Kyle Banerjee's Blog

Once in a long while, I go on a ride that is truly special. Last weekend was one of those times. Shirley and I drove to California so I could participate in the Everest Challenge. The Everest involves 29,035 feet of climbing on steep roads at high altitude.

The ride hardly could have gone better. I had a blast. Naturally, there was a bit of fatigue, but my legs felt good to the end. I had zero knee pain. Zero numbness. Zero problems with cramping. Zero times with my head in a fog. Zero times wishing it would just end. As I was climbing the last few miles where the average grade is 14%, I found myself thinking “it doesn’t get any better than this.” When you can hold a thought like that after riding so far, you know it must be true.

It has been over 25 years since I felt so good about a ride. When I was 15, I rode my first century — by accident. Although I now think of 100 miles as nothing, I have always regarded that day as one of my great rides because the experience opened my eyes to what was possible. As was the case back then, I didn’t ride the Everest that fast. But unlike most of the other riders who were hurting after finishing, I’m putting in about 200 miles this week.

The only thing that kept the Everest from being an absolutely perfect experience is that despite the fact Shirley provided great support, I drank only a fraction of the liquids I needed and ate practically nothing on the second half of the ride. That was stupid. Shortly after I crossed the finish line, my body decided it had enough so I wound up taking a nap in the gravel for 45 minutes. I wasn’t suffering — I felt as if I was in a feather bed. A few hours later, I had some food and fluids in me and was back to normal.

One thing I didn’t tell anyone is that I was carrying one of Keiko’s old tags for good luck. Despite the fact that my bike computer tells me I’m not nearly as fast as I used to be, this has been my best riding season ever. I’ve had a great time on some real rides, lost no time to injury (something that hasn’t happened for years), and I am dedicating my training effort as well as my performance on the Everest to her memory. There may be no outstanding successes, but there has been a string of consistently good experiences which remind me of why I ride in first place.

I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to do next year. While I like a challenge, I find that riding slower so I can enjoy the experience speaks to me more than pushing my body to its limits. For this reason, I’m thinking of trying my hand at randonneuring (basically, self supported long distance riding). I’m toying with the idea of trying to pull off 600 km in one day. We’ll see.

Starting sometime last year, I started having problems with heat exhaustion on longer, more challenging rides. The funny thing is that no matter how hot it is, it’s not an issue on shorter rides (less than 100 miles). Last week, I found out why.

In preparation for the Everest Challenge, I climb Mary’s Peak 3 times every Saturday or Sunday. Last week, I strapped on a heart rate monitor and rode the same as I normally do just to see how hard I was working. I discovered that even on extended rides, my HR is over 160 a lot of the time and practically never drops below 155 except when I’m going down a hill. That’s fine if I’m on my trainer in the garage for an hour (in fact, I’ll take my HR higher than that). But putting those kind of numbers up hour after hour? I had no idea I was doing that — no wonder I felt so bad.

Today I did Mary’s Peak again with the HRM strapped on and took it easy. I tried to keep my HR around 145 most of the time and didn’t spend much time over 150. It was a totally different type of ride. My second climb was faster than the first, and my third was faster than the second. Plus, I was able to enjoy the scenery.

The bad news is that my average speed that was 0.7mph slower than last week — that’s huge in cycling terms. Nonetheless, I was happy with the results. I could have easily done another lap. Just for the heck of it, I cranked up the effort near the end to see how much strength was left, and there was plenty of gas left in the tank. Even though I lost almost 18 minutes during the ride, I was in MUCH better shape afterwards, so I think I’d recover the lost time if I had to stay out much longer. Things are looking good for the Everest.

Bryan wants to go riding tomorrow and put the hurt on me since he figures I will have ridden too hard today. I’m looking forward to it….

This past weekend, I took part in the Shasta Super Century. It’s challenging, the scenery is fantastic, and its my favorite ride of the year. For the past two years, I’ve been using it as a training ride for the Everest Challenge.

A few minor snafus aside, most of the ride went well. I forgot to fill my water bottles on the day of the ride and dropped my arm warmers into the porta potty (ugh) at the top of the first mountain. Starting around mile 80, my left knee started acting up, but I cut through the first 100 miles in my fastest time yet by a significant margin.

