The Barber Pole

A Little History lesson for you Knuckle heads

Amazing as it seems, the dude that clips my hair was dead on. Usually Barbers and Shoe Shine guy are complete idiots. They love to just ramble on about little known facts that they themselves know little or nothing about. Now I have never been to Barber School, but one would think that Barber 101 would be a little history lesson on the craft.
Although I have not researched the history of Shoe Shine guy, but I am guessing that it is fairly straight forward and not very interesting. I will though have to admit that shoe shine guy can rap about nothing like nobodies business.

Check this out.

The modern barber pole originated in the days when bloodletting was one of the principal duties of the barber. The two spiral ribbons painted around the pole represent the two long bandages, one twisted around the arm before bleeding, and the other used to bind is afterward. Originally, when not in use, the pole with a bandage wound around it, so that both might be together when needed, was hung at the door as a sign.

During medieval times, barbers performed surgery on customers as well as tooth extractions. The original pole had a brass basin at the top (representing the vessel in which leeches were kept) and bottom (representing the basin which received the blood). The pole itself represents the staff that the patient gripped during the procedure to encourage blood flow.

The word "barber" comes from the Latin word "barba," meaning beard. They were the medicine men and the priests. The bad spirits could only be driven out of the individual by cutting the hair, so various fashions of hair cutting were practiced by the different tribes and this made the barber the most important man in the community. In fact, the barbers in these tribal days arranged all marriages and baptized all children. They were the chief figures in the religious ceremonies.

Up to the year 1416, the barbers were not interfered with in the practice of surgery and dentistry. But it was soon evident that they were attempting too much. It was impossible to expect ordinary human beings to competently practice surgery, dentistry and the various tonsorial operations. Until 1461 the barbers were the only persons practicing surgery. The practice of surgery was still in its primitive stage, but new discoveries were being made regularly and the barbers found it impossible to keep up with the new discoveries and at the same time maintain their skill in dentistry and barbering. In 1450, Barbers were restricted to bloodletting, toothdrawing, cauterization and the tonsorial operations. However the board of governors, regulating the operations of the surgeons and barber-surgeons, consisted of two surgeons and two barbers. Every time a surgeon was given a diploma entitling him to practice his profession, the diploma had to be signed by two barbers as well as two surgeons.

Blood Letting: Bloodletting involves the withdrawal of often considerable quantities of blood from a patient in the belief that this would cure or prevent a great many illnesses and diseases.

The Road to Recovery

Another Setback

After that disaster that was, a week in the hospital, leading to a pathetic unofficial 19:19 in the 4th of July 5K, I had climbed all the way back to mid summer form.
A first place finish in the opening week of the 3.7 mile live on the lake series circuit on July 9th. Not quite my sub 6 minute pace I shoot for, but only a week after full blown shut down mode, 6:18's. I can deal with it. So the road back to peak performance in the following three races on the 16th, 23rd and the 30th were 5:58, 6:08 and a 5:56. Clearly starting to feel it.

The Big Gamble

I think by now, I have laid out the race day reg. deal. The partying, the all niters, and the...well, reckless behavior, make the certainty of even being alive day to day a crap shoot. Keeping this in mind, a dinner reservation, let alone forking out cash for a future event is a bad play. With the Bridge of Flowers 10K looming in the horizon on August 9th and my body at about 85%, I do the unthinkable. I wire $35 and lock myself into this thing one week out.

The Nite Before
So here we go. Brace yourself for this one! Dangerous Dan goes off. You may even want to put the kiddies to bed and bolt the doors for this little gem of an evening. The usual pre race evening, complete with a bottle of the finest $9 Pinot, a bad ass sauce pan of rice, and stomach tied in knots gripping about crushing this track. As the clock strikes midnite and I'm starting to wonder why the hell I am getting molared out of my mind depriving myself of much needed sleep and draining my system of vital hydration. Time to power down, cork up and hit the rack.

