December 21, 2005

I'm in the process of bulding up my legs while babying my knees, in preparation for my cross-country trip. In March, I somehow tore the medial meniscus of my left knee - I say "somehow" because it wasn't an acute injury from falling down the steps or Tangoing off a balcony; it presented as a deep, deep ache in the knee whenever it was flexed at 90 degrees for more than five minutes or so. A few months later, my right knee started to feel somewhat similar, so the recumbent bike became a prime suspect.

The injury was probably the result of riding my recumbent with the front boom too far in (the boom extends out in front, and it's where the pedals are). This is the equivalent of having your seat too low on an upright bike. But doing this is even worse on a recumbent, because it creates much greater pressure on the knees than a standard bike. This, combined with my legs' tendency to "flop outwards" at the hips because of the laid-back recumbent position and the fact that I was mashing gears instead of spinning at higher RPMs, added up to a mess o' bad mojo for my cartilage.

It's much improved, now, but it means that I have to be extra careful with both knees, and train up gently.

That injury, paradoxically, is one of the motivators for making this journey. I'm only 34, but my body is letting me know that it might not always be able to pedal 5,000 miles, so if I'm going to do such a thing, now is the time. It also adds a certain frisson to the whole endeavor: will he make it? Will his knees burst somewhere in the Rocky Mountains? Tune in and find out!

On Monday, I extended the boom out two inches. Normally, you're "supposed" to do these adjustments in increments, a quarter or half inch at a time. But: when I rode the 2.48 miles to physical therapy, my knees didn't hurt. It was the first time I've been on the bike that I didn't immediately wonder how the hell I thought I was going to get all the way to the West coast under my own aching power.

All because of a simple readjustment. The boom had been in that same position for at least 800 of the 1,300 miles I've ridden that bike, and during all that time it was causing me unnecessary pain. It was, in fact, injuring me. And in a moment of "What the hell"-ness, I lengthened the boom, which in turn improved my leg extension and, it seems, solved a biomechanical problem that's been plaguing me for almost a year.

There are a number of routes that we ride around here: a little loop that's about eight miles, a medium loop that's twelve, a big loop that's about twenty-two. After awhile, they get kind of dull...here's this hill, shift for it, here's this downhill, you can coast now, here's this spot where the fields look nice when the sun sets.

So today, instead of just pedaling the 2.48 miles back from the PT office to the house, I decided to do the little loop. But I did it backwards, turning onto the street that normally marks the end of the loop, and heading around in the other direction.

It was a revelation. The hills were new and interesting. The views of the snow-covered fields were familiar, but different enough to prompt me to stop and snap a photo with my cellphone/PDA/camera/pneumatic jack while Leadbelly sang the Relax Your Mind blues on my iPod (a blues which is, incidentally, about how to drive and pay attention so that you don't run over chickens or, say, cyclists).

Now I'm feeling fine. Invigorated, even! All because I did a couple of small things differently.

I can't help but wonder about the obvious: how will I feel when I'm doing everything differently? When I'm completely disconnected from my fixed address, my schedule, and my couch?

My guess is pretty damn good.

I'm getting the Big Adventure on, friends, and I can't wait. This will rock the House of Me, no mistake!