Rides and Runs in the Family

Mrs. Snob likes pink bikes, black rainbows and wispy walks.

Art. Life.

"There's No Walgreens Next to Blues"

Funny the things you find out after it's too late. Then I broke my chain.

Warning: Genius at Work.

Peeps.


Peepsx2+MonkeyGirl

Business Lunch

If you aren't going to ride or workout over lunch, a run to grab your new parts is the way to go.

Any archeologist will tell you, bikes outside the shop is a sign of Sping. The virgin gets sacrificed later in the week.

Miles understands. Clearly some customers do not.

iHipster color of week. Army Green. (Am I a hypocrite for saying that?)

"Well, ya see here son..."

Damn, I Guess It Really Is Game On

A funny thing happened while I was whining about my hamstring, the race season started.

Harlan started the season in style at the 12hrs of Razorback.

Sologoat took the line as well.

Tinker took Old Pueblo.

Epic Adam hit it for what looked like a tightly fought 14th.

And here I am just happy it's above 14 degrees for a few days in a row. Make mine a double on the sunlight as it's good for what ails you. Drink deep.

Sunday Grind

Here We Go Again

To bad OK GO is straight ripping off The Hives. Anyway...

Hammy and I were back in action today. A couple of hours. Soreness but not too painful at the end of the session. Mental reset for me. Riding is therapy.

Be patient Sparkle Ninja, I have an answer for you.

"... Here We Are After Dark...

...knocking back the Makers Mark, scrounging up the dollars from my buddy's car and..."

"Umm Honey..."

After I hopped off the trainer tonight, I was strolling through the kitchen and heard Mrs. Snob say from behind me, "Umm honey, you leg is really bruised."

I guess it is.

Off-Season's Second Wind

Perhaps it's because my hamstring's not quite healed to the point of being able to put in long hours or because the temp finally got above 23 yesterday, but off-season lethergy turned into energy for me last night.

Over the past few weeks I have lamented the piss-poor content of this blog and the piss-poor fitness I seemed to be stuck at. Now if the hammy will continue to cooperate, I'll just forget about last week as the lost week of riding and let things get back to normal.

Inspiration is where you find it:

Elk.

Dave Simmons.

The Kittens.

CVO and his cure for the common fever.

Nick Martin.

Indy Fab (and my short femur.)

Assorted Snobbery: A Question

Carbon Fiber Stems: Worth the added cost? Discuss...

Office Politics

Moons Over My Hammy

What happens when you make cracks about the YMCA? You tweak your hamstring on your next visit.

Warmed up for 15 minutes, got called off the treadmill to fill in for a game who needed a 10th guy, loose ball and POP.

It's really not to bad though. I played out the game and one more then sat out. It was pretty sore last night but is coming around today.

ICE. BITCH. REPEAT.

iHipster

I had to laugh at myself yesterday. I had an off-site meeting for work and as I got ready I began to count the hipster cliche oozing through the situation. It really hit me when I decided to wear jeans over my pearl tights so I wouldn't have to change when I arrived.

Nothing like working for a technology company, having meetings at coffee shop and arriving via the IF dressed like a wanna be bike messenger. Oh, and the bike is pink. How droll.

Mirror mirror on the wall...

At least I got a couple of hours in before the meeting. No packages were delivered however.

Technology hipster Mike Burda becoming "blog-famous."

How to be Hated at the YMCA

Granted, most people work to fit into life, but if you are in the mood to embrace your outcast self. Give some of these simple steps a try.

Step One. Visit the newest YMCA in your community. A spartan Y won't cut it. An older Y makes you just another freak in a freak kingdom. To truly bring the disdain of others to the fore, you want to visit an overly clean, upscale, yuppie Y. If the Y has a climbing wall, things are looking up. If you can climb the walls because of cracks in the brick and mortar, continue your search.

Step Two. Dress the Part. Pink Cars-R-Coffins t-shirts, brown Surly socks and black Vans do wonders for your YMCA "curb appeal." If you can stroll through the workout area like you're on the catwalk, you'll really make it count. Own it baby.

Step Three. Out Muscle the Muscle-Heads. This is a personal Snob favorite. After gathering several steroid induced rage-like glares, wait patiently in line for the leg press, squat machine or other like machine. Nothing bubbles the hate to the surface like getting outlifted by "the faggot in the pink shirt."

Step Four. Assist the Lovely Lady. Treadmills can be hard to understand. So can beautiful ladies. Combine the two past-times by aiding that make-up clad Miss in getting that machine up to speed. Be careful though. Remember, she really just wants to "tone."

Note: A smooth carry-out of step four in front of the gentleman in step three will really multiple your points. I like to call this the "daily double of roid rage."

Note from Dejay

Cold War Kids

Notice the Smiles at -3 degrees.

The road may appear to "T" but we thought the two white ribbons continuing straight were there to remind us of TI.

"Would you give your Mother a foot massage?"

Jonathan Page Second at Worlds!!!

Katie Compton also grabbed second in Women's Elite. YEAH!!

Speaking of cross, I found this video via Molly's site. It's a classic.

Scrooge on Wheels

Did some intervals today. Nothing crazy, just a little pace to remember you're alive. Cold, boring day. I have a watch strapped to my handlebars and I am sure I saw time start going backwards on me. This martini tastes good and he has a few friends. Cheers.

"Dad, that's gross."

The "There isn't anything worth shooting" shot.



Okay, I'll give 07 a chance.

Biscuits for Smut

As some of you know, yesterday morning I somehow decided to take a fall and lead with my left temple. It took most of the day for the pain to subside and half of the day to return to normal. Hell yeah!! I think it was that bastard Colonel Mustard with a pipe wrench. Now I need a new helmet.

Actually, I was nearly at work, hit some black ice and found myself lying in the middle of the road before I knew what was happening. Snob over ice.

"How many fingers? One. Now put your damn hand down."