Shattered...

Recently, I made disparaging remarks about Mother Nature.  I did apologize, but I think I need to yet again.  She obviously knows better than I do and has tried to save me from myself.

My 30 days of riding was shattered a week ago.  The weather was rainy and cold and I could have ridden but at almost 40, I'm not that into it where I will ride in shit weather.  No rain capes, no fenders, no gaiters.  In addition to the weather, I have some SERIOUS ass problems which is how Mother Nature has saved me from myself.

Now, for those that know me personally, you might say, "Well you have always had a problem with your ass...it stinks!"  But, that is not the problem.  Well, it is a problem, but not the problem we're discussing here.  No, the problem I've got with my ass isn't really my ass but more my grundle, t'ain't or for the female readers, Brunswicks.  (What are Brunswicks you ask?  Imagine a bowling ball...it says "Brunswick" between the holes.)

So two days off the bike, I thought, would be OK.  I could still easily maintain pace to get 300+ miles this month.  On Sunday, I went for a road ride with some friends.  A good climb (4000+ feet of climbing) and a SCREAMING descent (50+ miles per hour) were highlights of the ride, but my ass wasn't happy with me at all.  I had a hard time finding a comfortable spot on the seat for the whole ride.

I rode to work on Monday and I'll tell you, on my ride home, I don't know if I sat down once.  Super pain. I got home and sat on an ice pack for the evening.  I needed to get it all healed up so I could ride on Tuesday night with the Ramblers.

Tuesday night came and we rode Bulldog in Sturgis.  Just like my ride to work and my ride on Sunday, I had a hard time finding a spot on the seat that didn't cause a flaming pain in my ass.  Once at the top, we stood around for a few minutes (which was a relief for me) and headed down.  Once again, no sitting down for me on the descent.

I can't say for sure if this is me or a baboon.

Long story short, I got home from my ride, went for the grundle-ice for a bit and went to bed.  When I got up Wednesday morning, I felt like some sort of baboon in heat.  My t'ain't was all swollen, which in turn caused my nuts to swell up too.  And let me tell you, for all you short horns out there, if your sack has gone from the size of a coin purse to the size of a grocery tote, it doesn't do anything thing for the visual size of your member.  Imagine Danny DeVito standing next to Mickey Rooney.  Now imagine him standing next to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.  He's not any shorter, but he looks a lot shorter next to a 7' man.  Same thing for me.

So, now I've been off the bike all week.  It really hasn't mattered as it's been raining like mad here, so my 30 days would have been shot anyhow.  And, the swelling has gone down and stuff is healing up down there.  So, thanks Mother Nature.  I won't disparage you again.  Unless I try this again in June.

30 Days...

30 days.  Is that too much to ask?  I suppose living in South Dakota, 30 days might be too much to ask, but I went ahead and asked anyhow.

What did I ask for?  Well, I was shooting for riding my bike 30 days in a row.  Setting of this "goal" happened organically and purely by accident.  I got rides in for 3 or 4 days in a row and I thought "hey, I could go for 30, culminating with my final ride on my 40th birthday".  It would be sweet to end my 30's with 30 days of riding. You see, to the non-cyclist, riding your bike 30 days in a row might not seem like such a big deal.  "Hell, I (insert your non-cycling activity here...watch TV, drink beer, masturbate, drive your monster truck) for 30 days in a row all the time."  But, in reality, riding a bike 30 days in a row is tougher than you'd think.  Shit gets in the way, like life, work, family, and more importantly, the weather, trying to drag you down and keep you off your two-wheeled love.

And sure, I could just go for a spin around the block, but I set goals dammit.  I set goals of a minimum of 10 miles per day for 30 days.  300 miles minimum for May (actually shooting for 4-500, but anything less than 300 will be unacceptable).  I have a GREAT start too, 8 days in and well over 100.  But, this all might come crashing down tomorrow.

I don't care if yesterday was Mother's Day or not  (is it Mother's Day, Mothers' Day or Mothers Day?), if I run into Mother Nature, I'm gonna kick that bitch right in the slats.  No, seriously I am, as the weather this Spring is getting ridiculous.  I mean really, we've had like 3 truly nice days since the first of the year and now we've got some bullshit rain in the forcast for tomorrow.  After I'd gone and planned a ride with the Ramblers.  And if I hear just one old geezer quack that "we need the moisture" I'm gonna trip the light fantastic.

So, now I'm stuck.  I'm 8 days into my 30, with a good start going.  I've got a ride planned for tomorrow, with eating and drinking planned for post ride.  What to do?  Well, I'm sure as hell NOT going to put fenders on my bike, get a poncho and ride in the rain, I can tell you that.  Oh well, I can just start another goal, maybe ride 40 days in a row to kick off my 40's...

