Teeth, Again

Like my last post about teeth, this one involves two kinds: metal and, well, the teeth-in-your-head kind (hmm, in my case, some of those are also metal... oh well, you get the idea).

Monday brought the annual 7 Hills of Kirkland ride, as well as some honored guests: Chris Parker and Karl Barrus were here to round out the cycling posse. Chris and I were feeling adventurous (read: training), so we were signed in for the Century ride, while the others were doing the traditional 7 Hills ride. The two courses stay together over the first several hills, for about 25 miles of the ride (7 Hills is 42mi). We kept a reasonable pace, making sure no one was left behind. It was fun riding as a group, setting up little pace lines here and there to cruise down the road.

Once the paths reached the divergent point, I found out why Chris has been burning up the roads in his recent tri results. He dropped something along the course; I think it was a hammer. I couldn't draft him very well when he was in aero position, but something is better than nothing! Now I know why everybody likes to ride behind me, heh. We rode through the Snohomish Valley, then back over towards Kirkland. On the last descent after Rose Hill, Chris was really flying. All that kept me going at that point was the promise of strawberry shortcake... and the after-ride BBQ!

Now for the other kind of teeth: One of my teeth on the bottom left had been a bit pressure sensitive for a few days, and a couple of times something really sweet made it ache. I was worried that decay had somehow gotten under the filling, and that I might need another root canal and crown. So on Sunday, before the start of the ride, I was chewing some gum, when it suddenly became crunchy.

Fearing that whole decay, root canal, crown scenario, while knowing that my time in town is severely limited before heading off for the big ride, I called up the dentist's office today and was able to get an appointment. Turns out some pressure on the bite had caused the filling to crack, and it wasn't a problem with decay. The dentist was able to drill out the old one, then replace it without much trouble. Yay! Now I can travel without worry. And once my face un-numbs, I can go eat the yummy sandwich I picked up from Whole Foods!

Accidental IronMan

Now now, gentle readers. Before any of you actual IronMan finishers jump down my gullet, I'm not claiming that I completed a full race. I could swim 2.4 mi in a "life or death" kind of situation, but I will never fin run a marathon. EVAR. And I definitely wouldn't combine these activities in the same day.

No, I'm talking about the cycling leg of an IM. 112mi, under normal conditions. Yesterday? A bit more. E and I met for a ride, around 10:15am. The plan was to head out to Snohomish and Monroe, for 5-6h of saddle time, and around 80 miles. On the approach to Snohomish, we started to see signage for the Tour de Cure. Incidentally, the directions were pointing right where we needed to go!

So rather than worry about our own cue sheets (sitting forgotten next to the computer anyway), we opted to follow the Tour de Cure markings. Signage and Dan Henry's made it easy. But in following the proverbial trail of breadcrumbs, we were locking ourselves into a slightly different course. The TdC returned to Marymoor via Issaquah-Fall City Road (could I find it in a car? No. A map? Maybe.). This was the bit that took us a bit out of our way. By the time we got into Marymoor, we had already done 93mi. Stopped for a brief respite and a water refill, we set off on the last leg to home.

At about mile 35, I had planted the seed of "fries and a Coke", so we stopped in Kenmore (Bothell? Lake Forest Park? Who cares, Mc-Frickin'-Donald's!) for a snack. Best fries EVAR. I told E "Even if these make me puke, it'll be worth it." They didn't, but by that point the last 18 miles or so home were sore ones. My ass had had enough. Gotta love all the roots under the BGT in the Lake Forest Park part of the trail. Rolled through that, past the U-district. Said goodbye to E at 25th Ave NE, and finished the ride home. Final tripmeter, 199.63km (124mi) to the back door. I could have kept it rolling to make it show an even 200, but my body said no. Especially since it had totaled 8:08 in the saddle.

The other bit about this trip that made it a pain was the forecast. Or at least my interpretation of it. I saw mid-fifties and a 30% chance of rain for most of the day, so I opted for water-resistant tights, rain jacket, booties, long-fingered gloves, etc. The day turned 70 and only partly cloudy, so I was suffering. The good news is that I managed to stuff booties, undershirt, tights and my long-fingered gloves into various pockets to get a cooler ride.

But as E pointed out during the ride, it was a good confidence builder to know that the legs can handle the punishment of 200km without feeling miserable. Just have to work on that ass thing.

There, They Just Call It "Food"

Back when I was living in the Bay Area, lunchtime was the hour to honor those cravings that had grabbed me by the viscera and refused to let go. Many of the restaurants that I developed cravings for were also known to my peers, so it was common for us to carpool to grab a bite. Sometimes, a craving for a particular ethnic food would just refuse to let go, even after a few days of feeding the same craving.

But one coworker in particular balked on more than one occasion when the selection of the day was announced. "Mexican? We just had Mexican on Tuesday (three days prior)." "Indian? Again? We went there last week." So I'd ask him, "What did you have for dinner?" "Mom cooked." "So, Chinese?" "Yeah." "And the night before that?" "Mom again." "Ok, so it's safe to say that you eat Chinese almost every night?" "Yeah, but that's different." "Uh huh. There, they just call it 'food'."

I had a little event on Friday for Cinco de Mayo (do you know what it commemorates?!). The plan was for some good grub... and a few more people than actually showed up. The result? Lots of leftovers. Lots of Mexican food to consume. But hey, there, they just call it "food".

Teeth

Ever since I got my new crown, I wake up with a slightly sore tooth. Not like cavity sore, but it compares to the same feeling as when you've just come from the orthodontist and you've had your braces tightened. And my bite is ever-so-slightly off. But after about 10 minutes, the bite is back to normal, and the pain is gone. Weird.

Now for a different kind of teeth. I had to have my second new chain put on my bike this past week. Lots of mileage, and I'm a gear masher. Oh, and I weigh 200 lbs. No desire to etch the teeth on the cassette or chainrings, so I'm in the "change early, change often" camp of chain maintenance. When I picked up the bike, I was told that my big ring was bent. Gear-mashers, hooooo!

And this one was new to me. Today, out on a long ride, I was attempting a track stand while waiting for traffic. The road cleared, and I went to pedal off down the trail. Suddenly, I was freewheeling, getting no purchase whatsoever. Having thrown the chain off the inside of my small ring a couple of times lately, I assumed that this was what had happened. Not so. The chain was floating over the top of the teeth on the small ring. Whether it was suspended above those teeth, in between the two chainrings, I'm not sure. Either way, it was a quick fix and I was off down the road. But an odd one, to be sure.