tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59510081542744290122024-03-14T07:28:03.205-06:00Not-so-serious Cyclistteamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-68356394527300485712019-07-09T18:50:00.001-06:002019-07-09T18:50:59.981-06:00 I can't even describe this mess...Well, it's not been two posts in a week, but not nearly as long of a hiatus as last time.<br />
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Last time I dusted off the portal to this blog, I was saying that I was hoping that 48 was a better year than 47. After having accomplished my 48th journey around the sun, I was kinda feeling like this year was going to keep ramping up into something great. Mother Nature was finally cooperating and I was getting some rides in, I was getting up and riding with Eric in the mornings, and mostly I wasn't injured. Things were looking up!<br />
<br />
The weekend <i>before</i> the 4th of July was a normal weekend here around NSS HQ. A little work at the store, a little yard work, a little MTB ride before an afternoon thunderstorm shut things down for the day. Little did I know, that MTB ride might be my last of the year and the thunderstorm that ended that ride might have ended my riding for the year as well!<br />
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The next morning, my Lovely and I got up early as we usually do, had a little coffee and played a little Yahtzee (I <i>am</i> 48 years old for chrissakes) waiting for the hardware store to open so we could run a couple errands. On our way to the hardware store, we had a load of branches from the previously mentioned yard work to drop off at the yard waste bins at the baseball fields. <br />
<br />
We got there and found an empty dumpster, unloaded the branches, and were pulling out to head to the hardware store when my Lovely and I notice this little, old lady trying to push a bag of yard waste up and over the dumpster. Since the dumpster was about a foot taller than she was, she was struggling. As my Lovely started to say, "Do you think she needs some help?" I was already shifting the Pequod into park and jumping out to run over and help her. <br />
<br />
I sprinted (at least as fast as I can sprint) over to her and just as I got there, I felt the ground give way. I was sliding on a blanket of leaves, pine needles, twigs and small branches over a sheen of mud on the asphalt. Everything was lubricated well from the previous evening's rain. As I was sliding down, I put my hand out and shoved the lady's bag into the dumpster and then I hit the ground. As I was going down I felt a big *POP* in my left knee above my kneecap. I looked down and saw my flesh all sucked down into what appeared to be a hole inside my leg. I thought I might have broken it. My Lovely rushed over and helped me up, I hobbled back to the car and we drove home. At least I got her bag in the dumpster and didn't take her out when I went down.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcjRnOsRcdUdiFRIA7IS91YiwL5wUzVwRk3sF5iK7678NCSoWAN9AdaxSj-GbxyYeULhWiaJsf-52_G40F-12x6F7usZI4GAyxMgjCTHw-oGIoKmfEM-slFZEqK27fRlvo-Tl7Hx8-iQ/s1600/image2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYcjRnOsRcdUdiFRIA7IS91YiwL5wUzVwRk3sF5iK7678NCSoWAN9AdaxSj-GbxyYeULhWiaJsf-52_G40F-12x6F7usZI4GAyxMgjCTHw-oGIoKmfEM-slFZEqK27fRlvo-Tl7Hx8-iQ/s200/image2.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking like it was about to give birth.</td></tr>
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My Lovely had a meeting in the early afternoon, so I said I'd lie down in bed and see if it felt better in a little bit. If it didn't by the time she was done at her meeting we'd go to urgent care.<br />
<br />
Well, when she before she even got home I knew we needed to go. My knee was starting to look like a water balloon. Off to the orthopedic urgent care we went. Long story short, the nice doctor that saw me said that she thought I had a full thickness quad tendon tear, but we'd have to have an MRI ASAP to verify this. With the long holiday weekend looming, time wasn't on my side.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3kOqIv2TddO8ZX54Wq7s25gS_QVYcC-K-BvOaC3IAcS9R7oHqKQ9zTdzYbQhktobqfv16jYo2ebFep0iFnYEXFD9TWHrXCGPLnifL2D_aQOkrzaF68HSHMObopi2jzkWq2oyOuijgFA/s1600/image3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3kOqIv2TddO8ZX54Wq7s25gS_QVYcC-K-BvOaC3IAcS9R7oHqKQ9zTdzYbQhktobqfv16jYo2ebFep0iFnYEXFD9TWHrXCGPLnifL2D_aQOkrzaF68HSHMObopi2jzkWq2oyOuijgFA/s200/image3.jpeg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new hardware.</td></tr>
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An MRI the next day did verify the full tear of the tendon. Shit. When they called me back with the results, they said I could get in for surgery on Monday. Ummm, nope, that won't work I explained to them. I am self-employed and we have an open house at the store this next weekend. If it could wait until the following Monday, that would be ideal I explained. I could <i>hear</i> the person on the other end of the phone shake their head. "Time is of the essence with his surgery," she explained. "With the brace on you'll be able to stand and do work for your open house." Well, kick-ass! In the words of that stupid fucking comedian, "Let's get 'er done!"<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zPB4m9-vKtb5xFgNLHFttVCE5YeP3w5HwjCISQwhHcS8R96KtfOR5pCDNZersW8oKhog08GUKsOh6t-6UMn477lW3MoY2Te0R6gy_PsRJUVuFc0Ukp0amTSeWv_mJONjvZoDKz6F2fA/s1600/image1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="809" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3zPB4m9-vKtb5xFgNLHFttVCE5YeP3w5HwjCISQwhHcS8R96KtfOR5pCDNZersW8oKhog08GUKsOh6t-6UMn477lW3MoY2Te0R6gy_PsRJUVuFc0Ukp0amTSeWv_mJONjvZoDKz6F2fA/s200/image1.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This website lied to me...</td></tr>
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I looked my surgery up on a medical website. Ah, that's not too bad I thought. It said people can be down from it for a few months up to a year. Shit, I am a PT PRO, so I won't have any problems! <br />
<br />
Monday finally came and I got to have my surgery done. Ummm, what the hell? I didn't ask for a fucking zipper to be installed on my knee. I mean, shit, I realize that I have had some accidents recently, but no need to put a quick access on my knee, is there? Obviously, the surgery was a little bit bigger than my findings alluded to. Crap. If I get to ride my bike again before the end of <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBIbo4zANFKWDjXpqWkBu76YQdBmqpTyMy-W-WlwCMe1NlpqRzO24hhDZTZd-Oencg-0E-0JUrYNNHqCBP5BqOGO58gBlwo9FGA0qO_9NKzsif5cZgbGOYdAgqzvRtzL3kxzQKM_UPv4/s1600/image4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBIbo4zANFKWDjXpqWkBu76YQdBmqpTyMy-W-WlwCMe1NlpqRzO24hhDZTZd-Oencg-0E-0JUrYNNHqCBP5BqOGO58gBlwo9FGA0qO_9NKzsif5cZgbGOYdAgqzvRtzL3kxzQKM_UPv4/s320/image4.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm still looking for the YKK symbol on here.</td></tr>
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2019, I'll be stoked.<br />
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So, maybe it's not the 48th year that is going to be a better one, maybe it's the 49th. Yeah. 49. That is the square of 7. Thats gotta be good luck, right?teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-68401654260104200462019-04-15T08:20:00.003-06:002019-04-15T08:20:54.033-06:00Yes, I know, two posts in a month...don't faint.Kind of crazy, right? Two posts in a two weeks...what the hell?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpwEhAJjzDcKhgVMaqPJlGkEDKp2TxYIzHeeTfhbTxdwBqD2BOjOt4-z9m253SovV6p_jpLbo6GvGTnEztx2saUFiNcxGezJlitDXQ50cgNeL4mS6X88HzkVWQiZOIAHX1jwsKLgupI0/s1600/Alley+Oop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpwEhAJjzDcKhgVMaqPJlGkEDKp2TxYIzHeeTfhbTxdwBqD2BOjOt4-z9m253SovV6p_jpLbo6GvGTnEztx2saUFiNcxGezJlitDXQ50cgNeL4mS6X88HzkVWQiZOIAHX1jwsKLgupI0/s320/Alley+Oop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My right arm looked like his, but my abs decidedly don't</td></tr>
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When I finished the last post I was about to see the doctor and get news about the blood clot that caused my right arm to get the whole Alley-Oop look on point. I went to the doctor which was a quick check and a scheduling of an ultrasound. The doctor seemed happy with how my arm looked, which meant it wasn't swollen like a weird balloon animal and was very similar to my left arm. The next day was the ultrasound, which I think is a weird experience. That warmed up goop they put on the wand to rub all over your body, which was my shoulder, armpit and inner bicep area, feels pretty gross. Slimy grossness aside, the scan went off without a hitch and then was the wait for the results.<br />
<br />
I finally got the preliminary results the next week from the nurse from the doctor's office. She told me the clot was completely gone and was going to leave it at that. "Wait, wait, wait," I said, "can I get off the blood thinner? " That's the whole damn point of this exercise. I want to be able to ride my mountain bike (and really any bike) again without a lot of concern of injury. Not that I'm looking to crash, I'm not built like <i>Graham</i>, and since crashing kinda sucks donkey balls and got me into this whole mess to being with, I don't want to ride with that hanging over my head. Besides, I don't want to have the thought of bleeding out on a ride hanging over the heads of any riding partners either. Of course the nurse didn't know. She was just the messenger. She'd have to find out and call me back. Which she did and guess what? I off the fucking Eliquis!!! Hell yeah! I got off the Eliquis just in time for another bomb cyclone to hit us with a spring blizzard. Maybe it's for the best as it gives me time for that to all work out of my system and for me to get back on the bike a little more not-so-seriously. <br />
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Getting off that bullshit Eliquis was great for a whole bunch of reasons. First, I can obviously ride my mountain bike. But secondly, and more importantly, it made me feel like shit. I didn't realize how drained it made me feel until I was off of it for a couple days. It didn't make me feel sleepy-tired, just physically tired. No wonder I didn't want to do anything physical while I was taking it. Maybe it is a good side effect of that drug, so you're less likely to go do something stupid (like crash a snowboard at a high rate of speed).<br />
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One last medical follow up; I got a call from the doctor a few days later. He consulted with the radiologist and a cardiologist and looked at my ultrasounds and CT scans I had earlier and based on the blood flow, which was very good, they don't think any further medical intervention is needed at this time! Fuck yeah! I was fully prepared for some sort of intervention, but this is great! No worries about recovery or injury! Now it's time to ride.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU06XaOALytUCCLqI9zn3c4szcyBTTHUoGssvQIgk0QP_bj76g8l1F767nHY_3ydtu-ZTVKVPKdD62Cl76bgoC2RyqFNxwlJ0NQCLIBL_0Jin70m2TtNufzmLMTJcC7_6kuSxzl0stHJ4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-04-15+at+7.56.13+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="666" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU06XaOALytUCCLqI9zn3c4szcyBTTHUoGssvQIgk0QP_bj76g8l1F767nHY_3ydtu-ZTVKVPKdD62Cl76bgoC2RyqFNxwlJ0NQCLIBL_0Jin70m2TtNufzmLMTJcC7_6kuSxzl0stHJ4/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-04-15+at+7.56.13+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Canyons" from back when I could ride (it's all relative).</td></tr>
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And that I did last week, kinda. Before the snow and before my results were back I went for a road ride with my homeboy, Eric. Eric for those of you that don't know, is a fucking HAMMER on the road bike. The dude can flat out haul ass, especially uphill. I had been kinda blowing him off for a ride the last few weeks, trying to get my health shit all sorted out. Now there were no excuses. He wanted to hit the canyons, a good little training ride that we do. Coming basically off the couch, I told him we could do anything but Nameless Cave as it was too much of a climb for me now. Off we went and let me tell you that ride SUCKED. Road riding isn't my favorite thing anyhow, but when I can tell my right lung is at about 75% capacity and every deep breath hurt like hell is piled on top of a road ride, well, that makes for a crabby me. But it was exactly what I needed. I went out the next day solo and did a similar ride. Then the snow fell. Two baby steps forward and one giant one back. <br />
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I am going to get out for another road ride today (hopefully at least on some gravel) and keep trying to chip away at this sad state of affairs that is my riding ability right now. And maybe by the time the snow is melted and the trails are dry I can ride without sucking too badly. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pxDA-5UySzcmBUstdLAx6KxiXCHr7xzSne6zOSgiJzugEi8umDB3gd0WUi_uxCZAkZSRhIxiVPqH3fTFvwtg0uLlqUJ4-q_Te1k0nkswO3ZEqqEX_cm2wAJCcbyNJuTm3TIh8-6LIVQ/s1600/Graham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="701" data-original-width="898" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pxDA-5UySzcmBUstdLAx6KxiXCHr7xzSne6zOSgiJzugEi8umDB3gd0WUi_uxCZAkZSRhIxiVPqH3fTFvwtg0uLlqUJ4-q_Te1k0nkswO3ZEqqEX_cm2wAJCcbyNJuTm3TIh8-6LIVQ/s320/Graham.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at that rib cage. Graham isn't breaking ribs...<br /></td></tr>
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<br />
I heard you all ask who the hell Graham was earlier in this post. Graham is what scientists say the human body would look like if we evolved (or were intelligently designed like for you creationists) to survive auto accidents without things like airbags and what not. Maybe if I'm going to keep doing these stupid things, I should change my body shape and become more like Graham. If he can withstand a car wreck, a bike wreck should be a piece of cake. He's definitely not sexy, but neither am I, so if I keep this up I want to be built like Graham. Or better yet, just stay on my bike and off the ground.teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-73799045378800146352019-04-01T10:45:00.003-06:002019-04-01T10:45:54.990-06:00My 47th Year of Life Can Suck It...About the only thing that is regular on this site is the irregularity in which I post. I have been chastised recently by a couple of cycling friends that I don't post on here anymore. Time and life has interrupted my ability to blog about the trivial shit in my life. Besides, after the stuff we went through with The Boy, my blog seemed kind of silly. I mean, there are a LOT more important things out there than me whining about my most recent ride or people in yoga pants walking on the bike path. But I guess there are people that find my ramblings a way to escape or possibly make themselves feel better about their lot in life. What ever the case may be, here we are. I won't promise that I'll be more regular with this, but I'll try. And no, despite today's date, this is NOT an April Fools joke.<br />
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I'll try to be as succint as I can about the crap that has transpired in the last (almost) year with me. A lot of you know, but maybe not all the details. Some of you have heard more about it than you want to. Here we go:<br />
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Back at the end of May of 2018, which just happened to be my birthday, we had our <a href="http://www.bhmba.org/" target="_blank">BHMBA </a>mixer. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg746vfrt38y8B-IwTF8cyyVc-3Zw-YEk3Unuif9zM8UF-RX2hMz37vLhxDcqVuogPZwxAsX0PtJDMKHt0Mcb_6Jlbma9nVug37T0suXm9VqpHKuLQqjehn4OpbeI4j3Xw_sClHJ7FgPUM/s1600/Pic+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1054" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg746vfrt38y8B-IwTF8cyyVc-3Zw-YEk3Unuif9zM8UF-RX2hMz37vLhxDcqVuogPZwxAsX0PtJDMKHt0Mcb_6Jlbma9nVug37T0suXm9VqpHKuLQqjehn4OpbeI4j3Xw_sClHJ7FgPUM/s200/Pic+1.jpg" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After seeing this snake I should have gone home.</td></tr>
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As was tradition, we had a group pre-ride planned for the trails on Skyline, with me leading the ride. Usually these rides encompass a large variety of skills, so I had planned on a ride geared towards all levels. When only one person showed up, my cousin A2 (which turned out to be a VERY good thing), it changed everything. We were able to ride whatever and however we wanted, which ended up being a mistake. <br />
<br />
Long story short, as we were coming around a corner I have ridden literally 100 times, the front of my bike washed out and I went down. HARD. So hard in fact, I didn't know what end was up for a few moments. I couldn't breathe very well and the right side of my chest was hurting bad. I couldn't even ride my bike out of there. When I tried to get on to coast downhill, I almost passed out. I tried to call my Lovely, but she was in an appointment, so I couldn't reach her. A2 called his father, my uncle, and summoned a ride for us. I hobbled for about a 1/2 mile uphill while A2 pushed our bikes to meet our ride. Immediately we went to Urgent Care. <br />
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My Lovely and The Boy met us at UC and my uncle and A2 were relieved of their duties. Some X-rays and a quick review of my condition was what the Dr. at UC needed to let me know I was far more than they could handle. They called ahead to the ER and told me I needed to go there ASAP. As we left I called an audible and swung by the house for a quick, albeit painful, shower and clothing change.<br />
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At the ER we had more scans, blood draws, etc. to find out that I had broken 7, yes that is SEVEN, ribs <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFr0z-srtl-1D6YZGGOz-LLR-dgtNnvfrL786yIVzy1ica31BwBcfh4NtUA4Ig5wyrmCVIvD_KOLcwwZp4TQ1PB6lQzGbWzOWHenvN5hXfAxeMbLViPWqqd9r9F6xxOQQIPgtc9OKxQA/s1600/Pic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFr0z-srtl-1D6YZGGOz-LLR-dgtNnvfrL786yIVzy1ica31BwBcfh4NtUA4Ig5wyrmCVIvD_KOLcwwZp4TQ1PB6lQzGbWzOWHenvN5hXfAxeMbLViPWqqd9r9F6xxOQQIPgtc9OKxQA/s200/Pic2.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the birthday present i was hoping for.</td></tr>
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and partially collapsed my lung and that they would be keeping me at least overnight to watch my condition. If the lung got any worse, they would have to insert a chest tube. No thanks. The surgeon that consulted with us told me that if I kept moving around and exercising my lung that it would probably heal itself and I wouldn't need the chest tube. So that's what I did. I kept walking around the halls of the hospital until I was released the next day. Happy birthday to me!<br />
<br />
Sleeping was a joke for the first few weeks. Finding a comfortable way to lay down was almost impossible, but things were slowly getting better. About 3 weeks after the crash I got back on my road bike for some super easy commuting. It took almost 2 full months before I was back on my mountain bike in a real way. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnIc2HcVb3aNHZH1pii5PcENiwYd1zWUEhjPuzVqYCaU4EPZtzMrnuaFk1ZMTOv-DlzDdE70-6H4lpPQHesdlKEWLpN3Iyz0oS4rM6eEuVZEQtBf0gGUQOke8XaozrhdTFbhekX8Kzxk/s1600/Pic+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1257" data-original-width="1600" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnIc2HcVb3aNHZH1pii5PcENiwYd1zWUEhjPuzVqYCaU4EPZtzMrnuaFk1ZMTOv-DlzDdE70-6H4lpPQHesdlKEWLpN3Iyz0oS4rM6eEuVZEQtBf0gGUQOke8XaozrhdTFbhekX8Kzxk/s200/Pic+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A good autumn of riding!</td></tr>
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Let's fast forward to November. I got a decent autumn of riding in and was feeling pretty good. Any pain in my chest was basically gone and it was time to start working out again. I started my usual winter weight lifting routine, but with much lighter weights and I was easing back into it. I only did one set the first week, two sets the second week and the third week I did three sets, which is where everything went all pear shaped. The day after my first "3 set workout" my right arm was kind of tight. "I didn't think I worked out that hard yesterday," I thought to myself. The next day my arm was slightly swollen up. "Huh. That's weird." I mused. By the third day, which was a Saturday, it was even more swollen and I had a tender spot in my armpit. After the weekend was over my arm was swollen to the point of starting to look a little bit like the old Alley Oop cartoons. Obviously I called the doctor, and I got in the next day (which ended up being more than a week after I worked out). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJd7E0-Y_9Fxg39ACYvIZ1XK-Jm99yA8sqsnCZbR_XfIJsNVBy2-w2RigFJGFAuK6Fb9447UiOTK1XgpZXnbZ9sL6H2QBb-iiGi2ZwllrSYj3gOrBe9fRRprCd3zeTxfPTYVn3fo6KYk/s1600/Pic+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJd7E0-Y_9Fxg39ACYvIZ1XK-Jm99yA8sqsnCZbR_XfIJsNVBy2-w2RigFJGFAuK6Fb9447UiOTK1XgpZXnbZ9sL6H2QBb-iiGi2ZwllrSYj3gOrBe9fRRprCd3zeTxfPTYVn3fo6KYk/s200/Pic+4.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like I could club you with this arm, doesn't it?</td></tr>