As I started the final climb, things rapidly fell apart. Heat exhaustion symptoms set in and my legs started cramping. I didn’t take breaks on any of the other climbs, but I wound up stopping numerous times on the last one — including taking a half hour nap on the side of the road only 1.5 miles from the finish. I decided to scrub my plans for the Everest.

I often forget how tough the Shasta is — the whole point of rides like these is to challenge strong riders. The first year, I did the entire final climb in a stupor, my legs were screaming in pain when I reached the top, and I almost didn’t make it. Looking at my blog posting for the Shasta last year, I see I did better then I did the first year, but that pain and heat exhaustion were major issues.  I also see that despite all the problems I had yesterday, I did much better this year.

In short, the Everest is still on. There are 5 weeks to train, and too many things could happen before or during the ride for me to predict an outcome, but my chances at this point in time look decent.

This weekend, we scattered Keiko’s ashes at her favorite place to play in the whole world. It’s near the end of the beach just north of Manzanita, Oregon at the foot of Neahkannie Mountain. Even though we routinely played fetch until my arm was sore and she couldn’t stand, she always resisted when it was time to go home. Today, I let her stay to play in the sand and waves with all dogs and people who go there.

The walk down to the beach made me a little sad. This is the first time in 11 years that I’ve gone to the beach without Keiko, and I can say that she was with me at least 90% of the times I’ve been at any beach over the course of my entire life. Games of fetch and long walks may have been the highlight of her day, but I’m sure I enjoyed it every bit as much as she did. Saying goodbye to all of that is hard, but I felt a strange weight lift from my shoulders when we let her go for good.

The rest of the weekend went pretty well. I’m preparing for a tough ride next weekend, so I rode just shy of 100 miles along the coast to test my legs and equipment. Bad luck could shut me down, but I’m feeling good about my prospects.

Even if nothing had happened with Keiko, things would be unusually nutty. I’ve been out of town on work business for half of the past two weeks (with more time away planned), and I have some big rides coming up.

This weekend we’re taking Keiko’s ashes to the beach so she can be at her favorite place in the world. She always loved the beach and never wanted to come back, so we’ll take her to the area shown in this video. I doubt anyone watching it would guess she was 10 years old, blind, and very sick when that was taken unless they were told. On a related note, I’ve redone her slideshow so that it is shorter and has a better soundtrack.

While we’re at the beach, I’ll do a calibration ride for the Shasta Super Century. It will be interesting to see how that works out. On one hand, I’m riding much less than I have in the past and my cruising speeds are way down. However, I actually feel pretty good so I may be fine so long as I’m not in denial.

On weekdays, I try to to do something that will help me prepare, and every Saturday for the past 4 weeks, I’ve been climbing well over 10,000 feet by ascending Mary’s Peak three times. That may sound like a lot, but that level of preparation is barely adequate for the Shasta and marginal at best for the Everest Challenge.

However, I have some new wheels and gearing that should make a significant difference. Plus I have some ideas for how to motivate myself when things get difficult. On these tough rides, you need some strength and endurance, but it’s actually the mental part that’s hardest.

As you can imagine, Shirley and I are very upset over losing Keiko. The house is just so empty and it will never be the same again. Today, we don’t feel like doing anything, but one of the things I have been doing is looking at pictures of Keiko as well as the very few video clips of her.

Keiko was an incredibly strong dog, but her decline was gradual enough that we couldn’t see it ourselves. It wasn’t until I saw this video of her opening presents in January that I realized how bad things had gotten.

When this footage was taken, I was depressed because Keiko looked terrible and the energy just wasn’t there. Looking at it today, though, she looks great. She’s not her old wild self, but she’s playful and happy.

A few months earlier, but still after Keiko was given her terminally ill diagnosis, this video was taken. Keep in mind that this is only a short excerpt. No one watching this could guess she were sick or blind.

Especially over the past couple weeks, the spark had just been gone. She wouldn’t even get up when we came home from work or her favorite people visited. But since we’ve been through multiple instances where she recovered from the brink, we felt we had to give her a chance to recover. Seeing that video makes me glad we didn’t wait longer.

People have been very understanding and kind through this situation. Just in case you bump into one of us and aren’t sure what to say or do, just be your normal self. We remember Keiko fondly, and one of our favorite topics hasn’t suddenly become taboo. We want to dogsit for others because the happiness dogs carry with them is contagious.

