Are We Happy?...

Yeah, we happy (and hopefully, Sir Wilhelm will feel the same way.)

Bad Boy Scout

Flat. Wrong stem length. Morning walk.

HItting the Reset

Uh, Corey, I don't think that's helping...

Fitness runs from you like it's hunted.  

I experienced the wake up call I expected over the weekend, riding with Corey both Saturday and Sunday and paying for my wayward efforts of the last few months.  However, what you couldn't see in my red face and heavy breathing was a satisfaction to be training again with goals ahead.

2009 is just around the corner.

Feeling Gravity's Pull

Measured Steps

It's come to this. I am so often frustrated with my discipline with food that I have taken to measuring everything. So far though, it seems to be working.

Team Over-Analysis Out.

Stockings for Stuffing

Is not a reference to turning in old socks in exchange for a Thanksgiving sidedish.

Instead, it's a ridiculous turn of phrase that popped into my regarding the simple fact that War Axe has now another style of sock available and a new way for you to get them.

I also spent quite a bit of time working on a new website for our foray into metal fabrication. Above is a glimpse of the new header as a preview but look for a new site near the end of December. For those of you that know this not so secret secret, send me a note and let me know what you think.

A Classics Kind of Day

Having risen too late to join the group ride, I opted to embrace to overcast skies and cool temps with the road bike. Despite it being a fall day, the brisk, cool chill reminded to of the Spring classics, so why not spin it up and imagine what it might be like to battle it out along cobbles and packed Belgium streets.

Of course, as I allued to yesterday, the Spring of 09 remains upfront in my mind. Browsing the web for potential races and trying, despite committing to a few of the usual suspects, to also freshen things up in 09

So far, the notepad reflects the following:

Ouachita Challenge April 5th. (written in pencil, pending a sometimes flakey travel partner.)

TransIowa May 2nd and 3rd. (jotted down in permanent ink.)

Dirty Kanza May 30. (used the same Sharpie as with TI.)

Laramie Enduro August 1. (the #2 is back in effect. )

Payson Stampede aka 24hr Nationals September 26th and 27th. (ballpoint pen)

I'm sure there will be more internet searches and writing implement selections to come.

Black Friday: The First Day of 09

Pathological?  Maybe.  Every year at this time I feel compelled to 'start again' and get ready for the next season.  I tend to review what went wrong with the season that's coming to a close and plan out where I'd like to be in the upcoming year.

Today, the habit reared it's ugly head in spades and as I rode three easy hours on the fixed through Wilderness, I went from reviewing a year of near misses to excitement over the prospects of 09.  "This is the first day of next year," kept rolling through my head.

I guess I have some hopes for 09.  Or, more likely, I just need to lighten the fuck up.

Why so serious?

Dial A Cliche

Socks and ties are usually mocked as horrible gift ideas.  Hopefully, that's not the case with these.

Spent a few hours working on the new War Axe site today.  Aside from a banner a couple more content pages.  We are almost there.  Stay tuned for the new looked arriving in time for Christmas.

Toothpaste for (Thanksgiving) Dinner

Toothpaste For Dinner

Key Demographic

A sidestory to CX Sunday was finding the pink bike really appeals to
the gradeschool and toddler crowd.

First, James Blake's lovely daughter tried to kit up in fine pink
pagentry. She's pictured below.

Then, as I hung out on Hooligan Hill, a little girl stared me down for
a while before finally saying, "Are you the pink bike racing guy?".
She went on to tell me that she also loved the stars on the BKB
longsleeve and that I had the "neatest outfit of the group."

I got my ass handed to me again, but those moments were classic.

DFL.

When it comes to racing, I am absolutely guilty of being the eternal optimist.  "I know I haven't been riding much, but maybe...."

Saturday was no exception, but reality, as she often does, raised her pragmatic head and put me in the place.  After a start which made me feel like Han Solo trying to jump to light speed only to have the Falcon go nowhere, I realized quickly that I was running too much gear for the last half of course and pedaling squares.  Then, one of last step up, I pulled out of a pedal, went over the bars and tried to plant myself into the ground.   It wasn't the worst crash, but I struggled to get back into my pedals and, once I got going again, was far behind the field.