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After a quick rundown by the doc, I was sent for an ultrasound. Even though I might look like it, no, I'm not having a baby. After a kind of rough session of getting my arm mashed with that ultrasound wand, I find out I have a fucking blood clot from my elbow up past my shoulder. And no, that's not where it moved, that's how freaking long it was! Immediately I was put on the blood thinner Eliquis (which is insanely expensive, like $600 per month without insurance) to eliminate the clot. A couple weeks later I had a follow-up visit at the doctor's office. We discussed that I would be on Eliquis until the first of April when we would make sure the clot was gone and then most likely do a flow test to see if a rib from the crash last May was impeding the flow from that vein. If it is, I will have to have a little surgery to cut some rib out to make room for that vein! Also, I was given the green light to go back to working out, riding my road bike (no MTB) and doing the things I like to do in the winter, BUT WITH EXTREME CAUTION (you can read about some of the dangers of riding on blood thinners in my letter to Lennard Zinn on VeloNews.com <a href="https://www.velonews.com/2019/01/bikes-and-tech/technical-faq-blood-thinners-down-tube-shifters_483110" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="https://www.velonews.com/2019/02/bikes-and-tech/technical-faq-more-on-riding-while-on-blood-thinners_483416" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://www.velonews.com/2019/03/bikes-and-tech/technical-faq-cycling-on-blood-thinners-continued_483953" target="_blank">here</a>). One of the dangers of being on a blood thinner is a head injury, which is an important point for the remainder of my story. A hard blow to the head could cause a brain bleed that could end the need for blood thinners or anything else for that matter. <br />
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But, do you think I could listen to the doctor? Nah. That wouldn't be my style. Sounds like a good time to go to Terry Peak for some snowboarding! What could go wrong? A few small crashes here and there were no big deal and after a few times of going, I was feeling good about things. Do you note the feeling of impending doom yet? Riding on a Monday with my snowboard buddy and long time brother in crime Cleaver, once again everything was awesome until it wasn't (as Cleaver eloquently put it). We were flying down a run in excess of 45 mph (so says Strava), when the next thing I knew there were two ski patrollers standing over me. Another long story short, I went down somewhere in there, again HARD (seeing a pattern here?) and was knocked unconsious long enough for Cleaver to get stopped, run back up to me, call the Terry Peak office and say we need ski patrol to come to me, and ski patrol to get to me, somewhere between 5-10 minutes. A patrol toboggan ride to the lodge for a quick cognitive test was in order before I was released.<br />
<br />
Cleaver then drove me back to NSS HQ, to the doctor's office, and to get more X-rays. My head ended up being OK, although I clearly don't know what is up there to hurt anyhow. I severely hurt my ribs, on the same side AGAIN, which is the reason for the X-rays. Nothing was broken/rebroken, but I have massive trauma that included many torn muscles in the area to the point of having areas of numbness. Once again laying down and sleeping was a bear and actually this injury hurt far worse than the broken ribs, although the broken ribs probably played a part in this injury, as things in that area were already weakened. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HkwusA7J6yAn0_pQ6w4CuGSuZ9hxpr-Ct0FbDrGGAZEAwfeqpZxYC-9HZi48_sC9baKI61WmzYDYU5mOadpQY_B14aXyEabjnlCTGOGislv8CM1-xX8ApXMG3M2VnykqJg6adhk_pV4/s1600/Pic+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HkwusA7J6yAn0_pQ6w4CuGSuZ9hxpr-Ct0FbDrGGAZEAwfeqpZxYC-9HZi48_sC9baKI61WmzYDYU5mOadpQY_B14aXyEabjnlCTGOGislv8CM1-xX8ApXMG3M2VnykqJg6adhk_pV4/s200/Pic+5.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closing day!</td></tr>
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Finally, I am healing up from this. I got to go up to Terry Peak for closing day yesterday, which was my first time back there in about 7 weeks. I'm back on my road bike, and although I'm sucking wind hard right now, riding is actually making my injury feel better. And last, but not least, I go back to the doctor tomorrow for my follow-up. Hopefully I can get off of the Eliquis and get the rib and blood clot thing taken care of once and for all.<br />
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I am less than two months away from completing another lap around the sun, which I am looking forward to. This 47th one can suck it. This year has been shit and I am looking forward to the next one being FAR better. It has to be, I have no where to go but up.teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-34501849829084986142017-04-03T10:04:00.000-06:002017-04-03T10:05:23.949-06:00I've been silent for almost a year...Man alive, this web-log has been all but repossessed by blogger.com, out of commision for nearly a year. And it's not because I've not <i>wanted</i> to blog anything, but more because I didn't feel like I had much to say. But, things are starting to rattle around in my puny brain, so let's blow the cobwebs out of the corners, dust off the screen and do this.<br />
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My last post, nearly a year ago, was really focused on our battle, as a family, with the Boy's cancer. There will still be some of that in this post, but it won't be solely focused on it. The Boy is nearly a year out of his treatments and is still cancer free, so about the only thing I can say about it is thank you to all the people that supported him and us (and continue to do so) during this time. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg4O9EfL6Ux1VM5c98JE4nV0rkSTxwa_WDjySZkgekQ7AACek_XKNLFsefT8wSnWKo5rA2tqu3fWbXVDe_cUmqYaj_BMwWwOHjSOjSsI6WF8cm8EkpsMcUYg2iwxjNG-NkZoYPWxMVD0/s640/blogger-image--1324293605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg4O9EfL6Ux1VM5c98JE4nV0rkSTxwa_WDjySZkgekQ7AACek_XKNLFsefT8wSnWKo5rA2tqu3fWbXVDe_cUmqYaj_BMwWwOHjSOjSsI6WF8cm8EkpsMcUYg2iwxjNG-NkZoYPWxMVD0/s400/blogger-image--1324293605.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictures of the boy taken exactly one year apart.</td></tr>
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It's partially because of this support, along with other factors surrounding his cancer, that I haven't been on here in nearly a year. Lemme 'splain. See, I get my stupid ideas for my blog when I'm out on long rides, and I hadn't been out doing that. Part of it is because of us trying to figure out new priorities with our family and after a year of being apart, not wanting to be away from each other for long periods of time. But the other part of it is because of how my stupid brain works. I feel like I had to "make up" for being away from work so much in the last year. I know my co-workers didn't resent me for what we had to do, but I also didn't feel like I could and/or should take time off after being around only 1/3 of the time in the previous 10 months. I felt like I <i>had </i>make amends. <br />
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This last week that all changed though. I was able to get out on a solo 50 mile pavement/gravel ride, my longest ride since the day after we found out the Boy had cancer almost 2 years ago, and it sure kicked my brain into overdrive. It was like there was a year's worth of garbage needing to be purged, it came spewing out all at once. I had to try and focus on just one part of all of what was gushing out. And here it is...the most political post ever on this site.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYN0_dL_K012k350pDM3fu8dvfeIRY7lGu6hG3_OSdqBj3ZsWNPpnnvX3jqbg7F2ODvNnsPyjlNbrR4aGYf4hucruiSB2xCCB3lZd2KUfmgGm9A_-ewkbAKJA7xVErEg2YQci64q__Jo/s640/blogger-image--933176053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYN0_dL_K012k350pDM3fu8dvfeIRY7lGu6hG3_OSdqBj3ZsWNPpnnvX3jqbg7F2ODvNnsPyjlNbrR4aGYf4hucruiSB2xCCB3lZd2KUfmgGm9A_-ewkbAKJA7xVErEg2YQci64q__Jo/s400/blogger-image--933176053.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful shot heading back into the Black Hills.</td></tr>
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Anyone that knows me personally knows that my political leanings are fairly well to the left, but I also tend to keep quiet about this most of the time for a couple reasons. One, I live in a blood-red state where finding another liberal person is like finding a unicorn, so unless you want to get into a fight with someone, it is best to keep most of your political opinions to yourself. Which leads me to number two, politics, like religion, are and should be a very private thing. I never deny my feelings on a subject when asked about it, but I don't go out shouting my feelings to any and everyone that will listen. <br />
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What the hell does this have to do with bikes you might ask? A lot it turns out. On my ride the other day, I rode out to the gravel roads north and east of the NSS HQ into the rolling prairie/farm/ranch land past the foothills of the Black Hills. I love riding out in places like this. It feels like taking a time-machine back to a simpler time. As I rolled along, an occasional farm truck would drive by. Here's this big, bearded guy in spandex, riding a bright orange bike, and every single one of them slowed down, moved over and waved. They respected me as a person even as I invaded their "territory". I also knew that if I needed any help out there, I could have walked up to just about any one of those farmhouses, knocked on the door and been greeted like an old neighbor and helped. And most of these people would do the same for just about anyone else in the same position. <br />
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I could make a fairly safe wager that most (yes, most, not all) of these people voted far right in this last election. But therein lies the rub with the political climate in this country right now. We are all so fucking eager to label the "other side" with being gun-toting rednecks Trump supporters or free-loading, good for nothing socialist liberals that we don't take the time to realize that a great majority of people we know are not gun-toting rednecks or free-loading liberals, but just solid people that believe a certain thing and that having someone on the other side yelling at you that you're wrong will never, in a million years, change your mind. <br />
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My point of all of this is, get out there on your bike. Explore places that make you feel "uncomfortable". Say hi to someone that doesn't look like you. Stop and have a conversation with a person that doesn't believe the same things you do. You'll feel a lot better because you're riding your bike and you might just learn that the person on the other side wants almost the exact same things you do. Make a good, honest living, provide for their family, and have a little fun along the way. And <i>that </i>is how we'll make America greater.<br />
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<br />teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-59323890488955147512016-05-21T09:39:00.001-06:002016-05-21T09:39:28.605-06:00It's been 206 days since we last met.Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. A NSS post? These are about as frequent as a positive political post on Facebook these days. Well, as we near the end of the journey here in Denver for the Boy, I thought instead of posting all the positive stuff on his <a href="https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/samseeley" target="_blank">CaringBridge page</a>, I want to bitch and complain on this page for once. So, fair warning, the language on this post might get a little colorful so to speak. Not that it hasn't in the past, but today might get a bit more so.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDPQPwVgAgkWIySnxwmcjQd-ws2bQ7l_UWgqqIAiMg6w1gRr9qg1_oVks427bqG4bvocJMjJw51xLzqDTiQI4ax_GyzCsYuQQ6Sk4BaMJVNN_3ssOJ5H9THXvXcvA6ZSh6G50Zb4i35Y/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwDPQPwVgAgkWIySnxwmcjQd-ws2bQ7l_UWgqqIAiMg6w1gRr9qg1_oVks427bqG4bvocJMjJw51xLzqDTiQI4ax_GyzCsYuQQ6Sk4BaMJVNN_3ssOJ5H9THXvXcvA6ZSh6G50Zb4i35Y/s320/image1.JPG" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The meme says it all...</td></tr>
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First, fuck cancer. Yeah, I know that it goes without saying. But having lived down here for the better part of the last 9 months, I'm seeing day in and day out these kids battling these horrific battles with cancer. We have <a href="https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/peytonlinafelter" target="_blank">friends back in SD that are finding out their daughters/nieces have rare cancers</a>. What the fuck? How the hell does a kid, some of these I see are tiny little toddlers, have cancer? They have done nothing in their lives to invite it. They haven't done all those things that we're told not to do. And yet there are people in the world that drink to excess, smoke a bazillion packs of cigarettes, do <i>all </i>the drugs and fuck prostitutes like it's going out of style and yet they still make millions of dollars playing guitar for the Rolling Stones and not get cancer. Possibly the least fair disease I've ever seen, so yeah, FUCK CANCER. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcZOVIto99_B-7L8ff83pivEgeecrxYKZJzW_HOO7hODQZN4K-5prDJ8BcUtoBLUEPuH1lqauJW95KcMe5LbByeKGVuG487wDfZTRbrIrJIyk95RCiruK1bedwlPF0JZVtLUQKxKeqZA/s1600/image3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcZOVIto99_B-7L8ff83pivEgeecrxYKZJzW_HOO7hODQZN4K-5prDJ8BcUtoBLUEPuH1lqauJW95KcMe5LbByeKGVuG487wDfZTRbrIrJIyk95RCiruK1bedwlPF0JZVtLUQKxKeqZA/s320/image3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at his smile. He's a happy boy.</td></tr>
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Second, after having lived this whole bullshit lifestyle, I can tell you a secret. You know how when you find out someone has a traumatic thing happen in their life? What does <i>everyone</i> do? You say to that person, "if there is anything I can do, just let me know." But, I will tell you, that person doesn't know what they need. Has no fucking clue. Their mind is racing a million miles a minute. They are completely freaked out by the circumstances. I will also tell you, especially when you're separated from your home like we have been, it can get real lonely, real quick. When you're alone with your thoughts (in this situation) you dwell on what is happening and what might happen in the future and that can take you down a dark and scary place. So, what can you do to help? You don't have to do some big, grand gesture. All you have to do is shoot that person a text. Give them a call. Send a card. Let them know they are not alone in their battle, what ever that battle is. I'm telling you, having people break up your days with a quick communication might not seem like you're doing much but it can mean the world to the person on the receiving end. Thankfully, the Boy had that from some of his friends, school, and family. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51FPDk1xA-qr27v7SwUM03lZyMN8E2MMcxLS4uhdz-bfC62fs8qBced5rJgTIZFwtwbYKmjdZ4c_JIvKPtssA5E6lrKhzgxx8ggFmsMQ0m2SdrVln0-1ErxA8j6RqQTZG_ekOkvMKSfg/s1600/image4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg51FPDk1xA-qr27v7SwUM03lZyMN8E2MMcxLS4uhdz-bfC62fs8qBced5rJgTIZFwtwbYKmjdZ4c_JIvKPtssA5E6lrKhzgxx8ggFmsMQ0m2SdrVln0-1ErxA8j6RqQTZG_ekOkvMKSfg/s320/image4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the few rides I've been able to do this spring.</td></tr>
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Third, and let's lighten the mood here a bit, I've gotten completely out of shape and ungodly fat. I was going back through my last post (<i>I've had 206 days to dwell on it</i>) and I laughed about me whining about finding time to ride. Shit. I <b>wish</b> I had that problem now. It seems like the last month or so I haven't even had the time when I'm here to <i>think </i>about riding, much less actually go. I've brought a bike with me almost every single trip down and most of the time it rests quietly in the back of my truck. For a while during the winter I was finding some time to work out, but as we've gotten closer to the end, this whole thing is moving like a carpet unrolling. It seems like more doctors appointments, scans, cramming school work in, getting my extensive cleaning list done, waiting for the piece of shit infusion drug company (that is getting paid HUGE money) to deliver whenever they fucking feel like it, go in for a blood test and end up being admitted overnight, you name it. On top of it, as I mentioned in my last post, I can't just go out for a quick ride. I <i>have </i>to have someone be with the Boy. And now that we're living at <a href="http://www.brentsplace.org/" target="_blank">Brent's Place</a> (which has been amazing), we are 30 miles from my mom's house, so it's not quite so easy to find a time just to "pop over" and bang out a quick ride. When I'm home and I bitch about, it people say "don't worry, you'll get it back quickly". I truly hope they are right, but right now I'm not so confident in that...maybe they are just being nice. I've heard a couple of those inspirational poster bullshit quotes saying <i>"pain is weakness leaving the body" </i>and <i>"sweat is fat crying"</i>. Well, I've got a lot of fat-crying and weakness-leaving to do.<br />
