For runners, heat is worse than cold. But for cyclists, cold is the worst danger.

As a college distance runner, it was always a challenge to get acclimated for the heat during spring track season because the weather was often so cold that the first 80 degree day was a total shock to the body.

But it was also sometimes just as hard to adapt and adjust to sudden hot days in fall cross country meets. College meets were often held at high noon when the sun and warmth was beginning its peak. But there is really no time of day that dictates how heat will affect you. Mornings or evenings with high humidity and warm weather can be just as risky.

For example, a visiting team from a Minnesota college showed up at our campus in Iowa (75 miles to the south) wearing heavy shirts because the weather in the Gopher State had been 55 degrees and cloudy when they left. It was 78 degrees and sunny when they arrived. Wearing their cool weather uniforms, they started out fast and faded quickly in the heat. We really felt bad for them. Really.

Lessons like these should never be forgotten. But sometimes the basics of heat training and racing have to be refreshed or relearned. In certain cases they even need to be unlearned. But more on that at the end of this blog.

Here’s a quick review of the basics of preparing for and dealing with heat in your racing and training. Some of these are classic knowledge. But remember everything you know or learn has to be placed into context, and most importantly, everything you do is personal and specific to your own body:

  1. Racing in the heat requires a degree of repetitive stress under conditions similar to race conditions in order for the human body to develop appropriate response mechanisms, such as sweating enough to cool the body off.
  2. People also differ greatly in their ability to drink and absorb fluids, so the prescription for heat management that works for one athlete may have little benefit to another, so don’t trust the habit of a friend or anyone else to dictate how much you need to drink.

The goals of heat acclimation are specific and simple:

  1. Learn your body’s signs of heat stress such as lack of sweat, tingling or excessively agitated state of mind. Hopefully you won’t reach these negative responses but when you do, it pays to immediately assess your condition and take the safe route. No training or race effort is that important that you should risk your health. Not even the Olympics. And how many of us really get there? Not many. So back off and live to compete another day.
  2. After a heat stress experience, take time to analyze what conditions or behaviors such as drinking too little fluid, or allowing warm drinks, or wearing the wrong type of clothing, led to heat stress. Often the signs or bad habits were there. You just chose to ignore them.
  3. Practice taking fluids during runs and rides (especially you cyclists).
  4. Don’t eat too much before you run or ride on a very hot day. Many cyclists do not react well to eating large amounts of solid food before or during a long ride because the digestive process can pull away blood flow from performance muscles.  Every cyclist knows at least one friend who could not resist a hot dog or other good-smelling treat during a century ride, only to find themselves parked on the curb exhausted due to the fight between their stomach digesting the food and their legs crying for blood.  Runners and generally cyclists too should not eat a meal within 3 hours of training or competition. This is especially true during hot weather.
  5. To avoid gastric distress or drops in performance, test your body with performance foods that can be eaten in hot weather conditions and that do not “curdle” (such as milk-based drinks) or cause chemical reactions (especially citrus drinks like orange juice) in your intestinal system that can lead to vomiting or diarrhea. Neither is much fun.

Now that you’ve read some of the scary stuff, you should realize that heat is the enemy to almost all athletes, regardless of training. But here’s an interesting maxim that is wise to remember in planning your training for all seasons.

For runners, heat is worse than cold. But for cyclists, cold is the worst danger.

Why? Because runners can bundle up and continue safely on their way, but you can only take off so much clothing in the heat as a runner before you’re naked, and you’re still not cooling off.

But for cyclists, riding in the heat is somewhat more tolerable because there is an evaporative effect to the breeze created by high-paced riding. But there are limits of course, and most of us have faced them and learned the hard way that cycling in 96 degree heat when the road is kicking up the breath of the devil can bring you to a complete stop in a matter of miles. So there are no hard, fast rules. Get the joke?

However, the worse risk for cyclists does seem to be cold weather. Especially wet, windy and cold weather. Because the same breeze effect that can be a favor in summer can reduce you to a shivering wreck at 20 mph on a 30 degree day. Brrrr. Hypothermia.

So knowing the differences in heat and cold management can literally be a lifesaver.

