Anatomy of the pandemic of 2025

The year was 2025.  The United States, exhausted from the Covid epidemic, has grown complacent on the pathogen war front.  The similarities to the great 1918 flu epidemic, the deadliest plague in human history, are chilling.  The 1918 flu was beginning to sputter after first appearing on earth in sparsely populated Haskell County, Kansas, but for two things.  For one, this was wartime, and two, it was a bitterly cold winter.   Soldiers and civilians huddled together to keep warm, allowing the flu to gain ground and spread.  There was a war of sorts in 2025, albeit a political one, that resulted in the cut off of all research grant funding.  One of the pillars human kind had erected to defend against pathogens was removed so there was no way for scholars to connect the dots.  And, just as many huddled to keep warm in the winter of 1918, the winter of 2024-2025, while not as severe as that of 1918, brought people together in the first really cold winter in many years.  Meanwhile, the pathogens took a page from Muhammed Ali’s rope-a-dope book.  The fighter backs into the ring ropes with arms up and lets his opponent flail away to exhaustion.    The politicians fought and endless debates followed regarding vaccinations and whether Covid was real or a chimera.  Meanwhile the pathogens watched the fighting on the sidelines as if a virus was a sentient being.  Viruses are an enigma in that they exist on the edges of life.  They are less than fully living organisms and are more like a collection of chemicals.  They do not eat, burn oxygen or produce waste.  But they do two things very well, they replicate and they mutate.  Watching, waiting, Covid found a striking point with the great Bird Flu invasion in the Spring of 2025.  The flu, jumping from animals to pigs then humans, spread like wild-fire.  “We never saw it coming” the populace would lament.  The cold winter of 2025, the huddled masses keeping warm, the Covid fatigue, and the lack of funding to monitor the development of pathogens all exploded when Covid found another lock and key.  Most recently, it had mutated to form the key to unlock access to the parts of the brain known as the reptilian brain, the site of critical functions like breathing and heart rate.   “Long Covid” had been born.  Now it was pathogen rope a dope payoff time.  Humankind, crippled by the Bird Flu, was plundered by another Covid variant.  It is estimated half the population of the U.S. fell ill with the illness and half of those that fell ill never fully recovered. Every grade-school student is taught those who are unwilling to learn from history are bound to repeat it. 

There is much we can learn from the history of pathogens.  Two coronaviruses have been isolated from pangolins—a type of scaly, anteater-like mammal—in China. The researchers analyzed the structures of their spike proteins and found that one of the pangolin viruses could recognize the human receptor well, implying that pangolins might have helped the bat virus jump to humans by acting as intermediate hosts. In April 2012, Chinese miners were assigned to clear bat guano from an abandoned copper mine in southwest China. Six of the miners became ill with what was called a mysterious illness, with three deaths. Researchers from the Wuhan Institute of Virology (WIV) were called in to investigate and collect 276 samples from the bats in the mine. They later identified several new coronaviruses.  Genomic surveillance sequences the genetic material of pathogens, allowing us to identify and track new variants of a pathogen such as SARS-CoV-2, and so helping us control the spread of diseases like Covid-19.  Will we in this year 2030 learn from the past?

Jeff’s 2020 Trek Up the Tower climb, Omaha, Nebraska, 2/15/20

I’m sitting on the marble bench surrounding the gathering area for the post-race party when a lady I recognize from the vertical mile approaches me.  “Are you o.k.?”  I recognize her but don’t know her.  I’m immediately thinking to myself; do I look that bad?  “I’m fine” I reply, “Why?”  “I was really worried about you, watching you, your color was way off”.  “When did you see it during the race” I asked.  “Somewhere on the 8th climb”.  “Just checking to see if you are o.k.”.   I thanked her for the concern and she rejoined her group.  Her comment would later resonate with other events during the race.

I’m flying into Omaha from my least favorite airport, O’Hare, Chicago.  There’s no direct flight from Cleveland so I’m stuck with Cleveland to O’Hare and O’Hare to Omaha.  Fortunately, Omaha turned out to be a very nice city.  The connections went well and my worries about the weather were a waste of energy.  Up in my room in DoubleTree (I was too late to get the other hotel at a reduced group rate) I immediately notice on opening the shades that directly across the street big as life is the National Bank Tower.  I mean it is a stone’s throw from the hotel.  It fills the window.  Then I notice as I open my door right across the hallway is the door to the stairs!  Two good omens!  Little did I know how true this was to be.

