Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Assorted Snobbery: "I Recognize That!!"
Today while I was on my way to meet Mrs. Snob for lunch, 'Big Take Over' by Bad Brains popped on to the radio unexpectedly. If you know the song at all, then you know it's a track you recognize shortly after it begins and prompts an inevitable reach to the volume knob.
After the song builds, there is a moment where the music breaks and drops you into the meat of the tune. Until today, I hadn't pinned together the fact that it's a moment the Beastie Boys sample in Pass the Mic.
This brought back the memories of sitting in my friend Mike Bulington's pad in Chicago, staying up late, listening to music and picking out samples. It was a period of time when arguments (which soon after turned to litigation) about sampling was common. Were you less of an artist the more you sampled? Was it an art in itself? But while Mike and I would occassionally joust about such things, we really just enjoyed picking them out. Finding samples was finding Easter eggs or cash money under your pillow in place of a tooth. "I've got one!"
There were also the times when you thought you had it, but weren't sure. (Particularly me, I was the undergrad to Mike's masters.) I start rifling through vinyl and cd's to see if I was right. Head phones were often donned in the search for confirmation. "I won't turn this off, but I gotta know. Where's the phones??"
Mike's still in Chicago, playing in a handful of bands, including my favorite of his gigs, Grimble Grumble. If you need a 6'9" drummer, power forward who can't dunk, man to read at your wedding or musical knowledge base, 'Money' is your man.
And now for the catalyst...
After the song builds, there is a moment where the music breaks and drops you into the meat of the tune. Until today, I hadn't pinned together the fact that it's a moment the Beastie Boys sample in Pass the Mic.
This brought back the memories of sitting in my friend Mike Bulington's pad in Chicago, staying up late, listening to music and picking out samples. It was a period of time when arguments (which soon after turned to litigation) about sampling was common. Were you less of an artist the more you sampled? Was it an art in itself? But while Mike and I would occassionally joust about such things, we really just enjoyed picking them out. Finding samples was finding Easter eggs or cash money under your pillow in place of a tooth. "I've got one!"
There were also the times when you thought you had it, but weren't sure. (Particularly me, I was the undergrad to Mike's masters.) I start rifling through vinyl and cd's to see if I was right. Head phones were often donned in the search for confirmation. "I won't turn this off, but I gotta know. Where's the phones??"
Mike's still in Chicago, playing in a handful of bands, including my favorite of his gigs, Grimble Grumble. If you need a 6'9" drummer, power forward who can't dunk, man to read at your wedding or musical knowledge base, 'Money' is your man.
And now for the catalyst...
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Decisions... Decisions...
Team Over-Analysis kicked into high gear (no pun intended) today as I thought through Kanza and my bike setup. Today's sticking point proved to be the number of teeth to throw on the back. Last year, 17t served me well, but I was spun out several times during the race and interestingly enough, it was always just before a checkpoint. I recall deciding then that I would make the change, but a year has rolled by and now I sit looking at the Pink IF and wondering what to do. I'm leaning toward the 16t, but had I made this same decision regarding TI, I would have been wrong to change. Decisions... Decisions... Decisions...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Comedy of Air
With the decision to make the 12hr a "no-go," I slotted Saturday and Sunday as Jaimaca North spin-fests. While yesterday went as planned, today became a small comedy of flats.
I headed South toward Beatrice "enjoying" a head and crosswind most of the way. After sliding back onto gravel after the limestone ended near Courtland, I had gotten a few miles from Beatrice when I could feel the too familar bounce of a sinking rear tire. Pulling off to the side for a pit, I found three goat head thorns in the rear tire. After throwing in the spare, I found I had another thorn in the front. I pulled the patch kit out and fixed this as well, but had to use my last patch to do it.
I spun it North and headed toward home and hoping that would be the end of the flats. A few miles later I stopped at a road crossing and looked down to see thorn number five waving hello to me from my front wheel. Lovely.
I called Mrs. Snob to inform her I might end up more than a little late, but got voice mail. It reminded me of a ride in Michigan when I flatted out two hours in, essentially at my turnaround point, and ended up running back to my car in a futile effort to make a family event that afternoon. In Michigan, I had no service. At least this time I left a message and there was no extended family involved.
As luck would have it, the tire held most of the way back to Lincoln. Perhaps that will take care of my flats for the month and no flint will take me down in Kanza. Last year I had two flats. I wouldn't mind pitching a shutout on that front this year.
Cruising South before the fun began.
I headed South toward Beatrice "enjoying" a head and crosswind most of the way. After sliding back onto gravel after the limestone ended near Courtland, I had gotten a few miles from Beatrice when I could feel the too familar bounce of a sinking rear tire. Pulling off to the side for a pit, I found three goat head thorns in the rear tire. After throwing in the spare, I found I had another thorn in the front. I pulled the patch kit out and fixed this as well, but had to use my last patch to do it.
I spun it North and headed toward home and hoping that would be the end of the flats. A few miles later I stopped at a road crossing and looked down to see thorn number five waving hello to me from my front wheel. Lovely.
I called Mrs. Snob to inform her I might end up more than a little late, but got voice mail. It reminded me of a ride in Michigan when I flatted out two hours in, essentially at my turnaround point, and ended up running back to my car in a futile effort to make a family event that afternoon. In Michigan, I had no service. At least this time I left a message and there was no extended family involved.
As luck would have it, the tire held most of the way back to Lincoln. Perhaps that will take care of my flats for the month and no flint will take me down in Kanza. Last year I had two flats. I wouldn't mind pitching a shutout on that front this year.