But not so fast. We mentioned earlier in this article that it sometimes pays to “unlearn” lessons about heat tolerance as well. So what do we mean?

This author once wound up in a hospital following a steeplechase race in a national meet. The weather was 80 degrees, sunny and high humidity. There were no ill effects following the event, but that night fever and chills struck with devastating effect, producing violent vomiting and loss of 7 lbs of body weight on a 140 lb frame. Not good. Every part of the body was tingling and dehydration was a real risk. At the emergency room the next morning the hospital staff did the IV trick and things stabilized, but one really feels like dying during an episode like that.

So for a couple years following that race I had somewhat naturally assumed it was heat stroke that caused all those nasty physical symptoms. In fact I fastidiously avoided racing in the heat because it had taken weeks to recover from that “heat reaction.”

But then a 10 mile road race came along during a period of peak summer fitness in post-collegiate racing. It was early July and temps were rising quickly when the gun went off. Yet despite the high heat and humidity I ran to a 4th place finish against many better runners, clocking a 10-mile time of 53:30. Did I mention it was hot? Yet my kick in the last mile helped overtake two runners that had beaten me in a 10k the week before.

That heat-positive race made me think through the whole “can’t run in the heat scenario.” So I thought back to what might have caused the heat stroke during a 3000M steeplechase and then it came to me: It wasn’t the heat that nearly killed me. It was food poisoning. Our team had gone out to eat after the meet at a pizza chain and something in the pizza was spoiled. Was it stupid not to realize that fact? Maybe so. But we athletes are prone to blame our failures on the first thing that comes to mind. That was the heat, not the pizza. Although cold pizza is pretty good too. But that’s a different subject.

It was however liberating and something of a relief to realize I was not some heat prima donna. Over a long competitive training and racing career there have been other successful races in the heat, not including that 5K in the Prairie State Games where I wound up in a wheelbarrow full of ice. No one’s perfect.

But there have been plenty of other occasions over the years when the heat got to me big time. Just this summer the cumulative effects of the hottest July in 60 years caught me by surprise. I had to drop two group rides in a row, find shelter and ice. And running was difficult too. The pace definitely had to be adjusted a couple times. And that’s putting it mildly.

It all comes down to building a clear perspective on how you respond to heat (and cold). That means knowing your history and paying attention to the present. Then you can adjust and adapt as necessary to survive and even thrive in the heat.

Posted in We Run and Ride Every Day | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The yellow tarsnake of the Livestrong brand

“Fuck you, fucker!” the young man yelled out his driver-side window — at me — as he passed going the opposite direction in his silver Dodge Durango. With a bike rack on it.

I stopped pedaling and looked over in disbelief. What? Why?

These were not the ravings of a cycling bigot, you know, a driver who feels a cyclist has no business on the road, getting in the way, costing said bigot precious seconds on his/her drive to somewhere very, very important. I wasn’t even going the same direction as this guy.

And it wasn’t someone I knew, or wronged in the past. I’d never seen this young man or his truck before in my life.

So why was he, apparently a cyclist himself, screaming obscenities at me?

Livestrong can be a tarsnake for those who engage in Lance Armstrong’s brand and legacy

Then it occurred to me. I was wearing my LiveStrong kit. And LiveStrong is connected, obviously, with a one Mr. Lance Armstrong. Seven time champion of the Tour de France. Cancer survivor. And creator of the LiveStrong charity, a multi-million dollar organization that helps those battling cancer, their families, and cancer survivors. What could be wrong with supporting Lance or LiveStrong, one might ask?

Well, plenty. But only to certain cyclists and bike racing fans.

If you are a cyclist, skip this middle part. It’s backfill. And you already know it. More than likely, already have your opinions about it, too. But for everyone else, here’s the deal in a nutshell: During the years Lance raced and won on the professional, elite level, doping was rampant in the cycling ranks. Testosterone, steroids, EPO, blood-doping, amphetamines were (and some say, still are) a witches brew of pharmo-chemicals used by riders themselves, and sometimes, administered to them by cycling team doctors and trainers. Many riders Lance competed against have been caught doping and stripped of wins and given suspensions. However, Lance maintains he never doped. Not ever. And makes the claim that he’s the most-tested athlete in the world and has never tested positive. However, many people associated with the sport suspect he did dope. He did cheat. He just hasn’t been caught (or if he was caught, he managed to find a way to cover it up). How could Lance beat the best competitors in the world — who were doping — while he was clean? Sometimes soundly? It’s possible, but some argue, not very likely.