I then just rode out the rest of the race.  Funny how cross still hurts no matter how hard I seem to think I am going.  Fun as hell, but nothing I am very good at.  To add bizarro-world insult to injury, I got a free pair of socks for my last place efforts and I felt completely idiotic standing by guys who actually rode well.

I had hoped to try to hop these, which was probably just wishful thinking.  Zubrod got a nice video of Nate Woodman owning these things.  Makes me smile just thinking about it.

HST Defines Cross?

"We are like pygmies lost in a maze of haze. We are not at war, we are having a nervous breakdown, again."

Looking forward to the weekend.

Assorted Snobbery: Creep

Great use of Flash. Fits the mood at the office.

A Busy May

I just read on MTBR that Kanza is slated for May 30th, apparently the 300 plus miles of gravel afforded by TI at the beginning of the month simply isn't enough Vitamin G.

"Major," by Todd Balf

When we lived in Indianapolis, our house was less than two miles from the Major Taylor Velodrome.  However, I was often more interested in the skate park that shared the area or riding my mountain bike in the nearby single track than taking in a day of racing at the velodrome.  Even the fact that Marian College, an incredibly small school nestled in Indianapolis, consistently won track National Championships against largest schools in the country never really peaked my interest.  (In fact, this year, the won their 11th title and 3rd in a row.)

Fast forward to this year and, thanks largely to the upsurge in fixed gear riding, I found myself fascinated by what little I knew of Marshall "Major" Taylor.  A few weeks ago, I picked up "Major" by Todd Balf in a coffee induced fit of team over-analysis at Barnes and Noble.  While I knew going in that Major was America's first African-American World Champion in 1899 (a fact that had garnered me a few pie shaped tiles in Trivial Pursuit), the rest of his story remained largely a mystery.

The book solved that problem in spades, providing not just details of Taylor's life, but attempting to convey the times in which Taylor found himself.  Taylor turned what seemed to amount to a side-show acceptance by racist white America into a life which in many ways transcended the hatred and injustice of the time.  As a precursor to Jackie Robinson, he truly did fight through the color barrier which was established in sport.

I have to admit that as I watched the presidential election results come in, I thought of Major Taylor.  It's interesting and disappointing to read about what he dealt with in his life.  (Can you image today an American World Champion initially being buried in an unmarked grave?)  The hundred year gap between Taylor's pinnacle and our present day is a fascinating side-story to the actual read of the book, one well worth the cover price.

Taylor wrote an autobiography.  I think I will track that down next.

Assorted Snobbery: Fugazi - Waiting Room

A friend of mine was commenting on how lame music was in the late 80's and how sterile crowds were back then. I asked, "Do you think that maybe it was the shows that you went to see?"

Then I sent him this...

Signing Day

A gorgeous fall afternoon spent chasing Corey through Wilderness lead to an evening at MG's filling out postcards, sometimes correctly, sometimes not so much, but in the end, we at least achieved a small step toward finishing TIV5.

Rob's Ready.

And so are the rest of us.

A Simple Saturday

Whenever the guy you work for starts a meeting with the phrase, "today we're experiencing a valley," you know the rest of the meeting isn't going to be one you leave ready to take on the world.  Luckily, I've managed over the years to deal with the ups and downs of the world.  I go to therapy by riding my bike.

Road Hard

Today required a couch trip and delivered in spades.  Windy, fine.  32 degrees, sure.  I dropped into Wilderness single track, pegged it and spent the next 90 minutes searing my lungs and getting over the week.  Some things in life deliver as expected and the bike, for me, remains one of the most consist ways to take the world to an even plan, whether or not anything else around cares deliver or not.

Put Away Dry and Warm. 

Uh, Con, What Do You Think You Are Doing??

I know, like father like son.

Assorted Snobbery: One

When I moved to Nebraska, I learned that we're one of only two states that can split their electoral votes. Maine happens to be the other. When I rode to vote today, what stayed on my mind was the idea of getting that split. While everyone seems to be predicting an Obama win, even Karl Rove, I would still love to see that split occur. It may be emotional more than anything, but I'm still hopeful this red state will show a touch of blue in this election with that one electoral vote. (Fundamentally, I'd really like to see us do away with the electoral college, but in the meantime...)

That said, just go vote, no matter who your choice. It's better than standing on the sidelines.

"Ahhh Yeah."

DK Sums Up the Day

"I am a Doctor of Journalism..."