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Fourth, and finally, living apart from my Lovely for the last 9 months has sucked giant donkey balls. In the 250+ days since this whole thing started, we've spent about approximately 8% of that time together (something like 22 days). Good thing we've got a strong relationship. I <b>totally </b>understand how things like this can break up people's marriages. We're going to have to re-learn how to live together. Maybe I can ease her into it by not being at home a ton by trying to ride some of my fat off...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPz0U-YNFRrCZbTn8CFXSmEIBB-FXFfZPYml3l4obCqb3iQAkaj3yGisDs-5DSlYz4OgK5h7VNI7U76zJeqa1m7A6JmJRPa5Jl0IxLg13fA9AzK5wccxdDzhyphenhyphen44K4kVEpHn8IMGvPeAo8/s1600/image2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPz0U-YNFRrCZbTn8CFXSmEIBB-FXFfZPYml3l4obCqb3iQAkaj3yGisDs-5DSlYz4OgK5h7VNI7U76zJeqa1m7A6JmJRPa5Jl0IxLg13fA9AzK5wccxdDzhyphenhyphen44K4kVEpHn8IMGvPeAo8/s320/image2.JPG" width="320" /></a>So, there you have it. Not as many cuss words as I had initially anticipated. I'm looking forward to getting some riding in. Looking forward to going from <b>ultra-fat</b> to just plain ol' fat. Looking forward to posting maybe ten times more frequently (so, every 20.6 days vs. 206 days). But mostly I'm looking forward to all of us being home!teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-56710787625578367882015-10-28T09:58:00.001-06:002015-10-28T13:18:33.034-06:00A shout out to single parents that ride.<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Ever since this whole cancer thing started, my Lovely and I have basically lived apart, save for the one weekend home and a couple hours here and there. So, it is not unlike being a single parent of a small child. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Yes, the Boy is 13. Before we knew he has cancer, leaving him alone to go do something was never a problem. Hell, I'd probably get in trouble for how old he was when we started leaving him home alone. But now that he has cancer, his immune system is constantly compromised because of the chemo, so we have to basically monitor him around the clock. We've been instructed to bring him to the hospital <i>immediately </i>if he has even the slightest fever. This obviously means he has to be with someone almost all the time. </div><div><br></div><div>Because of this, finding time to catch a ride while I'm alone in Colorado with the Boy is difficult. Sure, I've got family around that is <b>more</b> than willing to hang with him for a couple hours, but it's hard for me to want to put that responsibility on their shoulders should something arise while I'm out fucking around on my bike. </div><div><br></div><div>That all being said, I have gotten out a couple times in the last week and a half. I've had a couple revelations on these rides. First, it feels like I've gotten <i>amazingly </i>out of shape over the course of the last 6-7 weeks (not that I was ever in <i>good </i>shape, but now it's even worse). There's a lot of sitting around in the hospital, as well as in the apartment or my mom's house doing things like homework, art or just talking to doctors, nurses or case workers on the phone. Add a little bit more elevation to the mix and all of the sudden, I'm climbing even <i>slower </i>than I did before! WTF? I thought if I slowed down from my previous pace I'd be <b>going backwards. </b>Second, I've found that I've become a big pussy on techy descents. Some of that can be attributed to the fact that I haven't been riding much lately (you know the whole <i>use it or lose it</i> thing), but a bigger chunk is because I can't afford to be injured right now. I mean, obviously I can't afford to anytime, but because what we have going on is counting on one of us being <i>there </i>at all times, it is even more so now. I found myself walking techy stuff that I used to ride without even thinking about it. </div><div><br></div><div>But as I said, I did get out. Early in the week, I did a solo ride at <b>Green Mountain. </b>The ride started out with about 4 or 5 switchbacks, which left an iron taste in my mouth. "<i>What the hell? I think my lungs are bleeding!" </i>But overall, it was a good ride. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyz-GsXQAvNx85hX7YzbxUMJPn-2aIoVQxpThCXFIE6blRp05tO5uys_mlYsWVBiSxu8xCZA5gcmAJiD1HZGoyJtKzGSAjBcaJhkTKkIgGyYNY13C_U9sF9k7roKRLbI7W65PT-tLLAM/s640/blogger-image-1798715663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyz-GsXQAvNx85hX7YzbxUMJPn-2aIoVQxpThCXFIE6blRp05tO5uys_mlYsWVBiSxu8xCZA5gcmAJiD1HZGoyJtKzGSAjBcaJhkTKkIgGyYNY13C_U9sF9k7roKRLbI7W65PT-tLLAM/s640/blogger-image-1798715663.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Then on Saturday, Cleaver had said he might be in the area and we should go catch a ride. Finally about noon, I hadn't heard from him, so I was gonna write that day off. The Boy and loaded up and headed to my mom's house. Just as we were leaving, the call on the Bat Phone came in. We were gonna ride! And Highlander Andy was gonna join us! Cool! </div><div><br></div><div>Andy took us to a fairly new state park about 25 miles SW of where we're staying called Staunton State Park. One of the things Colorado does really well is their state parks. Even their smallest parks are top notch facilities. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyhow, we did a nice loop there that took us up to 9400', (I was REALLY </div><div>sucking air) took us into snowy terrain and garnered some stellar views of Pikes Peak and awarded us with a rollicking descent. The terrain was smooth enough that speed was the only danger for us on the day (Cleaver's Garmin clocked 33 mph). But, almost immediately when we were done I wanted to get back the Boy. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCfuJlwtunrgRdp_yeDn0tN9tkKujbt9AKLIYycufAVbCuljSlIO4_YiqafEJYk3ZAXkX1JNF1vU0y0oUmQdosWPvMNJN05TsLxZXk3uvnmBD6iEqNOjXI2yebCvZHreRQP99PxAHTGI/s640/blogger-image-687723017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCfuJlwtunrgRdp_yeDn0tN9tkKujbt9AKLIYycufAVbCuljSlIO4_YiqafEJYk3ZAXkX1JNF1vU0y0oUmQdosWPvMNJN05TsLxZXk3uvnmBD6iEqNOjXI2yebCvZHreRQP99PxAHTGI/s640/blogger-image-687723017.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I suppose the further into this process we get, the more I'll "figure it out", but I have to say I've earned a new found respect for single parents, especially a single parent of a child with special needs, I always knew they had a tough job, but now I'm living it. So, good job single parents. If you have any tips, let me know, but I'm <i>really l</i>ooking forward to when I am part of a two parent household again. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-67020959881378330792015-09-19T22:28:00.001-06:002015-09-19T22:28:31.527-06:00Lance Armstrong, Cancer and Riding BikesHave you seen this trailer yet? <br />
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All about Lance Armstrong and his system of cheating in the pro peloton, this movie will probably be a huge hit in Europe, but most likely be, at best, an art-house movie here in the US. <br />
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Like most cyclists, I was an Armstrong fan when he was starting to win (although I liked Jan Ullrich better, how he started each season fat and out of shape, looking like he just drank a 6 pack and snorted a line of coke off a hooker's ass). I had my doubts as he closed in on five TdF wins, but when LeMond was bellyaching about Armstrong's doping, I thought it was just sour grapes. Then as he neared 7 wins, I was pretty sure he was doping, as many of his major (and not so major) competitors were dropping like flies to doping scandal after doping scandal. No way this guy could have stayed clean and beat all those other guys, right? (Kinda funny though how each sport has its own doping <i>figure</i> that the media locks onto, like Barry Bonds in baseball, and crucifies them, even though TONS of others are doping. Maybe if they weren't such assholes to the media...)<br />
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I reveled in the fact that Armstrong doped, even going to a <b>party </b>with a bunch of other cycling friends the night Lance "came clean" with Oprah. I even wrote a blog or two about what a hypocrite he was and how his apologists were idiots, blah, bablah, bablah. I even got to the point where I kinda felt sorry for him. I mean, he's been raked over the coals and he's having everything, and I mean <i>everything, </i>taken away, from wins, to the ability to ride in events, to all of his money. But, he made his bed, now he gets to lie in it.<br />
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And then this last week, everything changed again. Don't get me wrong, I think he's still a cheat and he was an asshole to a lot of people, and that will never change. I don't like Lance Armstrong the cyclist. But as I was lying on that hospital couch/futon/bed/medieval torture device, watching the Boy, who was hooked up to about 10 different tubes and/or monitors, have one crazy-assed drug after another pumped into him to rid his body of cancer, I thought about Lance Armstrong and the fact he overcame the odds that were stacked against him from such a shitty disease, not to just survive, but to live, much less ride his bike at a competitive level (yeah, yeah, I know, he was cheating, but still), my opinion of him changed once again. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance between his stints as an asshole.</td></tr>
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I realize there are many, many other success stories out there, but because I ride (kinda) I can relate to Lance, and not to the doper Lance, but to the survivor Lance, to the LiveStrong Lance. Suddenly, I could empathize with the Lance apologists. I understood why the locked onto him and why they gave him a pass when the rest of the world was crushing him. My thoughts about him went from a white area in the beginning, to a grey area in the middle, to the deepest, darkest black area by the end of his 7 "wins" and were now back in a grey area once again. They'll never be a "white" area again, but the fact that it's back to a grey area says something.<br />
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Which brings me back to riding. I took a bike with me to Denver with the thoughts of riding some short rides as time allowed, with my mom stopping by to hang with the Boy for an hour or two. HA. That was serious wishful thinking. Besides the fact we were in the hospital for 2 1/2 days last week, when we were out of the hospital, I had 7 alarms set on my phone to tell me the various times I had to get him medications or flush lines throughout the day. It seems like every time I turned around, I was giving him something. <br />
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Now I'm home and my Lovely is in Denver with the Boy and I'm thinking about catching some rides. But part of me feels guilt about wanting to do something as superfluous as riding a bike for pleasure, knowing that the infusion the Boy has to take every night makes him feel like shit. Knowing he can't go out and do many of the things he loves to do. Everyone keeps telling me to make sure I take care of myself during this ordeal, but that is easier said than done. If I knew for sure he was going to be OK, then riding a bike would be a fun idea. I'll probably still go for some rides while I'm home, and it will most likely do me some good. I'll ride in hopes that by this time next year, I'll be doing it with the Boy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLyHjwBo_Iu4Jntv9eaDbD0ZKft2S0vlONcoEdxHZK_hgx8-N1MXKsdXtmFjlKWewh7wyxjzDOGzNFlQRxxJVRJRqq79D5NI8ZMBhyphenhyphenoPMotIgZR3lg-KhrSSNupjln1bwHjYDx-6pXmA/s1600/IMG_0584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwLyHjwBo_Iu4Jntv9eaDbD0ZKft2S0vlONcoEdxHZK_hgx8-N1MXKsdXtmFjlKWewh7wyxjzDOGzNFlQRxxJVRJRqq79D5NI8ZMBhyphenhyphenoPMotIgZR3lg-KhrSSNupjln1bwHjYDx-6pXmA/s320/IMG_0584.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my all time favorite pics of the Boy. Tandem riding<br />at HLMP (M-Hill).</td></tr>
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teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-78882150754338087392015-08-24T06:13:00.000-06:002015-08-25T06:11:37.069-06:00I liedAs most of you know, I post with stunning irregularity on this blog. All sorts of bullshit gets in the way of being able to puke out some nonsense on this digital paper. As I stated in my last post, I was going to shutter the NSS blog for a while as we dealt with Samuel's cancer and the ensuing treatments, but with the length between <i>regular </i>posts, I probably didn't even need to state that I was pulling the plug on this blog. I could have just kept on, business as usual, and no one would have been the wiser.<br>
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Which brings me to the reason I lied. <div><br></div><div>Yesterday I went into work for a while. The store is closed on Sundays, so I like to go in and write the order, stock the store and get stuff done that's harder to do when it's open and we're focusing on customers. And, as usual, I rode my bike to work. </div><div><br></div><div>As I usually do when I ride my bike, I thought about all the shit going on in my life, which obviously led me to thinking about Sam and all the crap he's going to endure for the next year or so. And I thought about the amazing outpouring of support we've received in the last 48 hours since letting the world outside of a close circle of family and friends know what's going on. All of that overwhelmed me and I cried on the way to work. Let me tell you it's a bitch to ride with tears in your eyes. As I rode I realize that I need this blog to vent some shit, yell and rant and rave as we go through this. And maybe just be silly, or dirty, or, well, just bitch. </div><div><br></div><div>So, after the shortest hiatus this blog has ever seen, I'm back posting with same ridiculous irregularity that you've come to know and expect from me. We'll still be over on Sam's Caring Bridge page, but that will be more updates and news about Sam. This will be just for me to vent. If I get too whiny, tell me in the comments, I probably won't give a shit, but tell me anyhow. </div>teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-87093618796209971902015-08-22T15:49:00.000-06:002015-08-22T15:49:38.418-06:00Who gives a shit about LeadvilleI fully expected that the next post I was gonna do for this blog was going to be about how I succeeded or failed at Leadville this year (and it kinda is) but none of that really matters. And as I weave this tale, you'll soon find out why.<br />
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Back in January, my son Samuel, crashed skiing. Shortly after this, he started having intermittent hip pain. He'd play basketball, dodge ball or something like that and he'd complain about hip pain. It seemed like he had a pulled muscle or something along those lines. He'd take a couple ibuprofen and everything would be hunky-dory. We deal with this every 3-4 weeks and didn't think much of it. </div>
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Fast forward to mid-July. We went to a friends house for dinner where a giant Slip n' Slide was set up for the kids. Sam ran up and down the hill many times, having a blast on the slide. The next day he was <i>hurting </i>for sure, barely able to walk. Not cool. We called the doctor and made an appointment. I was convinced it was a pulled groin muscle. </div>
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We got into the doctor a couple days later and you know how those things go. Go to the this place for an xray, that place for a CT scan, make a follow up appointment with a orthopedic doctor, blah, blah, blah. </div>
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About 3 days before heading to Leadville, we had an appointment with the orthopedic doc (which was about 3 weeks after our initial doctor appointment) who then sent us for a color contrast MRI. He said, based on the CT scans, the two possibilities for Sam's hip were an infected bone or a tumor. Shit. A tumor was a possibility? WTF? Nah, no way. That kid is healthy as a horse and strong as a bull. I'd bet (based on some information we received) that it's an infection. No question. He'll get on an antibiotic regimen when we get home and everything will be A-OK. We then scheduled an appointment for a specialist orthopedic in Sioux Falls for a couple weeks after we got home from Leadville.</div>
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So, off we go to Colorado for a couple days at my mom's house, then up to Leadville for the race and a couple days of camping with my mom and my brother and his family. </div>
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Friday we got up early to head to Leadville so I can get signed in, go to the pre-race meeting, etc. As we were at the gas station filling up, my phone rings. It's the doctor's office. Sweet, now we can get the ball rolling. "It's definitely a tumor. We've got your biopsy appointment scheduled for next Thursday." Those words were like a well placed Chuck Norris round-house kick to the gut. Holy shit. It was like one of those scenes in a movie where a bomb goes off and the person is disoriented and can't hear what's happening around him. All of the sudden I had zero desire to go to Leadville, but since the ball was in motion, we continued on to the city in the clouds.<br />
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As I sat in the pre-race meeting, all I was thinking about was Sam and hoping beyond hope that it was just a cyst or a benign tumor and that everything would still be good, barely listening to the presenters. We got up early the next morning and without having you suffer through the minutia of this race, I got pulled from the course at mile 74 after missing the time cut off and I could not have cared less. I had no shits left to give. Was it the two flats I had on the day? Maybe. Was it the fact that all I was thinking about was my son during the race? Possibly. Maybe it was a combination of everything involved, but I didn't care. Maybe the day when they tell me Sam is OK I'll get pissed about it, but not now. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam going in for one of many scans he's had so far.</td></tr>
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We just got home from Sam's biopsy in Sioux Falls and found out he does indeed have a cancerous tumor in his hip. The doctor said it is either Ewing's sarcoma or osteosarcoma but the course of treatment will be similar. A round of chemotherapy to shrink the tumor followed by a surgery to remove the tumor and most likely replace his hip with an artificial one, followed by more chemo and/or radiation depending on the cancer. Of everyone in-the-know, he's taking all this news the best. When we were talking with him about the surgery/hip replacement he said it will be cool, cause he'll be a DROID (saying the word like the Motorola Droid phone does when it turns on). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam yucking it up, pre-op.</td></tr>
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Right now the whole bike thing is kinda ringing hollow for me. I hope that someday I'll be stoked to fire this blog back up, but for the near future it's gonna go dark. We'll be over on <a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/samseeley" target="_blank">Sam's Caring Bridge</a> page, updating his info so if you feel inclined to follow along, you can see how he's doing. And of course, feel free to shoot me an e-mail or give me a call. I'll still be riding my bike when I can, but it for sure won't be what I'm focused on.<br />
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teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-3657021583424342962015-05-25T07:12:00.000-06:002015-05-25T07:12:28.587-06:00When N+1 is One Too MuchIn the cycling world, as I'm sure you've all heard or have said, there is an equation that says B=N+1, where <b>B=Bicycles Owned </b>and <b>N=Bicycles Needed</b>, meaning you always need just one more bike. I've heard this same philosophy thrown about by skiers (although they're using skis instead of bikes) and golfers as well, so I suppose any sports/hobby that requires shiny new equipment has this a running joke.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mwm_5X-9S2pEZzfTmjxsB_25fvuVMkPpcDcJsnXg3dq0YmJm90tB_4uhP_nmeYnIHbdkowonFCkIRquhQb-0siNqTu98e2MfogJAVACbC0dsHOMqaKtrQDgVHMyJ0xE7baNRCWH8WKc/s1600/blogger-image--78844011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mwm_5X-9S2pEZzfTmjxsB_25fvuVMkPpcDcJsnXg3dq0YmJm90tB_4uhP_nmeYnIHbdkowonFCkIRquhQb-0siNqTu98e2MfogJAVACbC0dsHOMqaKtrQDgVHMyJ0xE7baNRCWH8WKc/s320/blogger-image--78844011.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moots is gone...</td></tr>
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I was a subscriber to this mathematical formula for a long time. I had bikes upon bikes in my garage (well, I guess I still do, but hang with me here). I had a bike for everything. I had/have a singlespeed, a 5" travel <i>trail </i>bike, a 29'er hardtail, a cross bike, a tandem, a city/pub bike, etc. You name it, I had it. And the whole while I should have taken a cue from my cross bike, which was/is my road-gravel-commuter-singletrack-cyclocross bike, which means I use this one bike for lots and lots of different things. And besides washing it once in a while, the biggest thing I ever do to that bike is change the tires from a beefier gravel tire to a smoother road tire. <br />
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The nagging issue of owning all these bike came down to one word...maintenance. You know, once a bike gets to be a certain age and/or have a certain number of miles on it, it seems like there is always something that needs to be repaired, replaced or rebuilt. A new brake lever here, some brake pads over there, a new chain, tires on both need to be replaced, oh shit, this one needs its fork overhauled, this one needs it brakes bled, blah, bablah, bablah. It was nice to have another bike to ride when one was down for the count, but it seemed like those things were overlapping at an alarming rate.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzl4NdL4DJTFmESKWrepDxwvO5Lpa9uX5nLAGwSXSaFfWCR1Fumn3sg38ZYywnkn0XgyPbWVmDMolWk2xvjTMHMQC3fvSfgkBu3SAY4CgDOl8gw2hrs2mGGUk2PaqO5HMXW79JuXevvFg/s1600/blogger-image--1717113023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzl4NdL4DJTFmESKWrepDxwvO5Lpa9uX5nLAGwSXSaFfWCR1Fumn3sg38ZYywnkn0XgyPbWVmDMolWk2xvjTMHMQC3fvSfgkBu3SAY4CgDOl8gw2hrs2mGGUk2PaqO5HMXW79JuXevvFg/s320/blogger-image--1717113023.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gone too...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGzzDS7oCoPdDCyM5GRNLaaZroBOR1MJmf02IRIMvWYTf1_ft-rm7xY2ER40cBpIdIWkIYzD6QOcuCntF3UjlhSWb6FPDJQGOG-Le8ZtsNU6MUKZCfcthusNEA-NR8JbMwEFcGzm6Bhg/s1600/blogger-image--63796152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLGzzDS7oCoPdDCyM5GRNLaaZroBOR1MJmf02IRIMvWYTf1_ft-rm7xY2ER40cBpIdIWkIYzD6QOcuCntF3UjlhSWb6FPDJQGOG-Le8ZtsNU6MUKZCfcthusNEA-NR8JbMwEFcGzm6Bhg/s320/blogger-image--63796152.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Splitting the difference...</td></tr>
