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."