Cruising South before the fun began.Thursday, May 22, 2008
New Caps in the Snappy Caps Store
Snappy Caps now has 10 ready-to-wear caps in the online store. Go check them out!
Considering getting a custom cap, check out Guitar Ted's review of his custom cap.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Sexy Half Assed 3rd Place Duo
I pulled 3rd overall in duo even though we took long breaks, drank
whisky and generally hung out as opposed to letting it all hang out.
That said, we did turn them over hard when we were out on course.
Speaking, of the course, tight twisting with flow, teeter-totter,
power climbs including a long lose rocky climb that I never even tried
to clean.
"Here's to low expectations and low turnouts." - Johnny
Friday, May 16, 2008
12:40 - No Idea How We Are Doing
is...
12hrs of Sexy Night Support
ride, just animal instinct.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Assorted Snobbery: "Who's H.L. Mencken?"
I alluded to this story once and Butch actually commented he'd like to hear it, so now he's ruined a perfectly good day of browsing for all of you.
Several years ago, I got a "real job." I stopped working at BGI and entered the world of start-up companies at what was then known as IIRC, International Internet Recruiting Consultants. In pretty short order, I was working with companies like Dell, Kinkos and Coors, managing their accounts and generally making a successful nuisance of myself. Fast-forward a year and I made the mistake of taking a role in the sales department, thinking I could repeat the success I'd seen in my old position.
Yeah... not so much.
I struggled, didn't get any direction and, despite working my ass off, got nowhere. So, as I tend to do, I got pissed. Not at anyone in particular, just angry I was failing and, seeking a bit of inspiration, put the following quote from H.L. Mencken on my machine as a screensaver just before I left for some time off:
Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.
In my mind, I'd come back to work and, in simple terms, start kicking ass. Why I believed that, I have no idea, but that was my thought process.
As you can guess, my arrival back wasn't quite what I expected. I noticed the screensaver was gone, my desk was a bit cleaner than usual, and that feeling of "someone has been jacking with my things" was in the air.
However, no one said a word to me. Nothing. I finally asked my friend Scott, who had also come from BGI, if he knew what the story was. His response went a little something like this.
"Yeah, someone read that on your machine and it freaked them out. They were acting like they thought you might come in and go postal on everyone. It was pathetic. I tried to say that they had no idea what it meant and that they were acting ridiculous, but they didn't listen. Then they deleted it. I can't believe they haven't said anything to you."
A couple of my other coworkers relayed basically the same line, which just left me a little dumbfounded. "So, people are afraid I'm the guy that will snap but don't have the balls to say anything to me about it? Nice."
Near the end of the day, I asked one of our C-level execs about it, because I still couldn't believe no one had addressed it with me. As a former, HR executive, I guess his answer shouldn't have surprised me.
"It made some people uncomfortable, so we felt it best to erase it."
"And that's it?"
"That's it. By the way, who's H.L. Mencken?"
It was so anticlimatic that I felt a little lost. Not once did any coworker who expressed concern over the quote talk to me about it, which is what really pissed me off about the whole thing. I turned the other cheek for a while, let my disdain show a little more and began the search for other work not long after.
I've also learned more from reading H.L. Mencken than I ever did at that job.
Several years ago, I got a "real job." I stopped working at BGI and entered the world of start-up companies at what was then known as IIRC, International Internet Recruiting Consultants. In pretty short order, I was working with companies like Dell, Kinkos and Coors, managing their accounts and generally making a successful nuisance of myself. Fast-forward a year and I made the mistake of taking a role in the sales department, thinking I could repeat the success I'd seen in my old position.
Yeah... not so much.
I struggled, didn't get any direction and, despite working my ass off, got nowhere. So, as I tend to do, I got pissed. Not at anyone in particular, just angry I was failing and, seeking a bit of inspiration, put the following quote from H.L. Mencken on my machine as a screensaver just before I left for some time off:
Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.
In my mind, I'd come back to work and, in simple terms, start kicking ass. Why I believed that, I have no idea, but that was my thought process.
As you can guess, my arrival back wasn't quite what I expected. I noticed the screensaver was gone, my desk was a bit cleaner than usual, and that feeling of "someone has been jacking with my things" was in the air.
However, no one said a word to me. Nothing. I finally asked my friend Scott, who had also come from BGI, if he knew what the story was. His response went a little something like this.
"Yeah, someone read that on your machine and it freaked them out. They were acting like they thought you might come in and go postal on everyone. It was pathetic. I tried to say that they had no idea what it meant and that they were acting ridiculous, but they didn't listen. Then they deleted it. I can't believe they haven't said anything to you."
A couple of my other coworkers relayed basically the same line, which just left me a little dumbfounded. "So, people are afraid I'm the guy that will snap but don't have the balls to say anything to me about it? Nice."
Near the end of the day, I asked one of our C-level execs about it, because I still couldn't believe no one had addressed it with me. As a former, HR executive, I guess his answer shouldn't have surprised me.
"It made some people uncomfortable, so we felt it best to erase it."
"And that's it?"
"That's it. By the way, who's H.L. Mencken?"
It was so anticlimatic that I felt a little lost. Not once did any coworker who expressed concern over the quote talk to me about it, which is what really pissed me off about the whole thing. I turned the other cheek for a while, let my disdain show a little more and began the search for other work not long after.
I've also learned more from reading H.L. Mencken than I ever did at that job.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Happy Monday
Snappy Caps Note:
Some new caps were listed over the weekend. Please check them out.