Not so Fast

At least this was the plan. At 12:10, my liquored up 18 year old son cruises on in hell bent on the relentless pursuit of violence. As the door is kicked in nearly taking the hinges from the jamb and sending the door knob right through the Sheetrock, a little birdy is telling me this is not going to end well. When this terrifying 6 foot 2 inch 225 pound mass of drunkin rage enters the living room I am certain that talking this out will not be an option. First in line is the end table. As this goes airborne sending the lamp and other assorted items crashing to the floor, it is now very clear I will have a formidable battle here. Standing nearly 6 feet tall myself, however weighing in at a daunting 150 soaking wet, in boxers, a tank top and bare feet my options are limited. My wife at this point is already dialing 911, his younger brother is scrambling for a place hide and avoid the risk of being a casualty of the collateral damage. My plan is fairly simple at this point, get him outside and as far from breakable objects, defenseless people and household objects turned weapon. In theory outside is a good thing, just me v beast, no breakable objects, no innocent bystanders. The ugly side of this is that my wife has already called in a domestic, the affluent neighborhood I reside is still as a church and I am losing a futile battle to tame this monster. From what I can remember, once he broke free of the bear hug that I was holding him in, I was head butted to the chest and driven to the ground. After having my head repeatedly driven into the concrete sidewalk, I lost consciousness and any ability to fight back. Shock waves of pain shot up and down my body as I started to her sirens, and masses of people. I had taken quite a beating and lay motionless on the lawn. The street was lit up with strobing lights and onlookers wondering what the hell just happened. The canine unit was already in search of the assailant, the EMT was assessing my injuries and the firefighters were preparing the stretcher and head and neck brace to transport me to the hospital. The search was eventually called off, I signed reams of paperwork refusing treatment, and made my way back inside to regroup. A sobbing wife and terrified son were shaking terribly after the ordeal that had unfolded.

The Aftermath
Suffice to say another reason for race day reg. With 3 fractured ribs, numerous lacerations, and a plethora of bruises and bumps, 10K in the AM was not going to happen. Damn, another setback. At my age these things get more difficult each time to recover from. I will attempt to post this difficult climb back on the saddle.

Proper Nutrition & Rest

Since my advice led to such valuable training and attire tid bits. I
thought I would disclose the second chapter of my training secrets.
Nutrition and Rest.

After running 15 miles last evening, I quickly refueled with 1/2 of a
salad, a block of Swiss cheese and a pitcher of beer. My 3 1/2 hour
sleep was revitalizing as well. This mornings 12 miler was replenished
with a 16 oz. coffee & whole wheat bagel, well done with NO toppings.

Do not be mis led into thinking you need food.
You will become fat, lazy and slow.
1 very intense carb load on friday night will last the whole weekend.
Fruits & vegetables are for children and animals.
Rice, potatoes, and bread IS the food pyramid.
Decaf coffee is for lazy people who think they need sleep. You do not.
Water is for bath tubs and pools. Do not give into that false sense of
thirst.
Remember 1 beer = 5 glasses of water. Be efficient!
3 hours of quality sleep is all you need.
Sleep is for lazy people with no social life.
Being tired hungry and thirsty will result in mental toughness.

Words of Advice

Since I have been feeling remarkably well mid season, I thought I
would share some of my secrets.
I hope this is helpful.

When your body is trying to tell you something, Ignore it.

If your feeling like you just need a rest, get over it and suck it up.

Aches and pains are normal, run through it.

If something just doesn't feel right, don't think about it.

There is no such thing as over training, it's a word frequently used
by lazy under performing athletes.

Those days when you feel like your body is breaking down, this is when
you push harder.

Lack of sleep is no excuse for a crappy workout, there will be plenty
of time for sleep someday.

When you feel like you need a day off, you don't. What you need is an
attitude adjustment.

If you are being told not to run, do not listen. This includes
doctors, mothers and friends.

Never listen to doctors, this is frequently the advice of lazy non
athletic people who clearly read too much.

Running gear is not important, time spent shopping is time that could
be used training. If your shoes have been performing well for 1,000
miles why mess with it.

Not only do I find clothing not important and wear as little as
possible. My all in one running shorts/ bathing suit/ biking shorts
are very cost effective.

I also find the transition time from a 50 mile bike ride into a half
marathon very efficient by not having to change clothes.

I might want to remind you that it is better to win a race than look
good coming in last.

It's not the gear, it's whats in the gear.

Just some helpful advice on being fashionable.

Never use the "recovery" excuse after a race. Your body will be fine,
trust me. Train harder.

Hydration and nutrition are luxuries, hunger and thirst will motivate
you to train harder.