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So guess what? I did something about it! I sold off two bikes and rolled the money into one new bike that split the difference. It took a lot of soul searching to come to the conclusion that I needed to part ways with my beloved Moots (I've ridden a Moots for 16 years), but this frame was 10 years old! Technology was passing me by and while that in and of itself wasn't an issue (I find myself having some retrogrouch qualities) being able to replace parts on a bike of that age becomes more and more difficult. I thought if I'm ever gonna get anything money-wise for the Moots, I'd better do it NOW or just completely embrace the retrogrouch in me and ride it into the sunset. I also found myself riding my 29'er hardtail a LOT, like almost all the time, but I missed having some squish in the rear of the bike. While the 29'er wasn't that old and in pretty good shape, I didn't see a need to have two bikes when one would do the trick, again, the maintenance thing, ya know? So, part of it was replacing a slightly antiquated wheel size (26") with a 29'er, but I was just sick and tired of having to constantly do something to one of these bikes. Will I have to do stuff to this new one? Yes, eventually, but I'll only have to do it once, I won' t have to do it to two bikes, leaving me more time to do what? Ride my freaking bike! Now if Mother Nature would just cooperate...teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-57592019986439973092015-04-19T06:31:00.000-06:002015-04-19T10:15:38.729-06:00In defense of Episodes I-IIIYeah, yeah, yeah, I know, this is a quasi-bike blog. But it's also a blog about shit I love too, so we're gonna talk about Star Wars for a minute (or five). Besides, if you've blasted down a forested stretch of singletrack and you <i>haven't </i>pretended you're on a speeder bike racing through the forest moon of Endor, you're either a liar or you have no business reading this blog anyhow.<br />
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The new Star Wars trailer, as the kids say, <b>dropped</b> this week. In case you haven't seen it, here it is.</div>
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And with this, the news media has gone completely ape-shit. Good Morning America, ABC Nightly News, (which are owned by Disney, the company making the new Star Wars movies, hmmm) NPR, and others have run stories on this TRAILER (it's a teaser from a movie that is 8 months from being released) and the event, Star Wars Celebration, where the trailer was officially released. And with it, the ubiquitous interviews with all those quasi-nerds that say the same shit, "Yeah, the trailer was great, but I have mixed emotions, I really hope this is better than the <i>Jar-Jar </i>disasters of Episodes I-III." Or something along those lines. A fucking 20 something hipster-nerd, who wasn't even born when Episodes IV-VI came out, waxing nostalgic for movies that he hasn't even seen the original versions of? What the hell?<br />
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Let me preface this by saying I don't think that Episodes I-III were <i>great, </i>but they're not as horrible as some people make them out to be. Could Lucas have done a better job with them by letting someone else direct them? Sure. Would they have more depth and character if he didn't rely solely on CGI for every damn effect? Absolutely. Can I give you the reasons why they're not the trash you think? I'm gonna. <br />
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<b>Defense 1. The free flowing story arc.</b><br />
Episodes IV-VI had no constraints on its story line. Lucas could have taken us anywhere he wanted to go. We didn't know there was a second Death Star, we didn't know what Jabba looked like (it's true hipster-nerd, Jabba was NOT in the original version of Episode IV), and we surely didn't know that Darth Vader was Luke's father. <br />
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Episodes I-III had a very limited ability to create a story line. Everything in all the stories had to come to a very specific point. They had to come to Anakin being trained by Obi-Wan and subsequently being defeated on Mustafar by Obi-Wan and being burned up like a piece of Bantha bacon. Luke and Leia had to be born, and then hidden from Anakin/Darth Vader. Yoda and Obi-Wan had to go into<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht82Mz-XIk5FHK4r1ojKBlDR25xKwG8_j_RqNT6AuozCr5sbJc2fc3_DTPZQYAc6LEczm-4E2kpiB-5NYbPYKbQuQQ0Jpvy6h3R5W5E2e6RMAAUL8brpFwSgXXrb5Wpsut7OCYB9G-Tvo/s1600/anakin45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht82Mz-XIk5FHK4r1ojKBlDR25xKwG8_j_RqNT6AuozCr5sbJc2fc3_DTPZQYAc6LEczm-4E2kpiB-5NYbPYKbQuQQ0Jpvy6h3R5W5E2e6RMAAUL8brpFwSgXXrb5Wpsut7OCYB9G-Tvo/s1600/anakin45.jpg" height="145" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm, Bantha bacon...</td></tr>
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hiding. Oh yeah, and Anakin had to turn to the dark side and actually become Vader. Hard to make a new amazing story when the <i>very specific ending</i> was already written.<br />
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This is also why the story line for the new episodes <i>should/better</i> be amazing. There is no constraint on the stories.<br />
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<b>Defense 2. The acting.</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnymZDx4AJ7TpyZC9fPKgKMrs8ptHjb2WIIfwyvVpcjxssVdYjtWwN1YkzY8AiJ3Lu54RYGvPISZaaYeB6Ldpkyv74ehLvkHW4D3uwPsDmvaJgiDnp6rkPofBSVgAarvJvVJrbeU2Y-Mg/s1600/Star-Wars-Luke-Skywalker-Tatooine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnymZDx4AJ7TpyZC9fPKgKMrs8ptHjb2WIIfwyvVpcjxssVdYjtWwN1YkzY8AiJ3Lu54RYGvPISZaaYeB6Ldpkyv74ehLvkHW4D3uwPsDmvaJgiDnp6rkPofBSVgAarvJvVJrbeU2Y-Mg/s1600/Star-Wars-Luke-Skywalker-Tatooine.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pensive Luke...that's some SERIOUS<br />
acting.</td></tr>
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I hear a lot about how horrible Hayden Christensen was as Anakin. Yes, I'll agree he wasn't great. But guess what? Mark Hamill wasn't great as Luke either! Seriously, go back and re-watch IV-VI and tell me why you think Mark's acting was better than Hayden's. Just listen to the whiny, monotone voice that says "BUUT I WAS GOING TO TOSCHI'S STATION TO PICK UP SOME POWER CONVERTERS!" and seriously tell me that this is better that Hayden saying in a 4 year old's best grumpy voice "DON'T MAKE ME DESTROY YOU." You can't. And, just like in Episodes IV-VI, there were bright spots of acting. Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan was believable, especially when he was monologuing on the bank of the lava river to the fried up Darth Vader, and when Natalie Portman was telling Anakin "you're breaking my heart"...it was real emotion. <br />
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<b>Defense 3. They are kids movies.</b><br />
I think this is the thing that people forget the most. Not that these movies were not intended for adults, but they were made for kids! Lucas has said many times that he wanted to recreate that Saturday serial type of experience he had when he was a kid. And, lest you forget, you most likely watched Episodes IV-VI when you were a kid and then saw I-III when you were an adult, skewing your opinion on those movies (except for those hipster-nerds, who are just regurgitating what ever is supposed to be cool or not cool about Star Wars).<br />
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<b>Defense 4. Lightsaber battles.</b><br />
The lightsaber battles in Episodes I-III were WAY better than in IV-VI, don't deny it! Sure the battles between Vader and Obi-Wan in IV and between Vader and Luke in V-VI had a lot of emotion in them, but they looked like they were swinging 25 lb. baseball bats at each other. As far as the action goes,<i> </i>they were far better in I-III. Actual choreography and young actors that could handle it <br />
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(mostly), not old guys or guys in heavy black suits. <br />
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<b>Defense 5. The Jar-Jar factor.</b><br />
This is the one that gets me riled up the most. Everyone always points to Jar-Jar as to why Episodes I-III sucked. Don't get me wrong, I don't like the Jar-Jar character. I think it's pointless and slightly racist. Watch these movies with a little kid sometime and see how hard they laugh at Jar-Jar and you'll understand part of it. <br />
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That's not my defense though. My biggest complaint is about the revisionist mentality of those that blame Jar-Jar for I-III and think that Ewoks are OK. Ewoks suck my balls! I hated them from the second they came on screen at the Elks Theater in 1983 when I first watched Episode VI. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really? The Care Bears beat the Empire?</td></tr>
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Seriously? Luke, Han and Leia couldn't beat the Empire with the fastest ship in the galaxy and all those X, Y, A, and B wings at their disposal, and yet a bunch of FUCKING TEDDY BEARS with rocks and sticks take them down? I call BULLSHIT on the whole premise! Tell me the Empire wouldn't just torch their whole planet, burning the forest down and the tree-forts and teddy bears that live therein. God I hate Ewoks...<br />
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So, here's to A New, New Hope that Episodes VII-??? are better than I-VI, yes I-VI, all of them, but I can almost guarantee that there will be a Jar-Jar/Ewok character or moment in these new ones that will get the nerd illuminati so up in arms that they'll have a fit in their mom's basement. I loved IV-VI as a kid and still do as an adult, I know I don't hate I-III as much as you say you do and maybe now you won't either.<br />
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teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-46366429596686234342015-04-11T15:24:00.000-06:002015-04-11T15:24:37.585-06:00Rambling thoughts that may or may not tie together.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5mhxzL0tORodzYk8H6PcD3Bk3Jl8Ra9fqDYBy2f13nbnNuHbYpgKFuZPkqHIGAKjn5Q7ORR-ygEJvUt0KvVvZyssKb1arlDDDTVQEkqWlQ1TcI9xwoDoA80uSZz6Up3fF_iP0lFgXec/s1600/first+bike+ride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5mhxzL0tORodzYk8H6PcD3Bk3Jl8Ra9fqDYBy2f13nbnNuHbYpgKFuZPkqHIGAKjn5Q7ORR-ygEJvUt0KvVvZyssKb1arlDDDTVQEkqWlQ1TcI9xwoDoA80uSZz6Up3fF_iP0lFgXec/s1600/first+bike+ride.jpg" height="200" width="198" /></a></div>
Do you ever think about when you first learned how to ride a bike? Do you think about that <i>feeling </i>you got when you first were able to ride on two wheels, no parent running behind you holding you up or no training wheels saving your wobbling bike? It was magic! Balancing yourself on something 2" wide (or less) yet propelling yourself forward at a pace that was faster than running and could take you much further! It was independence, it was freedom, it was maturity, it was getting rad, it was <i>amazing. </i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD7FZm-dYLyfzlDOa5tEMPS68ubiOM7iNAuVzNDug79v157e9u28K8GV3Qif_7c2hV5fxMwNnWbiISn25H2Jqrdr0JS6vLRoO_sHWRYr2L_amOb8DOPQTaOgmi_toXTa_ZVvltzmcOm8/s1600/Skyline:HLMP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD7FZm-dYLyfzlDOa5tEMPS68ubiOM7iNAuVzNDug79v157e9u28K8GV3Qif_7c2hV5fxMwNnWbiISn25H2Jqrdr0JS6vLRoO_sHWRYr2L_amOb8DOPQTaOgmi_toXTa_ZVvltzmcOm8/s1600/Skyline:HLMP.jpg" height="163" width="200" /></a>Do you ever get that feeling anymore when you ride? Why not? Too busy? Too stressed? The thoughts of your life, death and taxes weighing on you? Man, you <i>gotta </i>find that place again. It gives you perspective, it calms you, it makes everything OK. I found that feeling again today. A short ride through some side streets, past a cemetery (if riding past a cemetery doesn't put shit into perspective for you, just about nothing will) and I was on singletrack. And even though I could see the city on one side, there was nothing in front of me other than that brown ribbon of dirt snaking its way through the trees up the side of the mountain. That smell of the forest, the pine trees, the dirt, the organic material decaying, all mix together and speak to that primal spot in my soul. Couple that with the sound of my bike tires scraping rocks, trying to find some traction, crunching the gravel on the trail, the whir of gears, the grating sound of brakes being applied and pretty soon, while I could <i>see </i>the city below me, it meant nothing to me. Not that it wouldn't ever mean anything to me, but it didn't right then and there. I was in the moment, I felt the magic of being able to balance, pedal, shift, and brake all while trying to keep myself from plummeting off the edge of a ravine. It was that same feeling as I had when I first learned how to ride a bike. I don't always find that feeling when I'm riding my bike, but I find it way more often than not. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding in the Land of the Lost...</td></tr>
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Which brings me to the bummer part of this story. After almost 3 hours of winding my way all over Skyline and HLMP here in Rapid City, I was pedaling home on the bike path, awash in that feeling of being tired from the physical exertion but alive with all the endorphins my body could muster, when I crossed paths with a mental kick to the balls. <br />
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There it was, pulled over on the side of the bike path, a family, the mom walking a dog, the dad, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;">crouched down near his son, who was on a bike with training wheels. As I got closer, I could tell the dad was being a total, ever-loving prick to his kid, who was sitting there with his head down his eyes full of tears. By the looks of the situation, the kid was doing something that didn't go over well with the dad and he was being "told" all about it. I said, "Hello" in a firm voice, hoping that the dad would realize what he was doing and stop it as I sped by. I contemplated stopping and saying something, but I quickly realized that I don't think it would have helped the situation.</span><br />
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Look man, I get it. Sometimes as parents we don't stop and think before we say shit to our kids. And sometimes our kids do shit that gets under, WAY under our skin. And sometimes we say shit to our kids over and over and over again and they don't listen. And sometimes we need to give our kids a push to get them motivated and try to reach their potential or even just to try new things. But at NO time is it OK to berate your child and make them feel like idiots. Guess what parent on the bike path?<br />
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Did you know your child is CONSTANTLY trying to impress you with everything they do? They want you to be proud of them, they want you to tell them they're doing the right thing, they're doing well, they make you proud. Stop just for a minute and think back to your childhood and how you'd feel in that situation if you were in your child's shoes and it was your dad yelling at you.<br />
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Bike riding is <i>always supposed </i>to be fun no matter how old you are, but it is supposed to be especially fun for a small child. Don't make them grow up to be one of those pricks driving their giant diesel pickups that are <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/politics/2014/07/rolling_coal_conservatives_who_show_their_annoyance_with_liberals_obama.html" target="_blank">rollin' coal </a>that swerve towards and throw shit at cyclists because they are bitter about an experience they had when they were a kid. Give them the confidence they need to grow up and be a (almost) 44 year old that loves that magical feeling of riding a bike almost 40 years after the first time they pushed a pedal down on their own. teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-61944977838585083402015-04-05T08:21:00.000-06:002015-04-05T09:53:38.699-06:00Move some dirt, ride some dirt…I never want to get preachy on this blog. It's mostly supposed to be my fun, nonsensical rambling with a few tales of woe or whoa thrown in for good measure. But today I'm gonna get a little preachy, so in the words of Jack Nicholson, if "you can't handle the truth" then you should probably stop reading now.<br>
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You're still with me? Good. Here we go...</div>
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The whole thought of this post came to light for me this last Wednesday, which was April 1st , the dreaded <i>April Fools' Day,</i> which also happened to be the day to sign up for the <a href="http://dakotafiveo.com/" target="_blank">Dakota Five-O</a>. Last year the Five-O sold out all 700 spots in a few hours and the expectation was that it would be the same or even quicker this year. In addition to that, the website that everyone used to sign up last year was bought out by a different company, so everyone that I talked prior to the April Fools' 7:00 am registration was logging in early to make sure their old user name/password worked. And at 7:00 when registration began, so did the flurry of communications about how the system was crashing, people couldn't register, people were getting registered 5 times, etc. all while I sat and drank my coffee watching the chaos unravel on my <i>Steve-Jobs-Control-Your-Mind-From-Beyond-The-Grave device</i>. "But Not-So-Serious, this will be your 8th Five-O. You've done all of them since you moved back. Aren't you doing this one?" I hear you say with a *GASP*. Why yes, I am, but because of the <i>actual </i>point of this post, I didn't have to go through the gyrations of the other 699 individuals. <br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gettin' dirty on the Centennial Trail.</td></tr>
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You see, Perry has put out a call to arms the last couple of years. Come help do some trail work to prep the course for this year's race and you're guaranteed a spot in next year's race. You don't have to get up early, fight the other 699 people for a spot, or stress out when you were charged for 5 spots or didn't get in to the race. Trade a little sweat equity for the peace of mind that you're in if you want to be. So for the last two years, I've taken him up on his offer and it's been great!<br>
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Getting a guaranteed spot in the race isn't the point of my post though (even if it is a nice benefit) but getting out and doing some trail work is the point. And this is where I feel like it gets all preachy and it can come off as "well, I do trail work so I'm better than you" and that is decidedly NOT what I want. Look, I get it, we're ALL busy. We have lives, work, spouses, kids, want to ride our bikes, yard work, want to ride our <br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Centennial re-route stuff...</td></tr>
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bikes, house work, want to RIDE OUR BIKES, soccer games, WANT TO RIDE OUR BIKES, shopping, WANT TO RIDE OUR FUCKING BIKES, that get in the way when it comes to doing stuff like trail work. Guess what? So do I. The last thing I want to be doing on a beautiful Saturday morning is getting dressed to go do trail work. I worked my ass off this week and I'd rather screw around on the internet for a while, drink way too much coffee and then go ride my bike. But the trails aren't going to build, fix or clean themselves up. There are hundreds upon hundreds of mountain bikers in our communities. If we could just get 1/8th of them to go out and do two hours of trail work per year, TWO HOURS PER YEAR, we'd be miles and miles ahead of where we are now. <br>
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Sometimes there is a tangible benefit of doing trail work, like getting to laugh at everyone that is <br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making trails better for your enjoyment!</td></tr>
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having a meltdown about trying to get into the Dakota Five-O, and other times it is not so tangible, but that smug feeling you get when you ride a section of trail that you know would completely suck if you didn't work on it is totally worth it!<br>
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teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-84307697578440887322015-03-27T06:11:00.000-06:002015-04-01T05:50:06.446-06:00The Unstoppable March of Time<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2eCOoaYKNX_gHfPAecZ_SmE2_WifDDswZ5w0c0Jkum3Yh25VOe-yB-pqIb0fknkCVYo3Xjf_WhPjDVUKJ59cdnBLo8xDAx4s6NUpPEEbYQObyl-4RandWrE0YlolPLohk8bSy7qckhiE/s1600/Trek+950.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2eCOoaYKNX_gHfPAecZ_SmE2_WifDDswZ5w0c0Jkum3Yh25VOe-yB-pqIb0fknkCVYo3Xjf_WhPjDVUKJ59cdnBLo8xDAx4s6NUpPEEbYQObyl-4RandWrE0YlolPLohk8bSy7qckhiE/s1600/Trek+950.png" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The one that started it all<br />
looked something like this one...</td></tr>
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It's weird. As I sit here and type this, I think back on the time that has elapsed since I got my first mountain bike, an electric blue Trek 950, a lugged steel, rigid behemoth with the new Mounatin LX grouppo and a new shifting technology called <i>Hyperglide</i>, and it seems like just yesterday. And while there have been many bikes, bike rides, levels of fitness, races and bike trips in between then and now, the majority of the people I ride with have been riding the same length of time and I've known a lot of them that long or longer. I've seen them grow old at the same pace as I have, so when I look at many of those guys (and gals) they look the same to me as they did 20 years ago. Then every once in a while something happens to remind me that I'm not that 25 year old noob, riding their bike with reckless abandon, not giving much thought to the relentless march of time.<br />