And, don't forget, custom caps are always an option and come almost as fast as a ready-made one.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Down In A Hole
Sometimes, there's just not much to report from a ride, particularly a solo effort. Today was one of those days. I got buzzed by some hispanics kids early, had to push it home hard to make sure I didn't miss Seven's volleyball game and it between it was head winds, an achy knee and a lot of random mental flow that lead nowhere but served to keep utter boredom away.
There is a lot to look forward to this month. First and foremost, Team "Enduring the Screw" is set to take on the 12hrs of Sexy Night this coming weekend. Johnny listed our sponsors as War Axe and Maker's Mark. Slow lap drinks? Every lap drinks is more likely.
There is a lot to look forward to this month. First and foremost, Team "Enduring the Screw" is set to take on the 12hrs of Sexy Night this coming weekend. Johnny listed our sponsors as War Axe and Maker's Mark. Slow lap drinks? Every lap drinks is more likely.
You can barely make out the white stripe on his face, but this badger had been doing some work today. Fresh digs after a fresh dig. If only I had carried my real camera today as the iPhone wasn't getting it done and this guy was camera shy.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Finding Escape Routes
Lunchtime escapes are often key to my mental discipline in the office, but today I found my gravel escapades just got a bit more complicated. Soon, I suspect a few more miles of pavement will be required to get where I need to go.
I came across this but couldn't see what work was being done...
... and further down the road, I found there was only half a bridge.
I came across this but couldn't see what work was being done...
... and further down the road, I found there was only half a bridge.Monday, May 05, 2008
Show Off
What started as an off-handed comment is now a living cottage business. Snappy Caps is live and selling online. Mrs. Snob launched with six caps in her store this morning and is now down to five. (Blame Mr. Beck for one less choice.) She's also gotten a custom request from another TI finisher and now MOD will be diving in to help her with a Snappy web design. (The current version's functional but Susan's already on the road to better things.)
It's a good thing War Axe forks will be hitting the trail soon, Mrs. Snob's making us look bad.
It's a good thing War Axe forks will be hitting the trail soon, Mrs. Snob's making us look bad.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Swanson XC #2: "Brandon, Is that You?"
I'm still no cross-country racer, but I am two for two in the good times department at XC events this year. Fourth today at Swanson and three cats flying War Axe colors in the top five.
After clowning around in the front row waiting for the race to start, the start actually caught a few of us off-guard as we rolled through some of the cyclocross cross to string things out prior to the single track. This time I was sitting around sixth heading into the trails and, considering this was only the second time I had ridden Swanson, I just decided to keep the diesel chugging away.
It was only moments before I realized Brandon Minks and I were together, repeating where we found ourselves during the Musket Loader last month. Throughout the race, I would say, "Brandon, is that still you?" and it always was.
Unfortunately for Brandon, he couldn't keep his bottles on his bike. He lost one on the second climb of the day, then another later on. We kept seeing the first on the climb, but it wasn't really a great place to stop, so B just kept at it.
The course itself was a lot of fun. Roots. Sweeping turns to burn. Power climbs. All the stuff you love. The one portion of the course that did give me problems was the curving lefthand turn across a small creek bed. The far side was a root strewn power up, which I couldn't seem to clean. The last time up, I had to hop off, forcing B to do the same. As we remounted, a rider tried to pass us, giving me an "on your left" when he was nearly beside me. With only a ribbon of trail below us and a tree on my right, I had nowhere to go. I braced myself and unfortunately, the rider clipped me and went down. I hadn't realized he'd gone down though and started talking to the rider behind me, but again it was Brandon so the kept on pushing.
Brandon also got to experience a little bit of the edge that I carry during events. As we powered through the first climb on our last lap, I hit a tree rather hard. Luckily, the thing bent pretty far and I pulled a pseudo track stand to keep riding. Brandon asked me if I was okay and for some reason I responded, "Fuck that tree!!" in a not so friendly tone (as if it was the trees fault). B tried to calm me down a little (thanks, B) but we soon hit the dip mentioned above and that took care of it.
In short, Brandon and I just rolled it start to finish. Apparently though, we need to work on our podium protocol, since we stood in the wrong spots.
Added to the good times was a post-race Mexican seista with Nate, MOD, Anne, AlterNate and Sam. We've also got a new flavor of Tiger Gatorade freshly mixed if anyone is interested.
Single Speed Podium
Saturday, May 03, 2008
70 Miles and Clouds of Dust
Corey and I decided a little taste of TI was in order today and I spent 70 miles yo-yoing off the back of big skinny, exploring gravel north of town and stopping in Valpo. to refuel. Not the best way to be ready for Swanson, but I'm looking for a payoff further down the line.
Corey meets his nemisis; the dreaded navigational decision.
Corey meets his nemisis; the dreaded navigational decision.Friday, May 02, 2008
Someone Is "Out of Control"
Going into TransIowa, I was convinced I'd couldn't go with my "Go Light, Freeze at Night" theory of V3, so I started mulling over how to approach carrying a bit more clothing and food during the race. After a few failed attempts to roll clothing tightly enough to fit into my pockets, Mrs. Snob entered the game. After mentioning I thought my messengers were all too big, Mrs. Snob grab a sketch pad and started asking a few questions. A few days later she was sequestered in her sewing space, stitching in secret and telling me to stay away until it was completed. Before I knew it, another masterpiece had arrived. Sam was hanging out at the unveil and his comment to Susan was, "you're out of control." Completely. And I keep reaping the rewards.
Snappy Caps will soon be launched. She's beating the hipsters at their own game.
