How to be Hated at the YMCA

Granted, most people work to fit into life, but if you are in the mood to embrace your outcast self. Give some of these simple steps a try.

Step One. Visit the newest YMCA in your community. A spartan Y won't cut it. An older Y makes you just another freak in a freak kingdom. To truly bring the disdain of others to the fore, you want to visit an overly clean, upscale, yuppie Y. If the Y has a climbing wall, things are looking up. If you can climb the walls because of cracks in the brick and mortar, continue your search.

Step Two. Dress the Part. Pink Cars-R-Coffins t-shirts, brown Surly socks and black Vans do wonders for your YMCA "curb appeal." If you can stroll through the workout area like you're on the catwalk, you'll really make it count. Own it baby.

Step Three. Out Muscle the Muscle-Heads. This is a personal Snob favorite. After gathering several steroid induced rage-like glares, wait patiently in line for the leg press, squat machine or other like machine. Nothing bubbles the hate to the surface like getting outlifted by "the faggot in the pink shirt."

Step Four. Assist the Lovely Lady. Treadmills can be hard to understand. So can beautiful ladies. Combine the two past-times by aiding that make-up clad Miss in getting that machine up to speed. Be careful though. Remember, she really just wants to "tone."

Note: A smooth carry-out of step four in front of the gentleman in step three will really multiple your points. I like to call this the "daily double of roid rage."

Note from Dejay

Cold War Kids

Notice the Smiles at -3 degrees.

The road may appear to "T" but we thought the two white ribbons continuing straight were there to remind us of TI.

"Would you give your Mother a foot massage?"

Jonathan Page Second at Worlds!!!

Katie Compton also grabbed second in Women's Elite. YEAH!!

Speaking of cross, I found this video via Molly's site. It's a classic.

Scrooge on Wheels

Did some intervals today. Nothing crazy, just a little pace to remember you're alive. Cold, boring day. I have a watch strapped to my handlebars and I am sure I saw time start going backwards on me. This martini tastes good and he has a few friends. Cheers.

"Dad, that's gross."

The "There isn't anything worth shooting" shot.



Okay, I'll give 07 a chance.

Biscuits for Smut

As some of you know, yesterday morning I somehow decided to take a fall and lead with my left temple. It took most of the day for the pain to subside and half of the day to return to normal. Hell yeah!! I think it was that bastard Colonel Mustard with a pipe wrench. Now I need a new helmet.

Actually, I was nearly at work, hit some black ice and found myself lying in the middle of the road before I knew what was happening. Snob over ice.

"How many fingers? One. Now put your damn hand down."

Fixed in Six

The latest in aero tech wheels

Boo-tay

Cornbread trying to fight through a fresh six inches

The calm before the storm

Submission Hold

Fixed Gear Project - 1, Snob - 0

I am unofficially the worst mechanic ever, and that's only because I've never been certified.

Several months ago I had planned a day to convert last year's race machine to a fixie. Life intervened and the project sat, until last night. Optimism ruled the afternoon and I set up in the new downstairs to take a crack at the conversion.

An hour and a half later, I could still not get the powerlink to release off of my chain. How a person can be embarrassed while alone in a basement may be a mystery to some, but there I was, red-faced and pissed.

Jeff stopped by and had it off in 5 seconds.

I then triple checked my needed chain length, only to make it one link too short and that was it. Hands were thrown up. F-Bombs were dropped and I marched back up the stairs. Nothing has been touched since then.

When I was young, I nearly drowned while taking swim lessons at the Y. Apparently, I had snuck behind the instructor and was mocking and miming her. When she jumped in the pool, so did I and I sat on the bottom for a long time before someone noticed and pulled me up. Swimming was for the birds after that.

Post college, I decided I needed to move somewhere to learn to surf and therefore needed to learn to swim. I paid for a Y membership and went to the open swim everyday for weeks. I would grab a lane against the wall, rudely sometimes and paddle like some drunken carnie in a dunk tank until I would panic and grab the wall, then compose myself and go again. This debacle went on until I learned to swim.

I am sure this project will be the same way. The only difference so far is that I actually asked for help. I am sure there are people at the Lafayette YMCA still pissed off at the lane hog who can't swim.

Spin

Recently, Jeff, Corey, Butch and I were sitting at Yia Yia's and talking about Chris Eatough, Craig Gordon and last year's 24hr "Worlds." (In fact, Butch even blogged about it.)

At one point, we started talking about the film "24 Solo" and how it would portray the Gordon's victory. The skeptics (Jeff and I) commented that we felt the spin would be "this is what it takes to beat Eatough." It's a truth that can be embellished to make second place almost look more noble and Gordon a bit more insane. A snippet from the updated trailer is Gordon in the hospital commenting about how he couldn't pull away from Chris.

That's not to take anything away from either guy. It's more of a comment on what happens when you stand behind the view finder and the perspective you take with you when you get there. (including the knowledge of who is paying for the film.)

I am really looking forward to the film. It would be interesting to take someone who doesn't race endurance races or someone who doesn't competitively cycle. After all, I was called (as I am sure many of you were) a lunatic for riding to work in negative temps this week. What would a "non-racer" think of Gordan's win and how will the presentation affect their conclusions regarding 24hr racing, not to mention Eatough and Gordon?