Mr. Corey Godfrey sat down with Sam and I tonight for a War Axe Q&A
Lincoln Velo style.

"What periodicals do you read to stay current on events in the cycling
industry?"

"Oh, you know... whatever happens to be on front of us."

"Could you name one?"

"No, but I can see Trek from my front yard."

Tape Measure at the Ready

The end of February just got interesting. Apparently, there's no North American Handmade Cycling Cap show (yet), so I'll be back in Indianapolis pedalling 'wears' and scouting the scene for future events. Look out NAHBS.

If you plan on attending, stop by and say hello. We used to live in Indy, so we'll provide the 411.

"Hey, Nice Tube Socks!!"

On my commute home, I always pass a house which, while able to pass for a crack house, is apparently low budget daycare run out of someone's home. Generally, there are kids milling about and often a few older kids playing football in the street. When I pass through, I generally disrupt the game and so have tried to roll through no-handed and try to get the kids to throw me a pass. So far, no go, but I'm not giving up.

Today, was a little different. Given it was 25 degrees out this morning, I had gone full bundle up, including a new Snappy Caps winter prototype (toasty) and fleece knickers under a pair of mountain hardware manpri pants. This always leaves the shins a bit exposed and so, on go the Chrome 'tube socks.'

Of course, after 5pm, it was 55 degrees and balmy, so the fleece got stuffed in my messenger, which left a nice 4 inch gap of skin between the socks and the bottom of my shants. Stylin.'

With no football in the streets, I didn't even think to look at the crackhead daycare house until I heard the voices calling out as I passed. "Hey Man! Nice tube socks!!" It cracked me up to the point that I turned back, much to the shock of the kids and, with Paul Newman's Butch Cassidy in mind, rode back by rolling up the knickers further to expose the 'tubies' and goof with the kids. After a couple of laughs, I rolled on.

It was a nice way to end the day, but I'm not giving in until someone hits me on a crossing route down 25th street.

Working Girl

Mrs Snob, mid-muse, designing winter warmth and conducting a hostile takeover of the bike lounge.

Progressing to a Prediction

A.

B.


C.

D.

(Laughter Included.)

Driving Sam Crazy Is As Easy As...

RAPHA Cross Roller Race - Oregon Manifest 2008 from RAPHA on Vimeo.

Bending Over Backwards to Stand Up Straight

My last IM from the office to Mrs. Snob today read, "but I have worked until I few moments ago and now I am fucking done."

Now, all I'd like is an evening of decompression with the family and a Saturday that includes taking a leaf covered turn too hot and sliding out in a fit of laughter.

I Get It and Don't Plan to Forget It

Things like the Oregon Manifest show make it obvious why people love Portland. The depth of the scene is amazing.

It does remind me though of a conversation Nate and I once had. He mentioned something Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips had said once about staying in Oklahoma City. The point, as expressed by numerous punk bands as well, was to build your own scene.

We're going to keep working on our scene.

Forks out the door and more on the way.

7" Wool brown and black goodness coming for your feet.

T-shirts designed and ready to be ordered.

And lastly, Cornbread keeps threatening a War Axe interview for Lincoln Ve-Low. I told him to have some fun with it, so I wonder what he plans to ask.

Trips Trips Trips

Three's a Charm?

I've fought with the idea of doing the Granny Gear series solo for a couple of years. The cost Solo always made the decision a 'no,' but when the Evil Unicorns rode Landahl last year, all seemed very worth it. But Solo with no single speed class... I see Chris and Scott are mulling things over as well.

Maybe it's a certain series of hundred mile jaunts and a few gravel grinders instead. Mrs. Snob also suggest the EU go for the series. That certainly wouldn't be a bad way to ride through 2009.

Assorted Snobbery: "Coffee is for Closers Only"

Wasting Days

With both my back pain and fitness level in sharp decline, I took off for a couple of hours today, just because. I should probably also add blogging to the list of things in decline. I think it's time to start looking at next year's racing schedule. Time to put some goals in place to crank up the drive.

Growing Out a "Boonen."

Forgetting How to Use a Camera

Oh, Gary, flattery will get me everywhere, I hope.......

Guitar Ted conveyed that at Interbike Gary Fisher said that the Snappy Cap G. Ted was wearing was really cool and he really liked it. I am incredibly flattered and feel almost famous, well, not really.