Today, Lance (along with his former team officials and doctors) is being accused by the American Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) of having run a doping conspiracy during his historic Tour de France career. USADA is seeking to bring a case against Lance which they say proves that not only was he doping, but was also helping others to cheat as well. As part of their case, USADA is said to have testimony of Lance’s former teammates who have confessed they doped — right alongside Lance. If USADA is successful in bringing their case against Lance in an arbitration hearing, and their findings are upheld, Lance could be stripped of all his Tour de France titles and face a life suspension from the sport.

The case is tied up in the U.S. District Court in Texas as you read this. Lance has filed suit saying USADA has no right to accuse him or try him. There have been charges he’s brought his considerable wealth and influence to bear on members of congress and other cycling governing bodies (specifically the UCI, or the Swiss-based International Cycling Union) to intervene on his behalf. We await the judge’s ruling to see if Lance’s argument to throw USADA’s case out is upheld, or if the judge rules USADA does indeed have the authority to bring this case against Lance.

Of course, this whole mess is quite legalistic and complicated. If you want the details, a quick Google search will bring you thousands of hits on this story. What’s important to note is this case brings to the forefront cycling’s ugly history. It’s no secret that the sport of cycling has been plagued by rumors and reports of dirty riders and rampant cheating for years. Decades, even. And that by charging Lance Armstrong, the most famous cyclist in America (and some would argue, the world), USADA is bringing to a climax the narrative of cheating in cycling. It would be akin to perhaps the NBA taking Michael Jordon to court. It’s that big. That decisive. And divisive.

“Fuck you, fucker!”

So divisive, the mere sight of a fellow cyclist wearing LiveStrong kit can illicit frothing anger. At a stranger. On a bike. Just getting in a few miles after work.

So where do I stand on the Lance case, you’re probably asking by now?

What I want to explain to the driver of the silver Durango, and anyone who makes a snide remark about (or casts a crusty glance at) the yellow LiveStrong wristband I always wear: It’s not about Lance. Nor is it for him. At least, not for me.

I don’t know Lance. I don’t know if he cheated. I don’t know if he’s a cool guy and would be fun to hang out with, or if he is a bully flanked by a peloton of bodyguards (as some critics charge). It doesn’t really matter because I don’t wear my LiveStrong bracelet for Lance.

I wear it for my stepdad, who died of lymphoma.

I wear it for my wife’s stepdad, who died of cancer.

I wear it for a dear friend of my stepdaughter, who died far too young of leukemia.

I wear it for my wife’s friend from high school, who is in hospice, still full of life, but in the final stages of her fight against cancer.

I wear it for Chris Cudworth and his wife, as she has bravely fought ovarian cancer for seven years, and continues to do so today.

I wear it to remind myself to say a prayer for all these fighters. The ones who are still with us, and the ones who have passed.

It’s easy to get caught up in the tarsnake of anger and hatred about Lance, LiveStrong and cheating in cycling. To make judgments of others based on their opinions of these things, or their support of LiveStrong. But before you let your wheel get caught and drug down by the sight of a LiveStrong wristband, remember this: There’s probably a very personal story or two behind that bracelet. It may represent someone dearly loved. So say a prayer instead. For justice. For strength. For healing and peace. For those fighting cancer, for those who have lost loved ones due to cancer, and for the sport itself.

–Monte W

Posted in We Run and Ride Every Day | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Heat injury is a real problem when you run and ride

Each fall I try to attend a high school cross country meet or two. Today’s cross country meets are a wonderful mix of boys and girl’s events. There are numerous levels of competition from frosh-soph to Open to Varsity. Often there are hundreds of fans and supporters in attendance. The big meets set up fundraising tents to sell food and drinks. It’s a pleasant atmosphere and a great way for any runner or other athlete to recharge their batteries watching high school competition.