Front
Side w/ pocket
Inside w/ dual pockets. (The one on the outside right is iPhone specific.)Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
TI V4, the Race: As Expected, Yet Disappointed
During the prerace meeting on Friday night, Jeff Bonsall and I sat eating spaghetti and sharing some small talk with friends and co-racers when Jeff filled a conversational lull with the question,"How are you feeling about things?" He's a very patient guy and put up with what was likely a very long winded answer. My attitude was one of, "well, let's get started and see what happens." Before I got sick, I would have spewed confidence and hopes to see what it's like to ride up front. Friday night, though, I was preparing for a long, lonely ride. I knew that three weeks with very little ride time meant a different race than I had hoped for, so my thoughts were simply of making each checkpoint before it closed. Simply keep plugging away. Jeff said he felt his fitness was better than last year but that his plan was similar. Get to each checkpoint and stairstep the race to the finish. With that said, there was this other voice in my head that wouldn't let go. The one that tells you that everyone has a 'magic' day once in a while. I think deep down, I was hoping for some magic.
That night, last year's 'go light' freeze at night was abandoned for a more expedition style plan. The weather, which has been pretty well documented, looked like it would be hell throughout the race and it was the last leg that concerned me most. With temps forecast around 30 degrees and calls for a wintery mix, not to mention only a couple of pass-thru towns with stores along the way, I decided to carry more early so I would have it at the end. Mrs. Snob sewed me a messenger bag for the task and I loaded it with extra clothes, a bit of food, meds and bottles. Enough to go through towns with either short stops or without stopping at all.
At the start line, I remained cautiously optimistic. My bag wasn't terribly heavy and my cough was nowhere to be seen. As G-Ted lead us off of Ice Cave road and into the first climb, I watched MG and Eric climb up the road into toward the lead group and I soon found myself in a second group which included Corey, Constantine, Aris, Scott Cole, Dennis Grelk, eventual fourth place finisher Charles Parsons and a few others.
During the first 50 miles, I felt like my usual self, climbing well and feeling like a working part of the group. Somewhere shortly afterward, it was as if the volume dial was slowly getting turned down on my riding. Like an early season ride when your fitness isn't quite up for a long one, I was fading.
9... 8... 7...
Along the way, I had some nice, albeit short, conversations with several in our group. Aris had given his Snappy Cap to his girlfriend because it was one of the few cycling caps she had seen that was 'cool.' Scott was riding with thoughts of a friend who is fighting cancer for the second time. Corey and I often joked and tried to remember to have a good time. (Up one hill in particular, Corey, Constantine and I were climbing near each other and as Corey spun, Constantine and I were fighting the single speed fight so I yelled, "Man, I love pedalling squares!" in my best radio voice. I am a dork.) All of this had me enjoying myself despite numb hands, fading energy and the thought that I would soon be off of the back solo.
6... 5... 4...
For a while, I became accordian man. I would fall away from the group slowly, then meet the group at a pass-thru town. Since I didn't have to do anything but get water, I was leaving with the same group, then fading again. Back and forth. Forth and back. Luckily for me, our group also missed the flags to get around the first flooded road because it helped Matt Wills and Jeff catch us more quickly. I was then able to ride with MW for about 20 miles with Jeff doing his own accordian work with the two of us. (At some point, MW and I passed a dead raccoon that was on the roof of a barn. I've seen a lot of dead raccoons, but none several days old on a hot tin roof.) However, we all faded at different rates and around the 65 mile mark, I was riding solo and thinking about how I wanted to handle the rest of the race. I was feeling pretty low, but told myself I had planned on this so it was time for a one step at a time attitude.
Then I hit Dove Rd. (Fuck you, Dove Rd. Fuck you and the gravel that rests on you.) Dove Rd. started off nicely enough with a small bridge over a little creek. Dove Rd. then jacks up at a pretty sharp incline and makes you work. I got maybe halfway up it and started walking. It felt a little like failure but I couldn't ride it so there was nothing else left. After another minute or so, I heard noise from behind and it was a group with Corey, Charles, MG, Scott and Constantine.
"Why in hell are you guys behind me?"
"We stopped to get lunch." Corey replied. That was the heat seeker. Three weeks of disappointment and stress over getting sick before TI burned through me as that group passed, everyone looking strong as they went. As arrogant and selfish as it sounds, I felt like that was my group to be in and so disappointed I wasn't there and walking my bike. "I wanted to put a bullet in the head of every panda that wouldn't fuck to save it species."
3... 2... 1...
I carried on from there just grinding away. At some point, my feet also started throbbing as they did last year and my frustrations grew. (I also resolved at this point to get custom shoes, but that story is for another post.) Jonn and Justin, our support team, pulled up next to me at one point and asked how I was doing. "I'm fucked!!" was my angry response. Jonn's facial expression told me he didn't know what to do with my response so I moved on.
"Have you talked to Jeff?"
"Avey? No, why would I..."
"NO! Bonsall!! How's he doing?"
"Oh... we just passed him. He's not too far behind you."
...2 ...3 ...4
And with that, I felt a little better. With each climb, I keep looking back for Jeff. Dennis came by during this time, but he was riding very much in his own head and it seemed best to let him keep rocking, so I looked for Jeff. As I topped out at a very long hill, I saw just come around a curve at the bottom. Jeff could have taken a year to get up that hill and I would have waited for him. He slugged it out like a machine though and soon stood next to me.
I dug into my messenger, pulled out a Starbuck's Daybreak cookie and held it up to Jeff.
"I have two questions for you. One, do you want to share this cookie. Two, would you mind my company to the checkpoint?" Luckily for me, Jeff answered 'yes' to both.