Level of surprise that Gary Fisher would like the aesthetic of Snappy Caps: zero, considering his regular attire looks like a Snappy Cap exploded into a full outfit.

Gary, your Snappy Cap is on the house, just place your order!!!

Also, Snappy Caps is now offering its FALL/WINTER MIXER PROGRAM. You get to pick your fabric: wicking, windstop, or wool and then the brim fabric/racing strip(ribbon) combination. Ear flaps are an option too. We still have Ready-To-Wear caps and Custom Cap Service.

Curvature of my Girth

After weeks of feeling like my body was twisting a bit to the right, my back finally bent without bending back and lead my down the road to my first visit to a chiropractor. Now, instead of bleeding lungs and beer hand-ups, I'm looking at x-rays and going through the information provided to help me truly get back on the straight and narrow.

Last week, I had restarted my fitness ball routine. In the midst of an exercise, I felt a pull in my lower back which made me pause, but didn't truly hurt. However, the next morning, I knew there was a problem. My back on the lower left side was sore and my cocky strut was reduced to a bit of a hobble. At the office, sitting became a problem after an hour or so and I decided to get my back checked out.

While chiropractors seem to have a file full of urban legends, my first visit followed the course of any other doctor's visit with a dash of "let us prove to you why we aren't quacks" thrown in.
X-rays and good conversation lead to another appointment where I would be adjusted for the first time.

My appointment this morning started with me being led to a room where my films were already up on a light board. Right in front of me was a picture of my spine from the back, curving to the left near the bottom of my back then slowly arching back to the right as you moved up toward my neck. "Fuck me."

Dr. Stone entered and, though she wanted to give me a little overview of the program, I asked her to jump ahead.

"Let's talk about that and then fill in the details."
"It's not as bad as it might look..."

We again entered a land of information share where I described racing a rigid single speed and she countered with how the spine, and therefore the central nervous system, would be impacted. Apparently, banging around on a rigid singlespeed may not be the best thing for a person's back. Imagine that.

Then came the adjustment. I was surprised to find that the idea that she would be wrenching my body in different directions was an outdated concept. While there was some pressure, most of the adjustments were done by what would best be described as an air gun which looked a lot like a giant syringe.

I went from my right leg being over an inch shorter than my left, my right shoulder slightly out of socket, and that general feeling of being twisted to feeling taller, balanced and even (though a bit dopey as well).

Though better, the back is still pretty tender and I've got another visit on Monday.

Best to everone racing cross this weekend and thanks to Hoss for the event last night. It was nice to see Lincoln's finest for a while and forget the fact that my back had me feeling 70 years old and not terribly wise.

RAPHA Gentlemen's Race

Unsupported. Unmarshalled. Road Racing I can get behind.



"Fun?..."
"No, miserable."

The Story...

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

Sometimes, I am not sure what to make of how information spreads online, even though one could argue my life revolves around, and in, cyberspace.

Case in point: #33 on the list, but DFL in your heart.

I see Squirrel is on here as well. Healthy lifestyles brought to you by the BKB!!

Stamps in a Passport

Harlan has me thinking... And thinking very seriously.

Boxedbee.blogspot.com

Life Is Too Important To Be Taken Seriously - Oscar Wilde

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Post 9 Mile I have consistently found myself in-between motivations. One day, I will just spin around, the next do intervals and the next I'll be buying Matisse prints for the house without riding at all. When racing is showing itself from the shadows, it's as much about next year and anything remaining on the 08 calendar. At least it's all too positive a mindset to be mistaken for apathy.

Maybe for me it's the simple knowledge that with cross, there won't be any racing for places and it all boils away to riding the fall, with the leaves turning, cowbells ringing and friends cheering you on and challenging you to snatch dollar bills from the strangest of places.

Sunday Morning Ant Brigade

With the Pirate's Good Life Gravel Adventure conflicting with a family event, I decided to hit another set of intervals with a dash of Wilderness Park single track this morning. While I still feel like I have the top end of Doc Holiday on his death bed, it's been fun trying to wind it up and feel the lungs expand and burn.

Generally before the cross season starts, I find myself on the ground from either an over-aggressive turn or a mediocre mount. This year was no exception as I decided to catch my saddle remounting and rodeo-clowned my way on to the limestone of the Homestead trail. Somehow though, my bike has managed to stay upright, rolling away and taking a gentle seat on the grass as I gathered myself.

