Better Vision part 2

For those of you reading this, it means you're one of the lucky ones-- not blind and not frozen dead from movember. And as a celebration, here's some eye candy:

Tom Sellick fractal-- self similarity

It's not that I support prostate cancer, but this is as far as my mustache is allowed to go.

But just because you can see doesn't mean you have good vision. You may have good eyesight, but vision is something beyond eyes. For the last year I've been working hard at improving both of mine-- eyesight and vision. Unfortunately this past month has been particularly rough on my eyes and vision. If you've ever experienced a winter in Midwest, then you know how my soul feels come winter and daylight savings' darkness-- motivational skills be lacking. It's dark. It's hard to see past the cold. Vision becomes myopic.

I had my ass served to me hard this week when I went in to see Dr. Powers, my optometrist. His office is inside the left testicle of Satan himself-- Walmart. I know, I know, I'm so ashamed. But at least I know him by name and he knows mine. My glasses have gotten all scratched up and mangled from visits to construction sites. So, I thought the time was right to get examined for new hardware.

My brilliant plan was to get the prescription from Walmart and then, just to piss-off "the man", order my frames online for like $10. (If you know a local fair trade free range organic lens grinder, I'd love their card). The bad news is that Dr. Powers told me my astygmatism has gotten worse. That means that my eyesballs are morphing from European futbols to American footballs. I said, "Doc! This can't be, I've been trying to be really good to my eyes."

I felt like I got the wind knocked out of me. You see, I was totally convinced by the book I read last year, that it was possible to cure my sight and improve my vision through a variety of physical, mental, attitudinal exercises and mega-nutrition. Honestly, I didn't really devote myself to my vision exercises, but I still didn't expect to be moving backwards. I was damn good about my nutrition (probably because it was the closest thing I could get to a delicious magic pill). 

I wasn't quite sure how much enbrightenment I could expect from a man of the ivory tower inside the big box testicle, but I decided to put it out there, "Hey Doc, yunno, I read this book a year ago about how to improve your eyesight naturally...do you think there's anything to that?" I really laid my soul out to bare...and if Dr. Powers would have answered differently, I probably would have renounced my entire belief in the power of the plasticity of the mind...or my mind anyway.

Luckily for the human race, Dr. Powers had this to say, "That's funny you ask. I get asked that question about two or three times a year. For most of my patience, if I told them their vision would get better if they did these five or six things, they'd go home and do nothing about it. I do believe it can be done. We all fall into bad habits that can make our eye sight worse. I have a colleague who was getting great results from it himself. It's actually a hundred year old method, called the [some name I can't remember]." 

The fact that this exchange happened in Walmart was enough to restore my faith in humanity. And let's not forget our faith in the effect of the placebo. Countless studies are showing that not only do placebos work, but the more powerful the placebo, the more effective the results. For instance, a syringe-administered placebo is more powerful than a pill placebo. And a higher dosage of placebo is more effective than a lesser dosage.

Not that eye exercises and vision meditations are purely placebo, but I have to wonder, does my head ache go away because I take an asprin or because I made a decision to take an asprin? Probably both.

So, as Lady Gaga would say, "Scheiße be mine."

Biking to Work

I've been meaning to start biking the eight miles to work everyday, but I've always got a good excuse not to. The past two weeks, I shot 3-for-10-- it's a start!

Now that construction and holiday traffic are everywhere, I can beat my average car commute time pretty easily. Door to door, it takes about 30 minutes there (downhill) and about 40 minutes up the hill home.

I've also met a bunch of friendly commuters (more women than men), and now I'm convinced that if you can transport frozen sperm on a bike, then you can transport anything and anyone. My problem is that I've always been able to transport frozen sperm-- it's the non-frozen kind that I need help with.

Sperm bike transports frozen sperm around Copenhagen. Is that a frozen yogurt store?

So I went into Element Cycles for a consultation with my buddy Brett. He's the kind of guy who thrives all winter long, riding in the snow. I knew he would have all kinds of handy advice for not ending up frostbitten. "Basically, it's as simple as keeping your face, hands and feet warm. Then you should be fine. And if you ride in your small chain-ring, you'll enjoy the scenery more and not end up all sweaty and stinky." I should have asked for a guarantee about that stinky part. But so far, he's been right.

I guess the inner-triathlete in me was disappointed that I didn't need to throw excessive money at hi-tech gizmos that offer marginal improvements. So, I convinced Brett to recommend a USB-rechargeable head lamp. It attaches and detaches easily and it has an 8 hour battery life. I use this on the front handlbars, while I have tons of $3.99 red flashing clip-on lights lying around the house from years of running group swag. I make a point to use multiple flashing lights on my rear so drivers can gauge their distance and approach speed better.

Urban 180 LED head lamp

What the sperm bike has that I don't is a fender. That was this week's harshest lesson. It was drizzling when I left home at 7am last Thursday. And by the time I made it to work, the tush of my khakis had been sprayed black by my back tire. The reverse-skunk look was a big hit with my office mates and clients-- embarrassing! Even more embarrassing-- fenders. I'm sorry, I'm just not ready to take that leap.

The other harsh lesson I learned is that cotton undies just don't dry.  If you like sitting on wet smelly sponges all day long, then cotton undies are the apparel for you. "Riding Comanche" is not the fix-all you've grown up thinking it is, either.

I decided to tackle this problem from a non-sporty angle-- seeking the consult of the hippiest person I could think of-- Dan Korman, owner of Park + Vine, the green general store near my office. Dan doesn't own a car nor spandex and always wears flannel, so you know he's legit. I thought for sure, he would be selling some kind of fair trade water proof hemp coated flannel knickers at least. Nope. Dan's simple advice, "I don't really wear anything special-- just utilitarian." Thanks for tearing down my excuses, Dan!

I'm still honing in on my ideal routine. But having a routine is probably THE most important factor in whether or not I ride to work. If my tooth brush starts on the right side of the sink rather than the left, my whole routine tailspins into defcon 6 crisis mode and I end up driving. I'm like Rainman, and I need my K-mart underwear, dammit! Whether I ride in regular undies or bike shorts under my pants I simply have to put on a fresh pair once I get to the office. I'm wondering why I'm so sweaty if the ride is downhill in the cold during my off-season. Balance is the king I'm still looking for, so if you ever find someone in your attic that looks like this, you'll know I've taken the commute to work too seriously.

Russ and Chris before a pre-dawn ride around Cincinnati, the morning of our first frost.

Russ and Chris' frosty view of Cincinnati from Devou Park. The fog is rolling into the city and Ohio River from the Licking River to the south.