A few weeks of not doing much at home, as well as a 1,300-mile road trip to MO/OK

Another fine dinner at Chez Jürgen

Let's start with the good news: It appears from the EKG conducted a few days ago that my heart is back in rhythm. Taking a 200 mg dose of amiodarone twice a day for the past month has had an astonishing effect on the aFib with which I had ended up after drinking a few cans of Monster Energy while at the downhill race in Solitude, Utah. I had not been too hopeful when I showed up for my appointment at Guy's office as my little Fitbit-like device had been giving me erratic readings that were not promising. Well, the damn thing has already been returned to Amazon, and I was elated by the news.

This big scare already lies four weeks in the past (and I am still waiting for my check to cover expenses as well as my referee fee!). During that time in Lubbock, I went out for almost daily rides, making up a little bit of lost ground on the bike. Guy had cleared me to ride, even though he had also given me Eliquis ("Don't crash!") so I wouldn't suddenly stroke out while in aFib. Just in case, Guy is keeping me on the amiodarone for a few more weeks to let the drug (which has an amazingly long medical half-life, up to almost 150 days according to Google) saturate my system and keep things running smoothly; the blood thinner, however, is a thing of the past.

Sandy enjoying la dolce vita after another long day in the Vision Center

Lubbock had a typical summer, with high temperatures and little rain. Typically, I'd leave for my rides by 10 a.m. before it got really hot, and then I'd stay mostly inside before venturing out once more in the late afternoon when the temperature was again bearable. I did a few chores around the house but couldn't really motivate myself for anything major except lots of cooking. I have to admit, I felt fairly sloth-like.

A nice break from this routine was a surprise visit by my Norwegian friend, Linda, who with her hubby lives in Oregon but who had been handed an anti-doping assignment here in Lubbock. While I work only cycling events for the ITA, Linda (a school nurse by trade) also offers her DCO services to various anti-doping agencies. For the one night she was going to be in town, I had already planned a dinner at my place with René and Masako, so adding an extra person wasn't a big deal at all. Of course, Sandy was part of our very international group, and it was really one of the highlights of the past month.

Speaking of food: The New Mexico Hatch chile season is in full swing, shrimp and chicken are always on sale, and my basil is growing like weeds! It was (and still is) so much fun to throw together a tasty meal that does not carry the exorbitant price tag that restaurants affix to their dinner plates. I generally don't go out to restaurants for numerous reasons: fake-friendly servers who are angling for tips, the noise level in what should be a somewhat calm environment, the high prices, and of course the fact that my food is better and the wine at home is of a higher quality and I don't have to drive home inebriated. That said, for the first time in literally years I had to go to a restaurant in Lubbock, Orlando's, when an in-law of Sandy's came through town and took us out for dinner. Nothing has changed since my previous eating-out adventure ... (but I did appreciate Eric's nice gesture).

What a culinary month, indeed. Not only did I go to a restaurant in Lubbock, but during my road trip last week to see Martha and Alan in Carthage, MO, I joined them and a befriended couple at a fine-dining establishment at Springfield's Finley Farms, the Garrison. Lest you think of me as a total boor I did enjoy the menu, which gave me some ideas about what to try to replicate at home. Cooking is not rocket science, after all! The next night we had a Spanish-themed tasting dinner with two other couples; the meal was centered on an assortment of Austin's Antonelli's Cheese shop, brought to Missouri by Martha's monthly cheese club membership. August's dinner was hosted by Brady and Chanti in their charming home, and we were joined by Brook and Emily, who used to own a small gourmand store in Carthage, The Garde Manger.

To counteract the gluttony (we sampled not just the cheese, fruit, and homemade paella, ceviche, and elote but also various bottes of cava and vino that magically appeared in perfect pairings), Alan and I went for a couple of road rides, one of them together with Brady. The area around Carthage has lots of small country roads, and Beard Engine Brewing is only eight or so miles away, tucked away in the booming metropolis of Alba, population 521. 

