http://kendrickmills.com/index.htmlDad's Blogenlkmills@gmail.comCopyright 2008-2010 L Kendrick Mills2011-07-05T22:36:22-05:00 hourly 1 2000-01-01T12:00+00:00 Tue, 05 Aug 2008 21:40:18 -0500lkmills@gmail.comCycling2011-07-05T22:36:22-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/Hayter_Gap_climb.html#unique-entry-id-26http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/Hayter_Gap_climb.html#unique-entry-id-26I was looking to suffer. For some reason, this cycling season I was motivated to get better at climbing. Hills are simple: there they are, now go up to the top on your bicycle. You either make it or you don’t. The outcome is binary. But the variables constituting each hill are infinite: length, grade, weather, road surface, as well as the cyclist’s fitness, all blend into the individual character of the particular climb.

We were on a family vacation in southwest Virginia. I had not scheduled any activities for the kids on the morning of the 4th of July. At 5:45 am I got out of bed at the hotel, gathered my gear, and drove to Emory & Henry College near Meadowview, VA. From a previous internet search I had set my sights on Hayter’s Gap, a nearby route over a ridge of the low mountains north of I-81. The weather was clearing after an early am shower and the temperature lingered about 68. After hydration and caffeination I set off.

Because of the holiday there was almost no traffic. I was passed by less than five cars on the out leg. I saw more birds than people. Even the dogs were still asleep-not a single bark. It was serenely quiet, just the sound of the pedals, the wind in my ears, my breathing. The route initially descended into the Holston River valley and when I crossed the bridge over the water I knew the warmup was over. The houses gradually disappeared, the woods closed in over the roadway, and the curves began. The higher I climbed, the slower I went, until the last cog on the cassette was reached. Every 20 to 50 yards the road curved away, around the corner and up. Always up. I prayed that each next curve would be “the one”-the one that disappeared over the top instead of revealing yet another stretch of up. I alternated sitting and standing out of the saddle. I chanted on successive revolutions of the right pedal, then the left, using the Jesus prayer, then the names of my children, then counting, and finally nothing, nothing except the turning.

I was tempted. Places where I could pull off the road beckoned. I came close to quitting. But my training to date was just enough to keep me aerobic at the turtle-like pace I was keeping up the climb. There was a small cabin on my left. I started to see more blue sky through the trees, and I knew I was close. But how close? I gave up hoping on the next curve, and began to just accept the effort for what it was. It had its own way, one that anticipation could not alter. And then, there was a sign-literally, a road sign marking the county line at the apex,
and the sunlight glistened on the downhill slope of the descent on the far side. I pulled over to the side of the road and my quivering legs gave thanks.

The descent was quite a thrill as well, since there were so many switchbacks and hairpins. I kept my hands on the brakes and by no means was it a TDF performance but I got to practice following a line through the curve, keeping my head up and sighting my way out of the turns. I took a leisurely pace back to my car and savored my small but discrete achievement in the ages-old story of man vs. nature-aided by carbon fiber, low gears, and good weather.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCycling2010-10-04T07:33:46-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/5e3d5dae549efb4a09919e0587386596-25.html#unique-entry-id-25http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/5e3d5dae549efb4a09919e0587386596-25.html#unique-entry-id-25At the beginning of the cycling season, my riding buddy Rob and I decided on a goal: we would finish the Jack N’ Back charity bike ride in October. Well, we did. After doing several other rides together this season, we both decided this one was the biggest, the best organized, and the most satisfying to complete. For the sake of brevity, I will make a list:

• Lots and lots of volunteers, probably hundreds, at rest stops, manning the wrenches, serving food, helping at registration, standing at turns, protecting us at intersections, clapping, encouraging, directing, and thanking us repeatedly for riding in this event.
• Excellent organization, from the luggage train segregated by bib number, twist ties supplied for the bike numbers, early packet pickup to reduce ride day congestion, perfect road markings, police stationed at all major intersections stopping traffic even 30 miles into the ride, etc.
• Enthusiasm of the volunteers and rest stop helpers.
• Great lunch stop: plenty of room, large cafeteria, enough bathrooms.
• Large number of riders on a long course-one was never alone on the road not in sight of another ride, a psychological comfort
• I have never seen so many sag wagons-seems like they passed me every 5-10 miles
• The Gatorade and water never ran out (has happened at other rides)

A few personal observations:

1. I am glad I installed my new cassette with a larger big cog: though the hills were moderate, the longest one was at the end of the first day, a half mile before the finish
2. I’m also glad I spent three or four hours tuning up the derailleurs on my bike before the ride:although I made several mistakes in the process, once I had it zeroed in, the shifting was flawless during the ride: no skips, rattles, or clunks, no lost chains even when I mistakenly tried to down shift off the small chainring, for example.
3. Riding into the wind for 50+ miles is a real test of determination, mostly psychological I think, and the discomforting knowledge that the same power output into the pedals results in forward velocity at least 2-3 mph less.
4. Riders come in all shapes, sizes and outfits. One elderly rider had computer speakers mounted under his saddle broadcasting classical symphonic music. One recumbent rider went the whole 75 miles using only his arms and a top-mounted crank arrangement. Two guys rode unicycles! (Somebody said those guys are so good on one wheel, please don’t give them two...) Obese women rode mountain bikes at ten mph. Skinny guys dressed in identical kits hammered past in large TDF-like mini-pelotons. Women in bright green stockings, women on completely pink bikes, women with fuschia flapping skirts and high-viz jerseys, all provided a little extra color.

In summary, it was a great way to end a season of cycling in which I got fitter, learned more about my bike, achieved a goal, and had a lot of fun in the process. Please take a look at some of the photos in the gallery, too.
]]>lkmills@gmail.comPhotography2010-09-25T21:04:29-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/682f441e5145106b2d82386fb582a0fa-24.html#unique-entry-id-24http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/682f441e5145106b2d82386fb582a0fa-24.html#unique-entry-id-24lkmills@gmail.comCycling2010-09-22T06:41:22-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/nightrider_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-23http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/nightrider_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-23

• 2 watt Blaze headlight
• blinking red taillight
• reflective left arm band
• reflective mesh vest
• shoes with reflective heel tab

Plus, by that time in the ride I was on roads with very wide shoulders. I felt as if
was actually more visible than I am during the daytime. I returned to my starting point without mishap. As I finished the last couple of miles, I was on Lower Station Camp Creek Road


View Larger Map
which runs along a wide brook. White men have been using this route for over 200 years in this community. There were few lights, the nearly full moon was peeking behind the clouds, and the only sounds were from the evening bugs and the nearly silent drivetrain of my bicycle. I felt as if I was skimming along the surface of the earth, a silent observer of the nighttime gifts, exerted but only with pleasure, a grateful recipient of the moment’s graces.
]]>lkmills@gmail.comFamily2010-09-19T20:40:10-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/vacation_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-22http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/vacation_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-22Vacation is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, you’re away from the work routine. On the other, there are extra stressors: traveling to and from the destination, deciding about activities, spending money, odd food, irregular sleep patterns, and site-specific hazards. In the latter case, at the beach for example, one could include sunburn, biting flies, bedbugs, sand scrapes, and too much alcohol. Oh, and if you take children the list expands exponentially. For example, if the children are not off from school, you might try to take the assignments for the week with you to the beach along with all of their textbooks, workbooks, pencils, erasers, paper, protractors, and assorted supplies. Then try to get kids at the beach to actually do homework-Ha! Or you could just give up and resolve to finish at home, with the following result:



So my advice is: don’t take any vacations until there are no children along. . . but then that would only be about half as much fun, right? Right?