UPDATE: The weather made an about-face, so we got our ride in, and it was REALLY GOOD! So, my apologies to Mother Nature, you know, about the whole "kicking you in the slats" comment.

Mountain bikes, injured livers and Pandora

Without getting into crazy details, the annual Rambler trip didn't happen for me.  Logistically and financially I couldn't swing it.  But damn, I needed to get away for a desert trip, so I planned out a trip with Al (previous owner of Backcountry Bikes in Sheridan, WY and long time friend), Cletus, Bobki and my cousin Aaron.  Even though this is my "core" group of friends and we've all been friends for a long time (16+ years) we all had not ridden together in, shit, something like 7 years.  

So, last month, we saddled up Al's ride (the only one big enough and/or reliable enough to take us all) and headed to points south.  We ended up riding in Colorado Springs (my old stomping grounds), Fruita and Moab.  

I could blather on about the minutia of the trip, but I won't. I will tell you that we all tried to get all Chuck Norris and karate chop our livers (and I think we were successful in this endeavor), I discovered the joys of Pandora and a smart phone, which was detailed in a previous post regarding that and the temporary death of my Mac.  (I'm actually listening to Pandora right now, though it is on my computer as opposed to my phone, since my phone is decidedly not smart.)  Overall the trip was super rad, we had fun together, met cool people and rode some sweet trails. I'll let the pictures do the talking. And maybe add some captions that enhance your viewing pleasure.

Aaron looking into the trailer and wondering if it is too late to back out of this trip.

Al, looking refreshingly dapper in his Dog the Bounty Hunter attire.

Bobki, getting ready to set sail in Palmer Park.

Aaron reflecting on where his life went so wrong he ended up with us, in front of Pikes Peak.

Bobki, making the turn on the Cheyenne Trail, Palmer Park.

Aaron letting us know he's not a stupid as we are.

Me, giving my suspension a workout at Palmer Park.

Cletus, making the turn at Palmer Park

Seriously, this was a long time coming...Cletus FINALLY swapping out those things he called grips with actual, new grips.  We all were scared of those old ones.

"Hey Al, isn't that the spot where we consummated our love?"

"Where the fuck did I put my riding skills?"

Bobki takin' a leak...honestly, who DOESN'T have a picture of this?

"If I have to look up ONE MORE thing for these old fucks, I'm gonna download an App to kill them in their sleep..."

Cletus makin' it look easy...that bastard.

Cletus doing what he does best...freakin' Bobki out and hanging his feet off a cliff.  About 300' above the ground at Gemini Bridges.

I think I found Jim Morrison...

A ruggedly handsome crew.

We had a long way to go to the Portal...

The LaSals from the rim.

Once again, Cletus hanging his legs over the edge (note how small the highway below looks).

The holiest of mountain bikes at the Holy Cross (this picture was taken expressly for the Princess).
Cletus droppin' a chute at the end of the Holy Cross and makin' it look easy.

Cletus lookin' super sexy...too bad the inside of this tent smelled like the inside of Al's ass.

So there you have it.  A photographic journey with us.  I might add a few more pics when I get them, but I'll let you know when I do.  Just looking at these shots makes me want to do it all again.

A ban on yoga pants.

Spring is starting to, um, spring around here. We've actually strung 3 or 4 nice days together, which hasn't happened yet this year. Consequently, my son started riding his bike to school, which has caused me to ride my bike to work. Since he's only 8 and has to cross a few pretty busy intersections, I'm riding with him to school, helping him get his bike locked up and then heading to work.

Which is why there is a ban on yoga pants. What the hell do yoga pants have to do with me riding to work you might ask? Well, lemme 'splain.

A bike path goes basically right from the Boy's school to my place of employment, so it is an easy way to get to work. It might be a bit faster going on the actual road, but I can still get to work in under 15 minutes, so it isn't a big deal. And on this bike path is where the ban on yoga pants needs to take place.


I've determined a couple things. First, yoga pants have their place in the world. In a FUCKING yoga class. Not out in the world, getting a damn half-caf-skinny-double-douche-latte at Starbucks, not at the grocery store, not picking your kid up from school in your gas guzzling Escapade. Change after yoga class and don't wear 'em anywhere else. You're not cool and core if you're wearing 'em outside of yoga class. It makes you look like a wanna-be. I don't wear my bib-short-plum-smugglers when I'm not riding my bike. It isn't cool.