This is a vertical mile, running up the stairs of a skyscraper for the equivalent of 5,280 feet.  On this building it is 10 consecutive climbs of 40 floors plus an additional 17 floors.  It is a real test of endurance.  There’s no rest.  This is double stepping the whole way, as fast as you can.

I go to bed at 8 p.m. for a full 9 hours sleep, rising at 5 a.m.  I’m 69 years old and the days of hopping out of bed to a race without a warm up routine are over.  Come to think of it, I never could do that.  The race asked not to come before 6:45 a.m. but with a 7 a.m. start that makes no sense to me.  Sure enough when I get there at 6:30 the place is filling up fast.  There are tons of single climbers.  I can tell the difference between the younger single climbers and the vertical milers.  The V.M.’s are not socializing; they are deep into their own thoughts and doing warmups.  I could never understand an intense warm up for a vertical mile.  But every man/woman to him/herself.  The line forms.  I’m not going to the front; I’m placing myself mid-way.  The horn sounds and race begins.

For me the V.M. is a conundrum, an unsolvable problem.  Somewhere, at least for me, my brain checks out around the 8th of a 10-climb race.  I just cannot think.  On last year’s Dallas V.M., on the 10th of 12 climbs, I forgot to get my sticker after doing the 10th climb.  I took the elevator down before I got my sticker.  Realizing my mistake, I turned to a volunteer and asked what to do.  “You need to go back up”.  Crap!  The problem was, unlike this race where time is not an issue with a cut off time of 11 a.m., the Dallas race had a 2.5-hour time limit.  I was determined not to make the same mistake so I brought with me a dial counter I hang around my neck for hill repeats.  After a while you forget how many you have done.  I did not bring it with me from the hotel room.  I figured it was overkill; this race was fool proof the way it was set up.  Not with this fool.  Sure enough, on the 8th climb, I got to the top and jumped on the elevator.  Someone was in the elevator, I think it was Jason Duncan, catching his breath, and all he said was “your band”.  I realized my mistake, went back up and got the band.  They were very nice about it.  “We yelled at you trying to get you back”.  The conundrum is you need to monitor your energy expenditure but that is hard to do without a brain.

I had just finished one lap, 40 floors and came back down to the starting point.  It is full of climbers, socializing, talking, laughing, having a good time.  I try to make my way past the line.  The race is set up giving V.M.’s a priority at the starting line.  We don’t need to get in line.  As it turns out, one has to be firm to get through.  I did feel guilty after the start of my climb 8 because the kids just wouldn’t move out of the way and I realized after I kind of pushed through I sounded crabby.

At the beginning of my 5th climb I go to the area where we could keep our drinks/food/towels and grab a Ningexia drink pack.  And I start to cry.  What is going on?  I cover my face with a towel.  Emotions are raging.  I throw down the towel and run to the starting line.  I’m not sure what is happening to me and I don’t want to know.  I’m a tower runner, and the race is on.  No time for thinking, just keep moving.

On one elevator ride down, I think on the 7th climb, there’s a volunteer talking with another lady who was not part of the climb.  The lady asks what is going on.  The volunteer replies “It’s a virtual mile race”.  I immediately correct her, “NO it’s a vertical mile”.  I tell myself “Jeff, chill out!”  I’m beginning to lose it emotionally.

I’m on the 6th climb, or am I?  I can’t remember.  Half way up I round the corner and there is a young lady doing a full body leg stretch on the stairs!  What the hell?  She slides to the right just in time.  I’m feeling good, too good.  I’m not getting overly tired.  I’m thinking of the change in my training.  The HIIT work, the long sessions double stepping on the stair mill, the lower leg step-ups on a high bench over and over.  I had noticed my legs are thicker.  I am definitely stronger.  On my first climb, someone flew by me after 10 floors.  “Must be a single climber.  No, she can’t be…they don’t start until the V.M. climbers are done starting” I think to myself.  I am now passing this young lady.  She doesn’t sound or look good.  The stairs are filling with single climb climbers, mostly young people, kids, teens, 20 somethings.  At first I’m swinging to the right for them, but that gets old fast when I see them later pooping out, so I stay on the left and let them pass on the right, with one exception…I can hear the serious climbers behind me so I swing to the right.  Most of them say “thanks”.  One guy, however, chose to run into me as I swung to the right, knocking me off balance. In an instant I was going to run back into him.  I’m not thinking clearly and my emotions are off the charts, but he quickly says “sorry”.