Except last year the invitational I visited in late August or early September saw extremely hot weather. The first morning race, a Boy’s Open competition, kicked off in 78 degree temperatures. Two runners succumbed to the high temperatures. Both were treated by emergency medical teams and released to their parents.

The second race claimed a few more victims, and temperatures reached 83 degrees by 10 a.m. The sky was clear and bright, the sun hot and persistent. No breeze. Humidity was thick and it seemed hard to breathe. You could tell it was not going to get any better. It was hot even standing in the shade.

The objective view

Having already ridden 40 miles on my bike that morning, finishing before 8:30, I knew how warm it was getting. The last 10 miles on the bike had started to wear on me as the sun rose higher.

Heat can last well into the fall competitive season.

You could see the heat stress on the faces of the kids at the starting line. Pink, flushed cheeks. Some of kids with pale skin showed reddish patches on their thighs, and sweat streamed down their faces. The girl’s hair was coming un-scrunchied and flying all around their heads. No one looked all that eager to run.

Each time the gun went off a new group of parents held their breath hoping it would not be their child that wound up in the ambulances, which had now begun to run mercy missions back and forth from the hospital 5 miles away.

In fact the pace of runners dropping out from the heat was so great at one point there were no ambulances left and few emergency medical techs around to take care of the “wounded” runners dropping out from the heat. That’s when they cancelled the meet.

Fans and athletes: Two different worlds

It didn’t feel terribly hot just standing around. You could wander into the shade a few minutes and feel okay when you emerged. But those high school athletes charging around the course in the first big meet of the season got little respite from the oppressive air.

Headed into the final race of the day, things were chaotic back by the starting line. Boys and girls of all ages, size and fitness had been hauled off, parents tailing along in their vans or cars, worriedly following those ambulance lights ahead of them.

And then, meet officials cancelled the varsity race. The whole crowd stood silent for a minute, and a few people groaned. Everyone loves to watch the varsity meet. Some of the athletes cursed to their friends, but many more shrugged their shoulders. One blurted, “Well, it’s better than dying.”

Yes, indeed it is.

A brand new world of heat

The fall competitive season begins in late August and goes through mid-November for endurance athletes in many sports. Cross country at the high school and college level, September triathlons, running road races and season-ending cycling series that include road races, crits and time trials.

We’re used to a scenario where the early September events might get a little hot now and then. All of us who compete recall racing in holdover heat. But the weather patterns this year have been crazy with 80 and 90 degree temps starting in March here in Illinois and lasting throughout the summer. It was officially the hottest July on record. We might see even stranger patterns of fall heat waves given the acknowledged affect of climactic change across the globe.

Being prepared, and how to react 

So competitors who run and ride ought to beware, and be prepared in both meets and training for days when the temps force you to back off, or back down completely.

If you find yourself in heat stress, there are some simple, immediate steps to take to prevent serious problems, including heat stroke:

1. Find a way to immediately cool the body down. Put ice down the front and back of your shirt and even your shorts or cycling bibs. I accomplished during a 35 mile ride by veering off to a store in a small town where a couple dollars (kept in a baggie…) purchased 2 fresh cold Gatorades and more importantly, a tall cup of ice that immediately got dumped down the jersey and shorts. Ahhhh. Cool relief.

2. Find a cool spot out of the sun, and with assistance if possible, first stand to cool off while drinking the coldest beverage you have available, or any liquid at all to make sure your hydration levels are either restored or maintain.

3. Don’t be vain: Remove as much clothing as possible. If you have a double layer of anything on, remove the top layer.

4. If you are experiencing chills, find a place to sit down (with assistance if possible), or get to shade and stand still. Take measure of whether you are dizzy or not. Consider ways to end your workout or race and call for help rather than take a chance that in the next 5 miles you will recover.

Heat injury is real, and it does not always go away quickly. If you’ve experienced profound heat stress you ought to look at your body almost as if you’ve had a bad bout of the flu or a serious case of food poisoning. Things are wounded inside your muscle cells, your lungs and brain. They need time to recover. You might need to work out in the coolest part of the day for up to 2 weeks to avoid recurring problems or a buildup of heat intolerance. Yes, it’s that serious.

