Rhabdish

 

Headquarters Road near Ottsville, PA

21 August 2025

After the mellow century on August 2, the rear wheel towpath mishap on August 3, and my regular weightlifting routtine on August 4, I rode my bike to work on August 5 and lifted when I got home. Everything hurt. When I changed position, I felt dizzy. I woke up the next morning feeling something less than competely sick, but definitely not well. I dragged myself into and through work. By mid-day, I knew I had to cancel my registration for Our Jeff's Wednesday ride.

I rode my bike to work and lifted weights the next day. I was still getting dizzy whenever I stood up. Nevertheless, I listed a hilly ride for Saturday. I rode to the start from home. 

Our first big hill was Province Line from the south. I was dragging. When I caught up to the group at the top, where Hopewell-Amwell Road branches off and Province Line becomes Lindbergh, I felt nauseated. 

It was nothing a strong iced coffee and a homemade pop-tart at Union Coffee didn't seem to cure. I felt better on the newly-paved Rocktown Road out of Lambertville.

"Y'know," I told Pete as we plodded through the Sourlands ridge, "It's pretty messed up that I say I don't feel right as I'm in the middle of a 54-mile hilly ride." What I meant to get across is that a rational person would have stayed in bed. 

Plain Jim had a no-pace ride out of Cranbury the next day. I chose Beaker. It was a perfect recovery ride.

The day after that, Monday morning, I had my annual physical. I mentioned how crappy I felt earlier in the week, and filled in the 100-mile backstory. The nurse practitioner, who is an athlete herself, decided to add a test for rhabdomyolysis to my bloodwork. "If your creatine kinase levels are high, it probably means you had a mild case and the levels are already coming down." 

I didn't figure I matched the symptoms all that well.

Did I take a few days to rest? Of course I didn't! I rode my bike to work the day of the blood test, and lifted weights as I usually do. I also signed up for Our Jeff's Wednesday ride.

Heddy had a work thing and couldn't get to Washington Crossing on time. She was monitoring the weather from wherever she was. I was checking the radar on my phone. I texted her at 4:23:

Did Our Jeff cancel the ride? Of course he didn't! As I drove north along Route 29, the sky got darker and darker. As we gathered in the parking lot, the storm drew closer.

Off we went, south first, as the wind kicked up and blew dead leaves across the road. Cars were approaching with their headlights on as we turned west onto Aquecuct Road.

We were under a dense canopy of trees. It was dark. We were running over things. Someone behind me with an electric bike had a steady front light. I used that to see where I was going. My front light was set to flash, which was confusing the folks in front of me, who mistook it for lightning.

At the end of the road, at the top of the hill, I said to Our Jeff, "This is stupid. We can't see what we're riding over."

"I know," he replied, and we turned left, then right, sending us north, towards the storm. At least we were out in the open now and could see where we were going.

At the next intersection, I looked north at the clouds and saw two flashes. "Was that my light?" I asked, and covered it with my hand. 

"No. It was lightning," Our Jeff said. "We're shortening the ride." We turned east toward the river.

The rain began within a few hundred yards of the park entrance, just a few hard drops at first. I got Janice, but not myself, into the car before the downpour.

Heddy texted: "I sincerely hope you're off the bike. It looks like midnight here."

I replied, "5.99 miles!" This has to be a new record for the shortest ride this year.

Later that night, I got a note from my nurse practitioner.  All the blood test results were in. She wrote, "The CK levels were on the high end of normal and I suspect that after your 100 miler you might have had a mild rhabdomyolysis which is why you weren't feeling so great." All my other numbers were fine.

Did I take a few days to rest? Of course I didn't!

Tom listed his annual Lying Bastard Ride. The name comes from a comment Dave C made as we caught our breath at the top of a short, steep, pothole-laden hill. "Tom," he gasped, "How often do you get called a lying bastard?" Tom shot back, "A lot!" And a legend was named.

He doesn't send us up that road anymore. He finds other obnoxious ways to torment us each time.

We started at Tohickon Park in PA, across from Frenchtown, because the bridge is still closed. 

