A Test of the Emergency #Vegan System

Free for the Taking, an Izzy's Sandwich on Servatii's Roll

This is the vegan equivalent of finding a Brinks truck crashed on the side of the road with $100 bills scattered across the shoulder.  Do you take it and buy a Dura Ace equipped carbon wonder bike from Italy?  Or do you do the right thing, call 9-1-1 and be the hero?  This is a made-in-Cincinnati Izzy’s Reuben Sandwich.  In the world of salted cured meats, nothing trumps the corned beef and sauerkraut piled high, slathered in Million Island dressing and served on Cincinnati’s famous Servatii’s pretzel bread bun.  Simply pulling the meat off would be like "fixing" the smile on the Mona Lisa. 

Did You Say Catnip Tuna?

Maybe I haven’t been clear in my description.  This is two great tastes in one entity.  It’s like Cincinnati Skyline Chili topped with Montgomery Inn Ribs.  Mmmm.  An Izzy’s Reuben on a Servatii’s roll is to Cincinnati as Jerked Chicken on the side of the road served with a Red Stripe beer is to Jamaica.  It’s Saz’s Barbecue with a side of George Webb’s breakfast to a Milwaukeean.  Its Gino’s East pizza covered in Southside Polish sausage to Chicago.  It’s a Thurminator burger topped with a pair of Blue Jacket’s tickets to those in Columbus.  It’s Christmas’ candy cane covered gingerbread house.  Its catnip covered in tuna juice to Juneau… my cat, not the city.

The choice between that bag of money or this sandwich is a life changing decision.  Consultants and advisors from GE and P&G may need to be called in.  Since they’re no longer working on the Space Shuttle program, I may dial-up NASA's best mathematicians to pour over excel spreadsheets and sandwich trajectories to help me decide which would have a better impact on my life. 

Jackpot!

Sure you could take the bag of money and go out and buy an Izzy’s Reuben and have enough left over to quit your job and eat it while riding off the threat of clogged arteries on your new Trek Madone, but you’d be missing the point.  I did hill repeats last night.  I’m 4 pounds below my target race weight.  It’s 9:30am.  I just ate half an apple.  I have an appointment in 30 minutes and I am surrounded by hungry native Cincinnatians.  This is about instant gratification.  This is about taking the kill before the Hyenas get it.  This is a case of how much would it really hurt.  This sandwich is now or never.  Dammit they’re taking it into the work kitchen.  Noooooooo!

My Lunchbox

Right down the hall is a free Izzy’s Reuben Sandwich served on special edition Servatii’s pretzel bread.  In my 2010 Vancouver Olympic lunchbox is a bag of carrots, a tub of hommus, a box of raisins, a banana, a fruit strip, half a Honeycrisp apple, and leftover vegan Tikka Masala in a plastic Glad container.  This is a test of eating a plant based non-processed food diet.  This is a test of the Emergency Vegan System.  This is only a test.

Thankfully, I passed.

#Vegan: The Cheesepocalypse is Neigh!

Sign off I-94 North of Illinois 

There is no cheese in our house, and I’m originally from Wisconsin.  I know.  I’m probably going to hell for that.  The only thing saving me from the eternal deep fryer is a box of Cheese-Its in the cupboard, which is certainly not a whole food and may or may not contain actual dairy products.  I’d have to squint too hard and they’re too damn tasty for me to bother to check the label.  Two weeks ago we began the switch to a plant based whole foods diet.  


We still have a few meat, dairy and processed food items in the kitchen.  However, when the Cheese-Its are gone, the needle on my cheese-o-meter will be at zero and the seven signs of the cheesepocalypse will begin, starting with my name being put on some sort of black list at the Wisconsin border.  Personally I think it’s kind of fun that the only sausage in our house is in a package with a label ending in “furky.”  Furky is funny, as is Tofu.  Still, I attest.  I’m not a Vegan.  I'm not doing this to save the animals, to better the environment, to cleanse or challenge myself.  While those are admirable noble pursuits, when it comes to food I'm a selfish idiot.  This is for me.  

My Lunch: May Be Vegan  

So don’t refer to me as Vegan.  You got that punk?!  However I do like the sound of vegetarian.  It's sort of smart sounding like librarian.  This may come off a bit ethereal, but I can’t live within the walls at 123 Vegan Street.  It really struck me when I washed the egg container from the fridge and stored it away in the pantry for good.  Even with no more eggs in the house, I have no goal to be Vegan, vegan...whatever.  The label sort of annoys me.  


To me, this change in diet is not a final destination.  I’m not quitting meat, dairy and processed food.  I like to see things more positive.  I’m simply trying to eat a plant based and non-processed food diet.  You don't quit smoking.  You put more fresh air in your lungs.  To me, even as a bike crazed dufus, giving up entire groups of foods is like a New Year’s resolution to exercise everyday, a maddening premise destined to disappoint, a recipe to over promise and under deliver.  The way I see it, I equate this change in diet more to yoga.  You’ll never be perfect.  The benefit lies simply in the practice.  While there may come a day when I wish there would be a cheese-patch to deliver a steady stream of melty-gooey goodness into my veins, eating this way is simply a day to day, meal to meal exercise in being healthy. 

Furky...that's funny!

Seriously, I’m not Vegan or vegan, and I'll struggle with the capitalization issue and the fact that the word vegan has the same amount of letters as pagan for the rest of this article.  Regardless, to me, being vegan implies judgment.  I can’t live with that over my head everyday.  For goodness sake I grew up Catholic.  I may not be able to handle guilt, but I can eat a plant based whole food diet and reduce my risk of stroke, heart disease and cancer.  Easy peasy.  It’s not about whether I’ll eat turkey on Thanksgiving, have a meat drawer full of fruits and vegetables, have a homemade Christmas cookie with real butter or whether or not I'll be able to finish that never-ending big 'ol tub-o-mayo in my fridge by 2019.  If the question is can I be Vegan, the answer is: maybe.  If the question is can I give myself a better shot at living a long healthy life, the answer is: certainly.  There are more than 20 stages in the Tour De France.  You don’t need to win them all to take home the yellow jersey.  

How To Drop An Attackus-Nonstickus With AAD

In some cycling circles this bone head move is know as a Break-a-lame.  Some go so far as to call these riders Wad Blowers, or the more PC “natural sprinter.” Nothing ruins a group ride faster than a dolt who shoots off the front of a strong paceline causing everyone to surge and chase, only to have said dolt sit up when others reach the dolt’s wheel.  This particular syndrome is known to the cycling community as AAD, Attack And Die.  Symptoms include half-wheeling, increased time spent riding alone, chest thumping, frequent looking over one’s shoulder, moving left after their “attack” is done and they are in the “die” mode, riding with their knees out while attacking with hands on the hoods, the inability to hold a respectable fast speed for more than 14.3 seconds without needing a 5 minute recovery and a Clif Bar, and an over-zealous appreciation of high speed coasting. 

Those with AAD also didn’t get enough attention from their mommies.  If they weren’t going off the front and sitting up on your group ride they’d be shouting “get in the hole” at televised golf tournaments.  I consultultated (a George Bush term) with The Global Center For Naming Everything With Latin Lingo and they have approved a whole new animal kingdom sounding term for this dufus, Attackus-Nonstickus.  Women aren’t immune from AAD.  On occasion I have witnessed the female of the Attackus-Nonstickus species go all AAD on a group.  It’s very rare and just as unimpressive.  The Attackus-Nonstickus doesn’t realize that there’s no glory in an attack unless you can stick it to the end of the ride, the sprint sign or the coffee shop.  To attack and not stick it is like a football player fumbling the ball on the goal line…a shameful wasted effort.

If you encounter an Attackus-Nonstickus, first of all never give a hard chase.  The Attackus-Nonstickus, much like a 7^th grader pulling the fire alarm at school, thrives on attention.  By standing up and ramping up the speed to quickly close the gap you just fuel the fire, the cycling equivalent of dialing 9-1-1.  You also risk dropping riders you enjoy riding with.  By maintaining a steady tempo and gradually reeling in the Attackus-Nonstickus you don’t give them undue attention.  The best catch of an Attackus-Nonstickus is not to simply reach their wheel, but to just keep rolling by them like they aren’t even there.  It’s easy because they usually end up on the left after their non-sticking attack.  Even better, during the chase, arrange the order of the paceline so the weakest rider of the group is the one who ends up making the catch and the pass.  That leaves an Attackus-Nonstickus thinking “what the?” in their head as ninety-pound Nancy rolls on by.  If this technique fails to quash the spirits of the Attackus-Nonstickus, your next option is to systematically drop them from the ride.  While it does sound mean spirited, it opens up a whole new world of fun to those “in” on the drop. 

To accomplish this, let the Attackus-Nonstickus off the front at least 3 times.  Each of those three times reel them in as stated above.  However, on the 4^th attack, preferably at the farthest point form where you started or in a bad part of town reel them in steadily.  Before you make the catch, let your co-riders know you’re going to drill it.  Say something sly like “get ready to go.”  When you make the catch sit on the wheel of the Attackus-Nonstickus just long enough for them to feel as if they have tired you out.  Count to three bananas.  Let out a big sigh to solidify your bluff.  Now!  Swing out wide-right to the shoulder and drill it!  Go hard enough to get a gap but not so hard as to lose the riders behind you.  Now dial it up to donkey wheezing speed.  Even if the Attackus-Nonstickus managed to see the move, they won’t be able to grab the last spot in the paceline before they know what hit ‘em.  Now YOU got to stick it.  Hold it hard for one minute followed by a steady pace higher than the original pace of the ride.  Don’t look back for the next five minutes.  Since the Attackus-Nonstickus will be tired from their four hard efforts, has no idea that attacks can go up the right side of the road, and can’t hold a fast speed for more than 14.3 seconds, you will never see them again…at least until next week’s group ride.