]]>lkmills@gmail.comMedical2010-09-02T22:39:56-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/Medical_procedures_art.html#unique-entry-id-21http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/Medical_procedures_art.html#unique-entry-id-21Knowing when to stop

There’s a delicate balance in medicine when performing a procedure on the human body. Each patient is different; human biology is not stereotyped despite vast homogeneity of physiological principles. In attempting to reach a therapeutic objective one has to gauge how hard to try, when to push, when to let up, when to quit.

Coronary intervention is no different. Here’s a general guide to the technique. Study this description for a while and then come back.

OK, you studied, now you’re ready? Recently I had a patient with recurrent angina despite the best in medication therapy. We decided to perform a diagnostic coronary angiogram to examine his native coronary arteries as well as his bypass grafts ( he had undergone previous bypass surgery many years previous). Turns out there was a severe blockage in the native coronary artery supplying the bottom part of his heart. At the outset, it looked straightforward: about a 90-95% narrowing but in an accessible region of the artery with a reasonable diameter to the vessel. So I began. The first clue was that it was difficult to find a guiding catheter that stayed put. Although the guide wire went down easily, every time I tried to advance a balloon, the guide catheter disengaged from the artery back out into the aorta. I then tried multiple different combinations of guide catheter, wire, double wires, shorter balloons, smaller balloons mixed with small aliquots of cursing, praying, and hoping. It looked doable, and I didn’t want to give up. Fortunately the patient was stable and not symptomatic during the procedure. At one point, I actually managed to make the artery worse with the initial severely limited flow now being no flow at all-that is not a good thing. The staff in the room were getting restless, and I was wondering where the risk/benefit ratio now was. Every new combination of hardware meant more time, more fluoroscopy, more radiation, more contrast potentially toxic to the kidneys, and more frustration. Every re-engagement of the guide catheter increased the risk of dissection. Every new wire brought the hazard of perforation. But the patient had not been helped yet.

Finally, with a certain combination of catheter, two wires, smaller balloon, and perseverance, I managed to get the balloon across the lesion and inflated. Stenting followed with a good result. The patient was quiet and without complaints. Everyone in the room was relieved to be done.

Similar scenarios occur in any medical procedure. Sometimes you can’t get it done. Sometimes the result isn’t perfect. Sometimes you violate the principle of “primum non nocere” because taking no risk means getting no useful improvement. “The enemy of good is ‘better’”, a wag once uttered. But the enemy of bad is sometimes gritty effort with measured calculation-where’s the philosopher for that one?]]>lkmills@gmail.comCycling2010-08-23T07:37:08-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/ef4f83bc6ad8afd392ee8180fdbc05b4-20.html#unique-entry-id-20http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/ef4f83bc6ad8afd392ee8180fdbc05b4-20.html#unique-entry-id-20Easy Rider

After 100 km on the bike yesterday (see H.O.T. ride entry) I decided to ride again the day after, partly because I’ve read that’s a better recovery strategy than a rest day, and partly because I need to do back-to-back distance days in preparation for “Jack N’ Back” in October. But I also remember the observation that most amateur riders “ride too easy on hard days and too hard on easy days”. So I decided to ride really easy.

I went about 25 miles. It was near sunset when I began and the last 30 minutes were in the dark, but I had a bright headlight (Planet Bike ***) and blinking tailight, plus I wore a reflective vest. I never got out of the lower chainring except on descents. I consciously slowed my cadence and never pushed up any hill. It was a very enjoyable ride. There was no pressure, no calculation about pace or timing; indeed I felt as if I was just sauntering around the county. I sort of made up the route as I went, which made for even more serendipity. The frogs were singing, crickets chirping, traffic generally light (all the good people were in Sunday evening church meeting), weather pleasurable with the sun down and a gentle breeze.

We need to occasionally do less, not more, in our quest for improvement.]]>lkmills@gmail.comFamily2010-08-08T07:24:15-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/bird_extraction_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-19http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/bird_extraction_blog_post.html#unique-entry-id-19The cats bring home trophies. Often they’re dead, but sometimes they’re still alive. (My friend Rob says killing the prey decreases the “toy” quotient for the cat) So on Vikki’s birthday, August 7, I come back from my bike ride and hear a fluttering in the corner of the great room. It’s intermittent, but the cats are clearly interested in the sound. Since I’m busy cooking breakfast in bed for VLM I don’t give it much thought. Later, I get the full story pieced together from the family. The day before Mitzi the cat had brought a semi-dead bird into the house at which point she promptly dropped the poor thing out of her mouth. Off the bird flew up to the safety of the alcove above the built-in bookcases.

The problem was, the builder of the bookcases had left a space on the wall side of the alcove between the drywall and the vertical side of the bookcase. Poof! Into the space went the bird and down, down, down it fell to the bottom-ten feet below. It couldn’t fly up the space, but the bird began making pitiful sounding cheeps from its new prison cell. The cats immediately went to investigate but obviously couldn’t find it. I kept hearing a muffled little sound but thought the bird was either outside or in the workshop below. Finally, we had Greg go up the ladder and ascertain that there was a space at the lateral aspect of the alcove big enough for a bird to fly into.

Then the planning began. How to get the bird out? There is no space in a house that cannot be reached if the proper tools are available. I took out the drawers at the bottom of the bookcase and started making holes with the jigsaw. The first one, in the bottom panel, yielded no bird. The second one, in the vertical side panel, yielded sparks. Sparks? Yikes I thought I’ve hit an electrical cable and nearly electrocuted myself. Is a small wounded bird worth dying for? I altered my cut and completed the hole without visible electrical burns on my skin. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough space between the side panel and the drywall to allow much of a viewing angle. So I made the hole bigger. Finally, with a flashlight, I was able to see the poor bird at the bottom of the space, covered in sawdust and looking very forlorn.

Next problem: My arm was too big to reach into the narrow space. So I enlisted Helen, age 8, who initially said sure, she would try it. Just as she was about to reach into the narrow space with her little arm, she paused, turned to me, and asked “But are there spiders in there?” Once the thought came, it could not be banished. So Helen bailed. Next I recruited Anna, who bravely put her hand (I did give her a work glove to wear) into the space, down to the bottom, only to declare “There’s no bird, Dad” What!? Sure enough, when I looked again with the flashlight, the bird had disappeared! What the heck?

On closer inspection with the light, I spied a small crevice in the drywall where it made its junction with the wood flooring. The shoe molding had been removed and left a space just big enough for the terrified little bird to scurry into, away from the bright lights, human voices, and buzzing jigsaws, and into the space between the studs behind the drywall. But now what to do? Was I going to have to tear out the drywall between the studs, too, just for a little bird?

Mercifully, with a little bit of time, the bird came back out on its own outside the drywall and back into the space between the vertical bookcase panel and the sheetrock. We heard it squeak again, so Anna reached down and got ahold of the little thing, and brought it out. Hooray!

We knew the cat had mauled the bird bringing it inside, and we knew the bird had been without food or water for at least 24 hours, (plus we had seen small spots of bird blood on the drywall from its wounds,) so we assumed it would be pretty well decompensated. While Anna carefully cupped the sparrow in her hands and took it outside, we thought it was probably going to die. As Anna unclasped her hands to show the bird to Vikki, the little sparrow, sensing its freedom at last, promptly flew off to the safety of the hedge.

So, apart from two large holes in my oak bookcase, the endeavor ended well. I spent the last half hour of the effort cutting and fastening pieces of 1X4 pine boards across the openings in the alcove where the whole adventure had begun.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCycling2010-08-22T15:15:41-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/HOT_Ride.html#unique-entry-id-18http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/HOT_Ride.html#unique-entry-id-18The 20th annual H.O.T. (Heart of Tennessee) ride sponsored by Murfreesboro Outdoor and Bike (MOAB) was yesterday and I rode the 100 km “metric century” with my friend Rob Lennon. Had to get up at 4 am just to brew a cup of coffee, have a piece of toast, and get to Rob’s house by 5 am. It was an hour to Lacassas Elementary school where the event was staged. There was plenty of parking, efficient check-in, more coffee and bagels, but not enough bathrooms for pre-race necessities (when there’s a line in the men’s room you know there’s a problem). I was looking for a last minute toilet when the race was starting and so we were one of the last ones out of the parking lot. There were probably 400 cyclists or so. The weather was cloudy and about 73 degrees, but the humidity was high.The first few miles were easy flats on country roads, but like all these rides, when your in a group of cyclist one tends to go faster so I had to consciously limit my speed remembering that I usually make the mistake of going out too fast. Even so, at about 15 miles, my legs felt a little heavy and I thought “this is not a good sign at less than 1/4 of the way to the finish”. There was a rest stop at mile 17 or so, with a mass of cyclists and bikes and a too-long line for the water and HEED (electrolyte drink).
We got back on our bikes and the little rolling hills started to increase. Our next landmark was the little town of Woodbury, TN, because we knew from the route map that the major hill of the ride started just outside of town. It started off easily enough, but the curving little swale just kept going and going and going. At one spot, a cyclist had dropped his bike on someone’s lawn and laid himself out on his back, gasping for air. I was too damn dyspneic myself to even ask him if he was OK (though I heard him reply in the affirmative to someone’s inquiry behind me). At the top, there were several “false summits” but at last we saw a van ahead laying out water bottles and ice and knew this had to be the apex. All told, we climbed about 500 feet in a little over 3 miles-the longest climb I’ve ever done.

After rehydrating and refilling our bottles, we took off down the descent on the other side of the ridge we had just climbed. What a glorious feeling, to have the wind whistling past your ears and your freewheel singing at over 40 mph! At the bottom of the hill there was a bone-jarring stretch of road for several miles with a terrible rough surface but the legs felt good and we averaged 18-19 mph along this stretch. Nest was the little town of Statesville and the next rest stop at the Grange. It included water, HEED, brownies, bananas, pastries, fruit, a large industrial-size fan blowing air in the shade, and a Tennessee Walking Horse! (One of the locals was prancing his steed up and down the road there and came over to see what all the commotion was about).

At this point in the ride (43 miles or so) I was feeling pretty good and the next several miles went well. Then, at about 55 miles, my legs started complaining enhanced by the topography which included seemingly an endless series of little rolling hills that individually weren’t bad but collectively took their toll. At one point, about five miles from the end, I heard another cyclist on the road next to me say “I am just hilled out”. It rained briefly which actually felt good and Rob went on ahead of me when I started to falter, but at last the school came into view and I pedaled into the parking lot.

There was a spaghetti dinner being served, but neither one of us wanted to eat, so we just got some cold water, changed into fresh clothes, and headed home. My final tally: 66.5 miles at an average pace (while riding) of 16.6 mph. Estimated calories burned: 2886 Estimated fluid intake during ride: 200+ fluid oz.

The web site: http://www.mborobike.com/ridecalendar/hot100.php

The route: http://ridewithgps.com/routes/107001]]>lkmills@gmail.comwoodworking2010-06-02T22:44:44-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/a5463ff4fdc5409dcf9617d820f58174-17.html#unique-entry-id-17http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/a5463ff4fdc5409dcf9617d820f58174-17.html#unique-entry-id-17
And here is my classroom. I converted a 24 x 26 ft irregularly shaped garage

into a pretty spacious woodshop like so

. One of my main considerations was adequate lighting-and there is lots, with 42 and 105 watt CFL bulbs laid out in a alternating grid on the ceiling

.
Each size of light has its own circuit so that I can turn on one size only or both at once for maximum light output. I also wanted plenty of electricity capacity including 220 volt outlets for possible future energy needful machines like a big jointer or central dust collection system.

I had an electrical subpanel installed for that purpose

. The top part of the walls is drywall and the bottom is exterior grade beadboard sheeting. To allow safe use of the vertical studs I made sure the electrical runs were only in the bottom half of the walls so I can nail or screw into the studs without risk of electrocution.

And so the adventure begins. ]]>lkmills@gmail.comFamilyRecreation2009-01-25T08:32:04-06:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/global_puzzle_post.html#unique-entry-id-16http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/global_puzzle_post.html#unique-entry-id-16Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comBooks2009-01-01T17:15:54-06:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/e614b37e5414a836705f75402ff9bcb2-14.html#unique-entry-id-14http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/e614b37e5414a836705f75402ff9bcb2-14.html#unique-entry-id-14Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comSportsParenting2009-01-01T13:23:40-06:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/dce7cac32aba99474871236e412961a1-13.html#unique-entry-id-13http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/dce7cac32aba99474871236e412961a1-13.html#unique-entry-id-13Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCyclingMusings2008-10-27T23:10:08-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/197e4b8ecea0a7f6ca687dbb51156cbe-11.html#unique-entry-id-11http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/197e4b8ecea0a7f6ca687dbb51156cbe-11.html#unique-entry-id-11Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCyclingMedical2008-09-22T19:08:05-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/clavicle_fractur_post.html#unique-entry-id-10http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/clavicle_fractur_post.html#unique-entry-id-10Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCyclingMedical2008-09-19T21:37:21-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/56eef60ff60e69cad3da703fdb9b3e0c-9.html#unique-entry-id-9http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/56eef60ff60e69cad3da703fdb9b3e0c-9.html#unique-entry-id-9Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comMedicalWork2008-08-27T22:21:11-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/54699a6e03390dcaf53d5427525d9bac-8.html#unique-entry-id-8http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/54699a6e03390dcaf53d5427525d9bac-8.html#unique-entry-id-8Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comCyclingMaps2008-08-19T20:38:21-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/3a4c74ff6d0a8b42dae088d4a254f95b-7.html#unique-entry-id-7http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/3a4c74ff6d0a8b42dae088d4a254f95b-7.html#unique-entry-id-7Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comWorkMedicalMusings2008-08-18T22:35:23-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/f25bfdee34b21f5dfcc7f518c46f07b3-5.html#unique-entry-id-5http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/f25bfdee34b21f5dfcc7f518c46f07b3-5.html#unique-entry-id-5Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comFamilyProductivity2008-08-13T19:50:05-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/238ad3d6dfd597a4b7447dd6f4d4b0f6-4.html#unique-entry-id-4http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/238ad3d6dfd597a4b7447dd6f4d4b0f6-4.html#unique-entry-id-4Summary only available when permalinks are enabled.]]>lkmills@gmail.comMedicalWork2008-08-11T17:24:39-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/0f5e1c4586617be9e92784e58583fa80-3.html#unique-entry-id-3http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/0f5e1c4586617be9e92784e58583fa80-3.html#unique-entry-id-3

Obese people can’t exercise easily, which only compounds the difficulty in losing weight, since most studies have shown that exercise is a requisite for permanent successful weight control.

It may prevent needed diagnostic studies--there are weight limits for the tables used in medical imaging, for example. Even if one is under the weight limit, the bigger the patient the worse the quality of the study--fat scatters X-rays and exacerbates artifacts.

High blood pressure is difficult or impossible to control

Diabetes is difficult or impossible to control

Cholesterol levels are difficult or impossible to control

Obese patients wind up taking lots of medicines, sometimes ten or fifteen or even twenty different agents-expensive!

It promotes blood clots in the legs and lungs--potentially fatal

Obesity increases the risk of heart disease independently of other risk factors

It increases the risk of arthritis and early joint replacement

Chronic low back pain and accelerated arthritis can lead to painkiller addiction

We live in a food toxic environment with many people never doing more than going from car to house and back to car--a recipe for ever-expanding waistlines and more of the above.

]]>lkmills@gmail.comCycling2008-08-05T22:13:25-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/70e9cb02568c1a7560821d0a15685d90-2.html#unique-entry-id-2http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/70e9cb02568c1a7560821d0a15685d90-2.html#unique-entry-id-2much better. The remainder of the ride was pleasant (after one short but gut-wrenching steep hill) and I returned home a bout 9 am after 28+ miles. I savored my sense of accomplishment. My ride didn’t interfere with the rest of the family’s activities because save one they were all still asleep when I returned. So the lesson (learned again and again): start your day with something you want to accomplish, get it done, move on with your day. The key is to start early. Getting the lazy butt out of bed is the biggest hurdle, but it’s worth it.

]]>lkmills@gmail.comCyclingHumor2008-08-05T21:42:00-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/ec20658f3672a7b109fa36fb7a4b4621-1.html#unique-entry-id-1http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/ec20658f3672a7b109fa36fb7a4b4621-1.html#unique-entry-id-1
Some recent observations and sights while cyling:

* A flock of at least 25 turkey chicks scrambling behind Mom Turkey around a pond near Hendersonville
* A woman at 6 am walking one small dog and pushing a 1950s style baby carriage with her other small dog in the carriage!
* A beautiful sequence of irrigation sprinklers spewing misty spray by the side of the road
* A quick red brown fox carrying breakfast back to her kits in the den
* Large man in large truck pulls up next to me at a traffic light, leans out the window while we’re waiting and says “Yeah, you might as well bring your shavin’ kit to this light cuz’ it takes so long . . .”


]]>lkmills@gmail.comCycling2008-07-21T21:41:00-05:00http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/97e632cd041cf5c57c371d0eb8864c8a-0.html#unique-entry-id-0http://kendrickmills.com/Sites/KendrickMills.com/Blog/Blog_files/97e632cd041cf5c57c371d0eb8864c8a-0.html#unique-entry-id-0Today I commuted on my bicycle to work for the first time. I had been meaning to try it for some time, but just finally got motivated enough to begin. The process required me to leave a change of clothes beforehand at my local office, the only one close enough to home (six miles) to make this commuting idea practical. Then I had to remember to take all of my little tools to work with me on the bike: beeper, cell phone, ink pens, patient census cards, eyeglasses, and hospital ID. I wondered how I would get all of them into my jersey pockets until I remembered my Camelbak hydration pack hanging up in the closet. After taking out the bladder, I had plenty of room for these items in a convenient on-my-back solution.

So I was ready. I figured it would take between 20 and 30 minutes to get to work, but I was worried about the traffic, since for most of my other bike rides I am going at non-peak hours, either earlier in the day before driving to work or on the weekend.


Thus I started. Traffic was manageable and I had a pretty good shoulder to ride on for most of the commute until I got to the last mile or so when the road narrowed. There weren't any problems, though, and I pulled up at my office building ready for the transition to the work day.

Unfortunately I had picked one of the hottest most humid Tennessee summer days to begin this venture. After I wheeled my bike into the office and parked it in the server closet, I went into the bathroom to change clothes. There the sweating began. When you're on the bike you don't notice sweat too much because the wind is flowing past. Once you stop, however, perspiration pours out. Did I mention that there wasn't any shower at the office? I thought I could just wash off with a wet cloth. I didn't smell too bad, but even after 20 minutes I was still soaked. The day was getting on, though, and I had to go to work. So I disgustingly pulled on my pants, shirt, socks and proceeded to work. At the very first nurses station, someone asked me what happened--that's when I realized the back of my shirt was soaked through with sweat. On I went, and it was an hour at least before my perspiration output returned to normal levels. I just had to keep the shirt on until it dried. The trip home in the afternoon was fine, but when I got home and just pulled off my jersey, socks and shoes before jumping into the pool with the kids.

Two days later I did it again, only it was cooler and I didn't sweat quite as much.

I felt great not driving for two work days out of the week. Now I just need to figure out a better system of hygiene! ]]>