And if you need us to help you with anything, we’re happy to. The only thing we shouldn’t do is stew in our own juices and go insane. Keiko is not the first dog I’ve lost to cancer. Almost 30 years ago, I was heartbroken when it took Nappy. I still think of her frequently just as I do of anyone or any great dog that’s touched my life.

It’s really late and in a few hours, I have to say goodbye to Keiko forever. I’m not even going to try to explain what that means to me. If you really need to know, one of the neighborhood girls asked me when it would stop hurting when she thought about her dog Squeaker (he passed away a few months ago).

I told her the truth. You get used to things and the past fades with time, but the pain never goes away completely. It’s not a matter living in the past, but understanding that once you lose something special and irreplaceable, all you can do is cherish the experience you had.

I’ve never believed in navigating the highway of life with one hand on the wheel, and Keiko’s full throttle attitude, her enthusiasm, and sense of fun made her popular with almost everyone. Despite being a very playful girl, she could be serious too. I’ve been in some pretty severe dogfights, but I will always be in awe of the raw power and focus she could summon when she thought we were in real danger. As Winston Churchill famously put it, what counts isn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.

Anyway, I know nothing about videos, but here’s my first attempt ever to string together some pictures. The lyrics come from a different context, but if you ignore the first stanza, the message is surprisingly appropriate.

Three weeks ago, I posted a picture of Shirley and me enjoying some skiing on Mary’s Peak. Well, today it was over 100 degrees, so I rode my bike up there to test my new climbing wheels and alpine gearing. I’m happy to report that the wheels and gears work great.
The cyclist is another matter. Despite having better equipment, I clocked the worst time I have in years going up and down the mountain twice. I would love to blame the heat, but I have good heat tolerance and today was no exception.I drank 8 large bottles of water (I hid water along the route so I could restock), and I felt good after the ride.

Although my speed was pitiful, my legs felt just fine afterwards so there is reason for to believe I’ll be able to get ready for the tough rides at the end of summer.

Incidentally, it was a gorgeous day and the view was exactly like this picture — minus the snow.

I enjoy challenging myself physically, so last weekend I went on a 200 mile bike ride. It just so happens that this ride passed a few blocks from our house so Bryan and I popped by for a short visit around mile 130.

I felt great all day, but around mile 170, one of my knees hurt so bad I couldn’t bend it without causing excruciating pain. I thought about bailing since abusing knees is a great way to permanently injure them, but when you’ve come that far, you really don’t want to quit. I popped some ibuprofen and tried to compensate with the other leg, but within a few miles, the extra strain led to massive cramps which forced me off the bike. Fortunately, it took only a few minutes for me to get a handle on the knee pain and continue to a good finish.

This ride worked out well, but the question still remains on how you know when it’s time to concede things won’t work out they way you hope. Anything worth doing requires perseverance and sacrifice. At the same time, if you refuse to exit with grace when you reach a point where all the willpower and effort in the world can’t help you, the line between dedication and delusion is crossed.

Knowing where these boundaries are is not just an academic exercise. For example, Keiko’s condition has been deteriorating steadily. As recently as a few months ago, we walked 4 miles a day. Now we walk 2 blocks. I’ve been sleeping on the floor with her for the past 2 months because she can’t climb stairs and needs to go out several times each night. She’s lost a huge amount of weight and is in constant pain from a giant and rapidly growing tumor.

You’d think that would make the decision obvious, but it’s not so easy. Her appetite is strong and she enjoys eating. I’ve been feeding her bacon and eggs for breakfast, and at night she’s been eating things like cheeseburgers, pizza, steak, meatballs, etc. She is content when she’s asleep. She’s been a very tough girl her entire life, so we will not give up until she indicates she’s not interested in hanging around anymore.

People who’ve known Keiko become sad when they see the fading shadow she’s become of her former self. At some point, there won’t be enough left for her, and we will have to let her go.

Dr. Lindsay and the other staff at the vet have been truly impressed with Keiko’s resilience, and he tells me that she will let me know when it’s time. I hope he’s right.  Even doing what I know is right will rip my heart out, so it’s really important to get this right.

I’ve maintained my website with the same company for years. There are a lot of reasons I’ve been with this company, but the main ones are that they offer services I like, customer service has been excellent, and the value is good.