I was in no hurry to get up, but a small cadre of ants on the trail beside me gave me just enough motivation to get my act together and return to my bike.

3rd Degree of Separation

Started researching NAHBS...

Watched a video with Ira Ryan...

and ended up here:

My Reservoir Dawgs

I had almost forgotten I had these...

Johnny, Sam and some guy in an over-sized tux.

Got Curb?

"Urban Struggle"

"Tonight we're gonna take my fast car

We're gonna go down to the cowboy bar

I'm gonna wait til the club is full

and I'm gonna ride the mechanical bull"

"Cowboy look is the one I sought

Can't quit now cause the clothes are bought

To be a true cowboy is my fate

I can't help it if I was born late"

"All the cowgirls in their stetson hats

and their tight-fitting jeans so they don't look fat

We'll all be listening to cowboy tunes
and stomp around like a bunch of goons"

"Cowboy look is the one I sought

can't quite now cause the clothes are bought
to be a true cowboy is my fate

I can't help it if I was born late..."

"...I know I'm a cowboy deep inside

my hat band's made of synthetic rattlesnake hide

After a couple of shit kicking cowboy movies

I'll check out the cowboy scene down at Zubie's"

"Cowboy look is the one I sought

can't quit now cause the clothes are bought

to be true cowboy is my fate

I can't help it if I was born late."

Assorted Snobbery: Travel Observations

One thing that travel often accomplishes for me is a renewed irritation for many of my fellow man. I have a few pop pyschologist opinions on the subject of travel which are likely full of holes, but here are a few items that are sticking with as I sit in the Denver airport.

People walking in crowds need signalling devices, like a car.

Watching people get sideswiped and rear-ended over the course of the past few days became commonplace. Like the white rabbit muttering, "I'm late," people seem to be walking around, heads down looking at their smart phone, or simply avoiding eye contact. "An important email? I better stop dead in my tracks to read more closely." Bamm. Spilt Starbucks. I've heard Americans make fun of traffic overseas for its chaos and rudeness. We do the same thing when we walk. After one such collision, which left paper all over the floor, I quipped, "I'm signalling for turns from now on." The comment got some laughs, then some guy typing on his Blackberry slammed into the guy picking up his papers.

"Uh, it seems your in my seat" or Squatter's Rights

This may be a weird creation circumstance, but it's happened to a lesser extent on others, so I am rolling with it. On all but one leg of my flights, someone decided to hunker down in my seat since they didn't like theirs. Each time, when I politely asked for my seat, the offender gave me a look like I had just screwed him over. Yes, I paid a bit more for my seat, made the effort to get the aisle and now, simply because you've sat there, I am the bad guy. Got it. I guess they do say that ownership is 9/10's of the law.

Rube Goldberg Flies.

Suddenly leaning your seat back blindly on a plane is likely going to negatively impact someone, and that someone could be you. I've never seen synchronized seat back leaning before, and I hope it doesn't make the Olympics, but I have to admit, it has entertainment value. On the other side of the aisle during my flight home, two people leaned their seats back without looking simultaneously and all hell broke loose. Both the aisle side and middle seats came back while beverages were being served and, while I can't explain the physics involved, a coke and a water were catapulted into the air, spraying various parties and making a general mess. Quick to follow were heated exchanges and stewardesses scrambling to restore order and bring peace to the middle of the cabin. Then, after 15 minutes of uneasy calm, the aisle side offender dropped his seat back again without looking, coming inches away from the guy behind him. The near missed caused the man who had narrowly escaped to look around stunned as if to say, "Can you believe this shit." I made a face of sympathy in return, then, looking at close the "leaner's" head actually was to the guy behind him said, "Flick him in ear. That should send a message," then put a big grin on my face. To my surprise, both guys turned and grinned at me. It was unbelieveable.

Man, am I happy to be back home.

Dinner's View

Even in San Diego

The poor guy on the right flatted on his way to work and was so
stressed out that I almost yelled down to him to tell him to relax.
It reminded me of my first race flat where I started to panic and
fumble everything in sight. Calm down and get it done. It's easier
that way.