It's a long haul from Lubbock to Carthage, almost exactly 650 miles one-way. It sure was nice when M&A still lived in Temple and I'd see them two or three times a year. On the way to Missouri I stopped for the night in Oklahoma City, in a Simply Suites by Sonesta that was located right off the North Canadian River bike trail. And wouldn't you know it, from my hotel it was just five miles via said trail to The Big Friendly, a microbrewery that has won twice Brewery of the Year accolades at GABF in Denver. The trail proved to be so much fun that I rode another 21 miles on Friday morning before heading north-east.

In Pryor, OK, I had paid a visit to Fat Toad Brewing and picked up a crowler of their Duke IPA, which came in handy during Spanish night. On the way home I routed myself through Stillwater, OK, in hopes of yet another ride or two, but the weather had turned sour Monday morning and I had to change plans. Nevertheless, I visited two other breweries, Stonecloud as well as the Iron Monk Brewing Company. Stillwater is an odd place with a university (OSU) with an enrollment of 26,000 students yet a non-student population of not even 50,000. Iron Monk is owned by some faculty members, but on Monday afternoon just a handful of regulars were hanging out and the two (student) servers were glad to forget about their boredom by engaging me in interesting conversation. Bright guys, they were, and the one-off and unadvertised Parking Lot IPA was excellent!

After a night in another Sonesta property, the incomparably run-down and vile America's Best Value Inn (whose proprietors had the audacity to charge my credit card $55.30 for a 100% free points stay—already disputed and refunded, but I still need to contact Sonesta because nobody should stay in a place like that), I loaded up Tuesday morning and drove the 410 miles back home to Lubbock for my follow-up appointment with Guy the next day. And thus the circle closes.

Stillwater's finest: America's Best Value Inn, by Sonesta

The lobby: note the bottles of perfume for sale as well as empty curry dishes

Stairs leading up to my room on the second level

Well-draining bathroom sink

Lots of bugs (actually moth larvae)

In-room fridge

The deluxe complimentary continental breakfast

Today is the start of our Labor Day weekend, and I'll be in town for another week before more races beckon. Last night a massive storm moved through Lubbock, with an amazing lightshow and some fierce thunder. The roads are wet, but the sun is starting to peek out and it will be a lovely afternoon and evening. I'll use the day to finish this blog entry and do a few things related to next weekend's Texas Road State Championship just outside of Austin and the two World Tour races in Quebec City and Montreal a few days later. Life moves on.

Jürgen

How Monster turns into a true Monster

What was supposed to be two weeks of a doubleheader mountain bike gravity assignments for me fizzled out early last week when on the way back from the first of the two races, at Solitude Mountain, UT, my heart suddenly went haywire and decided to go into atrial fibrillation. How come? Just two words: Monster Energy.

The title sponsor of the US Pro Downhill Series, which consists of a total of five events all over the nation, is Monster Energy. In hindsight, I ask myself how the makers of a drink that has put people into emergency rooms for years (without my knowing about it, but well-documented online) can have this kind of exposure in what is supposed to be a clean sport. Little did I know (my bad, really) how toxic energy drinks such as Monster and Red Bull (both connected to "extreme sports" and catering to a mainly young—and mostly male— crowd) really are. It took me two days in the Lubbock Heart Hospital to realize the full extend of the health hazard these concoctions of ingredients such as taurine, guarana, and of course caffeine present—all of it packaged into colorful cans that belittle the fact that these drinks have the very real potential to kill. But then, who is to argue with a multi-billion industry, right? Current estimates put it at a measly $75 billion worldwide, with a total of $235 billion projected by 2030.

I had arrived in Utah on Wednesday to familiarize myself with the venue, which was new to me, before official practice started on Thursday. With a little more than 400 athletes, this was definitely the largest downhill race I had ever worked. Solitude is less than an hour from Salt Lake City, in one of the various side canyons that house resorts such as Alta and Snowbird. It's a very pretty place with the typical ski resort amenities (and prices!) that one finds at a base elevation around 8,000 feet without a town nearby.

At the SLC airport I had hooked up with David, who had been assigned as assistant referee, while I was chief. Jess played an interesting double role as secretary and also race director. The race series is a well-oiled machine that largely runs on its own; series director Clay (I had worked one of his races on the East coast in 2023, Mountain Spring) knows his stuff, and there was no reason to try to reinvent the wheel or tell him how to run his race.

