17.708333...

That's the magic number.

Last fall, Johnny brought up the idea of doing RAAM on a single speed. With Lincoln already sporting a RAAM vet in Bill Moser, I pinged Rock D on the idea and he fired back some info and appreciated thoughts on next steps.

Research on how to qualify, quickly lead to a 24hr event in Iowa that would fulfill that requirement. 425 miles in 24 hours. 17.708333... mph.

A Letter from My Right and Left Hand

Snob,

Right hand here. For some time now, Lefty and I have been... well... wondering about something and haven't been quite sure of how to broach the subject. We feel we need to ask, "What the fuck is your problem?"

It's ten degrees out, before the windchill, genius. We know you're aware of this little fact because you check the weather each morning. Lefty holds the coffee mug and I work the mouse. The browser comes up, I scroll down... and there's the forecast. We could do it in your sleep.

Liner, Lobsterclaw, Clawcover. It all sounds good, but it needs to actually work. You know the phrase, "I feel your pain?" Well, we know you do because we're your fucking hands. You're shoulders like the arm swinging, but by the time that gets to us it's like climbing into tepid bath water. Really... who cares?

And since when did we get religated to a status below your feet? Lake boots my ass. When your big toe becomes opposable, then let's talk.

While Lefty's a little overly emotional right now, let me come at this with a bit more logic. Please, figure it out. Problem solving and critical thinking can go a long way. You've got resources. In fact, when your friends passed by you today, many of them raised a hand. Perhaps, they were saying, "Dude, Upgrade." You should be able to answer the phone when your friend calls you near the end of the ride. We can all be happy. Really.

But here's the thing, and there's really no getting around this, at the end of the ride, when your bladder was full and you were spending more energy warming your own piss than us, that hurt man, that fucking hurt.

Help us out, Snob. Help us out.

Staying in the Rough

Not so old, but faithful.


That delicious coal aftertaste.



Rolling, rolling, rolling...

Oh So Close

Photo by Showen

Ice Capades Tryout

Hubris Rising

Rode the nine miles to work without issue. In fact, the light snow made it pretty enjoyable. The way home was anything but... I went down three times in about 300 yards and walked back to the office to get a ride from my buddy, Mike. Mrs. Snob was waiting with camera as I got home to call me out for not riding back but didn't actually snap the photo. Point taken regardless.

DHL shows the snow's also delayed much anticipated materials on the War Axe front. Thank goodness Sam is patient as I am not.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Easing into Sundays may be one of my favorited pasttimes. Today, started with the crew, a vanilla latte, nice breakfast and "The Man in Black." After taking care of several War Axe related items, it was time to get some base miles in.

Iconic Indeed

Out of a need to see something new, I took SW 29th South and just kept riding. I've always been found of the "out and back" as it's the best way to someplace new and brain dead way not to get lost along the way. (It also minimized dealing with the wind coming out of the East so what wasn't to like.) Several hours later I arrived at dead dog tired and sat back with a protein drink and watch Con make a dog out of bottles from the recycling bin. Now it's time to hope the Giants make it interesting.

Better than breadcrumbs

The Window

With the crew involved with two different basketball games today, there was one and only one window in which to ride.  Mission accomplished.  Couple that with a quick morning run and things seem to be coming together.

How Far Can Too Far Go?

Colors

Cracked Nipple

No, not the kind you try to protect with vaseline and a band-aid under your XC running top.

Jeff and I set out on a four hour tour on Sunday, only to be interupted an hour in by the snap and clicking sound caused by a broken spoke nipple. The man is some kind of jinx as we're running a 50/50 chance of suffering a more than minor mechanical when we get together for a spin. We wobbled the IF cross bike back to the Casa du Cronin and swapped for the Niner. The fixie gear was a little more than I was hoping to spin on the day but c'est la vie. I wasn't about to cut it short on a 40 odd degree day in January. Now it's time to replace the Ritchey's. Johnny gave me a recommendation a couple of months ago. "That boy is wicked smart."

The motivation just continues to climb and the excitement for the season builds. Because this year seems planned in such a similar way to the last two, I'm hoping to plug something new into the schedule. I've even gone so far as to research how long it takes to drive to Anchorage. Not sure 60 hours of driving is in my future, but some kind of adventure is.

