Another Word For Therapy: Wilderness

Two hours with near complete focus on the trail. Bring the leaves, mud, wonderful weather and just concentrate on riding and enjoying those moments where the bike is just flowing around corners and your heart and lungs are just humming along and all the static in your head just boils away to nothing.

Motivations Old and New

It's always interesting to me to see what drives both my friends and myself to stay in some semblance of shape over the winter. Usually, it's a race. Sometimes, it's being a fat-ass and other times I seem to just go.

This off-season is already proving itself to be a reinvention yet again. I've managed to somehow get involved in an indoor soccer team which is comprised of the fathers from Seven's soccer team. What began as a little cross training has turned into my typical urge to go harder and improve, so much so that I found myself on a treadmill after arriving home last night in order to loosen up the legs before dinner and tapping a ball around with Conrad in the living room before he went up for bed.

The race scene is offering it's usual carrots but, even though I have a 'plan' to try the NUE series this year, it's one single race that slides into my mind while out riding in the last few weeks... Dirty Kanza.

Here You Go, Sam: "Rookie On Rollers"

Droppage Time

After a couple months spent for essentially off the bike, this week marked getting back into the swing and back in shape with an eye toward building up for next year.

A D Street ride was the order of the morning as I haven't really seen a lot of my friends in that same amount of time. With a 9am start, the ride seemed a perfect way to get going again. It was also an eye-opener as I found I'd lost a bit more fitness than I had hoped.

Syd and Corey leading through the park

In many ways, it was a typical gravel jaunt, but the fall weather was perfect so I didn't mind slowly falling off the pace then, at almost the appropriate time due to my failing fitness, turning and heading for home solo. Hopefully, next Saturday I'll be a bit better and actually hold a conversation and a wheel.

Uh, Corey, that's not a smile...

Assorted Snobbery: Who Are 'The Better Beatles?'

While we were in Chicago, my buddy Mike had this little gem.

Like An Well-Drawn Espresso to Start Your Day

Bad puns aside, this blog's clearly not immune to the cycles of life and this time of year, I always seem to only pay enough attention to keep the thing on life support. Yet, as thoughts of next year's race schedule and ramping up the fitness again start of rise up in my mind, so does maintaining this little section of the web.

In the midst of fall break, the crew and I went down to KC with little agenda and after a short time I find myself in front of LatteLand. With scads of places to get coffee, this particular LatteLand was on the only one with bikes parked out front. With the bikes all of the fixed variety, one was offensive in its construction which included an obscene negative rise (term?) stem leading risers bars mounted to, I assume, slightly mimic bullhorns... but not really. I stood above the bike trying to figure out how I would ride it, but was stumped, so I strolled inside.

The bike above, I have to assume, was owned by the guy who took my order. His Kansas t-shirt a perfect match for the Jayhawk on this top tube pad. Mustache, smiles, pleasantries and quality espresso lead to a pleasant 20 minutes of decompression, followed quickly by a desire to grab a napkin and jot down a cycling related things to do.

With no pen, I left the list mental and will start today. Sam wants roller laughter and I might as well deliver.

Flat Tire Ration Card

If anyone can guess where I saw this, I will be stunned.

Strange Light

There are several reasons to think very little of the photo below. Obviously, it's blurry, off-center and the subject matter is questionable at best.

There are a couple of reasons to think highly of it too. You'll notice, simply, that it's a cyclist who has ridden to work. I imagine one who hasn't ridden consistently for quite some time. Despite looking a bit to serious in the moment, I suspect there's a bit of quiet satisfaction hidden there as well.

Of course, he could also be an ass who would refer to himself in the 3rd person, reading an email which has him annoyed before he even sits down at his desk. It's hard to know.

Assorted Snobbery: Chorus for a Friday

Quiet Satisfaction

I started rolling home from the office a bit after 5:30 last night. With darkness easing in and a light, cold rain coming down, I was enjoying a lot of the tiny details that sometimes you're ready to see and other time you aren't; deer on the trail, rain drops in a puddle, a bike path to myself.

When you wait through an extra turn of lights at the cross walk, either the therapy session is working or you need another hour out. Sometimes, maybe it's both.

Channeling Steven Wright

You know that feeling you get when tires slip, your bike starts to go out from under you and you think you're bound for the ground...

I've been feeling that way all day.

Have You Noticed the Lull?

I'm not sure how casually Mod meant to toss the idea out, but then there it was and all that was left was to scoop it up and make it my own.

"It" is the Vapor Trail 125. I toyed with the idea a couple of years ago and, with a new other NE rock stars excited at the notion, it seems like a road trip is inevitable and in-order.

Speaking of order, it's time to get some back. The treadmill is cleaned off, the softgoods are organized, the post-it notes are ready to count some calories and I am more than ready to get back to business.

Assorted Snobbery: Player Songs

Way, way back in the day, I was lucky enough to play well in front of some pretty big crowds but I can't even imagine how players can keep their head on straight when people belt out something like this once you score a goal. I do, however, completely understand how professional footballers end up with WAGS. That's not safe for the office, btw. (More links like that and I will need to start posting on Showen's blog.)

Down Time

There is a skill to relaxation. It seems to be a skill I have yet to acquire.

My thought process was simple. Given that I am either coaching a youth sport or attending a youth sporting event on six of seven week days, I would dismiss the frustrations of trying to force riding into the schedule. Let go of the irritation of driving to work. It was all going so well... but now my body has started to revolt against the lack of activity and my mind has begun to follow.

"I'm worried about you not riding. You can be a dick when you aren't working out." - Mrs. Snob

We're almost there... Two weeks... We're almost there.

Days of "The List"

Well, it's over. With the possible exception of a few cross races, which will be done more for the joy of beer hand-ups than results, the race season has seen its last days.

And, as always happens this time of year, I made "The List." It's a list in and around cycling, but outside of that, it's open and unfocused, part review and prelude, and open to edits without prior notice.

At the moment, it looks like this:

- Review the NUE series calendar

- Warranty my Bonty Wheels and/or kick down for a new set of 29er wheels (suggestions?)

- Do more XC races next year

- Get the Evil Unicorns racing again

- Get dropped by Corey more often on Saturday mornings

- Sell the Niner and get a geared bike for gravel to single track rides

- Spend less training time riding solo

Now it's a matter of wondering what additions will come next... It's inevitable.

You Won't Find Sasquatch Pelts...

... but we can still help keep your feet warm.

The New War Axe Bicycles Online Store

That's Entertainment

Mrs. Snob has an affinity for pictures like this. Glimpses of me caught on film having a good time and being truly happy. Thanks to MOD for joining me in a goof and the rest of the NE crew for stellar weekend.

Fools on Parade

Dakota 50 International...

For several years, friends from Lincoln and Omaha have been telling me that I had to race the Dakota 50. Finally, this year, I made the trip. As Scott, Sam, Brandon and I arrived in Spearfish mid-afternoon, I could easily see why so many people loved the trip. An incredibly nice campsite so near the race start was just the beginning for an almost ideal race weekend experience.

EnduroSnob, come to the 5oh, sir.

MOD and the Omaha crew arrived not too long afterward and along with the usual antics, we talked about the race and specifically, the course itself. Mark in particular lit up when the conversation turned to the "50 miles of a little bit of everything" that makes up the Dakota 50. I was ready to pre-ride then and there, but we waited for the next day.

"Men is what we are."

The race opens with a three mile gravel climb that dumps into single track that, save for a couple of quick rollers, continued upwards for roughly another mile. The consideration was clear, you can peg it and try to beat as many people as you can to the single track. The problem with that is that it would be very very easy to blow up. The other option is to stay within yourself and risk getting caught up in traffic.