This past week, I was unpleasantly surprised to find that my account was suspended and that I was locked out. I called to find out why, and their abuse department told me I was keeping files unrelated to my website there. They explained that it didn’t matter that I was using only a tiny fraction of my quotas. The service is for hosting websites.

One of the selling points of this account is that I have shell access. That allows me to do things you can’t do with a regular account, so I’d sometimes use it as a workspace for things unrelated to my website. Before I started doing these things a few years ago, I called to make sure it was OK since it wasn’t clear in their policies (I’m one of the few people who actually reads user agreements). I was assured it was. I would go so far as to say I was encouraged to do what I wanted.

The company reserves the right to change policies. If they decide they can’t make enough money doing things the way they did in the past, that’s fair enough. But I wasn’t too happy to be blasted off the internet when they changed and I didn’t catch the change. I think a warning would have been in order.

The trick is that I chose this company specifically because of the services it offered me and the price I had to pay. By changing the terms of service so I can’t do something important that I chose them for, they lose most of their edge over the competition.

Aside from that, having to deal with sudden changes forces me to scramble and find a new way to do things — this is bad service in my book. If they need to change to stay competitive, they need to work with their customers and not just flip a switch and expect people to instantly adjust.

I will stick with this outfit for now because my overall experience with this company has been very positive. However, they lost quite a bit of goodwill with this last stunt, so it really needs to be an isolated experience.

Oregon may have a reputation as a cycling Mecca, but the reality is that the weather is pretty crummy for most of the year. It’s cold, windy, and rainy. The good news is that once the sun finally comes out, it stays out.

This year, I’ve not been able to put in nearly as much saddle time as I normally do and I’m paying the price. My bike computer tells me that even on a good day I’m not as fast as I was on a bad day last year. When I first realized beyond any doubt that I wasn’t being slowed by the weather or other factors, it was a bit depressing.

Last week, Bryan and I did the Strawberry Century. Like me, he’s also not been putting in enough riding time.We’re accustomed to being pretty speedy, but instead, we got to watch people that we should have been blowing by pass us up. It was crystal clear to me that there’s no way I have a chance of finishing my favorite rides unless I get my act in gear. At least we had some nice scenery as you can see in this photo.

Now that the weather is finally clearing up (though it would be nice if the morning temps could crack the lower 40’s), riding season can begin in earnest. The Watermelon is this weekend. It’s 200 miles in one day, and I’ll extend it a bit. Then, I can start working on Mary’s Peak — that’s where Shirley and I went skiing last weekend. I’ve got quite a bit of catchup to do, but there’s still enough time to be ready when the really challenging rides start up in August.

Oregon is known for its cool and wet weather, but this year has been nuts. Almost every time I get on my bike, the temperature drops and the sky spits on me to remind me of my role in the universe. Despite a 20% chance of rain forecast yesterday, I spent almost 4 hrs getting misted on. The day before, I enjoyed rain and temps in the 40’s as I rode into work. It’s literally been weeks since I’ve ridden without getting soaked.

This picture was taken today at my favorite place to train for climbing rides such as the Shasta Super Century and the Everest Challenge. It is within biking distance of our house and it’s short enough that I always climb it multiple times.

As you can see, conditions aren’t exactly prime for cycling. However, we did have a lot of fun skiing. I can’t believe this is how we’re spending June weekends…

I try to keep some contact with the real world, but every now and then something happens which makes me realize how insulated my environment is. Last night was one of those times.

Shirley and I went to an authentic Russian restaurant where we decided to do everything Russian style. At the next table, 4 business travelers watched flabbergasted as we washed down an excellent meal with 10 shots of vodka. This may sound like a lot, but it is very tame by Russian standards.

The travelers asked what we did for work, and when we mentioned that we were librarians, they were in shock. They made it clear that we looked like no librarians they’d ever seen, and it never occured to them that a librarian would know anything about vodka, let alone drink the stuff. They decided that they liked us and had a new opinion of the profession on that basis alone. They invited us to knock down a few shots after dinner. We accepted and had a great night with them.

I’m glad we helped our new friends see librarians in a more positive light, but I find it disconcerning that this change of heart was based on our sense of fun and an ability to put away more high octane hooch than they could. While I find it amusing that they assumed I was trying to improve the Dewey Decimal system when I mentioned that I worked with library systems, that is also a dead giveaway that they didn’t realize we actually provide a useful service.