...5 ...6 ...7
Jeff and I slugged our way to the finish like guys out for a ride on Sunday, but guys riding with purpose. I enjoyed that time a lot. We made the cutoff with about five minutes to spare. My feet were getting worse and I had already decided I was done. There was another moment when I thought of grabbing Constantine, MG and Jeff and going for it, but it was quickly quelled by thoughts of 9 Mile being ruined by my feet last year (and Showen's IM to me about that very fact on Thursday).
I took my shoes off, snuck off to have a coughing fit and pulled out another cookie to share with MG. Eric, MW and Corey had gone back out and it was time to grab the pom-poms to go super fan. We still had a long night ahead of us....
That night, last year's 'go light' freeze at night was abandoned for a more expedition style plan. The weather, which has been pretty well documented, looked like it would be hell throughout the race and it was the last leg that concerned me most. With temps forecast around 30 degrees and calls for a wintery mix, not to mention only a couple of pass-thru towns with stores along the way, I decided to carry more early so I would have it at the end. Mrs. Snob sewed me a messenger bag for the task and I loaded it with extra clothes, a bit of food, meds and bottles. Enough to go through towns with either short stops or without stopping at all.
At the start line, I remained cautiously optimistic. My bag wasn't terribly heavy and my cough was nowhere to be seen. As G-Ted lead us off of Ice Cave road and into the first climb, I watched MG and Eric climb up the road into toward the lead group and I soon found myself in a second group which included Corey, Constantine, Aris, Scott Cole, Dennis Grelk, eventual fourth place finisher Charles Parsons and a few others.
During the first 50 miles, I felt like my usual self, climbing well and feeling like a working part of the group. Somewhere shortly afterward, it was as if the volume dial was slowly getting turned down on my riding. Like an early season ride when your fitness isn't quite up for a long one, I was fading.
9... 8... 7...
Along the way, I had some nice, albeit short, conversations with several in our group. Aris had given his Snappy Cap to his girlfriend because it was one of the few cycling caps she had seen that was 'cool.' Scott was riding with thoughts of a friend who is fighting cancer for the second time. Corey and I often joked and tried to remember to have a good time. (Up one hill in particular, Corey, Constantine and I were climbing near each other and as Corey spun, Constantine and I were fighting the single speed fight so I yelled, "Man, I love pedalling squares!" in my best radio voice. I am a dork.) All of this had me enjoying myself despite numb hands, fading energy and the thought that I would soon be off of the back solo.
6... 5... 4...
For a while, I became accordian man. I would fall away from the group slowly, then meet the group at a pass-thru town. Since I didn't have to do anything but get water, I was leaving with the same group, then fading again. Back and forth. Forth and back. Luckily for me, our group also missed the flags to get around the first flooded road because it helped Matt Wills and Jeff catch us more quickly. I was then able to ride with MW for about 20 miles with Jeff doing his own accordian work with the two of us. (At some point, MW and I passed a dead raccoon that was on the roof of a barn. I've seen a lot of dead raccoons, but none several days old on a hot tin roof.) However, we all faded at different rates and around the 65 mile mark, I was riding solo and thinking about how I wanted to handle the rest of the race. I was feeling pretty low, but told myself I had planned on this so it was time for a one step at a time attitude.
Then I hit Dove Rd. (Fuck you, Dove Rd. Fuck you and the gravel that rests on you.) Dove Rd. started off nicely enough with a small bridge over a little creek. Dove Rd. then jacks up at a pretty sharp incline and makes you work. I got maybe halfway up it and started walking. It felt a little like failure but I couldn't ride it so there was nothing else left. After another minute or so, I heard noise from behind and it was a group with Corey, Charles, MG, Scott and Constantine.
"Why in hell are you guys behind me?"
"We stopped to get lunch." Corey replied. That was the heat seeker. Three weeks of disappointment and stress over getting sick before TI burned through me as that group passed, everyone looking strong as they went. As arrogant and selfish as it sounds, I felt like that was my group to be in and so disappointed I wasn't there and walking my bike. "I wanted to put a bullet in the head of every panda that wouldn't fuck to save it species."
3... 2... 1...
I carried on from there just grinding away. At some point, my feet also started throbbing as they did last year and my frustrations grew. (I also resolved at this point to get custom shoes, but that story is for another post.) Jonn and Justin, our support team, pulled up next to me at one point and asked how I was doing. "I'm fucked!!" was my angry response. Jonn's facial expression told me he didn't know what to do with my response so I moved on.
"Have you talked to Jeff?"
"Avey? No, why would I..."
"NO! Bonsall!! How's he doing?"
"Oh... we just passed him. He's not too far behind you."
...2 ...3 ...4
And with that, I felt a little better. With each climb, I keep looking back for Jeff. Dennis came by during this time, but he was riding very much in his own head and it seemed best to let him keep rocking, so I looked for Jeff. As I topped out at a very long hill, I saw just come around a curve at the bottom. Jeff could have taken a year to get up that hill and I would have waited for him. He slugged it out like a machine though and soon stood next to me.
I dug into my messenger, pulled out a Starbuck's Daybreak cookie and held it up to Jeff.
"I have two questions for you. One, do you want to share this cookie. Two, would you mind my company to the checkpoint?" Luckily for me, Jeff answered 'yes' to both.
...5 ...6 ...7
Jeff and I slugged our way to the finish like guys out for a ride on Sunday, but guys riding with purpose. I enjoyed that time a lot. We made the cutoff with about five minutes to spare. My feet were getting worse and I had already decided I was done. There was another moment when I thought of grabbing Constantine, MG and Jeff and going for it, but it was quickly quelled by thoughts of 9 Mile being ruined by my feet last year (and Showen's IM to me about that very fact on Thursday).