How's that for thinking too much?

Team Over-Analysis signing off.

Simple is Never Simple Enough

Simplify. We spent the weekend finalizing the move to the new Casa de Cronin over the weekend. I thought we kept things fairly minimal but clearly we do not. After three trips to the city mission for donations and a call to the trash man regarding our endless bags of crap, I felt ridiculous. It was good to purge, but still an example of how many "things" you can accumulate for no reason.

I also missed three days of riding, which just fades my mood even further. Back tomorrow with a vengence. I have a flying Canadian on my tail.

"i want to be stereotyped
i want to be classified
i want to be a clone
i want a suburban home
suburban home
suburban home
suburban home
i want to be a statistic
i want to be masochistic
i want to be a clone
i want a suburban home
suburban home
suburban home
suburban home
i don't want no dead beat pad
i want a house just like mom and dad"

Reeking of Genius

DeviantArt.com

By Kris Wilson.

Slow and Low...

... that is the tempo.

Perhaps it's due to starting out my day by riding to the shop and taking the long route with the wind chill at -7 or perhaps it's because it's Friday or better still, maybe it's just me, but I have been a half step behind all day.

Case in point. I see on the TransIowa page that Jesse is listed in the Open class. So, as I am emailing with him about the new BKB kits, I ask why he's running gears and it takes a bit of back and forth for me to catch on that he's still rolling one gear. He simply signed on for open. "Why segregate?" Why indeed.
----
Donations are something I take pretty seriously, though I try to keep it somewhat personal or community oriented when possible. Something stuck me today. A comparison. For me, it's a polar opposite, but I know you could argue differently.

One man failed a drug test, has a large contract but would like assistance. It's impossible to know the truth. I won't pretend to or hazard a guess. But, I will not donate. Floyd.

The other qualifies for CX Worlds. Is likely racing on a small contract and a love of the sport. His governing body isn't footing the bill to get him there so he'd like a little help. To me, this is meaningful. I'm in. Tristan.

That probably should have been two posts. See? Slow.

IF Redux

It's about that time.

Fix Me

On Sunday, Corey felt that my booties were due to be replaced. You be the judge. (I wonder why I get accused of wearing gear into the ground?)

In case you're wondering about the Post Title, Yes, I have been listening to Black Flag.

Hand Me That Axe

I sent my registration in for the Lumberjack today. I love that area of Michigan and am really looking forward to racing there. We have stayed in Onekama, which is just a half hour north of Manistee, for a week nearly every year for 10 years. I've always ridden solo and certainly never raced.

I'm feeling optimistic about 07 and it's off to a great start. A lot of good people are already going to Ouachita and my prediction is TransIowa sees weather just brutal enough for a handful of finishers and more epic stories than you can read safely at work.

I am thinking about adding another 24hr race to the schedule, but am unsure of which one. Suggestions?

The only thing I am not feeling good about right now is the Ohio State Buckeyes. Come On, Godfrey!!! WTF?

Assorted Sidebar: The Snob says Screw the BCS. Boise State should be National Champs.

Six Hours of Wind

Started the day at 6am with Mr. Avey. We started out on gravel but the wind and cold pushed us back toward town where we did a little dance with several patches of black ice before heading back. 8am Jeff rolls to a Triathlon clinic and I meet Corey, Wills and MG for windly gravel love out to Brached Oak and back. Corey and I ended the day at Meadowlark for a coffee just as Marc and the Lincoln Plating crew headed out for a ride. We laughed at the fact that it looked like we would be joining them when we had already been out for six and four hours respectively. That's actually not a bad plan as the Sunday rides get even longer.

Good day. Six hours in saddle. Dog tired. Sleep required. Hopefully a good night's sleep will also equal a descent post.

Beholder

"Sugar, he's going down swinging"

My construction avoidance commute takes me by a new coffee shop called the "Tin Cup." Several weeks ago I had noticed a lovely Vanilla frame outside its doors. Today I paid more attention and noticed they have bikes hanging from the ceiling inside. Any locals been inside this place or know its story? Seems like it might be a good place to grab an espresso.

Speaking of Vanilla, Molly Cameron is currently in Europe racing cross against the Belgium elite. His posts are good reads if you have the time to visit (and since you're bored enough to be here, I know you do.)

Editorial Note: I can't read, apparently. The coffee shop is called simply, "The Cup."

High and Dry

The holidays are over and I couldn't be happier about it. Some people like the change of pace the holidays bring, but I like my humdrum life and am happy to get back to it.

I did take my mtb to Indiana over the holidays. 50s and 60s. Wool Jersey. No cars but a lot of free-ranging dogs. One little mutt followed me for over 5 miles. I kept waiting for him to hit that unknown turnaround point all dogs seem to find, but I don't think the little man had one. He had worked up a good lather and his short legs had problems keeping up on the downhills, but he hammered back on when things flattened out. I thought he would make it the entire distance back to my brother-in-laws. Unfortunately for the little guy, we encountered a pack of six dogs laying in the middle of a gravel section and the game was up. I hope the pup had left something in the gas tank because the pack followed him into the woods when he scampered off.

Paddy says June in Manitoba is beautiful.