I was stirred out of my dreams at 2 this morning by a throbbing in the joint of my big toe. It wasn’t an enormous amount of pain, but it was sufficient to make it difficult to get back to sleep. And, as I tossed and turned, there were definitely positions in which it was more comfortable and those in which it was less.
I was first diagnosed with high uric acid levels almost 20 years ago. I remember that the doctor was having difficulty recalling the word in English. He said he could remember it in German, so I asked him what it was. “Gicht,” came the answer. “Ah, I know that one,” I replied.
Gout. In Japanese, 痛風 (tsufu). I’d never had an episode despite being consistently diagnosed with high uric acid over the intervening years. Last year, at the doctor’s urging, I’d even made some progress just by drinking more water. But the lack of any symptoms had led me to be careless. Until now.
I hobbled to the doctor this morning (it’s not far, although walking with shoes was more difficult than hobbling around the home in slippers). He confirmed what I’d guessed. We had a talk and he ordered some blood tests.
That’s Janglish for “Doctor’s orders.” He said no more alcohol. Drink a lot more water. He even told me that my recent trips to the gym could contribute: I’m sweating a lot and not necessarily drinking enough water to compensate. Meanwhile, ice three times a day. Take my usual painkillers. And come back tomorrow for the results of the blood testing.
And this time I mean it!
I’ve been playing at cutting down on the drinking and losing weight. Now I’ve got to be serious about it. A flare-up would leave me helpless during a scheduled ride — the Tour de Tohoku or lejog, for example. And the only way to prevent that is to be good, and to be good consistently.
Why couldn’t he have told me to give up water and drink more Scotch?
Nana, my partner, has been egging me on for at least two years about this one. A charity event every September in Tohoku, with the proceeds to go to the reconstruction effort there. I’m not going to write a lot about it yet, but just make this post to consolidate some resources for future reference.
Departure: 石巻専修大学 (Ishinomaki College of Technology)
It’s got quite a climb just about at the halfway mark, so I need to sharpen my chops (and lose some weight) in preparation. But overall, it’s not a lot more climbing than we did recently on the Shimanami Kaido ride.
I just finished Paul’s account of his eight-day adventure from his home in Weardale to Inverness, covering more than 500 miles, and wondered if he’d posted the photos from his trip anywhere. Unfortunately it seems those photos aren’t included in the blog (let me know if I’ve overlooked them), but he does have photos and accounts of his recent 16-day, 1,556km ride from Thurso to St. Catherine’s Lighthouse. You can pick up the story from Day 00.
As for the book, it’s a delightful read. Paul doesn’t bore us with details about his gear, mentioning it only when it’s a part of his routine (such as an unusual number of punctures en route). Instead he focuses on the riding conditions, scenery and people he meets along the way, as well as his own challenges in rising to the goal he’s set himself.
The book contains a number of priceless asides, such as the reason he prefers youth hostels to B&Bs. And this gem from a text exchange he had while on the road:
The little planning I did before the ride paid off handsomely, and we enjoyed amazingly good weather and cherry blossoms in full bloom. The views — particularly the Seto Inland Sea from the bridges — were breathtaking, and we were simply too at peace on the road to stop and take enough photos.
We arrived in Onomichi about 10 a.m. following a three-and-a-half-hour ride on the shinkansen and then a brief ride on a crowded JR local train. We soon found Giant Store Onomichi, just a few dozen meters past the Go Shimanami Rental Bikes outlet. The staffer who served us was polite and thorough, presenting us with a multi-page English guide to safety regulations, riding tips and rental conditions. We went for the option to add a spare inner tube and a toolset for ¥500 each. He then spent a few minutes demonstrating the operation of the bike shifters, and adjusted the saddle height for us. He also allowed us to use the store’s fitting room to change. As a finishing touch, we received guides to ferry departure times and to various shops along the route we could call on if we needed emergency repairs.
The first leg of the Shimanami Kaido Cycling Road was a very short ferry ride from Onomichi to Mukaishima, at a cost of ¥100 per adult plus ¥10 per cycle. (The Shin Onomichi Bridge is not open to pedestrian or cycle traffic.) While on the ferry we noticed other riders with the mini-velo bikes from the Go Shimanami rental outlet, and from the looks of them we were reassured that we had made the right choice. It’s true that Giant store only offers two locations to drop off the bikes (Onomichi and Imabari), compared to 14 for Go Shimanami, but the list of emergency shops we could call on made up for a good deal of that difference. And the differences in the condition of the bikes made it no competition — the Giants were the perfect bikes for the trip.
From the dock it was just 100m or so before we joined the Cycling Road and began our journey, following the blue stripe and course markings. However, we soon discovered the only short-coming of our lightweight Giant bikes, and it was a painful revelation. The seats were narrow plastic with no padding and little, if any, give. They were obviously meant to be ridden with thickly padded cycling shorts, while I had only a thin liner and my son had only gym shorts. Within a few kilometers, we were standing on the pedals and then sitting down again with trepidation.