Actually, if people (mostly women, as men don't wear yoga pants since they wear shorts and hope their balls fall out during yoga class) follow the first rule, the second rule would be a moot point. The second rule is no more than 2 women, in said yoga pants, can walk together on a bike path (or other multi-use area). If more than two are walking together, they tend to lose their brains because they're talking about how rich they are, how their husbands don't satisfy them anymore, they want a 20 year old lover, blah, blah, blah and they hog the whole damned bike path.

Can they walk on one side? Nope. They walk 3 (or more) abreast and then when a cyclist overtakes them (read: me) they act like I just pissed on their doorstep. I usually give a friendly "hello" a couple times before I come up on them, but because they are so wrapped up in their inane conversation they don't hear me. Then, when I pass them, they look all shocked and surprised.

So, if you wear yoga pants outside of yoga, please stop. Or I'm coming to your house in bib shorts only. Trust me, you don't want that.

Crashes of all sorts...

Excuses are like assholes...everyone has one. I could give you a shit ton of reasons why I haven't posted since telling you I am going to start posting more or I can just, well, yeah, I'll give you some half assed excuses.

I really do have a post going for my recent trip to the high desert of western Colorado and Moab. I went with friends that I haven't been able to ride with in literally years and I (we) had a great time. My post isn't that lengthy in words, but in pictures. Unfortunately, loading pictures onto this blog isn't the most user friendly process, so I get kinda pissy when I'm doing it and only have the patience to load 4-5 shots at a time. I am in the middle of doing this when disaster struck. Well, I wasn't actually loading pictures, but my post about the trip is more than 1/2 way done when shit hit the fan.

Friday morning before heading out to work, I was loading some songs onto my phone. You see, I discovered the joy of Pandora when I was on my trip. Two of the guys had smart phones and we had them connected to the internet and listening to Pandora the entire time. It was a wonderful thing and at some point I will get one, but since I come from a long line of tightwads, I'll just load music onto my phone to old fashioned way...you know, like your grandpa did.


So anyhow, I start loading some new songs onto my phone and I walk away for a minute and when I come back, my MiniMac was dead. I tried all sorts of things to get it to run again to no avail. Part of me wants to blame my cheap-assed phone for crashing the computer although, realistically, it was just coincidental. Everything we have is on that computer. All my music, a fair number of movies, and all of our pictures including every single picture of the Boy and pictures of my trip, which is why I can't finish my post.

All is not lost with the Apple though. We took it into the local Apple service provider yesterday. After the guy fiddled around with it, he said he thought it was the logic board. Shit...that sounds expensive. Yep. The guy says "Usually when these go out on the Mini's people just buy new ones." Nice. Then I say "Hey, I bought the Apple Care when I got it which covers it for 3 years." After checking, the guy says it expired 1 FUCKING MONTH AGO! Great. He then says "Maybe call Apple, since it was only a month ago, they might make an exception." When I get home I call Apple and was on the phone for almost an hour with them. I could go into the details of how I was super nice on the phone, being complimentary about their product, how wonderful it's been, blah, blah, blah, remembering from my time in retail how much more I like to help calm friendly people with a problem then irate customers, but I won't. I will tell you that Apple WILL PAY for parts for me, all I have to do is pay for labor. Coolio!

Well, the Apple crash isn't the only crash we've had around here this week. We had a crash of a different sort the night before too. The Boy and I rode HLMP on the tandem Thursday night. We've been riding over there a fair amount recently, getting kinda "jaunty" on the big purple tandem, doing things like jumping it(!), doing some high berm "wall rides" and basically riding it like a maniac and we've been loving it. So, we rode out on a trail, did a loop, came back and started to ride up to the "summit". Just before the top there is a rocky, technical left hand corner that isn't a gimme and is difficult for a lot of people on single bikes. We were riding
strong and felt like tonight was the night to clean it. We started hammering on it and made it through the roughest stuff. Just as our front tire rolled onto the last rock, *BAM* our freehub blew. Our forward torque on the pedals caused us to go over. I tried in vain to stop us from falling to the ground, but over we went. The rocks, hill and the momentum caused the tandem to flip over me and as I rolled over, I see the tandem roll across and flip over onto the Boy, coming to a rest on top of him. I quickly throw it off of him and he jumps up and walks around for a second. He comes to me, crying a little. I hug him and ask him if he's OK as he assesses his injuries and quits crying. He then says to me "Dad, I love it when we crash cause I feel all jiggly inside!"

Jiggly inside indeed. I apologize for the wordy post today, as soon as the Mac is back, I'll get a photo based post put up. Until then, I hope you get to ride and have no occasion to get all jiggly inside.