Tuesday October 12, 2004 Breaking the cycle

Tuesday October 12, 2004 Breaking the cycle

I've been going through some changes lately not of my own choosing but I'm pleased with the result. I had been running on a leg that had been complaining for a couple of days and finally one Thursday morning in early September, I pulled the muscle in my left calf as I was struggling up a hill and the muscle pain became so unbearable and I had to limp home. I had this happen once before about eight years ago when work mates encouraged me to join the annual DammitRun in Los Gatos. It was the same calf muscle.

I was depressed at the thought of being inactive for the time it would take the pulled muscle to heal. I have been running regularly since 1980 and rarely have I not gone for a run every day. Now, I was literally imprisoned because even walking was painful after a couple of minutes of sustained effort. This muscle pull occurred just after the Labor Day weekend and I was moping on Saturday.

My wife "I" suggested I come along shopping at Target with her. I welcomed the chance to leave the house so I tagged along and when we got to the place it was mobbed. As we went up and down aisles we realized that the back-to-school shopping frenzy was in full force. We were about to give up and leave when I spied a row of bicycles and I was suddenly struck by a desire to buy one. I haven't been on a bicycle since I was a teenager--over three decades ago. I found a green 15-speed (sale price $59.95) and was about to wheel my gleaming green prize to the check out when "I" insisted I pick up a helmet, which I did, reluctantly--who needs a stinking helmet?

Running the gauntlet of the checkout lines we completed the purchase and I was set to ride my prize home and let "I" drive back by herself. She would have none of that--"you'd kill yourself on the street and besides both tires need more air." Somehow we managed to squeeze my green beauty into the back seat of the car and drove home.

I pumped up the tires, donned my helmet, promised "I" I would ride the bike trail that begins about a mile from our house and runs along I-87 all the way through San Jose and beyond. You can pick up the trail where Branham crosses over I-87 or where Hillsdale Blvd goes under I-87 (streets in south San Jose near the area of Willow Glen and Almaden Valley.)

The bike trail was deserted--fine by me--where I picked it up at Hillsdale and I-87. North it climbs up over a rise at the base of Communications Hill, the once-bare hill alongside I-87 that houses large dish antennas--hence the name. A group of home builders have begun building high-density multi-family attached condominiums--resembling an Italian hillside village--or detached homes on postage stamp size lots--the ticky tacky song gets stuck in my head when I see them.

With I-87 on my left and the expansion of homes consuming the hill on my right, I peddle furiously thinking I have a clear run to downtown San Jose. No sooner do I crest the hill than I see the trail race pell mell to a stop sign at a T-intersection with a bike lane sign pointing left under I-87. I follow the signs and find the Valley Transit Authority (VTA) light rail station off to my right after I emerge from the underpass. I turn right on Canoas Garden Avenue, which leads me toward Curtner Avenue a wide east-west road that slides under I-87. At Curtner the bike lane tells me to turn right and proceed under I-87 again.

At the other side of the overpass, the bike lane sign directs me left across Curtner where I can see the section of dedicated bike path resume at the start of the on-ramp leading traffic onto the freeway. Back on the bike path again, I start pumping for all I got passing first a lot on my right containing school buses, and then passing lot after lot of industrial storage buildings and equipment behind fences. On my left, the trail hugs the freeway and I can see where the freeway shoulder bed is disintegrating, with drops of nearly a foot or more in some areas.

More lots on my right and finally the bike path once again finds a train station. In this case it's the Alma Street Cal Train station-my first visit to the place. I've been riding for a little over a half and hour and I decide it's time to turn back, but not the way I came. The bike trail is depressing and the scenery blighted--with many great places to be ambushed and beaten or worse.

The bike trail continues right through the train station unobstructed until it ends at Willow Street, just a block or so north of the station. The area east of I-87 to Monterey Highway, a north-south thoroughfare that parallels I-87, is populated with single-family homes built circa 1950s-1960s mixed in with multi-family dwellings built later in some case. The neighborhood is struggling against the signs of dereliction to keep up its appearances. Every street in the area where parking is not prohibited is lined with cars on either side. Garages are for storage.

I turn right on Willow and head toward Monterey Highway for the return trip. It will bring me back to Curtner. A right turn there takes me back to the VTA light rail station where I can pick up the bike trail for the return trip home.

An hour and fifteen minutes later I returned home thigh muscles aching as never before--the pulled calf muscles seemed unaffected by the effort.

The bike ride made me realize that I had been living my life stuck in a routine that I had just broken. Even my body and mind realized the change. Different muscles had been used. A different terrain had been traversed in the course of the outing. New neurons were firing and I was seeing the world around me differently. Sometimes it takes blunt trauma to knock you out of a rut in which you've become stuck.