In any case, we soldiered on. It wasn’t long before we came to the ramparts of the first bridge of the course, the Innoshima Bridge. There we found a winding but gradual cycle path (motor scooters up to 125cc also use the path) with a 3% rise over a distance of a bit more than 1km. We dropped down to the lower gears and had no difficulty with the climb. Within a couple of minutes we were at the top, 30m higher above the Seto Inland Sea and ready to traverse our first crossing. Each of the bridges is different, as we found, and the Innoshima features a separate span below the main roadway for the Cycling Road. Once across, we had a similar winding cycle path on which to play slalom racer until we were back down nearer sea level.
Riding across the islands was a mixture of seaside vistas, nearly abandoned industrial zones (mostly construction, from the looks of it) and rural scenery. There were occasional climbs exceeding the 3% grade of the bridge ramparts, but these tended to be short. At various points along the route we had the choice of riding a sidewalk marked for cycling or along the blue stripe in the road. There are a couple of reasons to prefer the roadway, though: the sidewalks tended to be bumpier — at one point they were made of paving blocks — and include a number of obstacles, and sometimes shrubbery or fences block the view of the distance and directional markers painted at intervals along the blue stripe. We found that drivers along the course are very courteous to cyclists, and in the end we preferred the road to the sidewalks (except when we were moving so slowly that we thought we’d be a traffic hazard).
We’d set out at 11 a.m. from Onomichi (after the time spent getting the bikes and changing), so it was nearly 1 p.m. before we stopped for lunch at a small Chinese diner at the side of the road. We weren’t expecting much from the looks of the place, but the food was good and filling, and the waitress cheerfully let us fill our water bottles from the drinking water dispenser.
After lunch the pain in our backsides starting taking its toll, and my son in particular began lagging. I found myself stopping every half kilometer or so to let him catch up, and so I finally let him take the lead. After all, he knew the route as well as I did: we simply followed the blue line and the directional markings. As I followed along, I heard him giving himself a pep talk with each new rise we encountered. “Here we go,” he’d say, or “We got this. Come on.” He told me his inner thighs were aching, but he also ascribed it to the painful saddle. As he continued to meet each climb, including the ramparts of each bridge as we came to it, I concluded the issue was at least partly psychological.
For my part, I had some tenderness in my hands from riding on the brake hoods, but no problem with numbness (as I often experience with my usual ride, Ol’ Paint). My backside was tender but my thighs were in fine shape. I could easily ride up each hill or bridge rampart by simply dropping to the lower gears, and at no point did I find myself wishing for an even lower gear to get up the rise — even when we rode through the pass on Omishima that was a prelude to approaching the bridge. An older local who passed us together with his two granddaughters shouted encouragement: Climbing is hard, eh? It wasn’t really, apart from my son’s issue with his saddle and his thighs.
Even slowpokes eventually near their goal, and about 4:45 p.m. we found ourselves at the southwestern point of Oshima, resting before the climb up to the last bridge of the day: the 4km Kurushima-Kaikyo Bridge. As we’d already crossed into Ehime at this point, we were delighted to discover that the prefectural mascot is a mikan-looking dog named Mikyan, and he has his own nemesis (Dark Mikyan)!
The approach to the Kurushima-Kaikyo Bridge starts off as the others, with a winding cycle-only path on a 3% grade, but it soon leaves terra firma behind and continues as a pair of free-standing spirals circling upwards to the bridge surface. Riding along the bridge affords amazing vistas over the Seto Inland Sea to either side, although the length of the bridge soon becomes daunting. “Aren’t we done with this bridge yet?” we found ourselves thinking. Fear not: in good time we found ourselves on the longest and twistiest yet downhill which took us onward into our destination of Imabari port. Having rolled off the descending path, though, we found ourselves with a few more kilometers of city traffic to bike through towards our final destination (the Imabari train station) and we were glad for a change to stick to the sidewalks — at least where they were clearly marked for cycling and free of obstacles.
Over a much-deserved dinner and frothy, we discussed our options for the return. We’d planned to simply bike back on Sunday the same way we came, but it was obvious our backsides were in pain. We could ride a bit more than halfway back, to Setoda port on Ikuchijima, and take a ferry the rest of the way to Onomichi. Or we could take a ferry right from Imabari, which would put us within a 25km ride of the goal. The final option was to wait until the Imabari Giant Store opened and leave the bikes there (for an additional fee) and return via a combination of ferry and bus. We wisely decided to sleep on it.
In the morning, after a quick hotel breakfast, we quickly came to our decision: take the ferry from Imabari to Habu, on Innoshima, and bike the remaining 25km. The ferry terminal in Imabari Port was within walking distance of the hotel, and we quickly purchased our tickets: ¥1,750 per adult and an additional ¥570 per bicycle. The ferry ride was an uneventful hour-and-15-minute ride, with several stops along the way before we were deposited at Habu port. From there we mounted up and simply kept the sea on our left for a few kilometers before rejoining the cycling course.
The final leg home went smoothly. My son had recharged a bit overnight, although I still found him giving his thighs pep talks as we wound our way up the few hills remaining. At long last we came into Onomichi Port, and once again took the two-minute ferry ride back to the mainland.
Friends have been asking if I’d ride this route again. The answer? In a flash! Even knowing that I might not be as lucky with the weather and the cherry blossoms next time around. I’d make sure I have proper shorts to suit the hard bike saddle, and I might book a better hotel in Imabari even if it means a bit of a longer ride at the end of the first day. As for my son, he’s vowed to get in more miles on the bike nearer to home before we take on the challenge.