Protect the brain, the core and listen to your fingertips

Most importantly your first goal should be to protect your brain and your consciousness. Take any and all steps to reduce heat stress using ice or water over your body to evaporate heat. But if you are experiencing chills, get into the shade, request help and monitoring from fellow athletes and take no chances that you’ll miraculously recover once you’re overheated.

Take it slow from then on, and allow your body time to recover from a heat trauma. It really does injure the body. It may take days or weeks for your body to snap back.

Tomorrow: What it’s like to wade through heat stress, and a couple horror stories and close calls.

Want a tee shirt?

We Run and Ride. It’s a movement.

Posted in We Run and Ride Every Day | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Lake Solitude and Back: The Rocky Road to Enlightenment

As training runs go, or training rides for that matter, it can be fun to put yourself into a position where you face a real test.

Those kinds of runs and rides test your personal character. Push you through fear into new realms of performance. And ruin your psyche if your luck runs out.

It came to pass (a few years ago) that our college cross country team set up camp at Jenny Lake at the base of the Grand Tetons near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. With no real itinerary for training routes or even length of runs, a few team members got together with a topographical map and decided we should run from Jenny Lake up to Lake Solitude and back.

The run was 9 miles one way, 18 miles round trip. The group of 17 runners gathered after an early morning  breakfast of oatmeal or somesuch, stretched our calves a little and took off running single file up the rocky, dusty trail leading to Lake Solitude. Off to adventure.

It is beautiful country, of course. Tall pines and alternate patches of shade and sun. Bright gray mountains peeking through the trees, and daunting snow stuck to them like sugar.

The trails were mostly stable and footworthy, worn smooth by hundreds of horses that make the same loop each year. In fact our group had to negotiate around the big beasty horses many times up the 9 miles to Lake Solitude.

We had but one rule on the run up and back: Don’t drink water from the stream or lake. There were clear and present warnings about giardia, the microscopic bug that can turn your stomach into a maelstrom. None of us wanted that.

But none of us carried any water either. It just wasn’t done at the time. So we ran on, higher and higher into the altitude, until we reached Lake Solitude in separate pods of runners arriving at different paces. I was the 8th one there, as I recall. And feeling competitive about that.

A few stuck their legs and feet in the stone cold lake while waiting for the rest to arrive. The water was clear and beautiful, of course. Small trout swam beneath or feet. The mountain air was bright and clean. Only the smell of a few horse apples invaded the atmosphere. Then one horse took a dump near the lake and we decided it was best not to drink after all.

But before we left, the temptation to drink became too great for some. The water was just so, damn, clear. And inviting. Sparkling too. Like Perrier without the bubbles.

Finally the entire team made it to the top, though some were clearly dragging. Complaining too. Never a good sign. We’d just run 9 miles up 3000 feet in elevation. On a normal day, that would be called a good workout. We still had to go back down.

Little did we know, having little collective experience of running in the mountains, that going downhill on mountain trails can be just as bad, or worse, than running up. The pounding on the thighs and calves was terrible. Plus the cumulative effect of having no water and running at altitude in an already dry climate was working its slow, insidious reverse-magic on many of us.

The top runners fairly soared down the hill just the same. As the marginal 7th man at that time, it was difficult to find a zone of running comfort, and keep going, even though it was the second or third longest run I’d ever done to that point in my career. The longest was an inane (insane) 30-mile walkathon that a group of high school sophomore tracksters had decided to run one raw spring day, also with no water, no directions and no rescue team. But that is a story for a different day.

We all get into these situations sooner or later. The bike ride in a howling windstorm when horizontal rain starts up and your group decides it’s “every man for himself,” or every woman. But women tend to be smarter than that, and stick together.

The mountains look so pretty. Until you run into them.

On the way down the mountain it fell to my mind to just let the body do it’s work. Painful or not, it had to be done. There was no other way home. Not even walking was a superior alternative to the steady downhill footfalls carrying me, and us, back to the campsite. Running became trancelike, then enjoyable even. I was beyond. Caring.

We straggled in exhausted and triumphant. Then waited, and counted, until all our teammates returned as well.

Except a few were missing.

