Tag Archives: #Me

Headed NORTH!

I’m headed to Nova Scotia!

Found out last night that I will be heading to Nova Scotia in place of my boss Wednesday Morning.  The flights are terribly long with lots of stops but I’ve never been and I’m pretty excited.  I will post on my instagram (dirthillphoto) and twitter (@fitnessclyde) as much as I can and hope to have some amazing posts when I get back on Monday.  I’m looking to eat clean with lots of fresh seafood and keep travel snacks down. I feel I’ve made progress and don’t want to ruin it right before a progress report on Monday…..

Wish me luck!

Me and my collarbone

collarboneTime to catch you up on current events.  Names will be omitted to protect the innocent. On Memorial Day weekend this year I went down to St. Michaels for some holiday fun.  The first event of many was to meet Saturday night at the The Crab Claw.  The Crab Claw is a St. Michaels landmark and has some of the best blue crab on the eastern shore.  LO and I had a blast eating, catching up and carrying on.  We finished up around 7:30pm and headed to the house.

The house is on a good bit of land and as I was driving down the lane, a friend of mine popped out of the bushes on a tiny bike and raced me down the rest of the lane.  Getting to the house there were multiple bikes available so I hopped out of my truck and jumped on one to catch up to my friend.

This being said I had never been to this property before and it was getting dark.  Chasing after him with little light, and even less intelligence, the trail went left and I hurled through the air going straight.  This is when things get a little blurry and some of the following events have been complied from witnesses.  I remember an unbalanced fast blurred motion that resulted in hitting the ground and sliding.  I knew I landed pretty hard on my shoulder and had a horrible suspicion.

I quickly (or what felt quickly) got up and searched for the bike.  Finding it I picked it up and started walking back to the house… that is after I found my Sanuks that had flown off my feet.  I got within ten feet of LO and my friends when I looked at them and said I think I broke my collarbone.  This would be the second time that night I hit the floor.

Yep I passed out and came to as they were carrying me to the bed of a truck.  As they sat me down on the tailgate everyone was all crowded around me.  Unaware that I had even passed out I told them to calm down and I was fine.  This is the point I passed out for the second time.  This time they were positioned to catch me.  When I came to, all I remember is seeing another truck fly up and open its door and in I went, I was off to the hospital!

The whole ride the driver was asking me who I was, were I was and are you hot are you cold.  LO was in the back doing the best she could to stay calm and down the road we went. At the hospital I won the prize of priority and was seen almost immediately, being shuttled back in a wheel chair much to the joy of my friend.  He still feels he did an excellent job and I can’t say otherwise.  We will be administering you morphine. Well okay! Off went the shirt, stabilize this, CAT scan and X-ray that.  I was there for around 3 hours, put in a sling and sent with directions to see an orthopedic surgeon as soon as I could.

Making it back to the house I took the walk of shame and a justified amount of Evel Knievel jokes.  I wanted to stay up but I was promptly sent to a reclining chair to rest.

Fast forward to Tuesday, the soonest I could get an appointment after the holiday.  They took one look at the X-rays they took and I was scheduled for surgery.  Over two months, one plate and 10 screws gets you to the present.  I’m still healing and attending physical therapy for adhesive capsulitis of the shoulder.  Oh by the way, the reason I was passing out was because I snapped a 2” diameter branch off with my head.  Lesson? Always wear helmets children!

All things considered I’m in the worst shape of my life, which has brought me to a new beginning.  This blog is to aid me in this challenge and I hope you will follow along for it.  I promise if anything it will be interesting.

My name is Mark and I’m a Clyde

Me

LO & Me after our first 1/2 marathon

It was about six years ago I came across an article in Dirt Rag Magazine that F’ed with my head.  If you are into mountain biking and its culture I highly recommend the magazine by the way.  With that said I was reading an article from an author that is talking about his experience racing in his local circuit as a “Clydesdale”.  I had never heard of this term and it caught my interest, come to find out that “bigger” guys have a division all of there own. Most events define the Clyde category as males above 200 pounds.

That fateful night I found out I was a plus sized athlete…

I initially took this shot to the head in a couple different ways. The first being triumph, triumph that I was of such a massive stature that people like me need our own division for our massiveness as to not scare the “little” athletes.  After that testosterone induced moment wore off depression set in.  Wait my size isn’t awesomeness it’s a handicap?

If my size necessitated a unique division because of its dominance they would have used a Thoroughbred as its representation not a Clydesdale.  Clydesdales though strong and picturesque are not quick or agile I was being classified as big and slow.   So go out their young Clyde and run/bike as fast as your heavy slow body can take you! When you finish we will be so proud and amazed that you even could do it.

How was I supposed to take this? Should I embrace my Clydeness or fight it? I’m not alone in this debate Clyde’s all across the country are fighting with the same question.  I think it’s a personal decision that only the Clyde can answer.  For me I’m a glutton for punishment and want to compete in the largest grouping of athletes so I ignore my designation.

This isn’t to say I completely ignore my Clydness.  I’m just a Clydesdale working hard to spank Thoroughbreds across the battlefield known as competition! Maybe its time to get a shirt made.  It should be a shirt that proclaims my ownership of my size with a warning of my capabilities. The front can say, “I am a Clydesdale”.  The back will say “Warning if you can read this run faster or watch for droppings!”