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As most of you that read this blog probably already know, the master of disaster, the grand poobah of the <a href="http://www.dakotafiveo.com/" target="_blank">Dakota Five-O</a> and the <a href="http://www.goldrushgravelgrinder.com/" target="_blank">Gold Rush Gravel Grinder</a>, Perry Jewett took a BIG spill on his snowboard a few weekends ago, busting his pelvis up pretty good, earning himself a life-flight to Denver for some surgery and a dose or two of someone else's blood. (If you haven't yet, pop on over and <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/nlt178" target="_blank">sling him some scratch</a> to help cover of these expenses.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoydBqqUJc5mrD7OU8y6JDChrW7W9iIH_ZVrrMtSLccf_ocHnE2qw2y4fuexszgyHjL5jfBwk404nOs3TmVmLClKy0mA_wwF3RRT5PJUcIZ-bAuX_Mg73PD1YmhJ0cqcJ0OcgzDuK-M5g/s1600/Perryspelvis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoydBqqUJc5mrD7OU8y6JDChrW7W9iIH_ZVrrMtSLccf_ocHnE2qw2y4fuexszgyHjL5jfBwk404nOs3TmVmLClKy0mA_wwF3RRT5PJUcIZ-bAuX_Mg73PD1YmhJ0cqcJ0OcgzDuK-M5g/s1600/Perryspelvis.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think it's supposed to look<br />
like that</td></tr>
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In addition to that one, el Hefe of All Hail The Black Market, Stevil Kinevil, also had a small topple on his two-wheeled fun machine and<a href="http://www.allhailtheblackmarket.com/2015/03/eyes-of-the-bee-holder.html#more-29657" target="_blank"> blew his knee into a billion bits</a>.<br />
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While this post isn't necessarily about PJ's or Stevil's woes, they both have something in common with me, beyond their love of bikes, snowboarding, skateboarding and other <i>extreme </i>sports (it pisses me off that Mountain Dew, MTV and Dan Cortese wrecked the use of the word extreme), they are both roughly the same age as me. When someone my age has a catastrophic injury doing something they love, it causes a person (or me) to stop and reflect on their life, choices and how shit can change in a blink of an eye. It also reminds me that we're not as indestructible as the 25 year old me once thought. The <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2012/02/how-i-was-injured-by-christmas.html" target="_blank">torn quads</a>, <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2013/12/bang-your-head.html" target="_blank">the concussions</a>, blown out knees, broken pelvises (pelvi?) on up to classmates that have passed away are the constant, nagging reminder that we are not long for this mortal coil. </div>
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But what's a guy to do? You can either sit by, waiting for the grim reaper to tap you on the shoulder, telling you it's time OR, grab that son-of-a-bitch by the balls and show em who's boss. Sure, I don't <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Damn it! There are no balls to grab...</td></tr>
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bounce back nearly as fast as that 25-year-old did, which is probably why I thought I was indestructible then. Mountain bike crashes were nothing, you just jump up, dust yourself off, check the bike to make sure it was still operable and get on and go. Now there's a personal inventory taken and no rush to get back on the bike. The bike check doesn't come until much later after making sure the body does everything it's supposed to do.<br />
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There's the rub. If those nagging thoughts of not being indestructible enter your head while you're out doing those things that can cause you harm: snowboarding, rock climbing, <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">mountain biking, etc., you'll either become so paralyzed by the fear that you will either not participate in those activities that make you who you are or it will cause hesitation. And in the words of Perry Jewett, hesitation brings devastation.</span></div>
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So get out and do those things you love, those things that make you, you. Get rad, ride down a rocky trail, go as fast as you can on your snowboard, push your envelope. Granted, your envelope might be different than the envelope you were in when you were 25, but that doesn't mean you can't still push it. I think I'll take the afternoon off and do some mountain biking, maybe do some last weekend of the season snowboarding this weekend, and I'll go drink some beer at this <a href="http://events.blackhills.com/content/icalrepeat.detail/2015/03/28/4639/-/-.html" target="_blank">fundraiser for Perry</a> for good measure, even if it is only a fraction of what I could drink when I was 25. </div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-24375359468617239592015-02-14T08:40:00.000-07:002015-02-14T14:04:12.506-07:00Seriously, WTF?Before we get too far into the meat and, well, the seriousness of today's post, I have to encourage you to go over to the <a href="http://www.tatanka100.com/?p=340" target="_blank">Tatanka 100</a> website. I'm doing some guest blogging over there about what's coming up in this year's edition of the race...big changes and I think the race will be really amazing. There are shorter distances if you don't want to ride your bike for 8+ hours as well as combining the whole thing with the BAM Festival so there is live music until 10 pm for family and friends. Check it out.<br>
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OK, let's get really, really serious. Last time I was here, I asked everyone to take some action on <a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislative_Session/Bills/Bill.aspx?Session=2015&Bill=1030" target="_blank">HB1030</a>, the <i>3' Passing Law </i>which would require all vehicles overtaking a cyclist to pass with at least 3' between them. The law was amended to read a minimum of 3' under 35mph and a minimum of 6' over 35mph. Great! This is all good news, but I will say, we need to barrage our representatives with e-mails and/or calls to pass this bill. The bill has been deferred to another day 3 times. I know that this is a common practice, but I've also watched them defer bills right out of the legislative session, obviously killing the whole thing.<br>
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All this being said, and I shouldn't even give this guy any publicity at all, ever, we have good ol' Gordon Howie, Tea Bagger extraordinare, turning this into a political thing and uses scare tactics in his headline, <a href="http://www.rightsidesd.com/?p=20435" target="_blank">Move Over Stupid or Go to Jail</a> (and his follow up post, Why I Hate Bicycles) WTF? First, NO ONE is going to jail. When was the last time you saw someone go to jail for a traffic violation? It's almost always a misdemeanor. Second, since when is giving someone the courtesy of not clipping them, maiming them or killing them with your car a Left/Right thing? Last time I checked it was a human decency thing. If you read his blog post on this you'll see that he only sees two options for passing a cyclist. <b> 1.</b> <i>Swerving into an oncoming lane of traffic</i>. <b>2.</b> <i>Buzzing the cyclist</i>. I had a conversation with a person once about this exact same subject and their opinion was the same as Howie's until I asked them "you do realize there is a 3rd option, right?" SLOW THE FUCK DOWN until it is safe to pass. It's going to cost you about 5 seconds in the grand scheme of things. <br>
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Some of his solutions for this are not allowing cyclists on roadways not intended for cycling OR posting a minimum speed limit, that is half of the maximum speed limit, and if you can't maintain that speed then you can't ride on this road. So, South Dakotans, how many times have you been on a rural road in our state and come upon a tractor/combine/bailer/farm implement , etc., on the road? What do you currently do when this happens? Using my best Arnold Horshack impersonation, OOOH, OOOH, let me guess. You SLOW DOWN until it is safe to pass, then you go around them, not buzzing or clipping them, and probably wave to the farmer/rancher on your way by, right? But using Howie's demented logic, if<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buzz that slow moving<br>son-of-a-bitch. I dare ya.</td></tr>
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there is a minimum posted speed limit, well, then these vehicles shouldn't be allowed on the roadway. This is the kind of logic that is happening in our state folks. <a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislators/Who_Are_My_Legislators/default.aspx?CurrentSession=True" target="_blank">E-mail your legislators NOW</a>.<br>
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While you're there, tell them to KILL <a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislative_Session/Bills/Bill.aspx?Session=2015&Bill=1214" target="_blank">HB1214</a>. HB1214 is a bill requiring cyclists to wear fluorescent/reflective clothing while riding on a highway (for those of you living in Rapid City, if you ever have ridden in the new bike lanes on Jackson Blvd., you've ridden on a highway). This bill is stupid for many reasons, let me explain.<br>
<b>1. </b>There are already laws regarding reflectors/lights for cyclists. This is just an added layer bureaucracy on top of what we have.<br>
<b>2. </b> This law puts an undue burden on people that are poor and use a bicycle for their only means of transportation. Yes, I know you can get a vest for under $10 at a hardware store, but if you don't think that is a burden for some people, then you've not been that poor.<br>
<b>3. </b>There have been many studies showing that fluorescent clothing does NOT increase the visibility of the cyclist. I could link this for you, but when I Googled it, I found a lot of data on this. The biggest thing I found in multiple studies I read were that if your clothing contrasts with your surrounding you're <i>slightly </i>more visible. Doesn't have to be fluorescent. Riding in the city where everything is grey? Wear a color other than grey. Boom, problem solved.<br>
<b>4. </b>(This piggybacks on #3) In those some of those same studies I read, it said that cyclist that did wear fluorescent/reflective clothing had a false sense of safety because of the clothing. They thought that since they were in these "hi-vis" colors that motorists would see them, making them less defensive in their riding. <br>
<b>5. </b> (This is the biggest one for me) If a motorist hits a cyclist that was not wearing fluorescent/reflective clothing it gives them an out for a crime. "Well I didn't see them because they weren't wearing fluorescent. It doesn't matter that I was uploading a selfie of my crotch to my Tinder profile." Motorists get off in auto-bicycle accidents WAY to often in this country, lets not give them another reason. <br>
<br>
Damn, I've been on my soapbox WAY too much lately. I'll do my best to post something lighter, maybe Not-So-Serious next time around. <br>
<br>
Oh yeah, for you loyal readers, thanks for being around. I got a shout-out from one of the blog-o-sphere's biggest bike-blogger/douche bags (same diff), <a href="http://www.allhailtheblackmarket.com/2015/01/how-about-a-slice-of-knowledge-cake.html" target="_blank">Stevil Kinevil at All Hail The Black Market</a> (the shout out is about half way through this post). You were in on the ground floor. This shit's about to get HUGE!teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-73308799989307400322015-01-10T08:10:00.000-07:002015-01-12T05:19:12.848-07:00ACTION REQUIRED! <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4eYHtH2320Ao4pHydVOqBUpjJsOR92ZWM3bgBCzChV7C9dWOong297750TB2KDMdzcngxyYQWUAo2T35v77QdgWIVG2xVAO6JN55bneZIq9DmdXlUpp-QI5MW7gvAgK_5fvtFEL5RSQ/s1600/3-feet-300x154.sized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK4eYHtH2320Ao4pHydVOqBUpjJsOR92ZWM3bgBCzChV7C9dWOong297750TB2KDMdzcngxyYQWUAo2T35v77QdgWIVG2xVAO6JN55bneZIq9DmdXlUpp-QI5MW7gvAgK_5fvtFEL5RSQ/s1600/3-feet-300x154.sized.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not too much to ask...<br />
(image borrowed from <a href="http://www.bikingbis.com/" target="_blank">Biking Bis</a> blog)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For the first official post of 2015 I'm asking that all (3) of you that faithfully read this blog to e-mail your state senator regarding bill <a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislative_Session/Bills/Bill.aspx?Bill=1030&Session=2015&cookieCheck=true" target="_blank">HB1030</a>. What is HB1030 you ask? The short answer it requires motorists give a 3 foot berth from the furthest point on the right of their vehicle (mirrors, cattle catchers, jousting poles, machine guns, what ever is on the right side of their vehicle) and the furthest point left of the cyclist (typically handle bar, but could be extended middle finger). <br />
<br />
A blog out of Sioux Falls called <a href="http://minuscar.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The MinusCar Project</a> wrote this up yesterday that gives the complete skinny on what HB1030 is all about. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><i style="background-color: yellow;">I</i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;">t’s officially official.</span></i></span><i style="background-color: yellow;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislative_Session/Bills/Bill.aspx?Bill=1030&Session=2015&cookieCheck=true" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">HB 1030</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">is a bicycle related bill that will work its way through the South Dakota Legislature this winter. Riders will want to pay attention to this bill. When laws are scrutinized anything can happen to them. Additions, deletions, omissions. The last time a bicycle bill was in the legislature South Dakota was close to becoming the first state in the union to legislate cyclist wardrobe – and that was on a 3 foot passing bill.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">This year HB 1030 is mostly a 3 foot passing bill. Notably this bill seems to have originated with the Department of Transportation. My sense is a change to law recommended by state staff is more likely to be successful.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><strong>Part I</strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">The bill will introduce a new section into the books that reads:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">“The driver of any motor vehicle overtaking a bicycle proceeding in the same direction shall allow a three foot separation between the right side of the driver's vehicle, including any mirror or other projection, and the left side of the bicycle. The driver of the motor vehicle shall maintain that separation until safely past the overtaken bicycle. A violation of this section is a Class 2 misdemeanor.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">I’m pretty ok with adding this into law. I do recommend adding the word MINIMUM in the sentence “shall allow a three foot separation.” Many riders say 3 feet isn’t enough and adding this word implies more is better.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><strong>Part II</strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">The bill will amend an existing law. The bold portion indicates the amendment:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">A person operating a bicycle shall give a continuous signal of intention to turn right or left during the last one hundred feet traveled by the bicycle before turning. The signal shall also be given while the bicycle is stopped waiting to turn. A signal by hand and arm need only be given intermittently if the hand is needed in the control operation of the bicycle.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><strong>No driver of a bicycle may overtake another vehicle on the right if the overtaken vehicle is signaling to make a right turn.</strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">I am always happy to point out the most dangerous place to ride is to the right of a right turning vehicle. How do you know vehicle is turning right? You don’t. This amendment would make it illegal to ride to the right of a right turn signaling vehicle. I say don’t ride to the right of any vehicle.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">I’m neutral on this amendment while pointing out my personal standards are more strict than this amendment would require.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">--</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;">So write your state representatives. Get them early. They don’t start real work till Monday. Tell them this weekend what you think of HB 1030. Surprise them by showing them you care.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px;"><a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislators/Who_Are_My_Legislators/default.aspx?Session=2015&cookieCheck=true" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Find your reps now!!!</a></span></i><br />
<i style="background-color: yellow;"><br /></i>
You can find your representative by going to the <a href="http://legis.sd.gov/Legislators/Who_Are_My_Legislators/default.aspx?Session=2015&cookieCheck=true" target="_blank">"Who are my legislators" </a>page on the SD State Legislature website.<br />
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As was stated in the MinusCar post, the state legislators don't start real work until Monday, so let's flood their inboxes with support for HB1030 (with some minor adjustments). Even if you're a casual cyclist, this law impacts you! Take 5 minutes to show them that you care!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio45Ofqmc0HDJQkm_eawn7Ie_EQZK9nwKnlLgS_rGiP39JA6TnAz6ABA47sa4Pr6dtnHQcivHJB2kLWVjUGgnIjUQ-dthuz2ED6E8FNT0Vs6w1bbSfsSc3-usWNtG8dXJqhx-tDWiYVKg/s1600/Greg-3-feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio45Ofqmc0HDJQkm_eawn7Ie_EQZK9nwKnlLgS_rGiP39JA6TnAz6ABA47sa4Pr6dtnHQcivHJB2kLWVjUGgnIjUQ-dthuz2ED6E8FNT0Vs6w1bbSfsSc3-usWNtG8dXJqhx-tDWiYVKg/s1600/Greg-3-feet.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 is still pretty close when a car is traveling over 35 mph.<br />
(image borrowed from <a href="http://www.bikingbis.com/" target="_blank">Biking Bis</a> blog, where they've been<br />
enjoying their 3 foot rule since 2011)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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That is all. Please proceed with your normal weekend shenanigans. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><b>UPDATE: </b>I already e-mailed my state legislators and have received a reply from Senator Craig Tieszen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Here's my e-mail: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>I am e-mailing you regarding HB1030 the Bicycle Passing Act. I am a cyclist, a business owner in Rapid City, a registered voter in your district, and your neighbor Sen. Tieszen. I ride my bike past your house and have said hello to you many time when you've been outside.<br /><br />I ask that you please ensure the passage of HB1030, with a minor change. Line 7 reads "allow a three foot separation between the right side of the driver's vehicle, including any mirror" . I would like to see this changed to read; "allow a minimum three foot separation between the right side of the driver's vehicle, including any mirror".<br /><br />As a bicycle commuter, I follow the rules of the road, stopping at stop signs, signaling my directional changes, and riding as far to the right as safely possible and yet have had more than my share of close calls. This bill isn't much to ask of our fellow motorized commuters.<br /><br />Thank you for supporting this bill. My safety and the safety of all cyclists, children through adult, thank you. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">And Sen. Tieszen's response.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I believe I have supported a previous attempt and probably will be able to do so again. Thanks for contacting me. I am looking forward to bike riding weather again!!!! Senator Craig Tieszen</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">Contact your legislators folks!</span>teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-76767113309234486262014-12-26T06:23:00.001-07:002014-12-26T15:00:16.289-07:00Have a Happy Christmas-Hanukkah-Kwanza-Festivus and New YearI pulled off the greatest Christmas coup of my life this year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubVrKbJIhs7GYwDwweIJtb3qavqfY_I_wMa1KK8ZQ52H9Lzg-w9Ay6fGXQfWd6x6YzFz8yDhKXWjtSTox-nAKF9AeRk2361NhR-x5bYAhpJOAzEWFZWItoiNz6krCyOM9d0wV2Tls_uE/s640/blogger-image--27220753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjubVrKbJIhs7GYwDwweIJtb3qavqfY_I_wMa1KK8ZQ52H9Lzg-w9Ay6fGXQfWd6x6YzFz8yDhKXWjtSTox-nAKF9AeRk2361NhR-x5bYAhpJOAzEWFZWItoiNz6krCyOM9d0wV2Tls_uE/s640/blogger-image--27220753.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mostly did this post so I could use this picture.</td></tr>