Dead Canary in a Coal Mine

With the cross season in mind, I spun South to the Homestead Trail to attempt a few highly unscientific intervals in what will likely prove to be a futile attempt to avoid falling apart the first 600 yards of 60 hard minutes.




In the end, I'll be glad to have started now, but after the first minute of hard effort I was trying to recount how many times I'd truly tried to top out my heart rate this year. Aside from the two early season XC races I tried, I couldn't think of any and found myself more and more occupied with the seconds slowly ticking past on my watch.

Aside from three or four groups of turkeys I passed, very little was happening on the trail. With the football game capturing the attention of the 'Husker Nation' there were only wild life and a single recumbent to break up boredom of limestone.

With the legs a bit like jelly, I rolled gravel home and wondered how I would feel tomorrow. With a flight to San Diego late in the day, I'd like hit it hard again before I sit and watch 50 new companies take three minutes to convince the world why they're the next great technology worth watching.

Some People Are Just Show-Offs...

.... Take the proprietor of Snappy Caps, for example.

Cross Dressing

Last year, someone was kind enough to gather nearby cross race schedules in a single post and since I was going down that road today, I decided to do the same.

September 27 and 28th: Pleasant Hill Cyclocross (Des Moines, IA)

September 28th: Diamond Blackfan Cyclocross Challenge (KC)

October 4th and 5th: Omaha Cyclocross Weekend

October 12th: Criss Cross (KS)

October 25th and 26th: Smithville Cyclocross Festival (KS)

October 25th and 26th: Spooky Cross (Urbandale, IA)

November 9th: Veterans Cross (KC)

November 16th: De Stad Cross Cup (KS State Champs)

November 22 and 23rd: Nebraska (Lincoln) SOBE No Fear Cyclocross Weekend (State Champs on Sunday)

November 29th and 30th: Jingle Cross Rock (Iowa City, IA)

December 11th - 14th: Cyclocross Nationals (KC)

Geek Like Me

Is That It?... Uh... I Think That's It...

As Corey and I were riding on Saturday, he asked me a simple question which, I was suprised to find, I had a pretty simple answer for.

"So, are you done racing mountain bikes for the year?"
"Yeah... I guess I am."

It seems to early to say that. In fact, I almost feel guilty. A road trip for work shot down the Dakota 5-0 and with the Evil Unicorns on hold until Old Pueblo, there's nothing staring me in the face and challenging me to turn the pedals over.

I think Corey has some plans to break me in half getting ready for cross so I might as put my neck in the noose and let the fans cheer from the gallows.

In other news, we have a few pieces of War Axe kit left over and open for public consumption. Visit the War Axe blog for more details.

On a note of Assorted Snobbery, is there a rule at National Political Conventions that a certain percentage of attendees must wear a ridiculous hat?

High and Low

The Low: Late last night, as Mrs. Snob and I watched Superbad, Johnny sent me a text message reporting that he and Carrie had just had bikes stolen. Shortly after, John and I were on the phone burning emotional energy on both ends. Apparently, their steeds had been locked with two other bikes, but those bikes had been left against a tree, apparently not worth the trouble.


The High: The RadMan rode Wilderness single track from 14th West to the bridge with Mrs. Snob and I today. I have a general rule about keeping posts about the kids to a minimum but the smile across my face has me breaking that rule today. There's nothing quite like hearing, "This is FUN!!" from behind you and having to speed up because your little man is on your wheel.

Assorted Snobbery: "There's Blood in My Mouth...

... 'cause I've been biting my tongue all week."

It's not often that the office leaves me ready for the weekend, but that's the way things went for the last five days. The outside world then decided to yell, "Pile on!" so now it's even more appropriate.

Of course, it's nothing that the saddle won't cure in very short order.

This also came out of my mouth a few minutes ago and I think that I'll stick to it. (I am sure it was Johnny inspired but hardly mother approved.)

"Some people will tell you to live life like you have a million dollars in your pocket, but I think it's a million bucks and a bottle of whiskey. Sometimes you just don't have time to go to the store."

Rats On The Sidewalk

Occassionally, I just need to get out of the office. Those times often find me downtown for a coffee and trip into Monkey Wrench for a little mental refreshment.

Yesterday, I had just started down the last block when I noticed a Rock Racing Escalade across the street from the shop.

"Okay," I asked, "Who signed the pro roadie contract?" Neither Nate nor Eric had transferred teams or donned high end fashion though, so the mystery remained.

