It's beautiful.

Hogwarts v. Public School

My wife found this one on the interwebz. I thought it was absolutely hysterical:

PART I:


PART II:

THIS IS SPARTAAAAA...I think...

LisaNova cracks me up...

Morning Routine

I went for another nice little run this morning. I wanted to keep it short and simple, as I am going for a ride tonight. Thank God it wasn't as thick and soupy as yesterday, which is odd, because it's supposed to be the worst day of the year: 100 degrees with high humidity. they say if you can live in Pennsylvania, you can live anywhere. Believe it.

When I returned home after my cool-down, I heard a noise in my Russian sage. My first thought? BUNNIEZ! Then I looked over and saw it was a bumblebee. I stopped and watched him for a moment, then another came, and another. "They're just going to work," I thought, and went inside to start my day.

Morning Run

I went for a run this morning. There were not many bunnies when I started (it was too early for them, I suppose) but they were massing toward the end. I know they're out there, plotting. Nine total bunnies today...and those are just the ones I saw! Never trust a bunny.

The other thing that was shocking was just how unbelievably HUMID it was out there today. It's 6.00 am, and according to my local weather station, there is a 0 MPH breeze, the humidity is 93% (anymore and it would be raining) and the dewpoint is 70°F. I don't know what dewpoint is, and I'm not sure I have the time or energy to find out, but suffice it to say it was like running in a swamp.

On Another Note
My buddy Eric M. ran in the Wild West Relay. For a fun read (if running through mountains seems fun...or perhaps, if reading about someone else running through mountains is fun), check out his RACE REPORT HERE. GREAT job Eric...FREAK!

IronMan Encore, on NBC

I thought my dear readers might be interested in this. Apparently, The 2006 Ironman World Championships are going to be rebroadcast on NBC, Sunday August 5th from 2:30-4:30 EST. If you've never watched one of these, I HIGHLY recommend you do so. It is one of the most amazing things you will ever see.

To wit: Mrs. Fish watched a triathlon on television for the first time two weeks ago. She was speechless at the end.

Approaching $1,000!

I just wanted to throw out a HUGE thanks to those of you who have offered to support my LiveSTRONG ride on August 26th. As I type this, I am approaching $1,000!!! My entire cancer experience has taught me to fully appreciate how incredibly blessed I am, most of all by the friends and family who support me. I was saying to someone the other day that it's not that I ever took friendships for granted, but it gains a new perspective when people cook for your family or cut your lawn because you can't do it for yourself, or give money to your cause (even though I've never met some of you).

It's truly humbling to be loved that much. St. Thomas Aquinas once wrote "There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship." Amen, and thank you.

[If you'd like to support, there's still time! CLICK HERE.]

A Little More from World's End...

The Haystacks


Sacagawea, as played by Little Fish


Me, after hauling the sleeping baby up the mountain

It's the End of the World as We Know It...

Little Fish and I went to World's End State Park with the neighbors. Mrs. Fish stayed home. Mrs. Fish does not camp. It's a nicer campground than some, and everything was pretty much set up when I got there (one of the bonuses of having to work until closing on Friday). We hiked and the girls put on a "play".


The first hike was up to the top of the lookout, which was a pretty steep climb in places. One of the neighbors had a baby backpack for his little, and we took turns carrying her up and down the slopes. Little Fish played Sacajawea and helped me negotiate the treacherous terrain.

We also found some cool fauna, including this millipede which emits a kind of cyanide as its defense. Wash your hands IF you touch it. This is one reason Mrs. Fish does not camp.

The highlight of the hike is the lookout from the top, which the whites who settled there declared must be the end of the world...hence the name.



We also went swimming at a place called the Haystacks, which was a lot of fun. It has huge rocks in the middle of the Loyalsock Creek, and you can slide through different swimming holes. My neighbor Bob was swimming in one of the holes toward a big boulder when he got a bit of a scare: there was a snake's head poking up underneath it! I think the snake was "fishing' but we didn't stop to ask it. I like snakes, and it was cool to watch him from afar, but I couldn't identify what he was, so I gave him some extra room. This is another reason Mrs. Fish does not camp.

I ate too many s'mores. Mmmmmmmm...campfire s'mores are the best. My buddy Joe also made mountain pies, which are sandwiches with pie filling in them, placed in a cast iron bread holder and baked in the coals of the fire. I had too many of those, too.

Latest Cycling Injury...

I was out riding and rode past....errr, through some poison ivy that was sticking out into the road from a farm plot (welcome to South Central PA). It hit right at the sock, and I thought I might be okay.

I thought wrong. I guess all the sweat made it easier for the poison to get to my leg, and then seal it in. My leg has been itching like crazy. I'd understand if I were a mountain biker, how does one rationalize getting poison ivy as a road rider?

The Good Cannondale Rider

Jesus said, "A certain man was going for a bicycle ride on his Trek, around the Enola, Mechanicsburg and the Camp Hill area, and he almost fell when his bike blew out a tire. He tried to fix the tire, but upon filling his only spare inner tube, he ripped the stem off of it when he tried to remove the pump, leaving his bicycle half dead.

By chance a certain Chevy driver was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Lexus driver also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a certain Cannondale rider, as he traveled, came to where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion, came to him, and offered him the last of his own inner tubes, and tarried with him to ensure the tire worked and the man would be able to get home to his family.

On the same day, after he departed, and 38 miles into a 50 mile training ride, he got a flat tire himself and had to call his wife who stopped her shopping at Kohl's to come and get the Cannondale rider, laughing at him when she heard the tale. Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to the Trek rider?" He said, "He who showed mercy on him, and gave him his last inner tube, even though he was going for a looooong training ride, knowing in his heart of hearts he was going to pay for it." Then Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise."

Run! It's the French Army!

Oh Noes...



That is all.