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I built a new bike for the Boy. Well, it's not "new" but it's new to him. I got a frame from a friend and it's been languishing in the basement for about 4 months, waiting for me to build it up for the Boy before he outgrew it. Some <i>lightly used </i>parts from friends, a part or two from fleaBay and the rest from Acme and it was finished and was a complete surprise on Christmas morning for the Boy! </div>
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I was feeling bad about giving him a <i>used </i>bike for Christmas, succumbing to the pressure of the media to buy, buy, buy. But thankfully, rational thought overcame those feelings and I realized that <b>1.</b> He's not going to be on this bike for more than a season or two before he outgrows it. <b>2</b>. I built this by hand for him, going as far as getting touch-up paint to get the frame looking really good. <b>3. </b>It turned out REALLY good. I couldn't stop looking at it sitting by the Christmas tree. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSjhcQ_jck-y15cmUQOn00FFMwYjcvZGML9WXeXXkf4p_B-O7MLloJQTw0kvUJQnaHzVXmUXLuNSu5X-U8rGs19gw2Irt3L4hK3BYWQrJBMCKDv9nncmTE9FNV-KBiww8bger3C9FOEU/s640/blogger-image--1073645969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSjhcQ_jck-y15cmUQOn00FFMwYjcvZGML9WXeXXkf4p_B-O7MLloJQTw0kvUJQnaHzVXmUXLuNSu5X-U8rGs19gw2Irt3L4hK3BYWQrJBMCKDv9nncmTE9FNV-KBiww8bger3C9FOEU/s640/blogger-image--1073645969.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crappy picture of the bike...Trying to not wake the Boy (whose feet are right<br />behind the front wheel of his bike).</td></tr>
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And, finally, especially for those that we're looking forward to a white Christmas, can thank me for building this bike up, since you know that if I would have got the Boy a sled it would have been dry and brown outside.</div>
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Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year!</div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-25153513643869475662014-12-22T06:33:00.003-07:002014-12-22T06:33:33.005-07:00The Greatest, Top 10 Moments in the History of Forever (or my top 10 of 2014)2014 is drawing to a close so it's now time for all those year-in-review shows like TMZ's <i>Kim Kardashian's 10 Best Ass Moments </i>and Barbara Walter's Most Fascinating People of the year like Tyler Swift (who the hell is he?) and Elon Musk (wasn't he the bad guy in the last Iron Man movie?). Her list didn't have Jens Voigt so I know it's a bullshit list anyhow.<br />
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Yeah, I know what you're probably thinking, "Holy shit Not-So-Serious, you haven't posted in a like 4 months and now you want me to read some lame-assed year in review?" Well, yes is the answer to that question but I'm also going on record to state my pre-New Years resolution is going to be posting on here in a more semi-consistent-sporadic state than I did in 2014. So without further ado, here are the top 10 moments and/or things in the NSS year on the newly recommitted, slightly more consistent blogishness.<br />
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10. <i><a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2013/12/bang-your-head.html" target="_blank">Knocking myself out at Terry Peak</a>. </i>Yes, I know that was technically in 2013, but hey it was almost 2014 and truthfully, the effects were lingering into the new year. And the story was told many times in 2014 so it qualifies. All of this leads me to the next moment:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvVS_Y0syezz2u9KF4VnL9hxdr_duFYYkWlqNbRbvqxliTUajb7BYdzeHjCUyMmk14ugOsDKKidgO3Kf5v9HPp-BI5Dgom7RTbHYq2sjFCiJtEOP-KY62lREJD1-hudTbJ5EDpYDPGBg/s640/blogger-image-1660316906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvVS_Y0syezz2u9KF4VnL9hxdr_duFYYkWlqNbRbvqxliTUajb7BYdzeHjCUyMmk14ugOsDKKidgO3Kf5v9HPp-BI5Dgom7RTbHYq2sjFCiJtEOP-KY62lREJD1-hudTbJ5EDpYDPGBg/s200/blogger-image-1660316906.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Boy and I at the "Peak".</td></tr>
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9. <i>My season snowboarding at Terry Peak. </i> There were a lot of great days on the hill this year, even if it was not the best conditions. Don't get me wrong, the snow was great all season, but it was a damn cold winter. But those days that the temperature hovered in the single digits didn't prevent me from being there first chair to last and having some fun in the Dark Horse in between. (Although this year there will be NO PBR consumed unless some bartenders can assure me of winning something in the PBR drawing). Plus it was great to be able to spend time on the slopes with the Boy, as well as my brother and his family.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRI5AxY6Yiv5XYRzhEcR5mGV8b2c6b5R4SP7q0egNaGQLL0nUVIs26nW9Xg5t3xhEAJi2hecmEv7o_VP86eqoyPw5YvywSuTOIki5szWRTGJQETBJT_F_DVba2usHTc9-07nrjdoiSeJ8/s640/blogger-image-1782730541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRI5AxY6Yiv5XYRzhEcR5mGV8b2c6b5R4SP7q0egNaGQLL0nUVIs26nW9Xg5t3xhEAJi2hecmEv7o_VP86eqoyPw5YvywSuTOIki5szWRTGJQETBJT_F_DVba2usHTc9-07nrjdoiSeJ8/s200/blogger-image-1782730541.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Busted bike stuff #1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStZZ_Jay0IwJMKgg3XohVoniGISDIaXgZq2k-l9ouPohqOHe9K30XsxL7kQG6YwEmfFkhm1c-e3gOHQnRssdRf_ydKEgcDObE4N1Yxa5IDoZloidQ3Mot8zpr6rqHufzCU8nnva6AmIA/s640/blogger-image-1737698441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhStZZ_Jay0IwJMKgg3XohVoniGISDIaXgZq2k-l9ouPohqOHe9K30XsxL7kQG6YwEmfFkhm1c-e3gOHQnRssdRf_ydKEgcDObE4N1Yxa5IDoZloidQ3Mot8zpr6rqHufzCU8nnva6AmIA/s200/blogger-image-1737698441.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Busted Bike Stuff #2</td></tr>
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8. <i>All my broken bike stuff. </i>This all started out with a cracked Kona Jake frame and then spiraled out of control for the rest of the year (which will be a theme from here on out). Yeah, I know some of it is because of my fat-ass asking the bike parts to do more than they should, but some of it was just plain dumb luck. And the Jake frame failure was in the <i>exact same spot </i>as my previous Jake's frame failure, so I'm gonna chalk this one up to design. And besides, Kona came through for me with a new, sweet assed ride which will roll us into the next item:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnkEJqbXhFI0R3rGfQvwk2Ry3-3myJBFNDWyUT5l8e7a1iMew0PeTRZYcp-RiC9btfwVoGAqwQwiiEZ9_wgAGPDXTbCqxdu2i_SM0R9_TQ0jiVAmBrzhXU6_-j7CkK9l_PgSMIQdgE1I/s640/blogger-image--2103255804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCnkEJqbXhFI0R3rGfQvwk2Ry3-3myJBFNDWyUT5l8e7a1iMew0PeTRZYcp-RiC9btfwVoGAqwQwiiEZ9_wgAGPDXTbCqxdu2i_SM0R9_TQ0jiVAmBrzhXU6_-j7CkK9l_PgSMIQdgE1I/s200/blogger-image--2103255804.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Busted Bike Stuff #3</td></tr>
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7<i>. My NEW Kona Jake. </i>My 'cross bikes have always endured more abuse than any other bikes in my stable. I use 'em for just about everything, from commuting to road riding to gravel to singletrack to riding rollers in the winter to general abuse. It's no wonder that I break frames every few years. And as I mentioned in #8, Kona and Acme came through for me once again. I took my cracked Jake to the great guys at <a href="http://acmebicycles.com/" target="_blank">Acme Bicycles</a>, they stripped the frame down and sent it off for "inspection". Sure enough it was cracked and the options were a different model of Jake frame <i>or </i>a whole new bike for just a little bit of scratch. Well, um, duh, lets get a whole new bike with new components, disc brakes, etc. It seemed like a no brainer. And this new model is sweet! Even if it is one of their lower end cross bikes, it is a great whip, and it took me on way more adventures this year than either one of my mountain bikes did (GASP!) but there were plenty of (long) off road adventures on it, so don't worry, I'm not becoming the Not-So-Serious roadie.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-YBX1ShiG5_bmuyYymJ_V7nEtDt_QdlaKQ2DuzDt7duJ7Egg-0d260ZT9lOHrUP41AuQaup549CbUTtZzf3CyjDGkEok56AOo0Y7K7RDnXW96j8xvySmnOLjI5Cm5s09ypUYhbWhBB0/s640/blogger-image--68412218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-YBX1ShiG5_bmuyYymJ_V7nEtDt_QdlaKQ2DuzDt7duJ7Egg-0d260ZT9lOHrUP41AuQaup549CbUTtZzf3CyjDGkEok56AOo0Y7K7RDnXW96j8xvySmnOLjI5Cm5s09ypUYhbWhBB0/s640/blogger-image--68412218.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Maiden Voyage</td></tr>
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6. <i>My new favorite distance loop. </i>As I said, the Jake and I went on many long adventures, exploring the gravel/forest service roads around the NSS HQ. As a matter of fact, the first ride on it garnered me a sliced sidewall on a forest service road straddling the Lawrence County/Pennington County line somewhere. In my exploration, I found a nice 85+ mile loop that I can start from the house, get some good climbing in to Nemo, SD, on into Sturgis, then take gravel roads home from Sturgis. It is an amazing ride, climbing up through the Black Hills, roll out past Bear Butte, and finish up in the rolling prairie, eventually climbing back up to the looming Black Hills. I'm already looking forward to doing this one many times in 2015.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkU0TriZa47AVxOIAhWU1PtcZqAbGIqxzvwLRjgGMCIyH-72HPheke1K4rOHMuJ0VYaiepKJf-6QzGp8ph30dTTjwh7e-KLIciy5N5mgjsdzbxgH7tJ3GVY7A7WSje7_xlykpa1SSA_c/s640/blogger-image-1348918711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkU0TriZa47AVxOIAhWU1PtcZqAbGIqxzvwLRjgGMCIyH-72HPheke1K4rOHMuJ0VYaiepKJf-6QzGp8ph30dTTjwh7e-KLIciy5N5mgjsdzbxgH7tJ3GVY7A7WSje7_xlykpa1SSA_c/s640/blogger-image-1348918711.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bear Butte!</td></tr>
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5. <i><a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2014/03/winning-lottery.html" target="_blank">Winning the Leadville Lottery</a>. </i>The shock of getting that e-mail that said I was entered was like no other. Excitement, fear, anger, joy all rolled into one. Since I'm getting older, it could have been a moment when I pooped my pants, but thankfully I still have control over that function.<br />
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4. <i><a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-summer-of-our-discontent.html" target="_blank">The Leadville experience</a></i>. I am happy with the way I handled that whole day. I could have been just a complete bitch with a broken seat post, but instead I didn't quit, stayed positive and gave it my best effort to get through the Twin Lakes checkpoint, missing it by 12 or so minutes. That all being said, it lead me to meet:<br />
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3. <i>The Kevin Lewis Factor. </i>As the 3 of you (outside my family) that read this blog might remember (if you don't, click on the linky thing on the Leadville experience above), during Leadville while I was climbing up the first big climb of the day, <i>sans</i> seat and seat post, I came across a guy that was having a difficult time with a repair on his bike. Despite my personal bike issues I stopped and helped him. Please, go back and read the account. It was a cool experience for me because he was so unbelievably stoked about getting his bike going. <br />
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A month or so later, I get an e-mail from a guy named Kevin Lewis. He was wondering if I was the "Chris from South Dakota" that helped him at Leadville. After a couple of e-mails back and forth to verify that I was the person he was looking for, I got to hear about the rest of his race. He had just barely made it through all the checkpoints, some with just seconds to spare. He finished the race (although unfortunately, he didn't make it under 12 hours for the belt buckle) and received a finishers medal. And that is why he was searching for me. He told his wife at the finish that "this medal belongs to Chris from SD if I ever find that guy", so that's why he was looking for me, to offer me his medal! (I also found out later that literally hundreds of people rode by him and I was the first one to offer any help.) Obviously I couldn't take it, but the offer was overwhelming. This kind of stuff is why our sport is so cool. We line up on race day, complete strangers and through a couple small acts you've impacted another person in a positive way and have made a new friend. Very cool.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rambler Mick Ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPwCQs7tGxKueWYfAtVs-3Dp6QfagseIWVAie9EMBDg4an7vXhfUOaxH3gPfpHs45K_K1CCSWaJeeHOUm3iligdRPGgjNVTCNhqBiVt0MvPXzEkzzCJXDlBEis_xbUv6QIhEFmGdzWIs/s640/blogger-image--1394173818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPwCQs7tGxKueWYfAtVs-3Dp6QfagseIWVAie9EMBDg4an7vXhfUOaxH3gPfpHs45K_K1CCSWaJeeHOUm3iligdRPGgjNVTCNhqBiVt0MvPXzEkzzCJXDlBEis_xbUv6QIhEFmGdzWIs/s200/blogger-image--1394173818.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A different Rambler ride?</td></tr>
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2. <i> The Rambler experience. </i> There is a great group of guys that form our really loosely defined cycling "club" The Queen City Ramblers. Every year we have our annual trip to the desert of Western Colorado and Eastern Utah and our annual Mickelson ride in one day and every year we have a blast on both. Maybe it's because of all the beer/alcohol we drink on these trips/rides, but I'd guess it's more because of the people that make up the group. There are guys on each of these trips that might never otherwise socialize together, coming from very disparate careers, interests, etc. and yet all have a common love of cycling. This contributes to the fact that we say after every trip/ride that this was the best one yet.<br />
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1. <i>Camping/trips with the family</i>. You knew I'd have to save the sentimental one for the best, but it's true. From our rain soaked camping experience at the <a href="http://www.goldrushgravelgrinder.com/" target="_blank">Gold Rush Gravel Grinder </a>to the shared "cabin" at Leadville to another rain filled camp-out at the <a href="http://www.dakotafiveo.com/" target="_blank">Dakota Five-O</a> (what's up with the rain at Spearfish events?) it was all a great time! And even if I had supremely bad luck at two of those events (I broke NOTHING at the Five-O and truly had a blast!) and two of them were completely rain-soaked, I wouldn't trade them for anything. The <i>only </i>thing I'd do differently this year is do it more often. <br />
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So there you have it. The Top 10 moments/things of the NSS year. I hope your year was a great one, because I know mine was. I'm looking forward to 2015 and seeing you all out on the trail!teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-58875250182346316902014-08-13T05:43:00.001-06:002014-08-13T05:43:20.903-06:00The summer of our discontent.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In my life of riding bikes I've had pretty good luck. In all the races and/or rides I've done I've not much more than a flat tire which is easily repaired on the road or trail (yes there was a derailleur in Fruita once, but that was at the beginning of the last ride of the last day so it wasn't a <b>huge </b>issue). All that luck came to a shitty demise this year. </span><br />
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Now understand that all these issues that I had this year have been really freak things and I'd say that they probably <i>shouldn't </i>happen again. We can start telling the tale of woe with the <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2014/06/gravel-grinder-or-mud-masher-you-pick.html" target="_blank">Gold Rush Gravel Grinder</a> at the beginning of the summer and a derailleur that was torn off my bike less than 10 miles in to the race. There was mud involved, a gravel road that was a bit rough and a derailleur that was bouncing around and finally into the spokes where it met its demise. Freak right?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6LHUv9eMvspdlosavFm3RthKYQjNVcEdG3PvUoQ0lrNUMcnno4gSKyiCWyZm7SflQVHd8Emq0o6hXWxoUJZUk7PfwyTloXJ5jmheQylNVTiK4rC3cVMZ8rZEhHiyv0OJIiORUARJN_Q/s640/blogger-image--1490324240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6LHUv9eMvspdlosavFm3RthKYQjNVcEdG3PvUoQ0lrNUMcnno4gSKyiCWyZm7SflQVHd8Emq0o6hXWxoUJZUk7PfwyTloXJ5jmheQylNVTiK4rC3cVMZ8rZEhHiyv0OJIiORUARJN_Q/s640/blogger-image--1490324240.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Gold Rush Gravel Grinder freakiness...</td></tr>
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Next was the Tatanka 100 and the absolute downpour that was going on at the start of the race which caused more than half the field to not even start and of those that did almost half of those didn't finish. (I was one of those that didn't start. While I'm bummed I didn't get to do it, I don't regret not starting that day, or there could be even <i>more </i>tales of busted bike stuff). So we had freaky weather. Chalk up one more <i>freak </i>occurrence. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Black Hills Back 40 was my next chance to get freaky. I got a flat early on in the race, but I'll completely blame that on pilot error. The second I hit the obstacle that caused the flat I knew that I was going to have one. No, the real treat came 10+ miles later when I had a really light tumble off the side of the trail. The crash was about as gentle of a wreck as a guy could ask for, just causing me to get a little dirty. In said crash, my bike landed in the perfectly right (or wrong depending on your perspective) way breaking my brake lever into two pieces. COMPLETELY FREAK, right? </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Umm, is it a brake lever or a break lever?</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Which brings me to the latest and greatest freak thing. The ride/race I've been focused on all summer. The one I've put umpteen hours in on my bike for…the <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2014/03/winning-lottery.html" target="_blank">Leadville 100</a>. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaver and I at the start with a little photo bomb from the Boy.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Leading up to the start of the race, everything was proceeding as planned. Cleaver and I got lined up in our corral (not unlike leading cattle to slaughter) where the newbies/first-timers/you-haven't-paid-for-one-of-our-other-races racers go which is WAAAYYY in the back of the pack. The gun went off and we didn't. There we sat for 3-4 minutes and then we finally started to roll out. Blasting down the hill out of town on what would most likely be a long day in the saddle. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We finally turned off the pavement and onto a gravel road and started to climb. At this point we were about 4 miles in when I heard/felt this little *PLINK* and then suddenly didn't have a seat anymore. WHAT THE HELL?! I slammed on the brakes to find a tiny 1" stub of jagged seatpost sticking out of my frame and the remainder of my seatpost and seat lying on the road behind me as hundreds of riders went zooming by. "THIS ISN'T FAIR!" my brain was screaming. All this effort and time and you're gonna get to ride 4 fucking miles? It took me a minute to assess the situation and realize that I couldn't stop yet. I whipped my phone out and texted my Lovely, the Boy and my mom and asked them to meet me at the Pipeline aid station (24 miles away) with the Boy's seat/seatpost from his bike. I now had to figure out how to get there. I tried to pull the stub out of my frame but couldn't get enough of a grip on such a tiny piece. My next thought was to jam a stick into the stump and put the other part on top which worked for about a mile. Finally I was resigned to the fact that I was going to have stand up and ride with no seat and a jagged, cookie cutter piece of seatpost staring me right in the taint. As a SAR (search and rescue) worker on a quad came up I asked how far until the next aid station (where I might be able to get that stump out) "About two miles" he said. SWEET. Off I went, standing and pedaling as much as traction would allow. As the gravel roads got steeper, I found myself having to push up a few of the climbs as my tire would spin out because of my forward weight distribution. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MUXhBy5b1L9QrsLfqV1bdN2DmMfu22kNQxrxb8yQOqNQhKegWQ6l7lrDyGCZQb1nErvbFwoOwc8ptuNtTUaZxlJMHfSH_5CBE7kOzBMVBSPj8ZZGYeAsYQujCcFPeFZn1jn7VJ7l4MI/s640/blogger-image-1610102900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MUXhBy5b1L9QrsLfqV1bdN2DmMfu22kNQxrxb8yQOqNQhKegWQ6l7lrDyGCZQb1nErvbFwoOwc8ptuNtTUaZxlJMHfSH_5CBE7kOzBMVBSPj8ZZGYeAsYQujCcFPeFZn1jn7VJ7l4MI/s640/blogger-image-1610102900.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The jagged remains of my seatpost. </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(The post-mortem inspection of the seatpost revealed a couple of deep "nicks" that were stress risers where the post broke.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I was climbing, about 1.5 miles later, I encountered another person. He saw my predicament and said, "Wow, that sucks! You're crazy. The next aid station is about 2 more miles." What the? The last guy said it was two miles and that was nearly two miles ago! SHIT. Just keep pedaling…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I crested one of the last climbs, there was another racer trail side. I asked if everything was OK, to which he replied with a very stress filled "NO!" At this point I knew I was pretty screwed, so stopping to help him wasn't going to change anything. I pulled over and helped him get his chain fixed. He was so frazzled that he couldn't figure out how to get everything together. 5 minutes later he was up and running and so ecstatic that I got him running that he said he'd buy me anything I wanted. I almost asked him for his seatpost, but I figured it might be a bit much, but I'll take some<i> karma</i> points instead. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Five miles after breaking the post I got to the first aid station where a person had a big ol' set of pliers that I used to get the stump out of my frame. The stumpy portion (pictured above) went in and I was off! My seat was about 4" too low, but I could sit and spin up climbs, at least as much as having my knees come up to my armpits would allow. I pushed as hard as I could to get to the Pipeline aid station, never getting passed by a rider, but passing many myself (this isn't bragging, there is actually a point to me telling you about passing people, just hang on). After losing almost 30 minutes of time (according to my Garmin's "stoppage time") just fixing my seat, much less the slower pace I had to ride at standing up and with a seat too low, I knew it was going to be <i>very </i>close getting to Twin Lakes before the 4 hour cutoff. I approached one rider named Conner that was sporting the <b>Leadman</b> number plate (the Leadman/Leadwoman are also doing the <b>100 mile running race</b> the following weekend) and we rode together for quite a while. It was good to take my mind off of the situation for a while and just churn the pedals. As the climb over the <i>Powerline</i> got steeper, he pulled away from me for a bit. Cresting the Powerline was a great moment as I knew I'd have some decent downhill to the Pipeline aid station. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I passed about 50 people on the climb to Powerline and the subsequent downhill and rode hard on the pavement to get to the aid station. On the road I caught back up with Conner and we conversed on our way to the aid station. He said I was crazy (There it was again, <i>crazy</i>. Am I?) for going this long in my predicament and he thought I'd totally lose him once I got a seatpost that was the right length (I did pass him shortly after changing my post out and didn't see him again until later that day.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We rounded the bend and I saw the Boy waiting for me! I don't know if I've ever been so excited! He yelled directions to me of where my Lovely and mom were and I pushed hard to get to them. I quickly switched my seat and post out and took off. It was past the 3 hour mark and I had about 12 miles to go. It was probably unlikely that I'd make it by the 4 hour mark, but I couldn't just quit. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I rode as hard as I could for the next hour, once again passing many and not being passed by anyone. As I crested the last hill before we started to descend to Twin Lakes my clock ticked over the 4 hour mark. I knew I was screwed. I pushed on anyhow, hoping against hope that I'd somehow get through the checkpoint. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I crossed the dam at Twin Lakes, I could see the <i>timing station. </i>As I got closer, the lady that pulls people from the race stepped out of the shadows and pointed me to the right. She walked up, said "I'm sorry," and pulled the timing chip off my number plate and gave me a hug. 12 minutes. I missed the cutoff by 12 damn minutes! I turned myself inside out for the last 35 miles and it wasn't enough by 12 lousy minutes. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I slowly rolled over to our crew, I had a rash of confusing emotions. I was happy with my effort and ingenuity in light of the circumstances, I was really disappointed in how things turned out. I was thankful for my family and how they tried so hard to help me but I was completely pissed that I dragged them 500 miles for such a shitty ending. I was happy that I was OK, but super bummed that all those people that I passed, most of whom put in a ton of training and a valiant effort that day were also done. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We stayed and crewed for anyone that needed it and our guys, Cleaver and Andy (both of whom finished under 12 hours). One guy came in with a flat rear tire, but had lost his tools somewhere on the long, bumpy Columbine descent. I got his wheel off, helped him get stuff rearranged and going again. More karma points.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On a side note, as we were driving the 22 miles back into Leadville, a few miles down the road we came across a guy riding toward town. He had a number plate on his bike, so I pulled over to see if he needed help. He also had missed the time cutoff and didn't have a ride into town. We loaded him up and took him to his car. If nothing else I was racking up <i>serious</i> karma points. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunch of the crew including Andy and Cleaver (two on the right) with Ken Chlouber, the Leadville 100 founder. Note,<br />I am NOT in the picture. Grrr.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The next day my mixed emotions turned mostly to anger as I watched all those people get their belt buckles and finishers jackets. I should have been their with them. I know I could have done it especially with how close I was with all the issues I had. And now I'm gonna have to do it all over again next year. Except this time you can be damn well sure I'll have a new seatpost or I'm turning in my punch card with all those karma points. </span></div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-54647527821800766482014-06-17T06:22:00.001-06:002014-06-17T06:22:17.069-06:00Mipples.Nipples. The part of the human body that people don't like to talk about all that much. The part of the anatomy that takes a movie from PG to R just by showing it (you can show the <i>whole </i>boob and it's OK as long as you don't show a nipple, but show that and suddenly it's "dirty"). Nipples do serve an important purpose. They can be erotic zones. They can indicate when someone is cold. And without them the human race, and mammals for that matter, wouldn't have got very far since they are the way we feed our young (and cavemen didn't have access to a Walgreen's and 76 versions of Similac). And all theses things are great…ON WOMEN.<br />
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Seroiusly, why the hell do men have nipples? I am sure they are left over from our formation in the womb before our gender was "assigned" but why was our gender not assigned first <i>then </i>placement of our nipples? They serve no purpose on men. And, before any Whole Foods hippies lay down the whole "<a href="http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/strange-but-true-males-can-lactate/" target="_blank">dude, a man can lactate and feed babies too</a>" (click the linky to find out), <b>stop. </b>No we can't. First, I'm all for equality in parenting, but I draw the line here. There are some things men should just not do. Second, I do not want to have to wax, shave or any sort of depilation of my chest hair, and for godsakes, a baby should NOT get hair in its mouth when breast feeding. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting ready for<br />
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So, you may be asking yourself what the hell this commentary has to do with cycling. A lot, let me tell you. When most people go out for a long ride, a concern is the comfort of their grundle/taint/crotchial area. In addition to the padded cycling shorts, there all sorts of salves, creams, and butters to keep things moving smoothly without rubbing or chaffing. And these are important things to use! But there is nothing to prevent chaffing of that tiny little spot on the end of your nipple that is rubbing against your jersey for hours on end. Trust me I've tried it all, bandages, New-Skin (which stings like hell when you apply it) chaffing creams, the works. Nope, still have the problem. And I <i>know </i>I'm not the only one with this problem, since when I was in Moab one of our crew, who in the sake of anonimity will remain nameless, was walking around with big "x" bandages over his nipples looking like Wendy O </div>
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from the early punk scene. </div>
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Unlike other body parts I can't "train" my nipples to get stronger, although I suppose if I scab the tips over enough times a callous will form. But here we are getting close to the first 100 mile mountain bike race of the year, the Tatanka 100, and in addition to the normal preparation of my bike, I'm trying to figure out a nipple buffer. Maybe a trip to the local stripper supply warehouse for some pasties is in order. </div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-73202200699071201212014-06-10T06:35:00.001-06:002014-06-10T06:38:33.252-06:00Gravel Grinder or Mud Masher, you pick...The <a href="http://www.goldrushgravelgrinder.com/" target="_blank">Gold Rush Gravel Grinder</a> went down this last weekend. And as usual, with it comes tales of glee and tragedy, highs and lows, good and bad. So sit back while I spin a yarn for you.<br />
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Let me start out by saying I was pretty stoked for this year's Gold Rush. I had been getting good training rides in (training *gasp* I know, right?) and was feeling like it was going to be a good day for me. The weather forecast looked a bit sketchy with chances of "scattered" rain, but it looked like we'd be OK. Also, let me tell you that I'm fairly anal about my bike maintenance. Not quite to the level of Flyin' Brian but better than most. This will play a part in my tale later.<br />
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The plan was the NSS clan going to Spearfish on Friday afternoon, set up the mobile NSS HQ, or a campsite for the rest of the world, and enjoy a weekend of camping with friends while throwing a long ride in the middle. Sounded like a good plan. Mother Nature had a different plan. (I swear I'm getting that bitch some anti-depressants.)<br />
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Friday before we headed out, the Black Hills was socked in with a steady, heavy at times, drizzle. I was not thrilled with the lack of accurate forecasting from the weather crew. I wish I could have a job where I was as wrong as much as meteorologists and still keep it. Anyhow, we made the best of it, going to Spearfish, getting registered for the race and set up our mobile HQ. We had a nice evening and meal with friends and got to bed in a slightly lighter drizzle.<br />
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I woke up at 3 am because my bladder woke up at 2:45 am. I tried really hard to get it to shut up, but my bladder won out. Why is it that when you're camping getting up to piss in the middle of the night is a requirement? I rarely get up in the middle of the night when I'm at home. Anyhow, I stumbled out of the tent to a clouded, but rain free sky. Things were looking good! I scrambled back into my sleeping bag due to my cold wet feet and tried to get back to sleep. After an hour and a half of going in and out of sleep, I got up for good to get my poop in a group and get ready for the 7:00 am start.<br />
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I rolled over to te race start for the pre-race meeting at 6:45. After 15 minutes of fist bumping, high and low fives, catching back up with people not seen in a while, and a few bro-hugs thrown in for good measure, Perry "Pedal-Power" Jewett counted down and it was time to roll.<br />
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A police escort led us out for the first 3-4 miles and the group rolled at a nice pace up the pavement to where the gravel would mark the beginning of the "race". We hit the gravel and we were off! Of course the fast guys took off like they were shot from a cannon, but I was rolling in the second group, feeling comfortable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tatanka! On the neutral roll out. (Photo from the<br />Gold Rush Gravel Grinder FB page.)</td></tr>
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Remember the drizzly day I mentioned? Well, the further we rolled on this initial stretch of gravel, the muddier it became. Not sink-in, swampy, big mud, but just enough that it flung all over stuff and coated drivetrain parts like it was some kind of miracle lubricant, but that did the opposite, accelerating wear. Soon my rear derailleur started skipping around and things were NOT sounding happy. I pressed on although it was causing an itch in my brain that I couldn't scratch. I really hate when my drivetrain isn't doing what it's supposed to do. As we were just descending a small hill, I was shifting a couple gears up to take advantage of the momentum, when things really sounded <i>clattery </i>in the back. I just started touching the brakes so I could slow down and see what was going on when *<b>WHAM</b>*, my rear wheel skidded to an abrupt halt. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I didn't hit the brakes hard so I know it is not good. I look down to find my rear derailleur in my spokes, on the opposite side of my rear axle from where it should normally sit. SHEEE-IT! In that split second my day on the bike ended. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">That morning I told my Lovely to make sure her phone was turned on (so she could hear it ring), you know <i>just in case. </i>After 7 frantic phone calls, she finally answered (in fairness to her, she did not expect to hear from me, especially this early). I then freed the bottom half of my derailleur from its spokey jail so my wheel could turn and began my walk-of-shame past all the people still riding their bikes. Many well meaning folks asked if I was OK, needed help, or if I wanted their help turning my bike into a singlespeed, further rubbing salt, or in this case, mud into my wound. I can fix just about any trailside mechanical issue. Hell, I've given random strangers a freaking cleat bolt on the side of the trail for godsakes! Having a spare derailleur in my "magic tin" is not something I or any sane person does unless you're riding the Tour Divide. A few minutes after the last rider went by, my Lovely and the Boy showed up to extract me from this situation. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQbfnl86m90wBLq_nyExMc045CsI1PyHep9zTkIkT1dqP0qkdpWofk4N-e6jKMc2G8HNyynE8kpcNSpyoKyXZacAUFqGFqcKUipJcLltgg3ayK4NEBEiYCLY8UbsoGwKnv9aQmgAieuY/s1600/IMG_0812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQbfnl86m90wBLq_nyExMc045CsI1PyHep9zTkIkT1dqP0qkdpWofk4N-e6jKMc2G8HNyynE8kpcNSpyoKyXZacAUFqGFqcKUipJcLltgg3ayK4NEBEiYCLY8UbsoGwKnv9aQmgAieuY/s1600/IMG_0812.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Umm, I don't really think it's supposed<br />
to look like that...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Making the best of the situation, I had a good afternoon spending time with friends and family waiting for the racers to come in. Jim Meyer was the first 110 miler to finish in just under 7 hours(!) and Chanceller Burleson was the first 70 miler in. We </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> hung around, shot the shit with friends, ate great food, had great beer, and won cool prizes. With that said, Perry, Kristi and the whole crew once again did an outstanding job putting on this race, so the day/weekend was not completely lost on a blown derailleur. But, and this a big but, it still doesn't sit well with me. I'm already looking forward to the 3rd running of the Gold Rush Gravel Grinder. There's a chance I'll have a spare derailleur in my pack. </span>teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-19451428820201530312014-04-13T06:07:00.000-06:002014-04-13T06:07:18.726-06:00Like a new born babyBefore I get into the meat of today's post, it appears that I possibly could be responsible for shaming Mother Nature into getting on the wagon, sobering up long enough to wrest control of the weather away from Old Man Winter. I am <i>positive </i>she read that last post, realized she had a problem and decided to get on the wagon. Unfortunately, it also appears she's planning a party this weekend. So, once again Mother Nature, I implore you, don't get to tore up this weekend. Don't relinquish complete control. Thank you.<br />
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<div>
OK, all that being said, we finally did have Spring around the NSS HQ this last week and HLMP opened it's trails up on Wednesday. Finally, some singletrack/dirt riding to be had!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lfXynNQTjLjjsuFaUaXymeAw-VLbPNp9mKZGhxzCD6aglNpK2084u6dMlU_AVNY_G0XTYQKQOO12NwzyQAxFDkJ72CkXVvs8CNT5mxq92mF2AMUNdAMQkFT7vFy2_rFZwFtM00-rcUg/s640/blogger-image--1199403291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lfXynNQTjLjjsuFaUaXymeAw-VLbPNp9mKZGhxzCD6aglNpK2084u6dMlU_AVNY_G0XTYQKQOO12NwzyQAxFDkJ72CkXVvs8CNT5mxq92mF2AMUNdAMQkFT7vFy2_rFZwFtM00-rcUg/s320/blogger-image--1199403291.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Boy taking a fiver at the top of the climb.</td></tr>
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</div>
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For my first mountain bike ride I took the Boy out for some trail adventures. Riding at his pace I figured I was able to chalk up my ineptitude to our slow pace. The Boy on the other hand railed the Lower Rim Trail!<br />
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I went out solo on Friday for a quick jaunt after work. A zip back over to HLMP and I realized that my problems from the previous evening had nothing to do with the Boy and <i>everything </i>to do with the fact that I haven't ridden singletrack since December 3rd.</div>
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I suppose every cyclist (and especially mountain bikers) experience this. Last Autumn, before Winter took over, you were smooth and graceful (at least by your standards), riding down rocky sections like flowing water, not having to think about that quick flick of the shifter, that dab of the brake lever or that little back pedal to clear the rock. Now that you haven't been on a daily singletrack quest, those movements don't come quite as naturally. Sure you may have it happen in a section or two of the trail, but not for the whole ride. You're like a newborn horse, sure you <i>can </i>run, but it is definitely without the speed, style or grace of the fully mature horse.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.horsenation.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/h90FF08DA.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.horsenation.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/h90FF08DA.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks <i>exactly </i>like my riding style.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