On a side note, for those of you who can see through my references and puns like a broken window, yes, I was listening to Rancid this morning.

Out on a Lark

With the exception of the fact that I dropped into some Wilderness single track for a few miles, I might as well have ridden an hybrid today with a big basket and a orange safety flag flying off the back.

Proof I need a haircut.

While the fixie did make me pay some attention, the fact that Cross season is really just around the corner preoccupied me most of the ride. No dismounts or run-ups on the day (I still feel pretty sah-lough) but the thought of cowbells and an hour's worth of everything you have sounded pretty good in concept.

Trying a different angle.

With Nationals in KC again this year, I'd like to take the line instead of watching from the sidelines like last year.

You may be wondering why black and white. Why? Because that's the way the settings were when I took off. Boring, a bit lazy, but true.

Eroded

My last post's enthusiasm has been balanced over the past week by the feeling of being a fuzzy, half step behind on all things having to do with the bike. Slow commutes, late reactions and the bare desire to simply go to sleep have held court.

Instead of a long gravel ride with friends or trying to race around like a hamster for three hours, I think I'll likely be putting around on the road bike or low-tailing my way around Wilderness.

In the spirit of my spirit, Luna's Bewitched is keeping me company this evening. 'Sleeping Pill' will likely prove exactly that.

Pass the decaf.

Motivational Speakers...

... are best when pumping out solid punk rock, at least for me.

As the hands return to 100%, I am finding myself wanting to tie a number plate to my bars and race again. I have also researched the Payson Stampede more than I might care to admit.

A week of eating whatever I like has now dissipated into a strong desire to get back on the bike and finding an event to throw myself at with aplomb. What that is, I don't know yet. I haven't even explored the options, but there is always something more, something better on the horizon and I want to be apart of it. Whatever 'IT' may be.

2009 already looks strong with G-Ted committing to TI.V5. recently and Nationals backing up into September. Add Kanza (hopefully) and a dash of garlic, a 24 yet to be chosen and it's game-on.

One thing I have never been very good at is sitting around. Let's fucking GO!!

War Axe Update

Seriously... Check it out.

24-9: So, About That Fork...

It's not often that I go to write a race-recap and sit and watch the cursor blink and blink, unsure of how to start or what exactly to say. Generally, for better or worse, I write without premeditation and close the laptop without pause. This recap is proving to be quite different.

During the race, I felt a sort of confirmation that the work I have put in over the last three years has systematically been paying off. Sunday morning, I was a small mess and as disappointed as I have ever been after a competition. Sunday post race was full of 'what might have been,' but Monday morning had turned to thoughts of redemption and 'what's next?'

For roughly 14 hours or so, I held second place during the 24hrs of 9 Mile. Sam and Johnny were outstanding as a pitcrew and, as usual, friends. While I fought cramps for laps two, three and four, they helped me adjust and readjust my food and fluids on the bike. I was also cleaning nearly all of the technical sections on the course so a quiet confidence settled into my mind. We weren't discussing where I actually was in the standings, but the guys would say encouraging things like, "Dude, you're flying" and "Way to keep the laps consistent." For my part, I just tried to be smooth and steady. I remember telling Sam that I felt like I could ride faster but didn't think I should and we just rolled with that into the night.

Looking back, a couple of moments standout during that first 14 hours. The first was passing Constantine. Not because I felt embolden, but because I was surprised to see him, then I just assumed he would rally and come back. (Way to keep keeping on, Gus.)

Another was having Josh Tostado come flying by me in a tight tree section. It was memorable for two reasons. The first was how he handled the bike. He danced his rig in and out of an awkward zig-zag scar of a trail that was a thing of beauty. The second was simply what time it was. I knew it had taken the geared leaders a lot longer to catch me than they had taken in the two previous years, so again, I felt more confident.

The Wicking Snappy Cap Prototype. Passed the test with flying colors.

Finally, someone broke the ice and mentioned I was in 2nd place. I am not really sure who or why. It just happened naturally. 45 minutes out of first and about 15 minutes ahead of my pit neighbor and friend, Joe Partridge. I can't remember what lap it was, but do remember thinking that I still felt good and started to plot out how I could try to make time up to first. I was also a little concerned about whether or not I had eaten enough calories and wished I had brought a wider variety of food. Nothing sounded good.