As a profession, we celebrate the fact that we are viewed as meek, socially inept dorks by the rest of the world. We cultivate the image of the spinster with a bun in her hair. If we want to show how hip we are, we shave off a few pounds and a few years. Then we add a bit of makeup, an updated hairstyle, and a higher energy level. It’s the same idea with a little sex appeal.

Why do we play to such stereotypes? I suppose it makes people feel warm and fuzzy, but so does the image of the milkman who lost his job a long time ago. The internet has changed the way people interact with information, and we must make it clear we’ve adapted our services accordingly unless we want to relegate ourselves to irrelevance.

We can get you any book or article held by just about any library regardless of where you live whether or not it’s in digital form. We can get you electronic articles from well respected journals that would cost you a fortune to download (assuming you could find them at all). No other outfit, including Google and Amazon, can do this. I can’t help but think that if we want long term success and continued funding, we’re much better off encouraging people to focus on what we do rather than on anachronistic images.

For the past few days, I’ve been at the Innovative Users Group annual meeting. At the IUG meeting, roughly 1600 dweebs from around the world discuss library systems, particularly those produced by Innovative Interfaces Inc (III).

I’ve been a fixture at these meetings for a number of years, but many people acted surprised to see me at this one. I’m coordinating the migration of a resource sharing system used by 35 academic libraries in Oregon and Washington away from a III product to something else. They assumed my work would put me in an awkward position.

My project is not helping relations with the company. However, the situation was largely unavoidable. We have had a long and productive association with III, but their needs have evolved with time as have ours. After intense negotiations failed to result in a mutually acceptable contract, our board of directors unanimously decided that the strategic direction we were headed required a resource sharing system based on new architecture.

Right now, the library world is in a period of total upheaval. Just a few years ago, the whole idea of a library was to provide a controlled, centralized environment to centrally acquire, process, and preserve materials that people needed. More and more, the most important function libraries perform is helping people find and get electronic and physical materials that are owned and maintained by others. While libraries will continue to buy books and journals, these materials will play a shrinking role over time.

The reason we’re changing our resource sharing system right now is because of differences in opinion as to what library services will look like in view of a the new way people want to use libraries and information. No one knows what will work best in the end, so a little disagreement is healthy.

Our relationship with III is entering a new phase, but we continue to have many common interests. The member libraries in our consortium rely on III products for mission critical tasks. Even if we were unable to reach an agreement for a new contract, we are still interested in solving the same problems and can learn from each other.

Just as I still regard workmates from former workplaces as colleagues, I think the same about the many III staff I’ve worked with over the years. That is why I was glad I was able to attend the meeting and share ideas with others as I always have.

This is particularly true of weather forecasting. Satellite imagery has been around for some time, but it’s only been in the past few decades that increasingly sophisticated radar and mathematical models have given us predictions that are worth listening to.

For some reason, we turn to experts who have proved incompetent at their trade. Take Punxsutawney Phil for example. He’s been predicting the weather for a long time, we wait with baited breath for what he has to say, and our faith isn’t shaken in the least when he consistently gets it totally wrong.

This year, he predicted 6 more weeks of winter. That means that spring should have kicked in somewhere about the third week of March. Normally, I’d like to be biking on weekends at this time of year. However, the snow keeps coming down — even in Monmouth where the stuff is rare in January and February. When I rode into work, it snowed on me. Last week, here is what I looked like.
Don’t be fooled by my attire. It was 23 degrees Fahrenheit out there. We got pelted with ice and snow, and today it snowed more this past week. That buried structure behind me is a shelter for skiers.

What makes us listen to nonsense like that while ignoring useful information? From the time I learned to read, there has been a constant barrage of magazines claiming you can lose weight quickly while eating anything you want. Politicians say they can bring all kinds of great services without raising taxes. People know it’s nonsense, yet if you want to go broke the best way would be to sell books explaining that if people exercise and eat sensibly for the rest of their lives they will slowly become more healthy If you don’t want to get elected, tell people that if they need to pay for what they want.

We love to believe that the outcome we’ll see is the one that seems the most improbable. That’s why we vote for the underdog, why people buy lottery tickets, and insist that the insignificant things that we like to do make a big difference, while the things we don’t like don’t matter. But in the grand scheme of things, that’s OK. Perception is probably a better indicator of reality than facts would lead you to believe.