Dave and I roomed together in the Solitude Resort, an unusual arrangement for five nights for the PCP of a National Series race, but we got along well. He is a firefighter, ski patroller, and first responder who knows many of the players on the downhill circuit. His role during the race consisted of one basic task: Being stationed at the start house to supervise practice, seeding, and final runs. He was rock solid, and we developed a nice rapport, which was supposed to have been continued the following week at Big Bear, in California, during USA Cycling's Gravity Mountain Bike National Championships.

Well, I should have listend to Dave when he told me that Monster was bad shit. But, you know, people will tell you that hot dogs are bad shit, too, yet eating one or two will not put you into the hospital. And so I had one, sometimes two cans of the stuff (one of the various sugar free versions since the regular ones are total sugar bombs) to break the daylong routine of drinking water, and more water. I didn't try to get energy from the Monster Rehab Tea and Lemonade, just a different taste in my mouth.

I enjoyed my time at Solitude, and an unexpected visit by Holly and Richard, who had been in the area and saw a FB post of mine and spontaneously decided to say hi to their fellow USAC official, was a real highlight. I spent the every day on the mountain, walking the dusty, gnarly course and riding the lift up to take Dave his lunch (and a Monster as he was begging for caffeine). During the competition runs I was positioned in the finish area to decide on potential reruns for riders who had been affected by a crashed rider in front of them.

It was sunny and hot, we were high up in the mountains, and I was enjoying life. No need to go into any of the race details; if you'd like to see some of the action you should check out the official hour-long video of the Pro finals, a truly professional, fast-paced, and well-narrated production by the onsite video crew. As it turned out, two of them, Michael "the Mangler" and Tim gave me a ride to the airport on Monday morning, and I never let on that I suddenly got hit by what seemed to be a baseball bat or maybe even an iron crowbar. My shoulders and back and chest began to hurt during our drive to SLC, and I had no idea what was going on. Was this a heart attack? What was happening?

One can debate my decision to stay quiet during the remainder of our ride and not ask to be taken to the nearest emergency room. I remembered my broken hip four years ago in Mexico and how glad I was to make it home for treatment and rehab—I didn't want to get stuck all by my lonesome self in Salt Lake, even if I have numerous friends in Utah who undoubtedly would have tried to help out. And so I took a chance, hoping not to go into cardiac arrest on the plane and cause the bird to be diverted to the next airport. Believe me, there was a lot going through my head, and maybe it was foolish to stick it out.

The flight was torture. Thankfully, I had spent $235 out of my own pocket to upgrade the entire trip to First, but really, all I cared about was to make it to DFW. From there I called my friend Guy, the cardiologist who had taken care of me ten years ago when I had my aFib episode. He told me to immediately, upon having landed, head for the Lubbock Heart Hospital, where he would wait for me. Once in Lubbock, Sandy picked me up and took me to the ER. Some tests and a chest x-ray later it was clear that my heart rhythm was completely whacko. The excruciating pain was caused by my ticker having gone all day at 150 to 160 bpm. With meds things got better that night, within a few hours. 

I spent two nights in the hospital, taken care of by Sandy for the first four hours or so and then by friendly nurses and of course Guy, who checked on me Tuesday morning. Wednesday around noon I was discharged, still in aFib but with a bottle of amiodarone to eventually get me back in sync and a few boxes of Eliquis to make sure that I don't stroke out for the time being. At the time of this writing five days later, I'm still not completely in rhythm.

I was able to cancel (for a full refund) my Wednesday morning flight to Ontario, CA, where I had been scheduled to be on the crew for the Gravity Nationals, as mentioned. For the past several days I have been riding my bike, 25 to 28 miles each time, for which Guy cleared me at the time of discharge. I feel just fine, but my new Fitbit-like heart rate monitor (ordered while I was still in the hospital) shows some fluctuations still, although they are becoming less pronounced. Once I appear to be back in rhythm, Guy wants to conduct another ECG and a few other tests, just to be sure. Lest I forget: He told me that he sees a sharp spike in aFib in young males every year during finals time. Yep, that's the target group for Monster. 

Lesson learned.

Jürgen