The Ride

Tuesday Nite Hammer Fest

So as this Tuesday nite staple has gained momentum, I have personally glossed the event as "hammer fest"

A little background for y'all here

This Tuesday nite event, created last week by our very own and honorable JSA deemed "dam tuesday"was an attempt to get the more aggressive riders out for a ride that would NOT include the likes of slow pokes. Somehow the whole poke thing was interpreted as code for females. Todd is still trying to shake this chauvanistic hit. As I report on these rides moving forward, it will be very evident that the token chick plays a significant role. The route is clearly stated prior to the ride, and if you can't keep up. Well, we'll see ya back at the car. If you don't like it, don't come. Our fearless leader was also very clear that there would be no chivalry attached to these competitions. And to be straight, this is a competition.

So let's recap. 30 plus mile ride, keep up or ride alone, and if you don't like it stay home. And if you do go and ride alone, get lost, get beat, etc. etc. Don't come bitchin to me. Cause I don't wanta hear it. OK. Here we go!

Now since I missed the first installment, I can only give second hand reports of the social and physical dynamics of the actual ride itself. Suffice to say, not everyone goes home happy after these events.

The Ride Begins

A beautiful summers evening, 80 degrees mostly sunny skies and a brisk ride on the menu. I pull into the Elm. St. lot at 5:30PM sharp to see Todd AIS, and Back Surgery Steve AIS and ready to roll, four other riders unfamiliar to me were gearing up. Other than Todd and BS Steve, the usual scene, tires being pumped, water bottle charging and last minute route details. Although I am getting somewhat of a reputation as a hard core exercise fanatic, the usual head turning ensued as I de-racked my bike and went through the introductory formalities. Clad in my usual attire of running shoes, tank top and running shorts I can sense the dynamic right away. These guys can ride hard, and they’re goin to prove it.

As Todd was taking heat for his most recent comments concerning gender, chivalry and his disdain for pokes, I was scoping out the group. A big dude to be kind dressed like he was ready to embark in the Tour de France, a married couple of clearly hard core experienced riders and another finely tuned biker making a fashion statement of his own.

To be clear, if these guys wanted to tear ass and dust me in their wake, so be it. Just don’t be think’n it will be easy. I made it crystal clear that I know the route ( at least I thought I did), and under no circumstances do I want anyone to slow up on my account.

It was also very clear that Todd was going to lead this group and he had a look of confidence that I had never seen before. I liked it. This was going to be a macho ride, with manhood and pride hanging in the balance.

The lone female looked like she was no stranger to cycling competition. In fact any predictions about how this was gonna go were sketchy at best.

Off we go through snarled traffic red lights and city streets toward West Housy on route to 41 southbound. As we started to gain a brisk pace on route 41 the first town line appears. Being a distant last I could only watch as Todd took this one decisively. By the time we were 8 or so miles in cruising through Richmond toward West Stockbridge, I was losing ground at a rapid rate. ½ to maybe ¾ of a mile lie between the bee hive ahead and me. Knowing full well that the behemoth that is route 102 is only a couple of miles away, my confidence in closing the gap on that hill was at a high level. True to form about halfway into the climb the pack of warriors were no more than 500 meters ahead. They were about to feel the wrath of d. dan. 3 broken ribs were somewhat limiting me as I labored to fill my lungs with fresh air. I blew past all but Todd and perhaps one other rider as we crested the hill. The steep decent proved my undoing once again, as the freight train of riders cruised by at a blistering pace. By the time we hit Stockbridge ¾ of a mile stood between us once again.

But alas, the hill across from the Red Lion proved to be crippling for the fearless riders. This is when Todd and I put about a ¼ mile between us and the hill pokes. No chivalry here! I was off to the races. The climb up 143 is when I finally broke free and as I cruised past Todd stopped to steer the gang up Hawthorne and into the center of Lenox, this was the defining moment as they were no where in sight. The problem now was, that I had no idea which route we were taking back. Risking a route straight back only to be ridiculed for taking a short cut, I took a hard right on main and fired it up again down Kemble. Waiting for them would only mean being crushed as we made our way through the rollers North toward Pittsfield. F. that, I worked too hard to build this lead, hell I would easily take the Pittsfield line. But no, I went straight down Walker, over to Lenoxdale on a southeasterly course skirting October Mtn. A tactical error that would land me last place overall.

As I pulled in to the Elm Street lot, the group was nearly showered and shaved.

A most excellent ride to be sure!

This will be known as Hammer Fest moving forward!