I’m at the top again, getting a new band.  This is a well-run race.  You get a new band for every climb up.  That way there’s no screw up’s as to the number of climbs completed.  Beginning with the 5th climb, I ask the volunteer, “How many do is have left…I’m not thinking clearly”.  He tells me “six including this one, and then to floor 17”.  I can’t process it.  What?  How many is that I’m thinking on the elevator ride down.  I ask a volunteer at the starting line.  “I don’t know”.  I’ll worry about that later, just keep climbing.

I must say the volunteers at the top changing the wrist bands and placing letters on the bibs were great.  I kept telling them “I’m not thinking clearly”.  They said “Don’t worry that’s what we’re here for”.

They give me my 10th and final wrist band and tell me “This is the last time you’ll be up here. Next time you stop at floor 17”.  I feel a wave of panic.  I can’t think to put 2 + 2 together…how am I going to remember that?  I go down for the final 17 floor climb.  I planned on pedal to the metal but I’m running out of gas.  I don’t ever remember the 17th climb, only that it ended.  It was strange.  I thought maybe there would be a group cheering at the top, but there only the volunteer and a climber getting a massage.  I crossed the mat and fell to one knee, “Are you o.k.”  “I’m fine” as I caught my breath.  “Stay down for a minute”.  I went over to a lady giving massages.   She works on my upper trapezius.  “They’re tight and it’s not tightness from the race, it’s more than that”.  She does a great job on my shoulders.

A few days ago, I posted on Facebook that this race was special for me.  It was about dragons we all face in life.  Relationships that end.  Opportunities that didn’t pan out despite all our work, the doctor giving test results that don’t look so good.  Not this time, I told myself.  This time I’m meeting this dragon on a level playing field and the results will be different.  This dragon is going down!

I check the results online.  Average time for all my climbs was 9.43.   I’m only seeing one other male climber in their 60’ and he’s faster than me but technically not in my age group the way this race is set up.  I laugh when I think to myself “First in your age group!”, the only one in my age group.  There’s no group age results for the V.M. in this race.  “But wait”, I’m thinking, “I passed a ton of young climbers on my 10th climb, and they were doing one climb!  It’s got to count for something!”.  Oh well.   A very rough comparison to the 2019 Dallas V.M.  Total time for 5,280 feet in Dallas was 1:45, one hour, 45 minutes.  For this climb, 1:43.  I’m very happy with that.  Two minutes faster for a V.M. climb is huge.

On the flight home I realized something.  There was a point in the race where I was thinking about the Facebook post and it got me very emotional, and I recalled it was during the 8th climb.  That’s the climb the lady said she was worried about me; I didn’t look good.  That’s when the dragon went down.

Tower Runners, a separate species?

Tower Runner (noun) by Jeff Bolek

Once thought to be part of the kingdom Animalia, Phylum Chordata, class Mammalia, Order Euarchonta, Family Hominidae, Genus Homo and Species H. Sapiens, recent discoveries suggest these creatures may be a separate species from H. Sapiens, that is H. SapiensTR. When comparing indicies of athletic performance capabilities to the more sedentary or even athletic H. Sapiens, extreme differences are routinely encountered.  For example, resting heart rate for H. Sapiens is typically in the 60 b.p.m. range while H. Sapiens TR routinely have resting heart rates in the 35 to 40 b.p.m. range.  They are capable of unusual feats of endurance such as reaching and maintaining at or near maximal heart rate for several minutes at a time.  A typical accomplishment is maintaining maximal VO2 max consistently while running up 104 flights of stairs.  Of note is that unlike H. Sapiens increased age does not tend to be a self limiting factor, with outstanding performances observed with those well into their 60’s and 70’s.  The caloric intake required can be enormous, typically twice that of the sedentary or even athletic H. Sapiens, with no increase in weight.  Percent of overall body fat is also typically in the 10 to 12% range, with lean muscle mass and bone predominant.  Mis-diagnosis, such as tachycardia, is common.  Instances of these creatures having been rushed to the ER have been reported, with suspected cardiac insufficiency suspected due to extremely low heart rates.  They tend to be social and friendly in their interactions with others with one exception: attempting to pass them during a training or competition is not advised as they are extremely competitive and will pass the challenger, regardless of the available space.  Sitings are quite rare outside competitions and good estimates as to the number worldwide are difficult to obtain.  Their workouts tend to be “Ninja” style, barely seen or heard.  Competitions almost always involve contributions to a social cause and can attract thousands of competitors with a fraction of them true H. SapiensTR, and most H. Sapiens.  They appear to be equally distributed gender-wise.