One was an ebullient, positive fellow named Tony. We knew he had not done much training that summer as he was on some sort of political circuit learning how to be a senator or such. When he rolled into camp, cussing and swearing, we knew the tirade would go on for a while. The inherently cheery are insanely vocal when pushed beyond their limit.

That meant one runner remained out on the trail, a frail freshman named Matt, about whom we learned much on the long drive from Iowa to Colorado. He had Tourette’s syndrome, for one thing. Prone to outbursts and sudden twitches, he kept everyone awake during the long driving hours on the road. Before we understood his condition, the guy next to him let loose with an angry retort: “Jesus Matt, you hot tamale. Can’t you sit still?”

But now we were worried about Matt. We had lost a freshman on the trail, and knew it was our fault. Should we run back up and find him? Some set out to do just that, and found their legs too shot to try. The 18 miles, plus resting an hour, drinking Mountain Dews and other stupid beverages had turned us all to hyper mush.

Well after the sun went down and twilight settled over camp, Matt came limping along the last hundred yards of trail. Pine needles covered the surface of the ground, so we could not hear his approach. We all just watched his ghostlike silhouette make its way into our presence. Matt got hugs and quick refreshment. The Prodigal Son (rather in reverse) had returned. We were all safely home.

One of the more coarse characters among us dared to ask, “Matt, what took you so fucking long?”

Matt stared at him vacuously for a moment, then said: “Well, there was a moose. On the trail, there was a moose.”

All of us had seen a moose on the way up and back from Lake Solitude. It had been resting in a thick grove of trees, ears twitching away the flies, back lit by the dappling summer sun. It was a huge beast. Bigger than anyone imagined a moose could be. Even running 20 foot above the moose on the trail gave you the heebie-jeebies.

“Where was it?” someone asked. “How far back?”

“Probably 4, 5 miles,” Matt said. “It was lying across the trail. All the way across. There was no way to get around it.”

“Oh my God,” several of us asked in unison. “What did you do?”

Tony chimed in at that point. “I climbed up the rocks and down the other side,” he said.

“You saw it too?” we asked.

“Shit, yes!” he admitted. “I forgot to tell you about that.”

They had been running together at that point, Matt explained. But Tony climbed faster around the trail moose, then told Matt he’d run down fast as he could in case Matt could not make it around the moose. But looking back along the trail, Tony saw that Matt had made it down and would come along fine.

But Matt had run out of juice. His freshman legs had done little training that summer. Probably he averaged 18 miles of running a week, if that. Now he had covered 18 miles in a single day, with 6000 total feet of incline and decline to cover. At altitude. In many ways, he was the best runner of all, among us.

Matt never amounted to much on the competitive side of the team. Not even sure he stuck around for another season of cross country. But to this day, I think he was one of the bravest, strongest hot tamales we’d ever seen. Here’s to ya, Matt. Wherever you are.

Posted in We Run and Ride Every Day | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Insurance screenings are a test even for the healthiest 2%

The health assessor from the big insurance company showed up in a shiny new Infiniti coupe. It was her job to administer the tests that would determine whether it was possible for me to upgrade to a “better” policy. You know, “better” means you get to pay more in premiums so that when you die, the folks you leave behind will get more cash.

Life insurance they call it. But if we were being honest, we would call it death insurance. Life is full of such euphemisms.

But of course most policyholders would not like to buy death insurance. It sounds too much like a guarantee. Even though it is.

So we call it life insurance and probably pay a whole lot more as a result. Call it the ‘feelgood’ percentage of the premium.

Then we put up with all sorts of health tests and other semantics when all we’re really doing is throwing money down the drain in hopes that we happen to die in a timely way that will benefit our spouse, kids or grandkids.

Ancient Mesopotamians line up for an insurance health screening

But of course death is never timely. Ever. It just is. What it is.

Of course you can’t kill yourself and expect your loved ones to collect the life insurance money. That’s called cheating. Or insurance fraud. Can’t recall which. But there’s also another word for it. Suicide. The Big Disqualifier.

But your life insurance still counts if you happen to be running or riding along the highway and a big old SUV swerves to avoid another crazy driver and strikes you dead,  spilling your brains and guts on the road. Road kill. Then you will get your insurance check. Or your loved ones will. And, they can probably sue a driver or two as well, and get even more money. Death seems to be all about the money. Which is why newspapers charge for obituaries. As with life insurance, it’s the fine print that ultimately counts.