I went with B, going to the point of wearing a heart-rate monitor to keep my ego in check, and handed myself the predicted result. As the single-track kicked up, I could hear derailleurs dropping through gears and started to feel the frustration of being trapped in the pack. Getting caught in a near track stand and trying to muscle through climbs isn't the smart way to ride, but there I was struggling to roll over what was likely an overly ambitious gear for the course and giving away a lot of ground to riders by hoping off but letting them go by instead of running behind them.

Preride chat session.

Sam caught up to me around mile 7 or 8, as things were just beginning to start to clear and, no matter how much base he has, that guy can handle a bike. Without riders in front, we made quick work of the single track in front of us. Unfortunately, that would always lead us to another log jam and more 30 revolution per minute riding. Just before the last checkpoint, we were behind one guy in a heavy spin and I started growing impatient, but there was really no place to pass as we had a creek on one side and a dewy slope on the other.

When it did open up, Sam punched it and I spun out on a steep slope as I went to follow. I run up the hill and tried to remount but Sam's momentum was gathered and I was stuck at a standstill. It was just before the first aid station an the last I would see Sam until post race.

Tourist Mode

Either on that climb or the long descent that followed, I managed to cut my sidewall. I suspect the downhill is the more likely culprit though as the gash seemed too large to have come from a slow leak. Either way, I let momentum do what it could then, like some pie-in-the-sky optimist, toyed with my tired thinking I could somehow get it to seal so I could add more air and continue. I pumped it up, waited, squeezed, massaged, begged, pleaded and who knows what else (voodoo seemed out of the question due to the pins) but it was really just me wasting my own time. Finally, just before another climb, I accepted my fate and released my skewer to put a tube in. Time to become a fucking tourist.

As luck would have it, Brandon came rolling by just as I was putting my tire back on the rim. He was hurting a little bit and was going to ride ahead, but spun back and decided to wait for me. At the time, I remember thinking I'd at least ride with him to the second aid station and just take it from there. However, Brandon arrived at the aid station in a bit of a mess. Cold chills, stopped sweating, the classic signs. It was then that he was stuck with me. He recovered and we took off for a ride. B rode his ass off. He wasn't the fastest guy on the course, but he dug incredibly deep to finish that damn ride and I was proud to ride it with him.

Balls Deep

Of course, he also had to suffer through my nonsense out on course. And, those that have ridden a long race with me know that such nonsense is considerable. At one point, Brandon paused after pushing up a hill, looked at me and said something with a voice of gravel.

"Whoa," I said, "Don't start going Godfather on me..." And then I proceeded to do a Marlon Brando impersonation revolving around the don saying he had a job for me, and that job was to ride downhill really fast. Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Brandon also got the classic "Death! You are my bitch lover!!" But, Wedding Crashers may not be in Brandon repertoire. That, or he was silently begging me to shut the hell up.

So close to bacon and beer

I even tried the classic Friends gimmick of asking him to name five famous women he would sleep with if it were cleared by his wife. He started off with guns blazing, giving me Rachel Welch as his first answer. He even backed it with a bit of added commentary. "Awesome! Who else?" I tried to let it go, but couldn't. A few miles would pass and I would ask again. "B? I need another lady." It never happened. (Damn it, B. You still owe me four more.)

PBR street gang

In the end, it took Brandon and I just under eight hours to cross the line. We rode into an empty camp, recovered then went to join the Nebraska crew at the awards ceremony. The good times continued when I learned that MOD, Lucas and Roxy all rocked podium spots, Showen set a personal best and Sam felt good for what he'd done with little training. I also got to finally meet several people who I'd know only from blogdom and through mutual friends.

MOD and I also managed to act the fools with a carton of cigarettes found at the Common Grounds coffee shop. If someone has pictures of that, either send them to me, or burn them.

Worth a Thousand Words...

... but knowing me, I'll end up giving you a thousand anyway.

There's a Hammer Gel wrapper and a tube under that slash.

5:35am at Common Ground