Jeff’s climb at U.S. Bank Tower, 9/28/18

I’ve been at the top of the building for several minutes having just finished the climb.  As others ask my time I point to my watch, 11:37.  I’m ecstatic.  Problem is, it’s not true.  I’m not lying, I’m just not all there mentally.  In the recesses of my brain something is telling me something is wrong but I can’t figure it out.  I look again at my Garmin to confirm my time.  It’s 11:40. How can that be?  My watch must be broken.  Then reality sets in.  My watch reverted to the time of day.  Or maybe I thought I started it at the start but didn’t.  I’m embarrassed.  I just told several the wrong time, not intentionally.  So goes my first U.S. Bank climb.

It all began June 30th, after the T to T June 30th climb in Atlanta.  I did 72 floors at 11:37. On June 3rd I captured third in my age group at the WTC climb, 102 floors.  With intense training I could improve on those times.  The U.S. Bank at 75 floors is one my strengths.  Shorter climbs I don’t do so well.  So, over the course of three months I climbed a total of 4,640 floors, typically my 13-floor training building at 10 to 20 repeats.  Never missed a training session.  Stairs or hill climbs were three times a week with 4 to 6 mile runs the other days.  Changed my diet to whole grain pasta which I hate.  Still I’m losing weight.  Added protein drinks.   Almost never took a day off.  If I don’t run or climb my sleep suffers.  No days off is red flag #1.

I take what I thought was the best route from Cleveland, Ohio to L.A., 2,345 miles.  I chose a flight that went to Washington DC then Atlanta for a flight time of 6.5 hours (direct is 4 hours, 20 minutes).   Red flag #2.

Race day I am ready to leave at 10 a.m. for an 11 a.m. start.  I want to get there early to meet some FB friends for the first time.  I do a quick check and head out the hotel room.  Everything is swirling.  I am so dizzy I reach for the nearest wall.  I walk along the wall back to my room.  I now am confronted with a crazy problem…I can’t get to a race climbing a 75-floor building because I can’t walk to it.  It’s funny and tragic at the same time. Red flag #3.  I drink lots of water and practice deep breathing.  Five minutes later I am at the registration table.  I meet some other climbers and get in line.  The line enters the building, heads up one long flight of stairs and back down where it started.  It then snakes its way to the official starting line.  The wait in line is noisy and seems to go on forever (about 20 minutes).  Some video guy wants to interview me but I decline.  I just want to focus on the race. 

It’s my time to go.  I was warned about the changing stairwell.  It seemed to go left then right then back again.  I soon as I got a rhythm I ran into a straight-away.  It felt as though I was starting and stopping the race over and over.  It seemed like there was as many straight a way’s as there were floors.  Then I realized I couldn’t seem to get my breathing going.  The air was so dry I had a hard time swallowing.   I started doing something I never do…look for floor numbers.  My strength is longer races with a second wind at the 50th floor.  On this day it didn’t kick in.  It felt as though I entered a race with no preparation.  Finally, it was over.  I remember checking my Garmin and seeing 18:18 and felt a great disappointment.  Then I recall looking again and thinking the first number was wrong, it way really 11:37.  I grabbed some water to fight off the climbing hack I developed.

What did I learn from the race.  First, get there a day early if going cross country.  Not sure what the dizzy spell was due to but never had it happen before.  Maybe dehydration and flight fatigue of 6.5 hours in the air.   Second, overtraining is as bad or worse as undertraining.  Rarely taking a day off makes no sense.  Third, you can’t have a PR every time.  Sometimes the stars don’t align.  The day after I returned I did a 5-mile run which felt effortless at 9:40 min miles.  An easy run is supposed to be 10 to 11 minutes.   So, the fourth is a bit controversial.  I’m not going to do a taper.  Ten days before the race I slowly backed off training to hardly any work the days before the race.  On race day I felt completely out of sync.  It was as if my body forgot how to climb.  So, for Willis this November I am going to go with a one- or two-day taper.  I am going to train hard two days before the race and rest completely the day before.