But is it really all about money, this life insurance game? You’d really never know that from the way they treat you when they come to your house to test your health. They hook you up to an EKG machine and you’re supposed to breathe real smooth for a few minutes. Then it prints out your heart rate and they make you sign the printout on the spot. It’s all very daunting and official. How alive are you, really? Yes, we know your heart is beating. But how well? How often? Doesn’t it look a little rushed right here? That was when you were holding in a fart? Okay, we’ll let you off this time. Note to self: Eat less fiber before next life insurance test.

They take a sample of your blood, then ask you tons of questions about every disease and bad habit under the sun. Have you had? Cancer. Diabetes. Stroke. Anxiety. Toenail fungus.

I made that last one up. But I hid my toenails from the Infiniti lady, just the same. My dad has the same problem. Is toenail fungus hereditary? She didn’t ask that. Cause I hid them.

The Infiniti lady was rather tall and willowy, which is something of a distraction when you’re trying to keep your cool during a life insurance inspection. A nurse by profession, the Infiniti lady’s real job is to act as an onsite actuary. She collects statistics that determine how much you are going to pay for your upgraded life insurance. I was glad she did not put on a glove and ask me to bend over.

We actually did have some fun kidding around, the Infiniti lady and I. After answering no to every disease question on the sheet, I smiled and said, “Pretty good, huh?”

“Is there anything wrong with you?” she joked.

“I have a bad sense of humor sometimes. Some people consider that a disease.”

“Right,” she said. “Now take off your shirt.”

It is a strange experience to be stripping down in your own living room with a willowy woman watching you get half naked. On this occasion it was best to resist any unwitty jokes about the wife coming home. She’s already heard it all. Blah blah blah.

Men.

When it was all through the Infiniti lady packed up her little black briefcase with a heart-testing load of gear along with stacks of paper, and she said “Thanks, you’ve made this very easy.”

Well, I try anyway.

Weeks later the report came in the mail stating that my overall health status places me in the top 2% of all adult males over 50 in the country. Yay! And Hey, that’s pretty good I thought! Maybe my rates will be really low, like they say in the commercials. “You can get half a million in life insurance for just $24 a month.”

No such luck. It costs me about $74 a month for only $250K. Insurance companies lie. Through their teeth. It’s a real bait and switch job, this life insurance racket. Probably they’ll pay out my death benefits in Green Stamps. “He was kind of old,” they’d say to my kids. “Some of his premiums were paid even before the Internet was born.”

I’m 50+ but I run 25 miles a week and cycle an average of 3000 miles a year. My resting heart rate is under 50 BPM (they tested it themselves, remember) and my BP is 116 over 76 or something on that order. I stand 6″1″ and 167 lbs. Can still run a 6:00 mile. Only my beer-drinking capability has diminished some. But that should count on the good side of the ledger.

All those goods signs and the best I can do is $74 a month for a quarter million in insurance?

That sucks.

I eat well. Except for the cookies and chocolate now and then. Hence the mild layer of chub just above my hips. But when I stand up straight that goes away.  It really does. And you can’t really see it under my cycling kit or running clothes. So that shouldn’t count against me.

Unless the Infiniti lady wrote down some cryptic note like; “Mild Spare Tire. Add $25.”

But how do you not feel like you are getting ripped off if your health ratings places you in the Top 2% of your age group and the rates you pay still don’t match up with those crummy commercials promising low rates for people in good health, or even bad health? The whole system seems to suck, and the insurance companies are literally drowning in money it seems.

I hate f’n Snoopy now. Charlie Brown as well. Stupid cartoon characters lie to you too.

It’s not worth much being in the Top 2% of your age group health ratings, I’ll tell you.

Of course if I was 6’1″ and 256 lbs. I might be paying three times as much.

That makes it worth getting up at 6:00 a.m. to run or ride, I suppose.

But I’m not giving up the chocolate. Just the cookies. And the mild spare tire.

Want a tee shirt?

We Run and Ride. It’s a movement.

Posted in We Run and Ride Every Day | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment