First Snow

Yes, I inadvertantly left the Niner outside... Whoops.

"The Secret of My Endurance."

Riding Through the Park and Reminiscing

I am a reflector.  One of those people who takes the end of the year too seriously, even too existentially (which proves the point) and replays the last 365 days under a pessimistic microscope just to confirm what an absolute sad-sack the season has been.

Why bother?  Good question.

Today, handling the roll of caboose with some of Lincoln's finest, I was cruising along, think of 09 as it fast approaches and how I could have done 08 a bit better.  It didn't last long though.  The sunshine and good times broke through all that heavy handed retrospection and I found myself just enjoying the day, cruising the fixed gear and talking to the fellas, sometimes about bikes, sometimes not. 

Of course, just like the day's reprieve from cold weather, it was just a delay of the inevitable deconstruction of year's events.  I'm looking forward to 09, but need to remember there's still a bit of 08 left to enjoy.  "If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it."

Assorted Snobbery: Long Division

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.