I took my shoes off, snuck off to have a coughing fit and pulled out another cookie to share with MG. Eric, MW and Corey had gone back out and it was time to grab the pom-poms to go super fan. We still had a long night ahead of us....
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Corey Will Finish Fifth
Corey hit the 2nd CP with ten minutes to spare. The course has been
shortened due to washed out roads and, baring disaster, he'll be the
fifth and final rider to finish TI V.4.
shortened due to washed out roads and, baring disaster, he'll be the
fifth and final rider to finish TI V.4.
Viva la Cornbread!!
Corey Pushes On
We met a down and out Cotnbread about 140 miles in. After about an
hour of reovery, he decided to 'try.' We decided he would go, but
that we would wait behind, then go check on him after about 30
minutes. Two huge thumbs up later, he was cranking it toward CP2 and
looking strong.
hour of reovery, he decided to 'try.' We decided he would go, but
that we would wait behind, then go check on him after about 30
minutes. Two huge thumbs up later, he was cranking it toward CP2 and
looking strong.
I love that guy.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Prep
The pile keeps getting higher.Last year I arrived in Iowa and found I had forgotten a couple of key clothing items for the race. Genius. So, like Santa making his list and checking it twice, I've been Mr. Paranoid tonight trying to make sure I am not taking plastic wrap for bananas from a Casey's in the middle of the night to try to stay warm in V.4. On the plus side, my War Axe fleece knickers arrived and are making the trip. They're so comfy I may order a pair san chamois for pajamas.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
"I Guess I Can Always Just Stop"
Team Over-Analysis ventured out for some laps around Branched Oak this morning. Mr. Avey and I enjoyed our usual 'everything under the sun' conversations ('What'd you guys talk about?... Everything under the sun.") and paced our way around the lake. Eventually, of course, Jeff asked the question, "So are you leaning one way or another regarding TI?" I then started to vomit all the meandering idiocy that was in my head until I circled around one simple truth. "I can always just stop." Done. See you in Iowa. (Jeff pointed out that this line of thinking begs the question, "Will you know when to stop?" My response? "Shut the fuck up, Jeff.")
Lighten up, Francis
Caw... Caw...
Lighten up, Francis
Caw... Caw...Saturday, April 19, 2008
Doomstruck Craziness
I set out this morning with one goal in mind, to determine whether or not it was realistic to start TI. Unfortunately, the jury is still out.
Having not ridden in two weeks and having some coughing spells fit for Val Kilmer in Tombstone, I was a bit nervous about how I'd feel. After twenty minutes of light coughing and even lighter riding, I hit some gravel north of town and promptly had a couple of mutts nipping at my heels on an slight uphill. After outstretching the pups I expected a hacking spell, but found I was fine to keep cranking on up the hill. Strangely, after I topped out and was soft-pedalling down the other side, the cough kicked in and, after reaching a level which included gagging, finally calmed down as I started up a slight rise again. WTF?
Shortly after, my attention turned to my left pedal, which was clicking loudly combined with the fact it felt like I had a cleat loose. Add in that my front tire seemed to be slowly leaking and I was left feeling exasperated and frustrated. Mainly, due to my health. The mechanical stuff was just icing.
I stopped to find a broken pedal (4th pair down) and a tearing sidewall. Just what the doctor ordered. Luckily, I just limped the whole thing home. Unluckily, two and a half hours left me feeling like I had gone six. So, of course, I said 'fuck it' and did some yard work. Spring has sprung.
In...
... and out.
Looking good.
Having not ridden in two weeks and having some coughing spells fit for Val Kilmer in Tombstone, I was a bit nervous about how I'd feel. After twenty minutes of light coughing and even lighter riding, I hit some gravel north of town and promptly had a couple of mutts nipping at my heels on an slight uphill. After outstretching the pups I expected a hacking spell, but found I was fine to keep cranking on up the hill. Strangely, after I topped out and was soft-pedalling down the other side, the cough kicked in and, after reaching a level which included gagging, finally calmed down as I started up a slight rise again. WTF?
Shortly after, my attention turned to my left pedal, which was clicking loudly combined with the fact it felt like I had a cleat loose. Add in that my front tire seemed to be slowly leaking and I was left feeling exasperated and frustrated. Mainly, due to my health. The mechanical stuff was just icing.
I stopped to find a broken pedal (4th pair down) and a tearing sidewall. Just what the doctor ordered. Luckily, I just limped the whole thing home. Unluckily, two and a half hours left me feeling like I had gone six. So, of course, I said 'fuck it' and did some yard work. Spring has sprung.
In...
... and out.
Looking good.Thursday, April 17, 2008
Always Returned with Scars to Show
Amber tagged me with the six word Memoir post last week. It's nothing terribly original but it's the best I have at the moment.
Visited my friendly Dr. So-And-So today and walked away with a prescription and little to no positive vibes regarding that short little race next weekend. I'm just rolling with the punches. We'll call it "The Big Taper."
Visited my friendly Dr. So-And-So today and walked away with a prescription and little to no positive vibes regarding that short little race next weekend. I'm just rolling with the punches. We'll call it "The Big Taper."
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
"No One Wants to See That."