One road that doesn't change is Headquarters Road out of Erwinna. The road has been closed since we started doing this ride. First there were barriers. Then there were barriers and gravel. Now, the good folks who really don't want us crossing this former bridge have added a tree.

Did that stop us? Of course it didn't!

If there were flat roads on this route, they were few and far between. I found myself towards the back.

Tom said, knowing I'd given myself a bit of rhabdo, "You're spinning along nicely."

I said, "I don't feel right."

We rolled down a hill to the edge of Lake Nockamixon. Dave S was fixing a flat, so we had some extra time to putter around. I tried to get pictures of the dragonflies by the lake. My camera was giving me more trouble than before. Now the lens louvers would not fully retract at all, meaning I had to push them out of the way with my fingernails. The lens was also having trouble focusing, and the zoom results were filmy. 

Meanwhile, Heddy, with her phone, got a crisp picture of the same dragonfly (a widow skimmer).

Right then and there, I knew it was time to retire this camera.

A slaty skimmer rested long enough for a blurry photo:

Two little dragonflies, eastern amberwings, hovered over the water.

We went back up the hill and around the lake to the other side, where I finally got a picture of a double-crested cormorant before it dived.

We'd descended a long hill to get to the marina. Now we were going to have to climb the same hill out again. Four of us on this ride had gone to the Cabot Trail last year, so I said, "Remember that long hill we went down before the hike?" They knew the rest.

Our official rest stop was at a Turkey Hill, 30 miles into the ride. Standing in line in front of me was a woman who had some admiring words for our athleticism. Then she added, "But don't get vaccines. They're bad for your heart."

I said, "I'm full of vaccines. My heart is fine." 

She stepped away a little.

I added, "And I'm getting two more tomorrow." I ended with some choice words for the head of HHS. The woman did wish us a good ride after she paid, as if her beliefs weren't killing millions of people.

I sat on the curb next to Pete G. Jack H and Heddy were on the curb around the corner. There was a mountain bike demo going on at a shop next door. Martin coasted over to check it out.

When it came time to stand up, I felt dizzy again.

"We need you to rest up before the Gettysburg trip," Heddy said. 

"Okay," I said. "I won't ride until Wednesday."

After the ride, Heddy and I stopped at the Lumberville General Store for a snack and pastries to take home. 

During the drive home, I alternated between hunger and nausea. I spent the rest of the day feeling dizzy every time I changed position.

Did I stay off the bike? Of course I did!

Jack and I went and got new iPhones on Sunday instead. I opted for the 16 Pro because it has a better camera and still fits into my pocket. I put it to the test on a carpenter bee and a butterfly orb weaver.

This little spider is smaller than my pinky nail.

At 4:00 p.m. I got my pneumonia and MMR vaccines. I fit into the cohort of  GenX kids who got the ineffective measles shot; my bloodwork measles titer had come back as not immune.

I took the battery and memory card out of the dying Canon PowerShot and threw the camera in the trash. 

I opened the new PowerShot box, which has been sitting, unopened, since June. Not the best test, but one must start with a moose:

I stayed off the bike and away from the weights on Monday, no longer dizzy, but a little tired, probably from the shots.

At night, the showiest Neoscona crucifera of the season, who I first saw way up in the pitch pine tree and who has since spun her web at eye level, let me pester her as I tested the new phone's nighttime capabilites.

Okay, worth the money! The phone will be my new bike blog camera. The new PowerShot will be reserved for sunrises and sunsets, no longer bouncing about in my jersey pocket in all sorts of weather. The fourth time's the charm. These cameras are getting too expensive to replace every couple of years.

I didn't ride to work on Tuesday. I signed up for Our Jeff's Wednesday ride, which he (gasp!) cancelled mid-day due to constant rain. I did use the stationary trainer for a bit, and I did lift weights Monday and Tuesday. But! I'm no longer feeling neauseated or dizzy, and I'm not going to do cardio today either.

Always the impostor, I've spent too much time being a Premed when I should have remained a Slug.