Whittle Down

With eighteen people leaving the D Street Hotel at a bit after 9am today, you would have thought it was spring (and with the warm temps, it had that vibe). Within an hour though, it was also obvious that it's January and everyone's in a different place and frame of mind. Eighteen whittled its way down to three as Sir Wilhelm, Sam and I cruised in and enjoyed various espresso refreshments while Sam and Tony place bets over who weighed more. Confident in my gold medal status, I watched a close battle for silver with vanilla latte in hand. In the end, Sam took the silver by a scant few pounds and the medal was his.

Happy Birthday, Sam.

Kanza Over Coffee

Generally, my morning's are pretty similar during the work week. Rise, triple mocha, go through some work email, see the kids off to school and head to work. Today added the simple pleasure of signing up for the Dirty Kanza. With my name already in the ring for 3 races and roughly 410 miles total, I better keep adding up the saddle time.

Anyone else sign up this morning?

Start to Finish

The Sketch

The Stencil



Black Completed

Black up close

Finished Product

The Friendly Skies

One cancelled flight, reroute to Chicago and a lost bag marked the end of my week in San Fran for Macworld. With 40s and 50s replaced by 13 degrees and a windchill of 2 this morning, the lack of riding prevailed over the colder temps. The hands could have used a little more love, but otherwise it was two-wheeled happiness again.

"Once more into the breach, dear friends."

The Streets of San Francisco

Assorted Snobbery: We Are Devo

Just returned from seeing Devo at the Warfield.  I had forgotten how much schtick they rolled with, even Boogie Boy made an appearance.  Of course, there was a certain sadness to watching middle aged fat guys rewind the tape for Office for Mac and have Boogie Boy close things out with a strange anti-computer mini rant.  Devolution indeed.

On the positive side, SF is truly full of bikes, including lines of cyclists this morning cruising their commutes, most on practical machines for the trade.  Here's hoping the iPhone shots come out well tomorrow.

Blackout

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"The Monkey on Your Back is the Latest Trend"

While I am no proponent of "resolutions," there's also no question the holidays and associated timeoff provide a refresh that was sorely needed this year. With a year long pursuit finally coming to close at the office and newly issued technical gadgets and gizmos, one more trip seems to be all that stands between consistent saddle time and a build up to what will hopefully be a nice 2008, both on the bike and off. It certainly doesn't hurt to have temps jump into the 40's and find yourself riding with friends in sunshine either.

Post title curteousy of The Moldy Peaches. Sense of irony? That would be me.

Sharpening Sticks. Polishing Stones.

Easing Back Into Traffic

The Spectrum

Perhaps the best decision I made in 2007 was the one to let go of the blog, without qualification and without plan. In fact, most of the posts since I went 'under the bridge' were actually Mrs. Snob.

Of course, that's not to say that nothing's been going on and the lowlight and highlight of the cycling year's end turned out to occur within about 45 minutes of each other. With my cross season already fully collapsed and a bad right leg still causing me issues, I decided to go superfan for CX Nationals. The single speed race came early and cold on Sunday and as the event staff prepared to call racers to the line, I milled about silently watching and trying to keep warm. As they started to call racer's up, Marko, Cam Chambers, Sir Tony and Sam were all right together doing what they could to stay warm; Marko rocking the BKB skin suit, Tony in his Trek kit and Cam rocking a damn fine argyle sweater vest. After only a handful of racers moved to the line, I heard my name get called and repeated. Fuck. Sam graciously put an end to it and let them know I wasn't racing and moved himself into the second row. I wouldn't have stood a chance in that race, but the prerace chatter would have been worth it. Despite my working to remain undercover, Cam saw through the winter layers and shot me a hello which made things better... and worse.

Once the race started though, the superfan showed up and it was game on. Tony took off in his usual bat out of hell style, Marko, T Brown and Cam fired hard and things were rolling. Sam, Carp and the Kitten Factory King pushed hard in the cold. (and boy did I get a lot of strange looks when I yelled "Kittens!!")

Of course, Marko took the race, Cam podiumed wearing a pair of these, and there were more folks from Lincoln around than one could count. Good times.

Throw in the holidays, family, good books, Lake boots and a new Wii and it's game on again for 2008.