Mrs. Snob's response to my playful suggestion of posting a picture of the bloody mess I keep coughing up.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Message In A 40oz Bottle: Elk's 'Rock For Light' Rule
As I was sitting at the Mac this morning, lamenting the fact that I was irrigating my sinuses while the H8TR100 was starting and bemoaning missing out on Ouachita, I began the downward spiraling thought process of stressing out about TransIowa. In short, wondering when I'll be back on the bike and how many days that will leave me before it's time to grind gravel into a fine rum punch. Before I got too far down the path of insipid whinery, I remembered this post by the Fighter from Philly, ELK.
And I quote:
Rock For Light Rule: Finally, go get yourself a copy of the classic Bad Brains album, Rock for Light. Throw it in your CD player, turn the volume to 11, and simultaneously hit the Play and Repeat options. Play it 'til your ears bleed or your neighbors call the cops, which ever comes first. If you're not familiar with the lyrics, keep your ear tuned to the wisdom of HR and you'll notice the concept of PMA, or Positive Mental Attitude, is featured prominently throughout. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" This has been my mantra on more than one occasion while sick or hurt, and sometimes the enlightenment that comes from reciting this mantra takes form of a laser sharp focus on a goal one, three, or six months down the road.
I don't fancy myself as the Philosopher King of South Philly, but I have a very strong belief in the power of positive thinking and attitude when it comes to overcoming health challenges. Being sick as the race season commences is a real buzz killer and the disappointment that comes along with it is genuine. But in the same regard, it is easy to visualize a return good health and success looming on the not so distant horizon. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" Goals don't always have to mean crossing the finish line first.
End Quote.
And I quote:
Rock For Light Rule: Finally, go get yourself a copy of the classic Bad Brains album, Rock for Light. Throw it in your CD player, turn the volume to 11, and simultaneously hit the Play and Repeat options. Play it 'til your ears bleed or your neighbors call the cops, which ever comes first. If you're not familiar with the lyrics, keep your ear tuned to the wisdom of HR and you'll notice the concept of PMA, or Positive Mental Attitude, is featured prominently throughout. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" This has been my mantra on more than one occasion while sick or hurt, and sometimes the enlightenment that comes from reciting this mantra takes form of a laser sharp focus on a goal one, three, or six months down the road.
I don't fancy myself as the Philosopher King of South Philly, but I have a very strong belief in the power of positive thinking and attitude when it comes to overcoming health challenges. Being sick as the race season commences is a real buzz killer and the disappointment that comes along with it is genuine. But in the same regard, it is easy to visualize a return good health and success looming on the not so distant horizon. "Gotta, gotta, gotta, keep that P-M-A!" Goals don't always have to mean crossing the finish line first.
End Quote.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Down and Out
Shortly after writing Musketloader report, my ass was handed to me by the worst cold I have gotten in years. Slept 22 of 24 hours on Monday and my body feels like Gumby today. Maybe I have finally found my true talent, endurance sleeping.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Into the Wolf's Den
Nate, Sam and I met up with B. Minks and Alter-Nate early yesterday morning for the drive to the first Psycowpath XC race of the year at Maskenthine Lake. After a quick stop at D'Leons for burritos, it was a smooth and uneventful drive to the lake. Late Thursday, I gave up the idea of heading to Ouachita solo to instead try my hand at what I think was only my sixth XC race ever and initiate the T.R.I.P.
We arrived at the lake, went through the usual pre-race nonsense and decided to do a lap or two to warm-up. It didn't take long for us all to agree that the course seems to have a bad rep. for no reason. In fact, we discussed a few times how it they would let a motorbike on the course for a lap or two, the harsh ride of the newly cut trails would be 'primo.' I doubt that's THOR approved, but it is all that's needed.
As we went through the single speed call up, the promoter called out "SkiD Cronin," which gave us all a good laugh. "Well, I do tend to grab too much brake." I joked as I raised my hand with a grin. Alter-Nate was sitting beside me and we continued to banter back and for until the word 'GO.'
I generally feel pretty clueless when it comes to deciding how hard to go at the start of an XC race. Considering I tend to start slowly in long events anyway, I decided to push it a bit out of my comfort zone but stay away from popping right away. With the start an uphill gravel road climb until you reached the single track, I knew it would at least give me an open view of everyone else so I could judge where I was sitting.
Near the top, Sam and Alter-Nate were at the front with a Bike Masters rider about 15 yards in front of me. I looked around and realized I had gapped everyone else by about that same distance. As we hit the single track, I simply worked hard and hoped to see how things were sitting once I popped into a more open area of the course. About a third of the way through the first lap, I realized I was losing ground on the leaders and keeping the same gap on the group of four behind me. I then did something I had never done in an XC race. I used a tactic and slowed slightly so the group of four would catch me.
The course consisted of many short climbs and, in the woods, several power sucking sections of damp earth. The damp sections actually pulled more energy than many of the dry steeper climbs and, as I slide into the back of the bunch that had caught me, wondered how wise I was really being in deciding to ride with the bunch.
I spent most of the second lap trying to sort out who in the group was stronger in what sections of the course I decided that I may have been digging my own grave by having that many people to pass. I also spent time chatting with Brandon which was great in that it made the race more fun and gave me some hope that my penchant for endurance might help me at the end of the race. (Thanks again, B.)
Near the end of lap two, I was able to use some of the climbs to slide forward and, early in the last lap, I had only one Bike Masters rider left in front of me. I stayed behind him for a while as he and I both seemed to be putting time into most of the other riders and then I began to think I wouldn't be able to pass him. As we entered the last muddy section of single track, he got several seconds in front of me and I thought I was screwed. However, during the last open switchback climbing section, I got to his wheel and, to my surprise, he waved me by. With only one last short climb to go I simply tried to finish strongly, and sort out how I was feeling.
