Chilling

Chilling is not a word I'd ordinarily use, except maybe ironically, to describe what I've been doing, since it seems to belong to another demographic entirely. I'm making an exception here because it is also literally true. It has been cool and damp here in SW Colorado, where we have been holed up for a few weeks.

I realize (after several concerned inquiries) that the extended silence following a post about having trouble breathing was poor form, and I apologize for leaving people hanging. I am pleased to report that a steady diet of thin air and good food has been helpful, and my stamina has increased markedly since we have been here. Polly and Barrett have been great hosts and wonderful company as always, and Sancho the dog became slightly unhinged by my willingness to play fetch with him for hours on end. Two days ago Barrett and I climbed West Baldy, which at 9780 feet is by no means monumental by local standards, but has always been a good workout for me.

Here are a few pictures. The first one is relevant to chilling, as the snow-covered ridge in the picture was about 1000 feet below us when I took the picture. It must have resulted from a tiny temperature inversion, although it was plenty cold above, too.

Snow at -1000 ft.

Barrett checking on the neighbors.

West baldy.

Heading back home Friday, with a quick turnaround to Mayo for Round two.

Bike Rides

So we're back in Louisville for a few days. One of the consequences of being released from the daily clinic visits is that I no longer have a daily readout of the various cell counts. The white cells and platelets were doing just fine last we heard, but the red cells were still lagging.

A couple of days ago, I grabbed my road bike and set out to see how that felt. I looped around the neighborhood for a mile or two, then headed for Seneca Park, which is reached by a very short (0.1) mile climb with a fairly steep (9%) grade. When I got to the top, I nearly collapsed, and had to lean carefully on the bike to keep from falling over while catching my breath. After I'd recovered, I reconsidered my ambition level, made another short loop in the park, and returned home, with one more hill climb of similar dimension, and similar result. I had honestly never had to stop to catch my breath after climbing a hill in Kentucky, and here I was totally destroyed by two hills that had barely registered in my consciousness in eight years of riding. So that's an indication that the erythrocytes still need some time to recover.

Today I scaled back my ambition, using the mountain bike to remind myself that I was not intending to go fast, and managed a few loops without having to stop for oxygen supplementation. Most of today's progress is probably the result of changing my behavior, rather than actual recovery, but at least there's some semblance of balance between my expectations and reality (for now).