On the course, the only thing that had changed was that I was walking a few of the technical sections. It seemed sensible as, while I felt good, I knew I was a bit more sloppy and wasting energy fighting my way through them. I'd also nearly gone down hard on the last rocky technical section and that likely made me a touch conservative for a while.

Hopefuls

The end of lap 9 or 10 was when Constantine passed me back. I was a bit shocked and a little proud of how fast he passed me at that moment. We talked a bit and I remember him saying the adrenalin had him driving but I have no idea what I said back. Probably not much that made sense.

My hands had started to disintegrate but were also recovering on smoother sections of the course, so I hadn't really gotten concerned. Just plotting how to handle it and when to try to 'go xc' and run some hot laps.

Thundering herd

There was really no going from bad to worse, in regard to my hands. The end came within the course of a lap. There was a long gravel section roughly a third of the way through the course which occurred after the longest section of rocky single-track. My hands had previously fully recovered during this section but didn't seem to come back this time. So, while my legs still carried me up the climbs, my hands, and therefore my control, were fading fast.

When I ended the lap, Sam and I made the call to switch the switchblade for some squish.

"It'll cost us about fifteen minutes."

"I'm not finishing without it. Not even sure what happens with it."

He got to work and I ate and watched for anyone in my class to go by. I kept expecting to see Joe, then got worried about him when I didn't.

I went back out without having lost a place. Unfortunately, I was still struggling with grip. Not far into the first single track section, the course did a odd-angled 'S' curve and, though I squeezed, the bars left my hands, ending in my flipping into a tree and falling upside down into a hole.

I fumbled my way to my feet and shook out, massaged, and slapped my hands against a tree. Nothing. I'm still surprised at how rational and calm I was at the moment. I just trolled the trail in reverse and headed back toward the pits. It still feels strange to have plugged the plug in third place.

Sam impersonating the top of a track and field trophy

When I got back to the pit, Sam wasn't very surprised to me. "That course is fucked. One lap is enough to jack you up." He wasn't trying to make me feel better, just calling it like it was.

I sat falling in and out of sleep for quite a while at the pit. Sam offered to take me to the hotel. Mrs Snob offered to come get me, but I really didn't want to move. Finally, after the sun broke, I called Susan and asked her to come get me. I walked down to Red Bud road and just kept walking onto the pavement. When the War Wagon came into sight, I could feel the emotion starting to take over and when I climbed into the car, I broke down for a short cry. It only lasted about twenty seconds, but it felt pretty good.

Any 'Mr. Obvious' will comment that I should have ran suspension and I have already gotten both polite and not-so-polite 'I told you so' comments from people, but it is what it is. I made a researched and educated guess I could pull it off and I was wrong. That's racing and props should go to the guys who hammered it for 24. They made good decisions and got it done.

Since the race, Susan's been quick to point out the positives. I had the legs to potentially hit the podium and I have only done three 24 hr races, so I don't completely 'suck.' In fact, she's already suggested adding an early season 24 to another 'Nationals' run next year to get things dialed in.

She's smarter than I am, so I'll probably listen to her.

Running Rigid on Really Rocky Course

When Skip headed out on lap 12, the effects of the rocky course and his rigid fork finally took its toll by taking away his ability to hold onto the bars, steer or even control his bike. After going over the bars, he pulled the plug, very disappointed because he was killing it.

-Mrs. Snob

6:41am

I'm not used to getting this much sleep. Ended up awake well before my alarm and now I am sitting in the Days Inn, kids asleep next to me, with Mrs. Snob out running and well ahead of schedule. I've already wandered over to Starbucks for my grande, extra shot, mocha enima and haven't been able to keep the grin off of my face. The barista took one look at me and remarked, "You don't look like you need coffee," as he handed me my change. "Maybe you do," I replied, "You forgot to put out the tip jar." "That would help," he mumbled, as I set the coins down on the counter and strolled back out into the morning.

So far, the rolling bass line from "I Will Possess Your Heart" is stuck in my head. Hopefully, it's not there for 24. Johnny's loaded the music robot with three versions of "Pay to Cum" by Bad Brains. Maybe I can make the switch around the six hour mark.

To paraphrase Wolfman from 'Top Gun,' "The race must be getting close. I've got a hard-on."

Anticipation