I chatted with several of our 'gang of four' post race. Everyone was classy and in good spirits. We shared a little misery regarding the mud which wore us down and the way the course was on its way to being really nice. It just takes a bit more traffic.
Sam and Alter-Nate took second and third in SS respectively and Nate rode to third in the Expert open on a single speed. Jesse P. also took top honors in his age group and was 3rd overall. Nice day for War Axe. Nice day for Lincoln.
With our work done, we stopped at "The Wolf's Den" for dinner. Classic small town dinner/bar combo. As the first cyclists in the place, we got a lot of looks for the locals who sat at two large round tables playing cards.
We took tables near the restrooms which were labelled "Pointers" and "Setters." The portions were huge (particularly the burgers) and the service was friendly as we huge for a couple of hours. As we left, the race promotor, Jon Downey (who put on a really well done event) asked Sam and I how he could get a War Axe cap. After a small pause Sam offered, "You can have the one off of my head if you don't mind washing it." Seconds later, the War Axe virus had spread a little further and we were on our way home.
We arrived at the lake, went through the usual pre-race nonsense and decided to do a lap or two to warm-up. It didn't take long for us all to agree that the course seems to have a bad rep. for no reason. In fact, we discussed a few times how it they would let a motorbike on the course for a lap or two, the harsh ride of the newly cut trails would be 'primo.' I doubt that's THOR approved, but it is all that's needed.
As we went through the single speed call up, the promoter called out "SkiD Cronin," which gave us all a good laugh. "Well, I do tend to grab too much brake." I joked as I raised my hand with a grin. Alter-Nate was sitting beside me and we continued to banter back and for until the word 'GO.'
I generally feel pretty clueless when it comes to deciding how hard to go at the start of an XC race. Considering I tend to start slowly in long events anyway, I decided to push it a bit out of my comfort zone but stay away from popping right away. With the start an uphill gravel road climb until you reached the single track, I knew it would at least give me an open view of everyone else so I could judge where I was sitting.
Near the top, Sam and Alter-Nate were at the front with a Bike Masters rider about 15 yards in front of me. I looked around and realized I had gapped everyone else by about that same distance. As we hit the single track, I simply worked hard and hoped to see how things were sitting once I popped into a more open area of the course. About a third of the way through the first lap, I realized I was losing ground on the leaders and keeping the same gap on the group of four behind me. I then did something I had never done in an XC race. I used a tactic and slowed slightly so the group of four would catch me.
The course consisted of many short climbs and, in the woods, several power sucking sections of damp earth. The damp sections actually pulled more energy than many of the dry steeper climbs and, as I slide into the back of the bunch that had caught me, wondered how wise I was really being in deciding to ride with the bunch.
I spent most of the second lap trying to sort out who in the group was stronger in what sections of the course I decided that I may have been digging my own grave by having that many people to pass. I also spent time chatting with Brandon which was great in that it made the race more fun and gave me some hope that my penchant for endurance might help me at the end of the race. (Thanks again, B.)
Near the end of lap two, I was able to use some of the climbs to slide forward and, early in the last lap, I had only one Bike Masters rider left in front of me. I stayed behind him for a while as he and I both seemed to be putting time into most of the other riders and then I began to think I wouldn't be able to pass him. As we entered the last muddy section of single track, he got several seconds in front of me and I thought I was screwed. However, during the last open switchback climbing section, I got to his wheel and, to my surprise, he waved me by. With only one last short climb to go I simply tried to finish strongly, and sort out how I was feeling.
I chatted with several of our 'gang of four' post race. Everyone was classy and in good spirits. We shared a little misery regarding the mud which wore us down and the way the course was on its way to being really nice. It just takes a bit more traffic.
Sam and Alter-Nate took second and third in SS respectively and Nate rode to third in the Expert open on a single speed. Jesse P. also took top honors in his age group and was 3rd overall. Nice day for War Axe. Nice day for Lincoln.
With our work done, we stopped at "The Wolf's Den" for dinner. Classic small town dinner/bar combo. As the first cyclists in the place, we got a lot of looks for the locals who sat at two large round tables playing cards.
We took tables near the restrooms which were labelled "Pointers" and "Setters." The portions were huge (particularly the burgers) and the service was friendly as we huge for a couple of hours. As we left, the race promotor, Jon Downey (who put on a really well done event) asked Sam and I how he could get a War Axe cap. After a small pause Sam offered, "You can have the one off of my head if you don't mind washing it." Seconds later, the War Axe virus had spread a little further and we were on our way home.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Shots from the MusketLoader...rrrr... Maskenthine XC Race
Album Cover Shot
How many double-headed eagles do you see?
1st in class, 3rd overall
Nate climbing to the finish
Expert Open Podium
Single Speed Podium (yours truly was 4th)
Long Road HomeFriday, April 04, 2008
Assorted Snobbery: The Colbert Bump
Politicians aren't the only one's looking for a little increase in popularity. In order to increase this blog's dwindling metrics (not really), I decided to turn to the Colbert Nation and the infamous 'Colbert Bump' to raise my stats. So heroes, head into Leon's and try the Spicy Sweet Chili. (Do they give out Peabody's for blogging?)
"Excellence in Snacking"
"Excellence in Snacking"Thursday, April 03, 2008
Channel Neil Cassady?
What had been a pack of racers heading down to Arkansas to race has now dwindled to a decision about whether or not I want to channel the great driver of the beat generation, put in 12 behind the wheel, race 80 miles, then turn the Prius around and drive back.
Enjoy it, indeed.
Enjoy it, indeed.
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