So, yesterday I got the Moots out for one good, longish ride before Mother Nature gets all weird on us. It started out kind of rough, as I climbed singletrack to Dinosaur Hill, there were a couple spots I stumbled on, but after I got back over to HLMP, things started to smooth out. Sure there were a couple of miscues, but they were fewer and further between. By the time my ride was wrapping up on the Lower Rim Trail, in my <i>mind</i> I was Mark Weir bombing Downieville although reality says I might have been a <i>touch</i> less skilled. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdS6tFmAQ_zciAfVXAkR4kZCS2vn66m0CK71luIXvz1HQu5IfJNcZMHmK-ts4jlryUVa0E-1uOn4qm-KxI2FdNqAgNVvx15f_WBWYKvdVrf5ErejSIxGmvP-Xo1jqu4eQFfUXdgxejz4/s640/blogger-image--882747284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdS6tFmAQ_zciAfVXAkR4kZCS2vn66m0CK71luIXvz1HQu5IfJNcZMHmK-ts4jlryUVa0E-1uOn4qm-KxI2FdNqAgNVvx15f_WBWYKvdVrf5ErejSIxGmvP-Xo1jqu4eQFfUXdgxejz4/s320/blogger-image--882747284.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look! I can time travel on my bike!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Well, we've got about 2 1/2 weeks to go until we go to Moab. I hope I can get a few more rides like that in, you know so the horse matures. </div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-64844498393385666862014-04-05T08:13:00.000-06:002014-04-05T08:13:58.480-06:00Ode to the Idea of Spring<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>"In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." - </i>Lord Alfred Tennyson. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i>"In the Spring a middle-aged man's fancy turns to the thoughts of mountain bik...what? It's SNOWING again? Dammit Mother Nature, you're drunk, go home." - </i>Not-So-Serious Cyclist. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4J319xo3f3X2f3w25n0TNa4NIQqC2ruJ-txSQIfSZFzTn7W5jh6SkA950bqapbWnZIBIGF87nFn7-DvUV0eacUUR6ac7mxlzITlCQNgWgIORVcX9NbfRsvmJQfoDg8kUunO6mMrKkV9k/s640/blogger-image--255744865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4J319xo3f3X2f3w25n0TNa4NIQqC2ruJ-txSQIfSZFzTn7W5jh6SkA950bqapbWnZIBIGF87nFn7-DvUV0eacUUR6ac7mxlzITlCQNgWgIORVcX9NbfRsvmJQfoDg8kUunO6mMrKkV9k/s640/blogger-image--255744865.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the view we're getting SICK of seeing...</td></tr>
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</div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Ahh yes, Spring is in the air around the NSS HQ. Terry Peak closed for the season last weekend (and the last day was a blast), my pass to the Swim Center expired this week, and there have been enough nice days that I've been able to get out for a couple <i>road </i>rides. And yet that drunken tart Mother Nature is passed out on her day-bed with a box of wine on the floor next to her while Old Man Winter is still at the controls, having his way with us. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Just when we <i>thought</i> it was turning into Spring, we start the week out with a mini-blizzard on Monday (it was forecast to be a big one, school was called off, but it didn't really materialize), snow on Tuesday morning and then 6+" of snow on Wednesday. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> C'MON! This is getting ridiculous! The last time I rode my bike on a trail was December 3rd. 4 freakin' months ago! This is NOT good for my overall mental health and well being. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Last spring we had 3 blizzards in the month of April. Working in a public place, when people come in they like to talk/bitch about the weather which makes sense because it is something we all have in common. I <i>jokingly</i> said in a post I was gonna punch the next person out that said "well, we need the moisture". Well, THAT post about got me punched out by someone that felt like we did need the moisture (and they unfriended me on the Book of Faces, sheesh). But guess what people are saying this year? NOTHING. No one is saying the classic old-man'ism "Well, we need the moisture." That's because everyone is SICK OF THE SNOW! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And, even if we don't get anymore snow this season, it's still gonna be two weeks or so before any trail is dried out enough to ride without causing damage (which is a whole other blogpost). Holy shit, we're going to Moab at the end of the month. There is some technical riding there. I'd really love to be able to ride my mountain bike a few times <i>on some trails </i>before we go, you know just to shake the cobwebs out. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6pALvVCMCz_vRUtDJ3rYlgB__Zy9-qySk_9B_EARlGMu9BuG9hbbyM91WdvgNtFoJjVx2NjnsENv0Y6f6xbBVy7zqFsEgXqdNp4Ygo8RTWOK2l6K4dEGnoyS_xd54NhqyZwZuV0k3Ls/s640/blogger-image--102468258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6pALvVCMCz_vRUtDJ3rYlgB__Zy9-qySk_9B_EARlGMu9BuG9hbbyM91WdvgNtFoJjVx2NjnsENv0Y6f6xbBVy7zqFsEgXqdNp4Ygo8RTWOK2l6K4dEGnoyS_xd54NhqyZwZuV0k3Ls/s400/blogger-image--102468258.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See this Mother Nature? This is what we're looking for...</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So Mother Nature, if you're reading this, please put the box of wine back in the fridge. It's time to sober up, give Old Man Winter a kick square in the balls, and take control of the Spring. There are flowers and robins and baby wildlife counting on the weather to be nice. Even more importantly, there is a certain middle-aged man that is tired of riding rollers, swimming monotonous laps in an indoor pool, that would really LOVE to be able to ride his bike on a trail. So, can you sober up long enough to make that happen? Thanks. I knew we could count on you. </span></div>
teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-90640015036680958172014-03-09T09:18:00.000-06:002014-03-09T09:18:57.126-06:00Winning the Lottery?!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxOrLh5j4SbL6nJl4Xdond55GjZL_PVyDojUIUwYzx0p2fdHEb2xX-d44GUWY6qn-FP4Pz9ZyREQJlSHECW4ZAw9nKu5AhD_zLKQoCnB2Rn-TZGgSHNmzISadh9yQuleTXFHNOzO-uUc/s1600/Lottery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxOrLh5j4SbL6nJl4Xdond55GjZL_PVyDojUIUwYzx0p2fdHEb2xX-d44GUWY6qn-FP4Pz9ZyREQJlSHECW4ZAw9nKu5AhD_zLKQoCnB2Rn-TZGgSHNmzISadh9yQuleTXFHNOzO-uUc/s1600/Lottery.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that Ron Jeremy winning the Lottery?</td></tr>
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The lottery. The thought of a lottery tends to get people all lathered up. The idea of a life changing win is exciting to contemplate. While a lottery win <i>always </i>changes a person's life, it isn't always for the better. Tales of the lottery winner's rags-to-riches-to-rags run rampant and are so common that it's surprising that any one ever plays the lottery. But, there are always the people that think the lottery won't change them, that <i>if </i>they win they'll be the same person yet were before. HA!<br />
<br />
"Not-So-Serious, did you win the lottery?" I hear you asking. I'll tell you up front that while I won <i>a </i>lottery, I didn't win <i>the lottery </i>(meaning the multi-million dollar one).<br />
<br />
You may remember a <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2011/08/leadville-trail-100-support-crew.html" target="_blank">few years ago when long time friends Cleaver and Al "won" the lottery</a> and got<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPB5NIivCrbI0vd_SePDR7pMHzFvsKaDHCtzhnBIntWNjRMwVe3zmg2oIU32Zss8NZPM7M40Tz7CFU_6adY5oyzHeoYMXPLVGs1ypC_rCumls79BEtPCJgLJ1kvMaJUI327Kf3yj3wF0/s1600/securedownload.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPB5NIivCrbI0vd_SePDR7pMHzFvsKaDHCtzhnBIntWNjRMwVe3zmg2oIU32Zss8NZPM7M40Tz7CFU_6adY5oyzHeoYMXPLVGs1ypC_rCumls79BEtPCJgLJ1kvMaJUI327Kf3yj3wF0/s1600/securedownload.jpeg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Al and Cleaver the last<br />time they got into Leadville.</td></tr>
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into the Leadville 100 and my Lovely and the Boy went to run support for them. When they lined up that morning, I remember pangs of jealousy, thinking I should be lining up with them, although at the time I thought the chance of me riding 100 miles off road were just a pipe dream. It would take a lot of work on my part just to be able to <i>ride</i> 100 miles, much less do it in a race.<br />
<br />
So many people want to race Leadville that they have made it a lottery system. $15 gets you a chance in the game. If you're lucky enough to win, you're instantly charged the entry fee for your non-refundable, non-transferable place in the race. Basically, if you win, you better get it in gear cause you're going to Leadville.<br />
<br />
Well, that didn't prevent me from entering the Leadville lottery the next year, thinking that if I did get in, that would be great motivation for me to get ready for that race. I signed up and shortly after the 1st of March I got my "Dear John" e-mail saying thanks for the 15 bucks, but unfortunately (or possibly fortunately) you didn't get in, thanks for playing, try again next year.<br />
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Then, the Tatanka 100 came about and it was my opportunity to see if I could do 100 miles off road much closer to home. Of course, you all know I was able to complete that <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2012/07/tatanka-100.html" target="_blank">first edition of the race</a>, and although it was a bit ugly on my part, I gained valuable knowledge of how to do a 100 miler.<br />
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The next year came and so did another entry into Leadville, with the exact same results. Einstein once said (supposedly, although it's also been attributed to Franklin and Twain) the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Thinking I wanted to get into Leadville was definitely insane. And once again, <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2013/07/a-journey-of-one-hundred-miles-begins.html" target="_blank">I raced the Tatanka 100 with much improved results</a>.<br />
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So, yet again this year, feeling much like Bill Murray's iconic character Phil Conner and after a <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvav5A0dnhODOnjYHki2Ydnjr3usVV4Wkf55KrYWYmBH_MYXkymg2n8LwoIQKdw0IjsZCAJj1GrZKZ8rgYjPZHBatGFC97Fq5jooDFbYKE2R1-0dR6EjHy3IG0lkAt0OfUuO3EfhIJgA/s1600/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQvav5A0dnhODOnjYHki2Ydnjr3usVV4Wkf55KrYWYmBH_MYXkymg2n8LwoIQKdw0IjsZCAJj1GrZKZ8rgYjPZHBatGFC97Fq5jooDFbYKE2R1-0dR6EjHy3IG0lkAt0OfUuO3EfhIJgA/s1600/image.png" height="200" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You see that first line? </td></tr>
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slightly drunken pact with Cleaver in a booth at the Dark Horse Saloon at Terry Peak, I signed up for Leadville expecting the same results. On Tuesday, March 4th, I got my e-mail, only this time it was different.<br />
<br />
You know when you get an e-mail and you can see the first line of text on the page showing <i>all </i>your e-mails? Well, this time it didn't say, "Thanks for the $15 chump and SUCK IT" like it usually does, it said, "Congratulations". I almost puked when I saw it. What? Really? No. Yes! NO! YES! I couldn't wrap my brain around it. I sent a quick text to Cleaver and my Lovely to make it all seem real, to make sure I wasn't dreaming. As of this point Cleaver hadn't heard anything, so he was assuming he wasn't in. I had to let it all sink in. I swam a quite a bit harder and further than normal the next morning and rode harder the next morning on the rollers. This was going to mean a LOT of riding this summer. C'mon snow, melt!<br />
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Early the next morning, my shrieking text alert (a sound that my Lovely absolutely <b>HATES</b>) went off. Naturally, since we've all become slaves to our smarter-than-us phones, I checked to see who/what it was. It was Cleaver, saying he got his e-mail, which had gone into his junk folder, and HE GOT IN TOO! I was freakin' stoked! Sure, there was a bit that was excited as I could glean knowledge from him about the race since he was a veteran now, but more importantly, I was going to get to ride it with one of my best, long time friends!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bVhAb2tNca87HkAK1f2NLh7Fd1PV6xT8VGh-c756NyWwVHronXDxkVyvITbJeInCYYNMkMeDQ4CzS7C4OJ9YPYTXkyam2yEKg6A-XlgCkrGJvRl54phDfV8JfBGTa_zp6VE5kKSAF1w/s1600/securedownload-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bVhAb2tNca87HkAK1f2NLh7Fd1PV6xT8VGh-c756NyWwVHronXDxkVyvITbJeInCYYNMkMeDQ4CzS7C4OJ9YPYTXkyam2yEKg6A-XlgCkrGJvRl54phDfV8JfBGTa_zp6VE5kKSAF1w/s1600/securedownload-1.jpeg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the views at Leadville I probably won't get to enjoy.</td></tr>
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I'm not going to sit here and tell you that winning this lottery won't change me, because it will. And as long as the elevation doesn't kill me, it will for the better.<br />
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<br />teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5951008154274429012.post-1241923090732660202013-12-22T07:50:00.000-07:002013-12-22T08:05:52.207-07:00Bang your head!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Winter is in full stride here at NSS HQ. Well, it's kinda been in full stride around here since the <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2013/11/once-again-it-is-time-to-give-thanks.html" target="_blank">October 4th blizzard Atlas made me an </a><i><a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2013/11/once-again-it-is-time-to-give-thanks.html" target="_blank">Urban Lumberjack™,</a> </i>but since the around the first weekend of December, we've had real winter. And for me, with real winter comes a chance to do some other things that interest me, like the chance to strap the board onto my feet and slide down a hill, otherwise known as snowboarding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bQHzOmGFgtyQEhce3GVTpdFwCeX5FQ8aLe1t7osaVOL9mVzFoVkuhmlf325ewXFJiFqYxL303JoKe16l1dwoU3NneK5XZqfdsCWV3BkLmec0ISe7c1DyCY2L2wxv3mhIFoOk-BUbU8s/s1600/Terry+Peak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bQHzOmGFgtyQEhce3GVTpdFwCeX5FQ8aLe1t7osaVOL9mVzFoVkuhmlf325ewXFJiFqYxL303JoKe16l1dwoU3NneK5XZqfdsCWV3BkLmec0ISe7c1DyCY2L2wxv3mhIFoOk-BUbU8s/s320/Terry+Peak.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Terry Peak opened on the 7th of December this year on a weekend that had crazy below zero temperatures (I think the overnight low was somewhere around -15F) and that prevented me from partaking in the opening weekend. I love snowboarding but not that much. Those cold temps pushed me to the next weekend to get my first day of <i>riding </i>in. <br />
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I had big plans for last weekend. Saturday was going to be my first day on the slopes, Sunday would bring the last cyclocross race of the year and a journey into the woods to get a Christmas tree. Yeah, yeah I know, it's a bit late, but like I said, those cold temperatures weren't worth it. <br />
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Saturday morning came and I geared up and headed for<i> Terry. </i> Getting there right around first chair, I was up the hill and sliding down in the first half of the 9:00 hour. Somewhere in there I ran into Cleaver and we rode together the rest of the morning. The snow was fabulous, riding with a friend was fun and the day was just about perfect. As the noon hour approached, I knew I needed to call it a day soon so I could high-tail it back to RC to pick up the Boy from a birthday party. Well, I needed to be there no later than 3:00, but that coupled with the fact my leg, <a href="http://notsoseriouscyclist.blogspot.com/2012/02/how-i-was-injured-by-christmas.html" target="_blank">you know the one injured from the famous Christmas tree incident of '11</a>, was getting pretty fatigued. Cleaver and I slid down the hill one last time to the bottom of Kussy and our waiting vehicles. <br />
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On the run, I maneuvered to avoid another skier and crashed, falling backwards and hitting the back of my helmeted head on the ground fairly substantially. It rang my bell a bit, Cleaver came over to ask if I was OK. Everything seemed in-check, so off we went. I loaded up and headed home, or so I thought. <br />
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I got back to RC and headed over to the apartment complex where the birthday party was and to my luck, the mother of the birthday boy was taking out some garbage, so I followed her into the building, chatted with her at the door for a few minutes and the Boy and I headed for home. <br />
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Once at home, the Boy and I went down to the "family room" where I dozed off on the couch while he watched a little TV. Hey<i> Not-So-Seriuos Cyclist,</i> this is a real damn boring account of your day you might be saying to yourself. Well, that was all backstory to get you to this interesting part.<br />
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When I woke up about 20 minutes later, I was a bit disoriented. Suddenly I remembered I had to get to the store to send an order but I was confused about what time or day it was. As I started to really wake up, I realized I didn't remember much of my drive home. Then I thought about picking the Boy up and found that I remembered seeing the mom outside, following her into the apartment and I remember standing there talking to her but I couldn't remember anything about what we discussed! WTF? From the point where I crashed and hit my head to the point where I woke up, there were big gaps in my memory. And the biggest gap of all was yet to be discovered.<br />
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Sunday I got up and felt a tiny bit <i>blurry </i>but not horribly so, so we got our stuff together and headed to Spearfish for the last CX race, help JT get his blog going for the <a href="http://blackhillsexpedition.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Black Hills Expedition</a>, and to get a tree on the way home. My Lovely asked if it was a good idea to do a CX race after hitting my head on Saturday to which I replied, "As long as I don't crash and hit my head again everything should be OK." In retrospect, that was fairly stupid and I can't really afford to lose anymore grey matter.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZe6H2FYm760JOor0GoB2WaeBqdivob_6oA6k3PxPJK8XX8UDgpnamqErgrRXKsrrNwsdcosCn2qJ1v2ZjxnfxM9RAli-4vwUx30TkiAoWyb8hLgnFuIlevMUw_eR9ORUlfFj7I6zwNK8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZe6H2FYm760JOor0GoB2WaeBqdivob_6oA6k3PxPJK8XX8UDgpnamqErgrRXKsrrNwsdcosCn2qJ1v2ZjxnfxM9RAli-4vwUx30TkiAoWyb8hLgnFuIlevMUw_eR9ORUlfFj7I6zwNK8/s320/photo.JPG" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least it wasn't the most expensive tree<br />we've ever had.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The CX race went off without a hitch, JT's blog was up and running and the tree was harvested and is up and decorated behind me now as I speak (type). It wasn't until Monday morning when my Lovely said something to me that I realized I <i>really</i> hit my head hard. She mentioned I had a beer with Cleaver afterwards, which I didn't remember. A quick text to Cleaver about what the hell happened on Saturday was in order.<br />
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At this point Cleaver could have told me just about anything and I would have had to believe it. But what he did tell me FREAKED me out. He said after the wreck he asked if I was OK (which I vaguely remember) and I said yes. We left the mountain and I went with him to Lewie's to have a beer, where I had two IPA's and while I was a bit quiet, I chimed in appropriately on the conversation he was having with another person, NONE OF WHICH I FUCKING REMEMBER! Seriously, I have ZERO recollection of even pulling into Lewie's, much less having a beer, a conversation or leaving there. I vaguely remember getting my gear off in the parking lot at Terry Peak and bits and pieces of the drive home, but none of Lewie's at all, which really pisses me off 'cause I love going to <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiho2Vi3Q4lVV3PlVTJ_3ClZKS4sis-vnVKHDPxsngNk1uIU98C_Ov7EzTRdw-G_AQO-T9-PlRe8wKTN-UZUGvdnb0hqBrn9H4xcDvQPfBITLYtV-yYivaI3zDGS_7yzRVGwJIIZa4JF0M/s1600/Lewie's.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiho2Vi3Q4lVV3PlVTJ_3ClZKS4sis-vnVKHDPxsngNk1uIU98C_Ov7EzTRdw-G_AQO-T9-PlRe8wKTN-UZUGvdnb0hqBrn9H4xcDvQPfBITLYtV-yYivaI3zDGS_7yzRVGwJIIZa4JF0M/s320/Lewie's.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next time I SWEAR I'll remember.</td></tr>
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Lewie's!<br />
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Thankfully, I'm OK today (although I have a cold which is obviously unrelated but could have contributed to my fuzzy feeling on Sunday morning). I'm realizing the common denominator here. A CX race, snowboarding and a Christmas tree in the same weekend is a recipe for disaster for me. Two years ago I did a CX race on Saturday and went snowboarding and tree hunting on Sunday and that netted me a torn quad. This time it was snowboarding on Saturday and CX racing and tree hunting on Sunday that netted me a concussion. You can bet that I've learned a lesson here. Doing all 3 of those things in a weekend going to end in tragedy. Now that I know that, I can prepare for it. Will it stop me from doing all 3 in one weekend in the future? Probably not. The next time you see me, if I'm standing there with a vapid look, drooling, just politely wipe that drool away for me. At least I'm not limping.teamfubarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10042925874419317038noreply@blogger.com0